Ambush

8

“Easy to silence the outpost,” Tran Khai said. “We use the EAR. Ain’t that why I’ve been carrying it all this way?”

“Didn’t think we brought one,” DeWitt said.

“Get up here, Khai,” Murdock said. “Your friends and neighbors need your help.”

“We find the radio the rebels have and take it,” Ejercito said. “Then I can answer any calls in either language before we hit the main camp.” Lieutenant Ejercito looked to Murdock for approval. Lieutenant Commander Murdock nodded. “Your men told me about the EAR. I still can’t believe it,” said Ejercito.

“You will,” Lam said.

Khai came up a moment later and saw the outpost guardhouse. It was made of woven reeds and branches and blended into the surroundings.

“Blow the house down?” Khai said. He looked at Murdock.

“Fire when ready.”

Khai sighted in and pulled the trigger. The familiar whooshing sound came from the weapon; then the reed walls of the hut ahead shivered and wavered. Lam and Murdock sprinted for the guard shack thirty yards away. By the time they got there, none of the four rebels was moving. The SEALs bound them hand and foot and gagged them, then found the radio and waved the troops forward.

Ejercito shook his head in amazement. “And in four to six hours they wake up with no more damage than a slight headache. What a great weapon.”

Lam had moved out ahead, and he reported they were at least a half mile from the main camp.

“How can you tell?” Murdock asked.

“I hear people singing and shouting.”

“Give us plenty of time to catch up before you take on the whole damn rebel camp,” Murdock said.

“Will do.”

Twenty minutes later, they found Lam waiting for them. There was a forty-five-degree bend in the river, which had dwindled down to a stream only twenty feet across and somewhere less than a foot deep. Lam pointed ahead.

“Took a gander round the bend. The camp is there, big sucker. Looks like a village of maybe two hundred huts and some wooden houses. Saw a few of the green-shirted rebels but not that many. Like trying to attack Hometown, Philippines, with all those civilians.”

“We’ll get out of sight,” Murdock said. “You and the lieutenant take a recon. Go all the way around it and get back here in an hour.”

“Hour and a half,” Lam said. “It’s a big place.”

Murdock put one squad on each side of the trail. They were fifty feet back in brush and jungle that was now showing some pines. The SEALs settled into places where nobody could see them unless they stepped on them.

“We wait,” Murdock said on the Motorola.

Waiting was always the hardest part. Murdock filled in the time remembering the last time Ardith Jane Manchester stayed with him at his apartment. It had felt so damn good, so wonderfully comfortable, so… right, that he’d almost asked her to marry him. Almost, but not quite. It hadn’t been a special day. He’d worked with the training routine, come home filthy and tired. Had a shower and then some thin-cut pork chops Ardith had fixed the way he liked them, with mashed potatoes and brown gravy and frozen corn and a mixed green salad with the best Roquefort dressing he’d ever tasted. She wouldn’t tell him where she’d bought it.

Just a nice normal-type middle-class day. Nobody was killed, nobody jumped out of an airplane or dove deep into the sea, or blew up a ship or anything like that. A fine, normal day and evening. Then they made love in the king-sized bed and drifted into a great night’s sleep.

A nice normal day for them was exceptional, and 180 degrees from the usual day for both of them. The next morning he got a call from Don Stroh. They had four hours to be on a plane to God only knows where, and Ardith had a call from the Senate Armed Services Committee. It summoned her to testify early the next day in Washington about some research she had been doing. She had to fly out at noon, only she was heading east, while Murdock and the SEALs were moving west.

Murdock came back to reality suddenly. He frowned. A strange sound. It came again. He grinned, found a rock, and threw it over ten feet and hit Bradford. He was snoring.

