"Thanks, Cobra, good shooting," Murdock said on the radio.
Another transmission came in. "Are those fireworks for our enjoyment, SEALs? This is Knight One and Two. We see the green flares. Any enemy fire?"
"A clear pad, Knights. Your Cobra just took care of the bad guys. Welcome to Korea." Almost at once they heard the sound of the big banana ships coming in. The twin rotors kicked up a storm of dust that blew away quickly in the light wind. Then the bird had landed.
"Ellsworth," Murdock said on the Motorola. "Bring out our guests at a run if they can make it. Their limo is here."
Murdock heard a second chopper circling. The Congressmen and the Vice President and his party came jogging out of the mess hall and into the darkness, then into the splash of light from the chopper's landing lights. Crewmen helped the twelve men on board. Murdock sent the Secret Service man with them, then slammed closed the door and pounded on it twice. The big bird lifted off in another swirling, blinding cloud of Korean dust.
"Clear the area for the next landing," Murdock bellowed when the first chopper had swung away from them. The SEALs in the area scattered.
The second Sea Knight dropped down and landed. In less than a minute the SEALs and their Korean interpreters were all on board. Murdock slammed the hatch closed and locked it, and the helo lifted off.
"Casualty report," Murdock said. There were two.
"You call that a wound?" Doc Ellsworth jazzed at Jack Mahanani.
"Damn right. That's from enemy action. Cut by flying glass in the face. That's Purple Heart stuff."
Doc cleaned up the two slices, which turned out to be minor, and put on closing bandage strips. Ken Ching had a bullet groove in his right leg. It was no more than a quarter of an inch deep. Doc dosed it with some antiseptic and put on a bandage, and looked around for anymore problems.
That was it.
Murdock checked with the South Koreans. Neither of them had been hit. The Army sergeant who'd acted as guide was unmarked. Murdock settled down for the quick trip back to the ship. In a little more than a half hour, barring any lucky ground fire, they should have the Vice President of the United States back safe and sound on the Monroe. The crew chief pushed into the narrow confines of the Sea Knight.
"Commander Murdock?"
"Yeah?"
"Sir, you've got a radio call up front. Some guy called Stroh."
Murdock frowned. Now what the hell could Stroh want to talk about that couldn't wait another half hour until they got back to the carrier?
6
Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock took the handset from the copilot of the helo.
"Murdock here, Stroh. What can't wait a half hour?"
"Decision time, big buddy. We've got a situation here that the brass wants some help on. There's a vital communications center of ours about five miles behind the North Korean lines. The fighting has settled down now with not much movement.
"Trouble is, that communications center must be kept on the air or totally destroyed. It's a slave unit, no personnel, camouflaged in an old building with antennas hidden in trees. The NKs haven't found it yet. The Army wants to drive a tank force up that way and push the NKs back.
But that's going to take a week or more.
"The general wants some security around that unit. Can your platoon go in there tonight at first dark in choppers and hold the place for two days?"
"Can a cat with wings fly, Stroh? How the hell can I tell if we can hold something we've never seen? What's the troop strength in the area? Are there any NK tanks around there? Is it a regular supply route for the troops on line? Is there a command post for the NKs nearby? Get some information for us. Might be good to drop in a company of paratroops while you're at it and some one-oh-fives. You've got us shooting blind here, Stroh."
"Okay, okay. We don't know what the generals will decide to do. What I want to know is can your boys be ready to go at first dark tonight? That's more than half a day away."
"We've had no bad wounds. We can go whenever you need us. First we want some chow and a couple of hours of sleep and time to clean our weapons and resupply. Dijobe?"
"Yeah, I kapish. Oh, the Vice President just landed on board. Congratulations on another coup. Just don't let your helmet get too tight."
"We don't wear helmets, Stroh, and our floppy hats stretch to all hell and gone. See you when we get in."
Murdock went back to a spot in the chopper and nodded at DeWitt. The second-in-charge of the platoon slid in beside Murdock.
"Your guys ready to go again?" Murdock asked. "Stroh says they have a situation they may want some help on at first dark."
"The guys look good. Some food and a couple of hours of sack time and they'll be raring to go. What's the mission?"
Murdock began to outline what he knew of it when Miguel Fernandez lifted up and took a swing at Joe Douglas. Douglas took the punch and laughed.
"Fernandez, you're a wimp. Always have been. Shit, don't see how you ever got through BUD/S."
"Eat your own shit, Douglas."
Douglas snorted. "Hell, Fernandez, us guys don't shit tacos like you fucking chili-snappers."
By that time, Ed DeWitt had jumped between the two SEALs and stared them down.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Both SEALs looked away.
"I'm talking to you, Fernandez, and you, Douglas. Just what the fuck is this all about?"
"Nothing," Douglas said. "He kicked me and laughed." "Not a chance I would mess up my boots kicking him," Fernandez shot back.
DeWitt scowled. He'd never seen the usually easygoing Fernandez so worked up. It had to be more than a small scuffle.
"Douglas?"
"Nothing, L-T. Just some small time teasing. Old Fernandez is on edge about something. Irritable as a virgin in heat."
"You're the only virgin queen in the helo, you queer," Fernandez said softly.
"Fernandez, enough," DeWitt barked. "Fernandez, what's your side of this?"
"Aw, hell. Forget it, L-T. Douglas just ain't my best buddy. Why don't we leave it at that?"
"Cool down, both of you. I don't want to hear any more of this or I'll shack your asses right out of the platoon into Team Seven's supply room. Don't think I can't do it."
Both men shifted lower where they sat in the big chopper.
"Yeah, OK, L-T" Douglas said.
"Right, JG, no supply room for me."
"Then shake hands. I don't want to hear anything more about this, clear?"
Both SEALs nodded, and DeWitt went back to sit next to Murdock.
"Real trouble?" Murdock asked.
"Not sure. I'll talk to some of the other guys. Chance we'll have to transfer one of them, or maybe switch one to Alpha Squad."
"Not in the middle of an operation. Watch them. If it gets too bad. we'll leave one of them on the carrier."
They landed a few minutes later.
Ed DeWitt took Ching and Mahanani to sick bay, where their minor wounds were checked, treated, and bandaged. Both were listed as fit for duty and released.
Murdock found Don Stroh waiting for him at the SEALs' assembly room.
"I want breakfast for my men," Murdock said.
"Breakfast? It's just past midnight."
"Hey, Stroh, this is my carrier. Hustle up some cooks and get them ready for breakfast for fifteen. Have the works, ham and eggs, flapjacks, bacon, sausage, biscuits and gravy, orange juice, cereal, and buckets of coffee. We'll eat, then we'll talk."
Stroh grinned and found the telephone. Five minutes later he was back laughing.
"Some commander in charge of the whole damn kitchen thought I was kidding. I told him to check with the admiral. He called me back two minutes later. The enlisted mess will be open for your men in fifteen minutes, and you don't need to wear your dress blues. Damn, but you carry a big stick around here."