It seemed to take forever for the weapon to engage. Finally, he heard the loud bang and distinctive whoosh as the warhead erupted out of the launcher and went sizzling through the air toward its target.
If the militia couldn’t hear it over the gunfire, the gray-blue smoke trail headed right at them was unmistakable.
“C’mon, baby!” Harvath yelled. “C’mon!”
He watched as the rocket-propelled grenade sliced through the air at almost three hundred meters a second.
When it struck the antiaircraft technical, it did so dead-on. It was a perfect shot, followed by a spectacular explosion.
Harvath began running before the .50 caliber machine guns from the two surviving technicals could be turned on his position.
Reaching the far side of the roof, he leapt over the parapet and landed on the cab of the pickup below. Jumping down, he took off for Haney.
Using a pile of rubble for cover, the Marine took aim at the first technical and fired the Russian grenade launcher.
The round soared high into the air, landed right in the bed of the vehicle, and exploded.
It wasn’t until Haney was preparing to take out the last technical that Harvath saw the second wave of militia members closing in.
The assault force this time was smaller. There were only six of them. They had used the withering fire from the technicals as cover and had flanked the compound.
Haney didn’t even know they were there until Harvath yelled, “Contact left! Contact left!”
The Marine spun just as the final round left his grenade launcher. Dropping the weapon, he went for his rifle, but the Libyans had already begun shooting.
CHAPTER 39
Before Haney could even get his gun in the fight, Harvath was firing in controlled pairs. He dropped one militiaman, then another. “Get cover! Get cover!” he yelled at Haney.
Out on the road, the grenade landed short of the convoy and detonated. The remaining technical was unharmed.
The Marine fell back behind the rubble, propped his rifle up, and began to return fire along with Harvath.
Together, they took out four of the Libyans before the other two retreated behind the wall.
“Move right! Move right!” Harvath shouted, trying to get Haney to the more secure cover of the middle structure.
The Marine, though, was having trouble moving. Harvath looked down and saw his upper right thigh wet with blood. He’d been shot.
Suddenly, the .50 cal opened fire on their position. Seconds later, the Libyans behind the wall joined in.
Harvath and Haney were now taking fire from two directions. Any chance they had of making it to the middle structure was now gone.
As soon as the militia realized they had them pinned down, they’d send in a team to hit them from behind, or on their right flank, and finish them off. That was if the .50 cal rounds didn’t eat away their cover first.
Poking his rifle out from around the rubble, Harvath fired at the two Libyans behind the wall.
He pulled the tourniquet from his chest rig and tossed it to Haney. “Get this wrapped around your leg. Now.”
Then, poking his rifle back out, he fired several more shots, before focusing back on Haney.
“Have I mentioned how much I fucking hate Libya?” the Marine asked as he applied the nylon webbing around his upper thigh.
“You and me both,” he replied, as he prepared to help cinch the tourniquet down. “On three, okay?”
Haney nodded.
Harvath tightened his grip, began the countdown, and then went early, pulling up as hard as he could on the word two.
The Marine roared in pain. Harvath secured the tourniquet and then fired off several more rounds toward the wall.
“I don’t want to fucking die here,” Haney said through clenched teeth.
“Nobody’s dying here,” Harvath reassured him. “Not on my—”
“Contact rear!” the Marine yelled, raising his rifle and firing behind them. One of the Libyans had split off from his partner and had tried to get the drop on them.
Haney shot the man several times in the chest until he slumped forward over the wall, dead.
At the same moment, rounds from the .50 cal shattered the rubble just above their heads, showering them with pieces of rock.
“We can’t stay here,” said Harvath as he swapped out his mag for a fresh one.
“Where are we supposed to go?” Haney grunted, as he tried to reposition himself.
“Over the wall. We stay low on the other side, we can move in either direction.”
“And then what?” the Marine asked as another barrage from the .50 cal pounded into the rubble pile and sent rocks tumbling down on top of them.
“Let’s get ready to move. Can you put weight on that leg?”
Haney half stood, but when he tried to put weight on his right leg, the pain shot through his body like an electric shock, and the leg buckled. “Fuck,” he growled.
“That’s okay,” said Harvath. “We’ll go with Plan B.”
“What’s Plan B?”
“We kill every last one of them.”
The Marine shook his head. “Negative. I’ll cover you. You go for the wall.”
“And let you have all the fun? Jesus, you Marines are greedy.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I,” replied Harvath. “We fight together, or we go over the wall together. I’m not leaving you here.”
“Don’t be an asshole.”
“Shut up and get ready to fight. That’s an order.”
Haney did as he was told. Swapping magazines, he made ready.
As he did, the hair suddenly stood up on the back of Harvath’s neck. Whether it was something he heard, or something he sensed, he knew they were in trouble. “RPG!” he yelled. “Get down!”
The rocket crashed into the building just behind them and exploded, raining shrapnel and jagged pieces of cinderblock on their position.
Because Haney was unable to move quickly enough, Harvath had physically covered him and had taken the brunt of the fallout.
But before he could even brush off the debris, the Libyans launched another rocket-propelled grenade.
This one exploded even closer. A chunk of concrete hit Harvath’s helmet so hard he saw stars.
“We’ve got to make for that wall,” he yelled above the ringing in his ears, as he tried to regain his vision. “It’s no good here.”
He would have given everything he owned for a single smoke grenade to mask their retreat to the wall.
They didn’t have one, though, and as far as Harvath could see, there was nothing he could use to create a diversion. He and Haney were going to have to fight their way out.
Even though it had only been a matter of minutes, it felt like they had been in this battle for hours. The only break in fire from the Libyans’ .50 cal came when they were reloading.
At the rate they were going, Harvath half-expected them to melt the barrel, but that was hoping against hope for a miracle.
Judging the distance to the wall, he plotted the fastest course, and then, after filling Haney in, said, “When they stop to reload that fifty, we haul ass. Copy?”
Haney had serious doubts about Harvath getting them both across the open compound without getting shot. Nevertheless, the Marine nodded.
Seconds later, the machine gun fell silent and Harvath ordered, “Now!”
Getting Haney up onto his left leg, Harvath folded him over his shoulders and took off with him in a fireman’s carry.
The Libyan behind the far section of wall popped up with his rifle and attempted to fire, but Haney was ready for him. His Beretta pistol was already in his hand.