The sea erupted in bubbles and foam as the water parted, and the giant black object rose like a mythical sea creature from the depths.
“Back home, Europa, in one of her military intelligence briefings, mentioned a new class of boat out of the Russian shipyards. According to her, this might be the new Russian Yasen-class attack sub. It was only rumored, but there she is.” Carl faced Jack. “Good guess on the sub idea, ground pounder.”
They watched as the Rostov-on-Don, a boat named after the small Russian city in the south, surfaced and then settled onto the calm waters of the violet ocean. She sat unmoving as water cascaded from her blackened hull. The white lettering of her designation was bright against her elongated conning tower. They watched as her antennas and radar dish rose high above that sail. Her menacing bulk just sat there facing the destruction she had just caused. This boat had just fired on one of her own. Even as they watched, they saw the menacing vision of her cruise missile doors opening just aft of that large, sloping conning tower.
“Thirteen thousand — ton displacement weight, top speed of thirty knots, she has a crew of one hundred and twelve officers and men.”
All three men turned and faced Henri, who shrugged.
“You are not the only one, Captain, to study and know Russian warfare plans.”
“Always full of surprises, Henri,” Everett said as he turned to watch the behemoth sitting only a mile away. It was like a predator just waiting for the right time to strike.
“Yes, well, here’s a surprise for you, if you like. She also has long-range nuclear-capable cruise missiles whose doors are now open for business, if you had not noticed. Also, I might remind you, we have none of that. I’m afraid our friend Salkukoff has us over what you would call a barrel.”
“Some damn surprise, Henri,” Ryan said as he watched in wonder at the sub.
“Look, she’s signaling,” Carl said as he reached for and retrieved his binoculars.
“What does she signal?” Collins asked as he watched the meaningless naval-speak flashing across to them.
Carl watched the flashing strobe from the conning tower of the black submarine.
“Oh, boy, you’re going to love this one, Jack.”
The small team had reached the middle section of the mountain. Only fifty yards from the mine’s opening, they waited to see if any survivor of the village massacre appeared. They hadn’t in the three minutes they had been watching. Charlie was tempted to spur the marines forward, but he knew when to keep his anxiousness to himself after so many years with Jack and the others. Still, he bit his lower lip as he waited with mounting frustration.
As they waited, they felt the rumble coming from the sea. They did not have the vantage point to see what had happened, but every man feared the worst. Everyone had been around death and destruction their entire professional lives and knew what the war sounds were. Their homes away from home were under attack. Jenks was feeling as frustrated as Charlie was but knew the marines would be cautious, as one disaster did not relate to the other when they were on a mission. They focused on their job and theirs alone.
Before they realized what was happening, they were caught off guard by twenty of the Wasakoo as they broke their cover and ran for the mine opening. They saw them vanish into the darkness beyond, and then they heard the screams emanating from the interior.
“My God!” Charlie said as he mindlessly rushed forward.
“Doc! Doc!” the lance corporal called out after the charging professor. “Damn it!” He waved his men forward. “Let’s go!”
The ten marines with Master Chief Jenks in tow ran after Ellenshaw.
The lance corporal never even considered bringing night vision for their little foray and was kicking himself for that minor flaw in their mission planning. Still, they charged silently forward.
They saw Charlie suddenly veer off into the worn trail in front of the mine’s opening. Then they watched as ten of the Wasakoo dragged five men and two women out screaming. They were helpless as the villagers were dispatched ruthlessly in front of their children, who ran in panic. Ten more of the Wasakoo broke from the opening, and one of them grabbed a screaming child of no more than ten years of age. Ellenshaw recklessly charged headlong into the creature, knocking it down, along with the crying child. The Wasakoo quickly recovered and then fell on the white-haired madman.
The 5.56-millimeter round caught the scaled attacker in the head, sending it backward as the marines broke into the opening. Expert marksmanship brought down the Wasakoo faster than the marines could site them. They were all feeling the relief at shooting something. The frustration was clear on the young faces as they tried to save as many of the villagers as they could. Ellenshaw quickly recovered and started rounding up all the children he could see. He hustled a group of six off into the trail brush as the United States Marines fought the strangest skirmish in corps history.
It was over in less than thirty seconds from beginning to end.
Ellenshaw was helped by Jenks as they gathered what was left of the innocent human population. Six children, four girls and two boys. One of the parents hung on for three minutes, but her wounds were too great, and she died in the arms of a nineteen-year-old marine.
Six marines checked the interior of the mine until it dipped so low they could go no farther. If any of the survivors escaped the Wasakoo, they were far down into the shaft of the mine. They had no more time to search for them.
“How many?” Charlie asked as he coddled a crying girl of no more than three years of age.
Jenks had two of the children in his thick arms as he turned for the trail and the way back to the Zodiac.
“Six. Six are all that’s left,” Master Chief Jenks hissed as he pushed by several of the saddened marines. “We failed these people for the second damn time!”
Suddenly, Jenks was pulled from behind by the lance corporal and then roughly pushed to the ground with his armload of children just as several of the elongated arrows came bursting through the air to strike the bush and rocks around them.
“Take cover!”
As the twelve men and six children hit the dirt, they saw the reason why the lance corporal had been so persuasive. On the mountainside a thousand yards away, there were at least a thousand Wasakoo slowly making their way toward the mine.
“Back into the opening! Take cover!” the lance corporal said as he harangued his meager force back into the darkness and safety of the mine’s reinforced opening.
“Oh, shit,” one of the youngest marines said as he saw the fast-deteriorating situation.
“Yeah,” Jenks said as he easily placed the children down next to Ellenshaw. “You took the words right out of my mouth, squid.” He pulled a nine-millimeter pistol from its holster and charged the weapon. He looked down at a girl who was hiccupping through her crying. He winked and smiled down at her. Then he started counting the Wasakoo and came to a number he knew would not be advantageous to completing their harried mission. It was the lance corporal who tossed Ellenshaw the radio with the clear indication that he should at least send out a call for help. He knew that from the sound of explosions from the sea that they really couldn’t expect a rescue.
“Gentlemen, prepare to defend yourselves!”
Jack knew the truce was at the very least an uneasy one. Russian marines and sailors stared at the four large rubber boats as they approached. Collins saw at least half of the Russian sub’s complement riding shotgun for Salkukoff and his black-clad commandos — seventy fresh and heavily armed men against what was left of the Simbirsk and her patched-together crew of British, Russian, and American sailors and marines. And as Jack looked them over, he knew the men on board were in no condition to continue a fight that they had no chance of winning. He felt the weight of his personal nine millimeter in its shoulder holster and decided that he would use it in lieu of surrender. He himself would beat Farbeaux in his quest to kill the Russian.