Seals (2005) s-1 Page 20

  The senior chief, Connie Concord and Chad Murchison immediately opened fire. Four men in the front of the crowd toppled to the ground, but dozens more now came into view. The Bravos fell back to join the four Alphas. Now a total of seven weapons poured 5.56-millimeter rounds into the attackers. But they continued advancing, leaping over their fallen comrades as if they sought death more than victory.

  The Alphas and Bravos retreated back to join the seven men of the Second Squad. The mujahideen fired hardly at all, and those shots were aimed straight up into the air. The SEALs didn't bother to take cover as they continued sending salvos to rake the front ranks of the enemy. There was no choice but to back up, even though they were inflicting heavy casualties. Any hesitation or slowness would mean the SEALs would be physically overwhelmed by the suicidal maniacs stampeding toward them.

  Brannigan wanted to break contact to get enough time to organize some sort of defense, but the assault suddenly halted. It was Chad Murchison who first noted what had brought the short, sharp battle to a halt.

  "There are no more of them," he said into the LASH. "We've killed every single one."

  Now everyone moved forward and could see that all the attackers were down. Connie Concord walked forward and picked up a rifle from one of the dead mujahideen. He examined it carefully. "This thing is a fucking antique," he announced as the others gathered around. "And it's as rusted as a garbage scow's keel:'

  Milly Mills was confused. "What the hell was this all about?"

  Brannigan noticed they were all shoving fresh magazines into their weapons. "These poor dumb bastards were sent to draw fire. That means the force ahead of us is probably stronger than we thought."

  "Right," Dawkins said. "And it also means that another group of these ragheads is coming behind these crazy sons of bitches. And they'll be one of their better fighting outfits."

  James Bradley happily pointed to the corpses. "They have canteens!"

  "One man from each fire team get over there and gather up as many as you can," Brannigan shouted. "Make it snappy. We've got to get ready for some more visitors."

  Dave Leibowitz, Chad Murchison, Joe Miskoski and Bruno Puglisi rushed out to collect the water containers. As Joe went from corpse to corpse, he came across a particularly bloody one. The man, his dead face locked into a fierce scowl with the mouth opened in a silent scream of fury, appeared to have been hit at least a half dozen times. A pearl-handled Beretta automatic was still grasped in his hand.

  Joe grinned. The pistol would make a nice souvenir.

  .

  THE MUJAHIDEEN

  1630 HOURS LOCAL

  THE two Mi-24 helicopters came in and landed. Major Karim Malari and his radio operator jumped from the first, then turned to watch other mujahideen quickly disembark. The choppers immediately took off to pick up more fighters.

  Malari took the handset from the radio and raised Warlord Khamami back at his CP. "Amir, Durtami and his men have made their attack. It did not take long, but from the sound of firing, the infidels expended many bullets to stop them."

  "Very well," Khamami came back. The tone of his voice revealed his exultation. "Order Tanizai to move forward. Make sure he has troops up on the high ground as well as in the valley. The enemy will be forced to flee across open country by morning."

  "I have already issued the order:' Malari said. "The helicopters continue to bring us more troops. Within an hour there will be more than four hundred men in our two units. The unbelievers will be caught between us. Even now they are unable to break out." He handed the handset back to the RTO, and looked over at his sub-commanders. "Get your men formed up! As soon as the next lift arrives, we shall be ready to move out and destroy the Infidels once and forever."

  .

  THE SEALS

  31 AUGUST

  0100 HOURS LOCAL

  THE problem of thirst was solved at least temporarily. That was the good news. The bad news was that by the time a shortage of water became a problem again, there was a strong chance that none of the platoon would be alive to be aware of it. Brannigan had pulled the Brigands back to an area where the slopes on both sides of the valley were not so steep. First Squad took one side while Second Squad took the other. They had situated themselves as best they could without digging fighting positions, using the brush and top of the valley for cover. When everyone had settled down, the Skipper sent Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz out to do a reconnaissance.

  .

