This potential weak spot in the perimeter had not been overlooked by the designers of the compound. A metal grating allowed water to drain out but blocked entry to anything bigger than a small squirrel.
However, this avenue of approach had an additional advantage besides being out of the line of sight of the guards. The security specialist they had consulted had given them an 80 percent chance that the bottom of the ditch wouldn't be lined with sensors as was the rest of the perimeter, since the type of ground sensors used here by the air force tended to short out when constantly wet. The fact that Partusi had successfully completed his task the previous night confirmed that the ditch wasn't wired.
Riley crawled up to the grating, ignoring the mud that soaked the front of his shirt and pants. He reached up to the iron bars and carefully pulled on them. Partusi had done a good job. The hacksawed metal parted under his tugging. He glanced over the lip of the ditch toward the nearest guard shack twenty feet away. There was no indication that anything was amiss. Placing the grating aside, Riley led the way in, taking the left fork as the ditch split around the end of the road.
Powers, sitting next to the driver of the army National Guard truck, checked his watch. The truck was parked next to the ready building for the pilots of the squadron on alert — or where the pilots would be if there was an alert. Presently, the building should be empty except for a duty officer.
Peering ahead, Powers could see the raised, corrugated tin roof covering the four F-lll fighter bombers that were parked in the alert ready area. Fueled and armed, the aircraft were ready to fly in the event of an alert. From the asset's briefing, Powers knew that the pilots were not in the building but on a fifteen-minute recall confined to the limits of the air base.
Powers could also see two air police Chevy Blazers parked at opposite corners of the ready area with their engines running and lights on. Two more guards on foot patrolled the area.
Off to his left, three hundred meters away, Powers could see the airfield's control tower piercing the night sky. Below it, to the right, stood the short, squat building that housed the airfield defense reaction force. Several vehicles were parked outside.
Powers calmly checked his watch again. Only a few more minutes.
They'd made it inside without being spotted. That in itself was a major accomplishment. Like a snake, with Riley as the head, they low-crawled in the knee-high grass toward the second bunker up on the west side. That was their target.
As he edged forward, Riley felt the seconds go by, willing each one to last a little longer. Every inch they managed to crawl forward undetected was that much less they'd have to make under fire. He slid up to the first berm, shivering in the surprisingly cool August night air. He had never expected to make it this far without being spotted. He glanced at his watch. Any second now.
Shots ripped through the calm. The initial crack of the sniper rifles was lost in the roar of a machine gun spitting flame into the compound from the darkened tree line.
Riley and his comrades leapt to their feet and ran toward the next bunker. They still hadn't been spotted as the incoming rifle and machine gun fire riveted the guards' attention to the outside of the compound. Already, six of the perimeter guards were out of action. The attacking forces' machine gun in the wood line was dueling with the one in the tower. A roar and flash seared the night sky in the vicinity of the eastern wood line. Riley knew that indicated Haley had fired the Viper antitank rocket. The armored vehicle was out of commission.
Riley made it to the target bunker. Quickly, three of his men went into the routine they had rigorously practiced for the last three days. One taped detonation cord, known as det cord, along the seams of the doors, taking care to keep the cord from crossing itself. The other two men followed along, hooking in charges at premeasured points and priming them.
Riley and the three others fanned outward, ten feet from the massive doors to provide security. They were in position just as a reinforcing guard came running down the road between the berms from his northern guard post. The hapless air policeman was shot before he even realized there were intruders on the inside of the compound.
The M60 in the tree line won the battle with the tower as the gun up there went silent. An air policeman ran out of the immobilized Avenger with an M60 on his hip, blasting away at the tree line. Another started climbing up the tower to try to put that gun back into action.
Riley shook his head. Too many John Wayne movies. He raised his AK-47 and fired, picking off the man climbing the tower. The supporting fire from the wood line raked the hero with the machine gun on his waist, who tumbled forward to the ground. Riley was impressed. Nice performance.
The men rigging the demolitions were done. The det cord was tied into a short section of time fuse, which in turn was attached to a fuse igniter. The man with the igniter glanced at Riley, who nodded. The man pulled the ring and the fuse was lit.
"Let's go!" Riley yelled and gestured toward the southern fence. He pulled up the rear as the men ran for the hole. The outgoing fire from the compound was diminishing, with just a few surviving guards still returning fire. As Riley and his crew were spotted heading for the fence, two of the guards shifted fire. One of Riley's men was hit. The man didn't even notice and kept running until Riley stopped him and had two others carry him.
As Riley slid back through the hole, the time fuse finished burning and the explosives behind them went off with a bang.
The firing to the south had started two minutes ago. Powers patiently watched as the reaction force poured out of the building next to the tower. The air police jumped into three Blazers and two trucks and headed across the runway less than three minutes after the first shot. Both the Blazers at the aircraft ready site turned on their sirens and roared off to join the procession.
Powers pounded on the wall of the truck behind him, then opened the right door and hopped out. Men tumbled out of the back of the truck. Quickly, Powers counted heads. Fourteen. All present.
"Let's do it." He gave a thumbs-up to the driver and turned toward the aircraft. His men spread out behind him. At a slow jog they moved across the open tarmac, closing the distance between themselves and the F-111s. The truck slowly followed behind them.
The two air police on foot patrol watched the approaching men warily. They'd heard the firing off to the south and were confused by the two unexpected developments. One policeman tentatively raised his Ml6 to his shoulder and called out, "Halt!"
The reply was a roar of gunfire from the approaching men.
Riley experienced a slight feeling of relief. They were in the wood line and running, but two men had been shot. Carrying them slowed down the entire procession. Riley could hear the sirens of the reaction force behind him. He wasn't sure if the air police would chase them through the woods. He doubted it. Once the air police figured things out, they would probably try to circle around using the base perimeter road to beat the intruders to the fence. Riley was confident that his team could make it to the motorcycle shop before the air police were aware of what was going on and made it to the point where they'd entered the air base.
Another six hundred meters and they'd be at the fence.
Powers guided the truck as it backed up to the F-111. He nodded to himself as he checked his watch. With six men they could easily remove one of the bombs slung under the aircraft and heave it into the back of the truck.
Riley piled his men into the van and ran around to the front. He threw his web gear onto the floor and slammed the door shut. "Let's hit the road."