The big guy snorted, roused, and stopped snoring. That made Murdock wonder about the call he’d had just before they left, about a warrant for Bradford’s arrest. He hadn’t told the big SEAL about it. No reason to worry him. Maybe it would be all ironed out by the time they got back. Maybe not. He knew that Bradford was in a small group of artists who rented a little gallery down on India Street. Bradford certainly wasn’t counterfeiting old masters, that was for sure. He didn’t do that kind of art. Murdock had taken Ardith down to look at his paintings one weekend.

His earpiece clicked twice. “Yes?”

“Halfway around, Skip. We’ve seen about fifteen green shirts. None in a group, scattered all over the place. No GHQ that we can tell. Have seen nothing that looks like what the lieutenant thinks would be a lockup for the hostages. Where could they escape to? Not too wild about taking on this place without a hell of a lot more data.”

“Yeah, Lam, I hear you. Do the rest of the circuit and then we’ll decide. Out.”

“Bummer,” DeWitt said on the radio.

“Worse than that. Bradford, have you made contact with that chopper pilot lately?”

“Twice, Skipper. He has an LZ about a mile behind the big angled turn in the river. A mile downstream. Best he can do. He’s ready when we’re ready.”

“Thanks, Bradford. How’s the artwork selling?”

“Hey, just sold two before we left for three hundred and fifty bucks. I can help pay the rent.”

“Good, Bradford, that’s good.”

The net went quiet for another ten minutes; then Lam came on. “Jackpot, Skipper. We’ve just found a pair of old wooden buildings set back a ways from the rest of the village. Must be twenty, maybe thirty of the green shirts going and coming. No sign of any hostages. We’re about a quarter of the way around the right-hand side of the camp. Best to cross the creek and come up through the brush. Should we take them out?”

“We’re moving, Lam. We’ll take one more look and check it out. I’d say a good chance we get some target practice in before the day is over.”

The SEALs moved across the creek and worked into the jungle brush for fifty yards, then moved upstream. Lam caught them before they passed him. He, DeWitt, and Murdock went for one more look.

A short time later the Motorolas sounded off. “Squads move up. Lam will check you out. Alpha to the upstream, Bravo to the downstream side. Set up where Lam shows you and get a good field of fire. Range will be about seventy-five yards.”

Murdock had whistled softly when he saw the target. The two buildings were old, the traffic heavy. He saw two off-road motorcycles parked nearby. “We’ll use the twenties, three rounds each to start, then switch to 5.56 for the stragglers. Somebody be sure to get those motorcycles with a twenty. Everyone fire your weapon. Not a chance any hostages are in there. Lam says no sign of any hostages anywhere. We take what we can get. Anyone not in position, sound off.” He heard nothing. The men were spread out five yards apart along the far side of the stream across a small clearing.

Murdock sighted down on the open door to the first building. “Fire when ready,” he said, and pulled the trigger. The impact of the 20mm round exploding inside the place came immediately, followed by six more rounds of the twenties, and soon hundreds of rounds from the machine gun, the sniper rifle, and the M-4A1 rifles.

Three men tried to run out the door. They died in a heap just outside. Men crawled out windows on the ground floor, but were splattered with rounds. A fire broke out in one of the buildings. Men screamed and tried to return fire, but they didn’t have a chance. As targets died, the volume of fire fell off.

“Cease fire,” Murdock said. One man staggered out the door of the building not burning, stumbled, and collapsed on the ground outside. Green-clad men pushed forward toward the buildings, then, when they saw the carnage, dodged behind the buildings or ran the other way.

“Fire at any green shirts you see alive,” Murdock said. The sniper rifle replied at once. A man trying to run from one of the buildings to the other made it only halfway before a round took him high in the chest and he fell, slamming hard into the dirt and grass, not to move again.

More shots drilled into the afternoon as rebels tried to get to the back of the buildings.

“Bravo, with DeWitt, move out double time back to the trail and downstream,” Murdock called on the Motorola.

A minute later he ordered Alpha Squad to move in the same direction.

“Bradford, use the Motorola and tell the chopper we’ll be down there in ten minutes.”