  0230 HOURS LOCAL

  THE Odd Couple eased themselves off the high ground onto the slope of the valley. They moved slowly down the firm terrain, making a slow descent. Although they were no longer thirsty, each was nearing the end of his physical endurance. They walked through the OP manned by Senior Chief Buford Dawkins and Chad Murchison. Dawkins stood up as they approached. He spat, reaching for the liberated canteen to treat himself to a drink. "Y'all bringing good news?"

  "Not hardly, Senior Chief," Dave Leibowitz replied as he and Mike walked past. "To put it politely: we're in deep yogurt."

  Dawkins watched them walk way, and took a swallow of the water. It was tepid, but delicious after the long dry days. The only thing that could improve it would be some Jack Daniel's for flavoring.

  The Odd Couple continued down to the valley floor, crossed it, then went up to the spot where Lieutenant Bill Brannigan's CP had been set up. It was no more than a patch of open area between a couple of thick stands of thorn bushes. Brannigan's greeting was only a tired nod as the two scouts settled down beside hini.

  Mike Assad shrugged almost apologetically. "Sir, we're ringed in tight here. They got us heavily outnumbered on all sides."

  "Yes, sir," Dave agreed. "We couldn't make an exact count o' course, but I'd be willing to say they got us at about twenty or thirty to one."

  "The ragheads have at least a battalion out there," Mike added.

  Brannigan was silent for a moment before he spoke. "Okay, guys. Take a break. Try to get some sleep."

  He watched the Odd Couple move off into the darkness, then turned his thoughts to the situation at hand: (1) There was no way in hell they would be able to fight their way through the enemy. Even if they broke through on one side, the mujahideen could quickly rally other fighters on their perimeter to go after them. (2) No doubt the enemy had brought along their mortars, and that meant they could leisurely bombard the platoon to pieces if an attempt was made to set up defense positions. (3) The SEALs were low on ammo after expending so much to kill the loonies who had made the suicide charge against them. (4) Surrendering would be as sure death as would be fighting to the end. The only alternative was to go through the open country in a wild attempt to break through. Chances of that succeeding were slim to none.

  Brannigan reached in his vest and pulled out an energy bar. He bit into it and chewed slowly. He really regretted that he and Lisa had parted while angry with each other. It all seemed so trivial now in the light of what tomorrow would bring. He wished he could leave a note or some sort of last words to let her know he died thinking of her and loving her now more than he ever did.

  Brannigan folded the wrapper over the remnants of the energy bar and shoved it back into his pocket. He touched the throat mike of the LASH headset and spoke in a whisper. "Two-I-C and chiefs report to me at the CP."

  Chapter 19

  THE WADI KHESTA VALLEY

  31 AUGUST

  0300 HOURS LOCAL

  ALTHOUGH Brannigan's Brigands were a platoon in U. S. Navy terminology, the organizational charts of the U. S. Army and U. S. Marine Corps would have identified the group as a section or a reinforced squad. A normal platoon consists of forty-plus individuals broken down into four squads led by a platoon leader who is assisted by a platoon sergeant and four sergeants as squad leaders. Thus, when the Brigands moved out that morning to ascend the slopes of the valley and begin their escape attempt across the flatlands, the combat formation they assumed was called a squad diamond in military parlance.

  The
name of the configuration, used when all-around security is needed, signifies a point on all four sides. In the case of the Brigands, the front was led as usual by the Odd Couple Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz, while the rear was brought up by Bruno Puglisi. Chad Murchison was on the left flank and Joe Miskoski manned the right. Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan stayed in the center for command and control, while the other eight SEALs filled in between the points to balance out the firepower.

  Now properly aligned, they moved through the darkness aided by their night vision goggles, taking slow, deliberate steps in an effort to maintain noise discipline. The morale of the platoon had sunk so low that a sort of emotional numbness dominated the collective mood of the men. The mission, originally laid on as a Simple link-up, had gone completely to hell, to the point that they now faced imminent death. Military life consisted of many upsets and setbacks, but this particular mission was so far down the tubes nobody could spot even the dimmest of lights at the end of the tunnel.

