H.J. and Helliwell surprised the rebels by opening fire. The return fire sent both of them diving for cover. Protected by the low garden wall, H.J. and Bud scurried along the wall, shifting their position to open up a better field of fire, but the volume of rebel return fire kept driving them down. They were pinned. The attackers split into two groups. One focused its attack against H.J. and Bud, while the other forced their way into the house across the street. Automatic fire tore up the street, narrowly missing Duncan and the others as they ran uphill.
Several rebels crouched behind the smoking truck, shooting at those in the petrol station. A volley of shots bracketed Monkey, sending his language back into the “streets of Newark” vernacular. He stood quickly with the MG-60 braced on his hip and raked the vehicle from bumper to bumper. Four rebels hiding in the bed jerked as bullets riddled them.
Mcdonald raced from his position at the other end of the petrol station to the opposite side of the street from Monkey.
He opened fire as he ran, blowing the dead driver off the steering wheel and hitting two attackers who were attempting to escape up the near side of the street. The remaining Algerian rebels kept the truck between them and the machine gunners as they fled uphill to where their comrades were attacking the two trapped SEALs.
H.J. and Bud fought a mismatched battle as the attackers reached the top of the hill. Rebels screamed as they assaulted the low garden fence.
Several Guardsmen from the petrol station joined Duncan and Beau. In leapfrog action they fought their way up the hill toward the battle surrounding H.J. and Helliwell. A barrage of gunfire from the occupied house across the street from H.J. and Bud sent Duncan and his group rolling for cover. Monkey and Mcdonald peppered the house with return fire, effectively stopping the rebels.
Duncan ran his hand through his close-cropped hair. So close, but so far away. If H.J. and Bud can hold out for another minute … Shit! Algerian rebels dove over the wall where H.J. and Bud were hiding. H.J. shot two of the rebels as they came over the top. Duncan and Beau stood simultaneously. Two rebels at the rear jerked as the duo’s bullets sent them, like maladroit puppets with tangled strings, dancing backward before they fell in the street. Duncan started running, ignoring the excruciating pain in his right knee. He could always get an artificial knee. Bullets kicked up the pavement around him, the shards stinging his legs. A fierce battle raged out of sight behind the wall. Duncan dove behind a nearby garden wall as a sniper bullet barely missed him. He waited a few seconds before sprinting toward the empty rebel truck, about fifty feet away.
He looked up in time to see a rebel hit H.J. from behind with his rifle butt as another grabbed her rifle. She spun and kneed the man behind her in the crotch, with as much force as possible. Duncan grimaced.
The Algerian rebel fell forward, his weapon hitting the ground as both hands flew in protection over his nuts. H.J. whipped out her knife from its leg scabbard and slit his throat, shoving him to one side. A rebel fired point-blank at the female SEAL. H.J. grabbed her shoulder.
The force of the impact spun her around before she disappeared behind the wall with rebels jumping on top of her. Duncan leaped up and, in a quick sprint, made it to the wrecked truck.
Bud Helliwell was in his own battle and unable to help his partner. A rebel ran toward the mustang officer and tossed a grenade. Helliwell blew him into paradise. The grenade landed a few feet from him.
Bud dove over the wall as the grenade exploded. He hit the road hard, rolling left downhill. Shrapnel caught him in the left arm.
Beau snapped his gun to his shoulder and shot a rebel who had swung his gun toward the wounded SEAL, expecting an easy kill. He shot two others who had stood to shoot Helliwell. Bud began to crawl as fast as he could downhill, dragging his left arm beside him. Blood from the wounds made a red streak along the paved road. Shots from the rebels disturbed the ground around the wounded officer. Bits of gravel and dirt ricocheted over Bud, but miraculously failed to score.
Enemy fire from across the street sent Duncan ducking back behind the smoking rebel truck. Beau crouched across the street opposite Duncan.
Duncan waved at Beau and motioned toward Helliwell. Beau gave a curt nod. Gibbons rolled into the area behind the truck, crowding Duncan from behind.
Suddenly Mcdonald sprinted past Duncan and Beau, heading uphill. Duncan whistled and waved for Mcdonald to stop and take position where he was.
Mcdonald rolled behind a nearby fence.
Duncan motioned Monkey to move across the street, and with the two machine-gunners on opposite sides of the street, he had them in overlapping fire position.
Small bursts of pavement erupted as Chief Judiah ran up the middle of the road toward the wounded SEAL.
“Give him cover!” Duncan shouted.
“Yeah, give me cover!” the chief yelled as he bobbed and weaved, trying to make himself a harder target.
Beau leaned around the corner and fired several short, rapid bursts at the enemy. Monkey released a tattoo of MG-60 bullets along the doorways of the buildings, while Mcdonald blew out the remaining windows on both sides of the street.
Duncan and Gibbons gave the roofs their full attention. The SEALs effectively silenced the enemy fire long enough for Chief Judiah to reach Helliwell.
The chief jerked Helliwell to his feet and threw him over his shoulder.
He half-dragged, half-carried the wounded ensign to a nearby wall, where they took cover.
“You okay?” Judiah asked.
“Sure,” Bud replied, his right hand under his left armpit pressing against a pressure point. “It’s only a scratch.”
Chief Judiah pulled his belt off and handed it to the wounded officer.
“Here, let’s put a tourniquet on that scratch before you bleed to death.”
“It ain’t as bad as it looks, Chief. Give me a few minutes and the bleeding will stop.” Bud grimaced as Judiah slipped the makeshift tourniquet up the arm. No, it wasn’t the wound that hurt. Bud could tell the arm was broken, but it was easier to set a break than shove blood back into the body. The blood just made the wound look worse than it truly was.
“Go, Chief. I’ll be fine here. Hand me my piece.”
As the SEAL fire slacked, four rebels jumped up and ran across the street toward HJ.‘s position. Two rolled over the wall. Machine-gun fire from Monkey sent the last two pitching forward, hands outspread, to land motionless on the street. Their weapons bounced off the cobblestones.
Duncan waved at Beau and pointed to himself. Beau pointed uphill.
Duncan nodded. Duncan crawled around the tail of the truck. Above him a frightened Algerian leaned over the tailgate with his rifle aimed at the back of Duncan’s head. Gibbons shot him. The attacker fell, landing on top of the startled Duncan, who pushed the body off him and under the truck.
Taking a deep breath, Duncan jumped up and began a zigzag run uphill for thirty feet. He hurled himself over the garden wall of a nearby house. Gunfire from the house stitched a neat series of holes along the wall above him. Bits of plaster peppered his back, bringing up small stinging blisters.
Beau’s return fire silenced the guns from across the street. Duncan crawled several feet forward and peered around the corner of a cast-iron gate. Chief Judiah tumbled over the wall and, crouching, ran toward Duncan’s position. The chief unlimbered a stun grenade and tossed it over a wall two houses up before he dove for cover one house down from Duncan. Duncan drew back as the explosion went off.
Dust from the explosion obscured the area. Duncan jumped up, rolled over the wall, and came up running as he crossed the street to where H.J. had gone down. As he passed, Chief Judiah joined him.