Direct Action

29

The SEALs were spread out among the trees, and not coincidentally had located themselves on the far western portion of the woods. Except for the quarter-mile-long portion they were in, a ridgeline stretched across that entire length of woods and continued down into the valley.

Out ahead of them they could hear the shouting of frustrated Syrian sergeants and platoon commanders trying to keep their troops together. Murdock took some comfort from the fact that the Syrians were having a long day too, and had probably reached the point where their heads were concentrated on maintaining the formation, not preparing to engage the enemy. And the SEALs were all dressed in Syrian uniforms, which was about the only bit of gratitude he could work up for the CIA just then.

But the sounds kept coming on, and Murdock began to get worried. Something should have happened by now.

A few minutes passed and Murdock could now hear the Syrians crashing through the brush. If they got any closer he was going to have to make a tough call. If he pulled back, Jaybird’s plan was blown. But if he stayed there and nothing happened they were committed to a firefight.

Like one of those “find all the animals in the barnyard” puzzles, Murdock could make out the green camouflaged faces of his SEALs among the trees. They were all looking over to him for a signal. He could have all the discussions he wanted, but in the end he would always be the one in charge. And the SEALs would do exactly what he decided, whether it got them killed or not. In training that ultimate responsibility was a lot of fun. Now it felt like being slowly crushed by a large rock.

He decided to throw the dice and stay put. But when he was able to pick out the uniforms of the Syrian troops moving toward him through the trees, he knew he’d chosen wrong, and his stomach flipped over. Then he heard the explosions in the distance, and was reprieved.

A mile to the east of the SEALS, the line of Syrian commandos looked up at the ridge they would soon have to climb and shook their heads. Although called commandos, these were not special forces like the SEALs or Green Berets. In the October 1973 War with Israel, the performance of Syria’s conscript infantry had been disappointing. So the Syrian Army decided to form independent commando battalions to which they assigned their best and most reliable soldiers. The commando name was for morale and esprit; the units performed conventional infantry missions. The decision paid off. In the 1982 War in Lebanon, the Syrian commandos performed extremely well. Although present on the battlefield only in small numbers, they fought effective delaying actions, retreating only when ordered — a minor miracle for Arab armies up until that time. The commandos also sprang effective ambushes on the Israeli armor as it tried to negotiate the narrow Lebanese roads and rocky hills. Now their sergeant shouted at them, and the commandos started up the ridge. They didn’t notice the monofilament fishing line snaking across their path. One of the Syrians snagged the line and tripped two hand grenades rigged with instantaneous fuses — the sort of toys SEALs carried in their pockets. The grenades blew and threw up a cloud of black smoke. Three commandos went down screaming.

Almost instantaneously, right in front of them there was a series of fast popping explosions, like the concentrated fire of a number of automatic weapons.

The Syrian soldiers hit the dirt and opened fire on the ridge. Nearby units, thinking that the enemy had been found atop the ridge, opened up also. Whenever a Syrian stopped to change magazines he still heard firing going on, so he continued shooting. It was a very common phenomenon and linked to the necessity of gaining fire superiority. No one wanted to slacken their fire and let the enemy gain an advantage. It happened more often than not in the confusion of battle. In the past even SEALs hadn’t been immune to it.

What the Syrians had actually heard after the initial grenade explosions were 7.62mm M43 Kalashnikov bullets looped around a long piece of explosive detonating cord that had been taped to the grenades.

Certain that they had finally discovered the enemy, all the Syrian units along the line followed their orders. They began to maneuver to surround the enemy force and pin it down. It was the first step toward its destruction. Two more grenade booby traps were hit, convincing the Syrians that they were on the right track.

Once the firing started up, the Syrian soldiers in front of Murdock stopped dead in their tracks. Murdock visualized the radio conversation that had to be taking place. Then orders were screamed. The Syrians faced about. Where they had been sweeping northeast now they headed southeast, in the direction of the firing.

Murdock looked around and saw SEALs grinning at him. He waited, giving the Syrians time to get out of the way. A few hand signals, and Jaybird was back on point with the others formed up behind him.

The SEALs patrolled southwest, right through where the Syrian sweep line had originally been. A few hundred meters more and they were behind the sweep line, in the area the Syrians had already cleared.

Murdock had the completion of a perfect fantasy in mind. The Syrians would take their time, pound the living crap out of the ridge with mortars or artillery, and then assault. When they found nothing, they would eventually get sorted out and decide that the booby traps had only been intended to delay them. Angered by their losses, they would get back on line and renew their sweep with greater vigor, totally convinced that the enemy was up ahead. Which would be perfect, now that the SEALs were safely behind them.

Murdock made a mental note to name his first child Jaybird.