Murdock took in the large room in one swift glance. Two holes in the far wall about the size of baseballs.
“Anybody hit?” Murdock called.
“Hell no, that was just a wake-up call,” Jaybird shrilled.
Somebody laughed.
“Joke’s on that bastard, cause on accounta I wasn’t fucking sleeping,” Guns Franklin brayed.
“We got a break, guys,” Murdock said. “At least he was out of bombs by the time he found us. No reason he singled us out. Just another target. Ed, check out your squad.” Murdock used his Motorola. All of his men checked in except Lam, who was on his way to the medics.
“Clean up any damage, and we’ll try to find out where a mess hall is and what the hell we’re supposed to be doing here.”
Someone came in the front door and cleared his throat.
“Commander, may I have a word with you?”
“Attention on the bridge,” Senior Chief Dobler bellowed. The men jolted to their feet and stood at attention.
In the doorway stood a tall man in cammies with silver eagle insignia on his shoulders.
Murdock walked over to him and saluted smartly.
“Lieutenant Commander Murdock, sir.”
“Put your men at ease and come outside.”
“Yes sir.” The man was darkly Colombian, spoke perfect conversational English, and had a demeanor that Murdock liked at once.
“At ease, carry on,” Murdock said and hurried out the door.
“Commander, I’m Colonel Paredes. Commanding officer of Bravo. Welcome aboard. I spent a year in the States at two war colleges and training schools. I’m delighted to have you here. I understand you had two casualties. We have good medical facilities here.”
“Thank you, Colonel Paredes. I want to go see my men, then get my troops settled in. I’m hoping one of your officers can give me a briefing about exactly what you want our mission here to be.”
“I can do that, Commander, on our way to the hospital. My car is right over here. Would now be convenient?”
“It would. I put top priority on taking care of my wounded.”
“Good. We can talk as we drive. It isn’t far.”
The car was a three-year-old black Mercedes sedan. Murdock wondered if it had been liberated. Once inside the car, the colonel began.
“Your mission here. Partly up to you, partly our requests. Right now, we have a column of about four thousand men moving in and harassing our northern blocking force. If you could somehow discourage them, we would be relieved. You know that I’m outmanned almost four to one.”
“I also hear you have only a few jet aircraft. That could be a problem.”
“It’s a huge problem, but you probably can’t help me there. First, I want you to help me push back the federal column, hit and run probably. Then we’ll talk about some more missions you can do here and elsewhere in Colombia.”
The car stopped, and Murdock waited for the colonel to get out first. Military courtesy. Colonel Paredes studied Murdock a moment. “We have heard good things about you and your SEALs. You have our complete cooperation. I’ll have Captain Orejuela here with a jeep, which will be at your command. Is the captain a good liaison officer for you?”
“Has he ever been in combat?”
“No, he’s unblooded, but his English is excellent. That probably is more important. He won’t go with you on most of your missions.”
“We’ll try him, Colonel. Now I need to get in there and see my wounded men.”
Murdock saluted the colonel, who returned the courtesy, then the SEAL hurried into the hospital.
He found Lampedusa in the emergency ward. His head graze had been treated, stitched up, and a small bandage attached. Captain Orejuela was with him.
“Good news on Lampedusa,” the captain said. “The graze did not give him a concussion, and there should be no lasting damage. He’s released for duty.”
“About fucking time I got out of here,” Lam said.
“Where’s Ostercamp?” Murdock asked. He was two curtains over. A doctor talked with him in broken English and Spanish. Ostercamp responded.
Orejuela chattered with the doctor in Spanish, then turned and smiled. “Yes, the doctor says the concussion was not serious. It disoriented him for a few hours, but he’s almost back to normal. They want to keep him here overnight for observation and will release him to duty in the morning.”
Murdock frowned. “You sure he’s okay? He was totally confused coming in. Thought he was back in SEAL training four years ago.”
“No, he should be fine. This is one of our best doctors. I’ve seen him work many times with our wounded.”
Murdock talked to Ostercamp just to be sure.
“Where are we, SEAL?”
“We’re in Colombia, doing what the hell I don’t know.”
“What’s your name?”
“Machinist Mate First Class Anthony Ostercamp, sir.”
“What’s your current duty?”
“With Bravo Squad, Third Platoon, with SEAL Team Seven, Coronado California, a part of NAVSPECWARGRUP-One.” Ostercamp frowned.
“Hey, come on, Cap. I’m ready to go. Tell these funny-talking people I’m back to normal.”
“Yeah, you sound like it. Take a rest in a good bed, and we’ll see you in the morning. Get some good food and some sleep.”
Ten minutes later, Captain Orejuela’s jeep had taken Murdock and Lam back to their barracks.
Murdock had talked to the captain about some food. That was the next stop. A mess hall had been provided for the men less than three hundred yards away.
The SEALs ate together on steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, two vegetables, and ice cream for desert. The coffee was strong and black. When they returned to their barracks, Murdock found a messenger waiting for him. The envelope held a brief message: “See me as soon as possible. The messenger will bring you here.” It was signed by Colonel Paredes.
Murdock took Ed DeWitt and Senior Chief Dobler with him. He explained it to the Colombian.
“Colonel, if this involves a mission for my men, I need these two with me to help evaluate and plan. It’s the way we do things in the SEALs.”
The colonel frowned for a moment, then rubbed his chin.
“Very well.” He introduced them to two of his aides. Murdock couldn’t remember their names. Both were majors.
“This is the situation. With our Loyalist Forces, we control most of the Cali area, from the coast to the mountain range to the east. The north flank is our weak spot, and that’s where the so-called Democratic Forces are poised, ready to strike south.
“We are strong up the Cauca River Valley all the way to Tulua, which is about a hundred miles north. Beyond that, we have some control up another forty or fifty miles. Above that is the force we estimate at about four thousand men. They have armor and artillery and can call in fighter aircraft with air-to-ground missiles.
“That point is about two hundred miles south of Medellin, the headquarters of the drug syndicate and the second capital. The new president spends most of his time there.”
“Do they have plans to move south with their troops?” Murdock asked.
“It’s a threat. I’m not sure of their plans. We try for intelligence, but have lost six good men trying to infiltrate their planning section.”
“There are good roads along the river, I would guess,” Ed DeWitt said.
“Yes, good hard-surfaced roads, and the enemy has enough trucks to move his troops quickly down those roads.”
“What about the river?” Dobler asked. “Sir, can it be used by large ships to move his men?”
“Not a factor. We have few ships we could use, and he has none that we know of.”
“If we took out his transport, it would be a huge setback for any attack plans,” Murdock said.
The colonel brightened. “Yes, good. I understand that he has more than two hundred trucks in the area, many what you Americans call six-by-six trucks.”