  Things had reached such a state of hopelessness that the SEALs drank liberally from the canteens they had recovered from the dead mujahideen the day before. No one said it aloud, but all knew that there was no reason to conserve water when they would more than likely not be alive to see the noonday sun overhead.

  Suddenly muzzle flashes blinked rapidly from the left flank and were immediately followed by the sound of numerous shots. Bullets split the air with wicked cracking noises as they whipped by. The SEALs on that side of the diamond immediately returned fire. Then a flare was shot upward from the mujahideen lines a short distance away. The illumination, hanging on the bottom of a small parachute, gave the scene an eerie daylight quality.

  "Double time!" Brannigan commanded through the LASH.

  The intensity of incoming rounds increased as the platoon rushed through what appeared to be a single-sided line-formation ambush. But this misconception was recognized when fresh salvos of incoming rounds came in from the opposite side, on the right. In less than a heartbeat, the Brigands began receiving more fire from the front and rear. Additional flares came up to add to the unwanted artificial glare over the scene. The platoon was surrounded, with nothing left to do but tough it out by continuing to charge straight ahead in a desperate attempt to break through the well-concealed enemy positions.

  Dave Leibowitz's voice came over the LASH, broken by heavy panting from running. "There's a . . . depression in the . . . ground at one o'clock . . . not much cover . . . but better than open ground!"

  "Take us there!" came back Brannigan's gruff voice.

  The direction of movement took a slight turn to the right front, and they reached the terrain feature some ten seconds later, frantically throwing themselves into it. In spite of the calamitous confusion of the moment, they maintained fire team integrity as they manned all sides of the earthen indentation. The sunken area was only fifteen meters across, but that made it easier to defend.

  Suddenly all firing stopped and the flares burned out one by one until darkness settled over the scene. Brannigan spat as he shoved a fresh magazine into his CAR-15. The mujahideen now knew they had the upper hand. The SEALs were pinned down, surrounded and trapped. If they fought, they would all die; if they surrendered, they would all die; and if they tried making a desperate breakthrough, they would all die. Bruno Puglisi on the perimeter spoke out in a hoarse whisper, summing up the mood.

  "Shit happens."

  .

  DAWN

  THE two old Soviet Mi-24 helicopters flew a circuitous route around the battle site. Warlord Hassan Khamami was in the lead aircraft, staring down through the gap of the open fuselage door. He could easily discern the enemy's defensive position, looking pitifully small in the midst of his surrounding forces. He grinned and rubbed his hands together. This victory would confirm his rule over an enlarged fiefdom. The next visit he received from the government in Kabul would be for negotiating a peace treaty with him. He would be able to realistically demand numerous concessions.

  The choppers made a slight turn then went into a hover, slowly settling down in the vicinity of Major Karim Malari's CP. When the wheels touched the ground, Khamami leaped out, closely followed by his radio operator and a. small entourage of bodyguards. Major Malari was waiting, and snapped a salute as the warlord walked up.

  "Amir!" Malari said happily. "We have the infidels surrounded. A reconnaissance patrol discovered them trying to skulk away in the darkness. But they quickly fired on them and shot flares into the air. My men were in position to immediately surround them. They cannot escape."

  "I spotted the dogs of the West in their little crater as I flew over," Khamami said. "What are your tactical plans, Major?"

  "I have ordered Captain Tanizai to rush his company here," Malari said. "As soon as he arrives and is in position, we will launch a final attack."

  Khamami looked around. "What about Durtami and his men?"

  "They are all martyred, Amir," Malari replied. "They did not last long when they attacked the infidels. They accomplished their mission by forcing the nonbelievers to expend much ammunition:'

  "I had only a brief glance at the enemy," Khamami remarked, "but it appeared from the air that there are no more than a dozen or so of them."

  "That is true, Amir. And when Tanizai arrives, we will be more than four hundred to go against them. The final attack will be quick and decisive."

  "I am pleased with your decision to wait for Tanizai," Khamami said. "I want to keep our casualties down. We cannot replace our losses by recruitment or conscription as can regular armies?'

