Halfway up the long tunnel they came to the burned-out truck and the Chinese bodies. They continued past to the spot where the tunnel branched. Ching put a charge that would block both tunnels, and they continued upward.
A minute later they came to the reception area. Before they got there they heard firing. Murdock recognized the chatter of the MP-5's. His boys from Second Squad were mixing it up with someone.
They got to the mouth of the tunnel and checked outside carefully. The reception area had changed. Murdock found three of his other seven men pinned down behind some upturned tables and the receptionist's desk on the far side. The other four were on the near side behind metal file cabinets and tables.
Rifle fire came from the blasted-open man-sized door. Magic Brown flattened out near the mouth of the tunnel, kicked down the bipod on his sniper rifle, and sighted in on the metal door leading outside. He waited, watching through his scope. Then he fired. A scream sounded outside.
Murdock used his radio. "Troubles, Dewitt?"
"Too damn many. About twenty of them charged through the door. We beat them back, but can't join our forces. Three on the left, and four on the right. We're out of fraggers."
"RPG?"
"Used up."
Horse Ronson had set up his HK machine gun. He signaled to Murdock that he was ready. Murdock put the rest of his squad on the left of the chatter gun. When Ronson opened fire, he slammed nine-round bursts through the metal door. That was when the rest of First Squad charged out the tunnel and around to the left of the room and got as close to the outside door as they could. Brown, Murdock, and Jaybird all threw grenades at the blasted-in doorway. Two of the three went outside and exploded. The third one bounced off the metal truck door and rolled far enough to the right so the shrapnel missed the First Squad.
Ronson cut off his firing. All was quiet outside. Magic Brown threw two more grenades. Both went through the opening and blasted outside. Murdock and his men charged the door, firing their submachine guns through the opening as they ran. Murdock went through the blasted door first and slanted to the right, his Kill House territory.
Two Chinese soldiers limped away. He put them both in the dirt with three-round bursts. He heard firing from his left. Another Mainlander had risen from his position close to Mother Earth, and was greeted with two hip-fired rounds from Magic Brown's rifle. Then all was quiet.
Murdock touched his mike. "Come," he said. Second squad came out of the metal door and dispersed in the darkness.
"Casualties?" Murdock radioed.
"I've got one man nicked in the leg," Dewitt said through the earphone. "He says not serious. I'll watch him. What's next?"
"We've attracted too much attention. Let's haul ass for the beach and our IBSS."
They moved away toward the beach at ten meter intervals. No lucky grenade or shell would get more than one SEAL. They heard sirens wailing from inside the facility. The best part about this island strike, Murdock decided, was that the Chinese couldn't truck in a thousand men to hunt them down. The garrison on the island was all they had. He wished he knew how many fighting men that involved.
The SEALS could see headlights to the left, inland on the island, which they heard was about two miles across. The beach was only a hundred meters away. They picked up the pace to double time.
Lieutenant Murdock came to the beach and turned right to find the IBSS. He found the spot. Both boats had been slashed, ruined, and looted. Nothing left of value.
"Hit the dirt!" Murdock bellowed. A moment later machine-gun fire erupted along the grass dune that separated the dry sand from the land.
"Waiting for us," Murdock said in his radio. "Take cover and let me find this bastard."
Murdock saw where the fire came from. The gun was on the dune thirty meters down from the boats. His rounds were high, but he'd get them down. Murdock checked his pouches and found two more fraggers. He wished he had another RPG or some M-40's. He began to crawl forward on his elbows and his knees, digging into the sand, moving more slowly than he wanted to.
Thirty meters. Too damn far to throw. He checked behind him and found Holt tailing him. He must have some hand grenades left too. They moved into the grass. The rounds were still high. The gunner was kicking out five-round bursts. He knew what he was doing. He didn't have NVG, that was for sure, or half the platoon would be dead by now.
They crept closer. At fifteen meters Murdock stopped and let Holt come up beside him. "How many?" Murdock asked.
"Three."
"We'll alternate. I'll throw one. Five counts later you throw one. We do that twice."
Holt nodded. Murdock remembered that Holt had been second in accuracy with live grenades on the range. The kid could throw. Murdock pulled the pin on his grenade, waited for Holt to pull his, then with a stiff-elbow throw arched the bomb toward the machine gun.
A second after the fragger ripped the China night apart, Holt lifted up and threw his hand bomb. In 4.2 seconds the second grenade went off with a chopping roar. The machine gun stopped firing.
Murdock motioned Holt up, and they both took their MP-5's and charged the machine gun firing as they ran. Three Chinese lay dead around their weapon. Murdock shot two rounds into the receiver so the MG wouldn't fire again, and ran back to his troops.
"Swim time," he said on the radio. "Our IBSS are both slashed and dead. Let's swim." He pulled off the mike and headset, stowed them in the waterproof pocket in his vest, and charged his men into the water.
The water is home to the SEAL. When all goes bad he can always take to the water for protection and comfort. It also can hide him and save his Navy hide to fight again another day.
They had no breathing apparatus. Their emergency fins and face masks had been in the IBSS on the beach. Now they would be part of the "evidence" the Chinese might use when the story came out. If it came out. He hoped it would embarrass the Chinese so badly they wouldn't mention the intrusion.
The SEALS waded into the water, ducked under the first three breakers, and assembled just beyond the white water.
"Buddy lines," Murdock said. "I want groups of four. Dewitt, how's your man?"
Dewitt swam over. "He's better off out here than on land. He tells me he can breaststroke ten miles. We'll see." They tied themselves together. Three sets of four and one of three. Ron Holt was with Murdock. "Holt, you have that sonar signaler?"
"Always."
"Activate it. We want that sub to come in until his nose scrapes Chinese sand. We'll move out a mile and wait for him."
"Damn dark tonight, L-T."
"True. Another hundred yards off shore and I'll put up the SLVB. Give the men and the sub something to watch for. Free swimming this way, we've got to stay together."
They took two rounds of rifle fire from the beach, and then no more.
The SEALS kept up their steady stroke away from the shore. Murdock tried to set a course, but soon realized that it didn't really matter. The sub would be homing in on the sonar signal sent out by the handy-dandy little rig that Holt had slipped into the sea on a cord tied to his webbing.
Murphy's law had hit them hard. The Chinese finding their IBSS was the worst of it. Now they had a tough swim. He hoped that the sub skipper would come in to the one-mile mark. If anything else went wrong they would still be swimming when daylight broke over the eastern horizon.
Now it was all up to that sonar device. Work, damnit, Murdock demanded. Work!
12
Murdock figured the SEALS were a half mile offshore from Tayu Island when he heard the engine. It was too high-pitched to be a submarine. Submarines made hardly any noise at all, even when traveling on the surface. He listened closer. Holt turned toward the sound. "Company," he said.