“Commander, we’ve got some visitors,” Mahanani said. “Beyond the motor pool.”
Murdock checked in the string of lights below. What looked like a company of armed men double-timed toward the motor pool.
“Two rounds each into the formation,” Murdock said. They used the proximity fuzes, and the rounds would detonate ten or fifteen feet over the marching men. Three rounds hit almost at the same time, and Murdock was amazed at the result. It was like dropping in a half dozen 40mm grenades. Twenty or thirty men slammed to the ground. Most never got up. Others screamed and ran away from the formation, dripping blood. More rounds hit and slaughtered another twenty. By the time the last round exploded in the area, there were few soldiers standing and none coming forward.
“My God!” Colt Franklin said. “This Bull Pup should be classified as top secret and our new top weapon. My God! Did you see what we did down there with twenty rounds?”
The other SEALs were quiet.
“You said it all, buddy,” Jefferson said. “I just found my true love: this damned little Bull Pup.”
They heard noise to the left.
“Hey, Canzoneri coming in,” the Motorolas whispered. The sapper came in, limping badly. Mahanani was the first one to him. He took off the temporary bandage made from a shirtsleeve. He had Canzoneri behind some brush to screen him from the camp and hovered over him with a pencil flash in his mouth.
He washed the four-inch slice in Canzoneri’s thigh with disinfectant, then used some cinch bandages and pulled the sliced-open flesh together until it matched. Then he treated it with ointment and put a bandage around it to keep it clean and help hold the cut together.
Ed DeWitt came up, and he and Murdock talked about the route out. Lam knelt down with them.
“Back this side of the river, same way we came in,” Murdock said. “Mahanani, over here.” The medic came, putting his kit back in place.
“How’s Canzoneri?”
“I’d say he can make the forty miles. But not all in one chunk. Some transport would be nice.”
“Roger that. Let’s get put together and move out. Lam out front. We’ll do a column of ducks unless it gets too hairy. My guess is that they will send out at least six patrols trying to track us down. We need to get ahead of them.”
DeWitt put Canzoneri right beside him on the move and kept a tight watch on him. “Canzoneri, I know your leg is hurting like hell. You’ll get another morphine in an hour. If we’re going too fast, give me a yell. We go the rest of the way at your pace.”
“Hell, no sweat, JG. Just a fucking scratch. I can keep up with these bastards any day.”
DeWitt stared into Canzoneri’s eyes a moment and saw the determination there. He moved out again with the rest of the men.
They were what Murdock figured was five miles from the smoking ruins of the motor pool when Lam held up his hand for a stop. Murdock moved up to see the situation.
“Figure there’s about ten of them,” Lam said. “Must have taken a radio call and come up from somewhere down this way. How would they know we were on this side of the river?”
“Where we fired from,” Murdock said.
“There,” Lam said. They saw two men run across an open space about thirty yards ahead.
“I need six men up here on a company front,” Murdock whispered into his mike. “They’re too close for the twenties. Use the rifles or the 5.56 on the Pup. Quietly.”
The two men ahead who ran across the open space went back the other way.
“What the hell they doing?” Lam asked.
“Scouts,” Murdock said. He felt rather than heard men coming into a line on both sides of him and Lam.
They heard a loud click, then a greatly amplified voice boomed across the open space and through the woods.
“U.S. SEALs. We know you have invaded our sacred Colombian homeland. There is no way you can escape. We have you completely surrounded. You will die here, SEALs. Your blood and your bodies will fertilize our fine Colombian soil. You will die, SEALs. Every one of you will be cut down and dead within an hour.”
13
Murdock chuckled softly. Into the mike he said: “Don’t pay any attention to the voice. It’s an old trick the Japanese used hundreds of times in World War Two. The Colombians probably do this with every patrol that goes out. They set up in a blocking position and tell us exactly where they are. I do wonder how they know we’re SEALs or that we’re even in the country. That will keep.
“Lam and I’ll go take a look, see who they are, and reduce them if practical. Lam, get an MP-5 with suppressor on it. Let’s see how good we are.”
Lam and Murdock moved out silently, working ahead slowly, not rustling a leaf. They worked slightly to the right of the open space and then forward a tree at a time. After forty yards, Lam was five yards ahead. He looked back at Murdock and motioned him forward.
They looked through a screen of trees and spotted a cluster of six soldiers. They had taken off their helmets and sprawled on the grassy mulch under the tall trees. Both Lam and Murdock had their NVGs. The soldiers drank from canteens and talked quietly with each other.
Murdock looked for any insignia. Dumbest thing an officer can do is wear his rank on his uniform or helmet in a combat situation. He found one. A single bar that could have been silver or gold. A lieutenant.
As they watched, three more soldiers came into the area. They dropped their weapons and helmets and sat on the ground near the other men. The officer stood to one side near a packboard that held a large, square object that Murdock decided was a battery. The Lieutenant picked up a microphone, turned a switch, and trumpeted his brave words into the night again. Now Murdock saw the two-foot-square speaker.
Murdock patted his silenced submachine gun and switched it to single shot. He showed Lam the weapon.
“Pick off the outsiders one at a time. When they panic, we throw in two grenades each.”
Lam nodded and switched his MP-5 to single shot. He gave Murdock a thumbs-up, and they settled in. Lam would take the left side and Murdock the right.
Murdock saw one man at the far right. It looked like he had curled up and gone to sleep. Murdock zeroed in on his chest and fired. From thirty yards away, the effect was immediate. The man jolted with the entry of the bullet, then lay still. Lam found two targets on his side, then Murdock checked for the officer. He had sat down beside the loudspeaker. Murdock caught him with a round in the chest, but he shrilled out a warning scream as he dove for his rifle. Murdock’s second round silenced him.
The troops scrambled for their weapons and helmets. Lam had out his grenade and threw first. Murdock’s came a quick second later. Both exploded almost at the same time, the shrapnel slicing into half the Colombian soldiers. Two men lifted up and darted toward the woods. Lam caught one of them with a three-round burst, but the other one vanished into the woods.
Lam pointed toward the runner. Murdock shook his head.
“We’d never catch him. He’s running for his life, and he knows the territory.” Murdock hit his lip mike. “Clear in front, move out, and we’ll meet you just past the cleared zone.”
“Roger that, skipper,” Ed DeWitt responded.
Murdock looked at Lam. “Let’s go down there and make sure everyone is dead.”
They checked. Lam fired one shot from his MP-5, then the two SEALs went forward and toward the far end of the cleared space. The rest of the platoon was there when they arrived.
“One got away,” Murdock told the troops. “If he gets back to his unit and if they have a radio, the rest of the damn army will know where we were. We better shag ass out of here.” He looked at Canzoneri. “How’s the leg?”