They swam for a mile this time, surfaced to bunch together closer. By now they were little more than a quarter of a mile offshore. They saw two patrol boats with lights flashing working back and forth in front of what must be the channel into a bay, which was blazing with lights. That had to be the Iranian naval base.
The SEALs redirected their approach to the base and swam again. They were near the channel when they saw lights overhead and heard the screws of a powerful boat slamming through the water over them. They were plenty deep to clear these patrol boats, but it kept everyone on his toes.
After the boat raced past them, Murdock and Holt surfaced with just their masks and noses out of the water and checked the channel. Yes, dead ahead, and Murdock saw no searchlights on the water or sentries on the points of land on each side. Good. They went under and swam near the surface until they were inside the channel itself; then they waited for the others to catch up with them.
There was no convenient pier for them to cluster under. Each team surfaced for a peek, then submerged and kept close to the top of the water.
Murdock checked the inside of the base. He saw patrol ships tied up at piers fifty yards from the entrance on both sides. Then the bay swept back into the gloom until it came to a brightly lit area where a frigate had been moored. Where were the subs?
Murdock signaled for the SEALs to dive again. He used sign language to indicate they would go to the far end of the small bay and check around. The submarines shouldn’t be that hard to locate.
They swam three hundred yards and surfaced. Murdock checked again. Yes. To the left, under minimum lights, he saw the two sleek black ships resting in the water and tied to a dock end to end.
Everyone came up, saw the ships, and angled away on preassigned tasks.
Four SEAL pairs swam to the farthest sub, found it underwater and surfaced just enough to be sure it was the right one. They scanned it, estimated the distance, then went underwater and opened the floatation bags. They had to support the heavy limpet mines until they could get them positioned at the right place on the sub. The four were in a row about three feet under the water at nearly the midpoint on the oval, undersea ship. They were roughly fifteen feet apart and near the center of the 238-foot-long craft.
The mines were heavy, with a specially shaped charge construction so 90 percent of the blast would be angled inward against the side of the submarine. They were guaranteed to punch a large hole through the outer shell of the sub and do a great deal of damage inside.
The spread-out mines were designed to flood at least three of the watertight compartments if the doors could be closed. They would be enough to drop the warship into the mud of the harbor.
One man went back to the surface and watched. When he saw through the dim light a SEAL working on the first sub come to the surface and wave one arm, they both dived. The men moved to the mines and set the timers on them, then swam away from the ships at their own flank speed.
Murdock saw that the two submarines were planted with mines, and he and Holt led the charge away from the area. Just the way a stick of dynamite in a pond will kill half the fish, a limpet mine going off underwater sends out a tremendous concussion that will kill any diver caught within a quarter of a mile of it.
The timers were set for an hour. In that time they could be out of the channel and into the strait.
They were about a third of a mile from the subs when Murdock felt the concussion. He stroked to the surface and found the other SEALs there, treading water. He spat out his mouthpiece and checked his lighted-dial wristwatch. The timers had been running for only fifteen minutes.
“Malfunction on one mine,” Jaybird said, coming up beside him. “One mine won’t sink the subs, but will get somebody out there to check on their hulls. They might be able to deactivate the Limpets.”
“No way,” Ching said. “These are new ones. They try to pry them off the hull, they detonate automatically.”
They heard another ragged roar as another mine went off.
By that time, all the SEALs were treading water and looking behind them. The underwater explosions didn’t create any fire or blast into the air. It sent another shock wave through the water that the men could feel.
“Two down,” Murdock said. “Nothing we can do to change it. We better get the hell out of here. Surface. Let’s make some time.”
The SEALs did the crawl stroke and plowed through the channel toward the open water of the strait.
A patrol boat came out of the darkness, snapped lights on, and pinpointed the splashing seals. A machine gun chattered. The SEALs dove to avoid the hail of lead. Rebreather mouthpieces were pushed back in place and they went to twenty feet down. Then Murdock tried to find his men. They had scattered.
He saw the lights above. Heard the big engines on the sixty-foot ship growling as the craft worked a search back and forth where the crew had seen the swimmers.
Murdock swam out of the area the ship searched, and he and Holt came to the surface for a peek.
Nothing.
The ship was off a hundred yards, stopped in the water. Another pair of SEALs surfaced, and then more, and Murdock whistled them over. They treaded water, waiting.
“Anybody get hit?” Murdock whispered. The sound carried. There were several no’s.
“I got a nick in the arm. Barely cut through the wet suit.”
“Bradford, is that you?” Murdock asked.
“Yeah, Skip, but no strain. Not even any blood. Hell, I can swim twenty miles.”
“How many men we have?” Murdock asked.
“I count ten,” Jaybird said from close by.
“Ten? Where the fuck are the other five?” Murdock felt like screaming. First the damn mines don’t work right…
They all felt it then, four more blasts almost at the same time.
“That should be the second sub,” Murdock said. “Let’s spread out a little and see if we can find the missing men.”
They spread out and swam slowly back the way they had come. The patrol boat came alive again, gunned its motors, and moved down channel into the naval base.
They were fifty yards from where they started when Dobler called out softly. “Pink light stick, Skipper. Toward the base.”
They swam faster that way, and soon found three men. Lampedusa was holding up someone in the water.
“Skip, got some trouble here. It’s the JG. He caught one of them slugs. We kept his rebreather mouthpiece in and waited until the ship left, but he won’t be swimming much. We get to that point of land over there?”
“Yes, move that way. We’re still missing two men. You hear them?”
“Might have,” Lam said. He gave up his burden to Horse Ronson who towed the JG along with a powerful sidestroke.
“We heard somebody swimming toward the point just after the boat left. Could be ours.”
Murdock kicked out in a powerful crawl stroke and felt Holt beside him. They moved to the landmass that was still only a dark blob. Almost there, they heard swimmers ahead of them.
“SEALs,” Murdock called softly.
“Fuck yes. Got a man hurt. Making for the shore.”
“Ostercamp?” Murdock called softly again.
“Yeah. It’s Ching. Took a slug somewhere. Haven’t found it yet, but he’s not in good shape.”
“Get him to the land, and we’ll have Doc look at him. The JG caught one, too. Where did those fuckers come from?”
Ten minutes later, the fifteen SEALs waded to shore and stretched out their two wounded men. Doc Mahanani did the best he could in the faint moonlight. He did some bandaging, then talked to Murdock.
“Skip, we got troubles. The JG took one in the chest area. The slug must have gone into the water first, because it didn’t go all the way through him. He’s losing some blood. But evidently it didn’t hit his heart or any vitals, otherwise he’d be KIA.