“Nice shooting, radioman. I’d be Chinese stir-fry if you hadn’t used that EAR. No way I could risk the twenties with Lam and Grant out in front. Tell the rest of the platoon to get their lazy asses up here. Nobody can push us off now. I’m going to do a little recon on my own.” He stopped. “Right after I tie up this damn round through my leg.” He used the kerchief he’d worn around his neck all day. When he had the blood stopped and the wrap tight, he moved.
Murdock lifted over the lip of the bunker and ran low and fast to the edge of the brush out thirty feet. Then he worked through it toward the west and where the hostages had to be.
A few minutes later he came on the Chinese bodies. They sprawled on the ground, all unconscious. Yes, he saw the argument that non-lethal weapons like the EAR could be used both ways. Knock them out and then execute them when you rolled over them. But not this time. There would be hours to take care of the silent ones later.
He moved toward the tents that he could see now. They showed only as a row of dark shadows in the dusky moonlight. All except one, where a flickering light stood out like a firefly at midnight. Now that he was closer, he watched for guards. There must be several around the captives.
“Skip, we might have some trouble over here.”
It was Lam. “What and where?”
“We’re near the Chinese bivouac. Looks like the soldiers are clearing out everything of value. My guess is that they’re getting ready to make a permanent move.”
“Which means we’d have all sorts of hell trying to find them in the heavily forested sections below.”
“Right. Damn near impossible. I’ve got the twenty and Karl picked up another of the H & K 53’s. Want us to nail all of them we can from here?”
“Impact on the twenties to keep them away from the tents?”
“Karl says we’re more than seventy-five yards from the tent tops.”
“I’m at the bodies. Where do I go from here to lend a hand?”
“We’re about a hundred yards ahead of you and bear to the left around the side of the clearing. Can’t miss us. I have my weapons free.”
“Fire at will, sweetheart.”
Murdock lifted up and ran hard forward as he spoke into the mike. “Holt, where the hell are the rest of the troops? We could use some more firepower up here.”
“Jefferson and Ostercamp are here, Skip. We’ll move up now at the firing. Rest of them are almost to the top.”
“Move it, you three. Hang to the left of the clearing and do it in a sprint.”
“We’re gone, Skipper.” The three SEALs lifted their weapons, charged in rounds, and ran flat out toward the men ahead of them.
Lam’s first impact-round twenty hit a heavy tree trunk ten feet over the heads of the Chinese infantry. The splash of the shrapnel was deadly. It sliced open two soldiers nearby, put hot steel in four more, and killed three of them.
Karl opened up with the submachine gun firing the 5.56 rounds on full auto. He soon mastered the art of the six-round burst, and put the rest of the Chinese on the ground ducking behind trees and any other cover they could find.
Lam fired three more times with the twenty, the rounds exploding in the trees working almost like airbursts. Between rounds, four of the Chinese lifted up and raced into the brush on the near side of their small camp. They all carried weapons, and Lam heard harsh Chinese commands. Somebody in charge had rescued the few men he could from the shootout.
Karl emptied one magazine after the quartet, but missed them. He jammed in a fresh twenty-five-round supply, and watched through the murky night air to see if anyone else moved. One man rolled from one cover to a log. Karl moved his sights to the far end of the log, only twenty feet from the dense woods. He tracked halfway to the brush and waited.
His eyes almost closed, and then he snapped them open. Movement. Yes, there he went. Karl tracked the Chinese as he came away from the log in a sprint. Karl fired six rounds. Three of them spread to the left, the other three powered into the victim’s side and back, killing him before he could roll into the ground cover less than five feet from the end of the log.
Murdock ran up and dove into the ground three feet from Lam, his Bull Pup ready to fire.
“Party is all over, but we lost four of them into the brush,” Lam said.
“Man, you should have seen this guy blasting them Chinese with his twenty,” Karl said. “I want one of them to play with.”
“Let’s check on the rest of the Chinese and make sure,” Murdock said. He told Karl to stay and cover them. They darted ahead to the killing field. Three gunshots sounded as they made sure there were no wounded to care for. SEALs take no prisoners, and leave no wounded.
Murdock thought about that as he and Lam waved Karl forward and then ran for the tents. About time they checked in with the governor and his staff.
They were halfway across the open space when a 53 opened up on them from the shadows beyond the tents. Murdock took an immediate hit on the top of his right shoulder and went down. He rolled and tried to bring up his Bull Pup, but his right arm didn’t work.
Lam dove to the ground and returned fire at the muzzle flash. He ripped twelve 5.56 rounds into the area, then emptied the magazine and jammed in another one. He picked up Murdock and dragged him out of the moonlight into the shadows.
“Bastard,” Murdock exploded. “You nail him?”
“I think so, or I scared the shit out of him and he’s running through the brush hoping to swim back to China. Let me look at that shoulder.”
“Up high somewhere. My fucking arm doesn’t work right. Does Mahanani still have the med kit?”
“Far as I know. Yeah, you caught a good one up there, Skipper. You stay put and I’ll get Doc up here to paste you together.”
He made the radio call. The medic had just hit the machine-gun pits, and swore he’d come right up and find Murdock.
Karl knelt down beside the commander. “You heading for the tents?” Karl asked. Murdock nodded, some of the pain in his shoulder burning like a seared finger on a barbecue.
“Hey, I’ll back up Lam,” Karl said. “The tents are just over there. That first one with the light is the one the lieutenant in charge used.”
“Go,” Murdock said.
They went in spurts of ten yards at a time, but drew no more enemy fire. They edged up to the platform and the screen door slowly. Then, when both were in position, Karl pulled open the screen door and Lam surged inside the tent frame.
“Clear first tent,” he said in the mike. Karl stepped inside and swore.
“Look at that bastard. Got himself a few shots in his chest. Wonder if Sara did it.” He told Lam about the officer dragging Sara out of the next tent as she screamed up a battle cry.
“So who is leading their troops?” Lam asked.
“There were two sergeants. One of them must have taken over. Let’s check the other tents.”
They took the candle with them after blowing it out. They lit it in the next tent, which was empty. Karl motioned them down to the next-to-last tent.
“The women were in here. Patricia Combs should be here.”
Nobody was in the tent. The padlocks had been unlocked. They checked the men’s tent and found the same thing, along with a ring of keys on the floor.
Lam used the net. “Skipper, the two women and three men hostages are gone. A lieutenant in charge is dead of chest wounds. Looks like the hostages might have escaped. What the hell can we do now?”
Before he finished talking, the snarl of the 53 submachine gun sounded down the clearing to the right. Lam and Karl ran that way, their weapons up and with fingers on the triggers.
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