There was no return fire or any pursuit. The rebels were in total disarray; those who were left alive were still in hiding.

It took the SEALs ten minutes to jog the mile down the trail to the clearing where the forty-six waited, its rotor turning slowly. The SEALs crashed on board. Murdock counted heads. He came up with eighteen and ordered the chopper to fly.

“Casualty report,” Murdock said into his Motorola so the men could hear him over the chopper noise.

“Checked, Skipper,” Mahanani said. “Only one is the j.g. with his old one, the shot arm. It busted loose, but I did some ointment and a new bandage and he can do the rope climb again.”

“Nothing else?”

“We don’t count scratches and sprains. We’re in good shape.”

“Don’t forget Lam and me,” Lieutenant Ejercito said. “We’d like to be dropped off between these two camps. Anywhere along here.”

“Right.” Murdock went up to talk to the pilot. Two minutes later he set down on a small harvested field beside the stream.

Lam and the Filipino Army lieutenant jumped out of the chopper and took their duffel bag. Lam already had the SATCOM strapped to his back. “Keep in touch,” Murdock called. “Use that SATCOM every night at midnight. We’ll be listening for your call. Tac One.” Lam waved and headed for the brush and concealment.

Murdock waved at them, and the pilot jolted the big bird back into the sky. They had a start. They had reduced the rebel garrison by what he figured was at least thirty men, and demolished one of their headquarters.

As the CH-46 clattered its way over the jungle and ridges back toward Davao, Murdock began to work up his after-action report for Colonel Alvarez. He still wasn’t certain about the man. He wasn’t Muslim, so how could he have any connection with the rebels? He might have spent a lot of his time in this Muslim province, but he was most likely Catholic. There would be no report about Lieutenant Juan Ejercito and Lam being left behind to do advanced recon work. Not a word about that. There had been no sign of the hostages in the large village. Where could the rebels be keeping them?

The briefing was a total surprise for the colonel, and he couldn’t contain his shock.

“You say you captured the one small village, but there were only three rebels there?”

“That’s right, Colonel. We questioned the survivor and he told us about another village only ten miles upstream.”

“Yes, good. Now we know where another one is. We’ll have to plan to hit that one. Maybe the hostages are there.”

“They aren’t, Colonel. We hit that village this afternoon.”

Murdock and DeWitt gave him the report on the attack on the large settlement.

The colonel began to sweat. He mopped his forehead and scowled. “So, you attacked the village and think that you killed thirty of the rebels. Yes, good news. I’ll relay that on to the President. He’s interested in this hostage situation. Says it makes our whole nation look bad.” The colonel fiddled with an unlit cigar that he had been holding.

“This brings up a chain-of-command problem, Commander,” he said. “We follow the chain strictly here in the Philippines. No subordinate takes independent action. All operations must be cleared by my office or by me personally. This is to maintain a balance in the operation and to be sure that you don’t attack villages full of innocent civilians.”

“Yes, sir. I understand. However, in the field, there must be a certain amount of flexibility in any army or fighting force. When a target of opportunity presents itself, there is no time to call back to headquarters for permission to attack.”

The colonel smiled. Murdock figured he knew he was in command here and held all the trump cards. “I can see your point, Commander. However, in this situation you’re in a sovereign nation, and you must be guided by our rules and laws. I’m sure your senior officers would agree with that.”

“Understood. We’ll make every effort to plan our operations with your guidance and intel about the rebels.”

There was a commotion at the door; then it opened and a man in civilian clothes backed in talking to someone in the other room. He turned around, and Murdock grinned.

“Hey, Murdock and DeWitt. Hi, you guys.” Don Stroh, their CIA contact, turned to the colonel. “You must be Colonel Alvarez. Heard about you. Tough assignment out here in the boonies with all these Muslims shooting up the place. But we have the help that you need. Sorry I’m late, men, but I had a holdup in Manila. I still don’t know why. Some kind of official intelligence agency problem. But now I’m here to get to work.”