  "Tanizai has a mortar section with him:' Malari said. "We could use that to blast the infidels to bits without spilling a single drop of Muslim blood."

  Khamami shook his head. "I want the men to attack and destroy the enemy by fire and maneuver. Thus, they will see that these overfed Westerners are not supermen."

  "As you command, I obey, Amir!"

  "And another thing," Khamami added. "Take no prisoners."

  .

  THE DEPRESSION

  THE sun was now bright in the cloudless sky, sending down waves of radiating heat on the SEALs. Everyone had eaten an energy bar and popped one of James Bradley's pep pills. There was no shortage of water and they continued to drink unlimited quantities from the mujahideen canteens. The pills were also a sort of mood elevator that took at least a little of the edge off the gloomy mind-set of the platoon. They stayed at their positions, not conversing among themselves, as a constant vigil was maintained on the bleak horizon surrounding the position. Now and then a sporadic shot could be heard that either whined overhead or sent up spurts of dirt when the bullet struck the ground. The mujahideen were letting them know there was danger all around.

  Bruno Puglisi, brooding with a dark anger, finally left his position to crawl to a small stand of thorn brush a few meters out in the open. Although he had no scope on his M-16 rifle, he was determined to nail one of the ragheads who were firing at the depression. Fifteen minutes passed before a couple of mujahideen heads bobbed up into view from what seemed to be an OP. Bruno aimed carefully at the one on the right, then gently squeezed the trigger. The man was jolted out of sight by the bullet's strike. The SEAL quickly shifted the barrel and fired again. The second man's skull exploded and he too was knocked out from view.

  "Ha! Whacked the rat bastards!" Bruno said, grinning in grim satisfaction as he scooted back to his place in the depression.

  .

  0630 HOURS LOCAL

  THE platoon had sunk into emotional doldrums. There were no exchanges of words or gestures as they sat in the heavy silence of the hopeless situation they faced.

  When chanting abruptly sounded in the distance, the Brigands raised their heads slightly to gaze out toward the enemy who surrounded them. They could not make out the words of the foreign language except for the repetitious call to Allah. The mujahideen were psyching themselves up for a massacre, using their religion to build up all the hate and mercilessness in th
eir souls. The SEALs instinctively gripped their weapons, making silent vows to sell their lives dearly and kill as many of the enemy as possible before they drew their last breaths.

  Frank Gomez, with his commo gear beside him, felt the awful pressure of a heavy, pressing grief. Thoughts of his wife and child had been with him constantly since they climbed out of that valley the day before. There was a chance that Linda was pregnant again, and he wondered if he would leave two orphan children behind. He'd always known he might be killed in action and, like most military professionals, had learned to face up squarely to the unhappy potential. But he never thought he would be sitting around in some distant foreign land waiting for death to come to him, at the whim of a half-civilized enemy. He reached in his pocket and retrieved the photo of his family that he had taken from his wallet. The radio operator kissed it lightly, then looked up when his PRC-112 unexpectedly came to life. Frank, puzzled, spoke into the transmitter, answering the call that had come in.

  "This is Brigand One, over."

  "Brigand One, this is Ears Three," came back a voice.

  "We've picked up your beacon and are following it to you. What's your problem? Over."

  Frank's mind spun like a kid's top, and he stared stupidly at the small radio in his hand.

  The voice spoke once more. "I say again. What's your problem? Over."

  Frank recovered from the shock. "Who the hell are you? Over."

  "U. S. Navy aircraft," came back the answer. "We're on a routine patrol. Now, what's your problem? Over."

  "Wait!" Frank said. He gestured over to Brannigan. "Sir! We've been raised by a Navy aircraft. He picked up our homing beacon."

  Brannigan leaped up and ran over to grab the handheld commo set. "This is Brigand One," he said. "We need air support fast. We're surrounded in a valley at--" He stopped. "I got to get out my GPS. Wait."

  "We know where you are," came back the aircraft. "In fact we're closing in now according to the signal." A moment passed. "We see some sort of military force arranged in a circle. Is that you? Over."