On the search down the street, they found another building that was a manufacturing plant for the poison gas. They searched it quickly, found no people, and hurried on. Two more structures had the large missiles, but these were crated and ready for transport to some of the sixty Scud firing sites that Saddam had spread around Iraq.
In the process, they rounded up ten more civilians and captured three more soldiers who had dropped their weapons and held their hands high.
Colt Franklin talked with each man caught. All said that the army captain and his men had gone by truck that morning down the road to meet a force of invaders. They hadn’t come back. They had no contact with them by radio.
Murdock stared at the buildings. They had checked each one. They had killed eight or ten Iraqi soldiers and captured six more and eighteen civilians.
“Jaybird, what’s the count on the missiles?” Murdock asked.
Jaybird looked at his ever-present notebook. “With the last building, it comes to a hundred and sixty-eight, all with the red tips, which we believe mean they are loaded with nerve gas.”
Murdock moved the men back toward the administration building near the front of the complex. Holt hurried up beside Murdock after a Motorola call.
“Get on the horn on TAC Two. Tell the choppers that we’re done here and should be ready to roll in about twenty minutes. We have six Iraqi soldiers and eighteen civilians to transport.”
Holt nodded and called the choppers and gave them the messages.
Murdock had the men and the prisoners at the administration building and ready to march out to the choppers when he heard the first whine.
He looked up but couldn’t see the jets as they made their run. He heard the hoarse whisper of missiles as they slashed out of the sky and hit one of the Chinook choppers, shattering it into a hundred pieces. Two of the Cobras got off the ground, only to be shot down by cannon fire moments later. The second Chinook escaped the first attack and had just lifted off when another missile hit it and exploded with a huge roar that sent a shock wave across the desert.
“Stay down and out of sight,” Murdock bellowed. “Nothing we can do for those men out there now. Must have been two MiGs.” He looked around. “Holt, on me, now.”
Ron Holt ran up with the SATCOM radio and gave Murdock the handset.
“We should be able to contact the other Chinooks on this channel.”
Murdock took the handset. “Chinooks with Marines, can you read me. This is SEAL One.”
He waited, looked at the burning choppers. There could be no one alive in any of the four choppers. The two surviving Cobras had lifted off and gone in opposite directions. With luck, the Iraqi MiGs wouldn’t find them.
No response to the radio call. Murdock made the call again. Then a voice came on the speaker.
“SEAL One. This is Cobra with you. Any survivors on the four choppers hit?”
“Negative Cobra. Can we warn the Marines about the MiGs?”
“I tried, SEAL One. I couldn’t raise them. I’ll move in that direction and try again. You’re without transport. Suggest you leave your captives and move to the west. We’ve contacted our base in Saudi about the hit here. No suggestions. We have no more Chinooks at our forward base. The Marines have four. They could stuff in thirteen SEALs.”
“Roger, Cobra. We’re leaving here and moving on foot to the west. Contact the Marines with your suggestion. Otherwise, it’s a damn long walk for us.”
“SEAL One. You sure on that survivor report?”
“Afraid so, Cobra. Sorry.”
“Yeah, some good buddies. We’ll stay in the area, give you cover support. Not much we can do about transporting you. Our base has been instructed not to attempt to recover bodies from the downed helos. That we don’t understand. We’ll stay with you.”
“Thanks, Cobra. Any help now is appreciated.”
Murdock turned to the SEALs. “You all heard. A scant chance we might hitchhike a ride with the Marines. Right now, we’re hiking into the desert. Check this place for water. We should take some with us. Franklin, ask some of your buddies where they have water around here and how we can take some along. You have five minutes.
“Holt, let’s try the Marines again. We had them before.”
“SEALs calling Chinook Marines. Can you read?”
There was silence.
Murdock made the call again. Then a voice came on.
“SEALs, Chinook Marines here. We’re under fire. Half mile from the choppers. Damn Iraqis are angry.”
“Chinook Marines. We took a hit by Iraqi MiGs five minutes ago. Get your choppers in the air, or you’re sitting ducks. Move them now. We have no transport back. Can thirteen SEALs hitch a ride with you guys? We’re moving out. Mission accomplished. Heading west out of the complex.”
“SEALs, we’re moving ass here. Choppers warming up, ready to ramble. Thanks for the warning. Will find you. No sweat. Will call off our Marines and put the gunships on the Iraqi. Out.”
“Let’s move it, people,” Murdock said to his SEALs.
“Skipper, what about the Iraqis we have collected?” Dobler asked.
“We’ll walk them with us. Get them out of the way at least. Tell them they need to be ten miles from this place when it blows because of the nerve gas.”
They walked away from the buildings and hopefully from the fatal consequences of the nerve gas.
An hour into the desert, Murdock figured they had covered four miles. The civilians were holding them up. He called a halt and made another radio call.
“Chinook Marines. Where are you? It’s been an hour. SEALs here calling.”
The answer came back quickly.
“SEALs. We’re having some trouble here disengaging. We have three birds ready to move with troops. Last fifty men are still challenged by the Iraqi. Determined. Our Cobras are doing the final attack on them. Yes, now we’re loading the last bunch. No sign of your MiGs. Hope they don’t find us. Moving in ten. We’ll go up this road to the buildings and turn west. We’ll find you.”
“Roger that, Marines. We’re hung out to dry here.”
Murdock told Holt to change frequencies to the satellite. He put in a call to Stroh on the Independence. He didn’t expect to get him, but he’d leave a message. The encrypted words went out quickly:
“Stroh, the complex is sanitized. All personnel removed. We’re without transport, walking five miles from the center. When we are clear by ten miles, we’ll give you another call. Murdock out.”
Senior Chief Dobler listened and looked at Murdock. “So where to now?”
“Go west, young man, go west. Another six miles, unless the Marines land before then.”
The line of thirty-seven men had spread out as they walked. The SEALs had ten yards between them from training and practice. The civilians had straggled. Murdock was at the end of the line playing cowboy drag catching the strays.
Nobody heard or saw the MiG until the rounds hit. The cannon fire exploded in the sand around the walking men from behind them. Their spread-out formation saved the lives of a lot of them. The MiG made one pass. It was traveling at Mach l and coming in at an angle, so even the two-barrel cannon could make the 23mm rounds hit the ground only one every thirty feet. Murdock bellowed to the men to disperse. Franklin shouted the same thing in Arabic. By the time the MiG came back, he had a target that was spread out fifty yards wide and half again that long. He fired, but no one was hit.
The plane raced off to the east.
Murdock called for casualties. He had no reports on his radio. Franklin came on. “Two of the civilians and one Iraqi solder have been hit. One of them is dead.”
“Can the wounded walk?”
“I think they both can. Not hit too bad.”
They walked on to the west.