Mahanani put a bandage over the front entry wound, then eased Ronson over and checked his back under his shirt. An inch-wide gaping hole showed. He held the mini-flashlight in his mouth and put a gauze pad over the wound to stop bleeding, then treated it as best he could and bandaged it tightly.
“Ronson, buddy, you just lay there quiet. We’re going to get you some help.” He ran around the side to Murdock.
“Chest shot, Commander. He needs help right now. My suggestion we move easy-like a couple of miles away and get an evac chopper in here. Could be a lung or some big artery up in there. He could be bleeding internally. I don’t like it. He’s critical right now.”
“Take a SATCOM and a driver and move this Humvee out near the highway. Stop and call CINCPAC. Tell them the problem and demand a chopper out here within thirty minutes. There’s a Marine Corps Air Station not over ten miles away. They must have a hospital or clinic there. Go. Now. Go.”
Franklin went along to keep Ronson from moving around. Mahanani drove. The rest of the squad bailed out of the Humvee. The rig moved toward the highway where Mahanani could see headlights. It was just after 0450. He stopped a mile from the road and used the SATCOM. He’d been told how to set up the antenna. CINCPAC came through on the first try.
“That’s the story, CINCPAC. Could the Marines out here come get Ronson? He’s critical right now with that chest shot.”
“That’s a Roger, SEALs. They will have an evacuation bird and medics in the air in five minutes. They say put out a flare, any color, for an LZ. You copy?”
“Copy, CINCPAC. No enemy fire this area. The patient is ready.”
Mahanani drove closer to the highway, found a wide-open space, and parked. He took out three red flares from his vest and walked fifty yards away from the Humvee.
He looked toward the coast, and at once could hear a chopper. It was coming in fast and low. He pulled out the flares and held them ready. When he figured the bird was two hundred yards off, he popped the first flare, then a second one. The chopper came in fast, slowed, then settled to the ground between the flares. Mahanani ran to the helicopter.
Five minutes later Mahanani and Franklin watched the big chopper lift off. A doctor and a nurse on board were working on Ronson even before the liftoff. He was in good hands.
“Let’s see if we can find the cap and check out where the action is,” Mahanani said. They used the Motorola, and Murdock reported they were about a half mile north of where they had been before, watching the Chinese.
Murdock stared through his night-vision goggles and then his binoculars. He wasn’t sure what went on in front of him. The Chinese had moved up and taken over the beer truck. They had no way to move it. Would they keep it there until daylight and then get one of their half-tracks back here? He had no idea where the rest of the Chinese troops were. He still thought the SEALs and Marines had captured all of them before.
Ten minutes after the radio call from Mahanani, the other Humvee steered into the area beside Murdock.
“The doc on the chopper said Ronson should make it. They’ll stabilize him and keep him alive until they get him to the hospital. He said in fifteen minutes Ronson would be in an operating room.”
“Good. Now what the hell are these fucking assholes going to do with their favorite nuclear bomb?” Murdock asked.
The SEALs quietly moved the Humvees into a slight depression where they would be out of sight of the Chinese troops. Some of the men caught quick naps. Murdock paced around the vehicle trying to come up with an answer. Why hadn’t they found all the invading Chinese troops? Where had they hid? What would they do now? They had no way to transport the ton of crate and bomb.
It was a cool morning breeze that brought Murdock out of his nap where he leaned against the Humvee. The breeze was enhanced by a buzzing and then a whupping, and he scanned the sky looking for the chopper. Maybe the Marines were coming in with a thousand men to capture the bomb.
No, just one bird. It was low, so low that Murdock caught only quick looks at it as it came in from the sea. It circled and dropped down out of sight. Murdock swore. That was the spot where they had left the beer truck and the bomb. Almost any military chopper with a sling could carry a ton of goods. The helicopter could have come off any of the Chinese destroyers, which routinely carried one.
The rest of the platoon stirred and came alert. Lam sauntered up.
“What they doing with a chopper?” he asked.
“Moving the bomb, what else? Get Holt and the radio,” Murdock snapped.
The radioman came up quickly, already setting up the dials and the antenna. The all-ready beep came, and Murdock took the handset.
“CINCPAC. This is Murdock. The Chinese have control of the bomb again. Now they have brought in a chopper. Don’t know what they’re up to. How close are the local Marines or maybe an F-l4 from the Jefferson?”
“Carrier planes are all restricted. Marines can put an armed chopper up. Near the same area they picked up the wounded man.”
“That’s a Roger. Tell them to rush it or the bird and bomb might not still be here.”
“Will do, Murdock.”
Lam went forward to find out what the Chinese were doing. He had his Motorola hooked up.
Five minutes later the call came. “Damn, Skipper, they don’t waste any time. They put slings on the whole damn beer truck. Couldn’t get the bomb out of it, my take. The chopper has lifted off and now the sling is tightening. There it goes. You should be able to see it about now.”
Murdock watched the whole beer truck lift slowly away from the green of Hawaii and move into the air. The trip would not be fast, as the helicopter seemed to be straining just a little to keep flying. It headed straight for the mountains, toward what looked to Murdock to be the most rugged section in sight.
There was no sign of the Marine chopper. Murdock talked to the lip mike. “Drivers, let’s choggie. We’re heading straight up the hill as far as these little donkeys will climb. Moving out.”
Ed DeWitt came on the Motorola. “We going after the bomb?”
“How many defenders can they have around it up there?”
“Damn few. But what if they don’t stop on top, but keep going over the summit and down the other side?”
“Then we contact CINCPAC for some tracking from that side of the mountains. Moving.”
The Humvees were built for off-road work as well as blacktop, but there was a limit to how far up the slopes of the Koolau Mountains they could go. Ching got his rig over a ravine Murdock doubted that he could, and then the second Humvee made it, and they climbed another quarter of a mile before they came to a sharp gully that they could not beat.
“Hit the ground, we’re walking,” Murdock said. He had made a regular check behind them, but saw no sign of the Chinese forces that had captured the bomb from them. He had no idea where they had vanished to. They had to be hidden away somewhere in the immediate area. He’d let CINCPAC worry about that.
The undergrowth became thicker as they moved up the slopes. The higher they went, the more rain fell, and the more rain, the more trees and shrubs and grasses. They hiked up the ravines and ridges and more slopes and ridges. Now and then on a high spot, Murdock could see their objective. A slightly open spot in the rugged and green-covered spires where the chopper might have found room to land, or at least to hover while the sling was unhooked.
Lam kept to the point, and came back about ten minutes later.
“Something up ahead that looks like a small camp, maybe an outpost. I spotted four men. There’s a fire and some lean-to shelters made from branches and poles.”
“Sounds like a Boy Scout camp,” Murdock said.