“Colonel Alvarez, I’d like to introduce you to CIA Agent Don Stroh,” Murdock said. “He’s our control and advisor and contact with the CIA director, the Chief of Naval Operations, and the President of the United States.”

Colonel Alvarez nodded and after a pause, reached out and took Stroh’s hand.

“Welcome to my country, Mr. Stroh. We’re just getting started on this operation. Looks like it could take a while.”

“Colonel, with the SEALs on board, the whole thing could come to a head faster than you could hope for.”

“We were just finished with our briefing after today’s set-to, Stroh,” Murdock said. “Could I buy you a cup of coffee and get you up to date?”

“Sounds good. The officers club looked interesting.”

They were dismissed by the colonel and headed for the club. Murdock derailed them back to the SEAL quarters.

“Stroh, this place seems to be so full of leaks it would make a sieve jealous. My guess is that the rebels know everything we’re going to do, as soon as we get it planned out. We’re not too sure about the colonel. I’m not saying he’s feeding us to the rebels, but he sent us on two missions. The first one showed us a deserted village and two hung spies with messages. The second one we found three rebels.”

He told Don the rest of the story, and Stroh was surprised by the colonel’s reaction.

“You sure he wasn’t mad that he wasn’t in on the hit? That he couldn’t take any of the credit? Some top brass get feeling hurt that way. Might be worse over here.”

“So, anything new on the hostages?” DeWitt asked.

“Figured you’d know. Two Dutch hostages were ransomed out this morning. Some of the other countries are caving in. We think there are still about fifty-five hostages.”

“If there is a problem with Alvarez, is there a general somewhere we can appeal to for cooperation?” Murdock asked. “We need the choppers for our attacks. Alvarez authorizes them.”

“I’ll see what I can find out. Must be a general out here somewhere. Anybody hurt?”

“DeWitt picked up an in-and-out in his arm couple of weeks ago, but nothing else.”

They entered the SEALs building, and found the men had finished cleaning and oiling their weapons and had all their gear ready for another attack.

Inside the big room a voice cranked up.

“Well, if it isn’t the D.C. society set’s favorite boy toy, Don Stroh,” Jaybird cracked.

Stroh grinned. “Jaybird, those ladies really know how to take good care of a guy. Not that I’m bragging, but would you believe eight times in one night?”

“Wouldn’t believe two, Stroh,” Ching yelped, and everyone cheered.

“Good to see you guys in such good spirits,” Stroh said. “This one could get ugly. The President wants those American hostages back yesterday.”

“We’re working at it.”

“Where’s Lam? He off his feed?”

Murdock told the CIA man where Lam and the Filipino officer were.

“Yes, I love it. Spy work right here on the ground. I’d guess you didn’t tell your favorite colonel.”

“Not yet. Not until we have to. We’ll make contact with Lam tonight at midnight, see what they’ve found.”

Stroh frowned, then rubbed one hand over his freshly shaved face. “Think that I should make a call to Manila. I met a general there who is a good friend of our resident field agent here. See what I can find out about the command in this region. There may even be a general hiding out somewhere on this base. I’ll find a secure phone somewhere and make some calls.”

Murdock checked with the Senior Chief. All was well. The men were ready and waiting.

“Figure some sack time tonight and maybe no mission tomorrow,” Sadler said. “We’ve got to give Lam some time to come up with something out there in the boondocks.”

“I’m betting they do,” Murdock said.

After chow, the men sat around their quarters talking. Murdock came in, and DeWitt slid over and got into the play. They were talking about the security.

“Don’t seem like they got shit for security here,” Ostercamp said.

“Maybe they want it that way,” Sadler said. “They bring us in, then give us bad intel, and if we get some good shit they leak it to the rebels, who are long gone by the time we get there.”

DeWitt joined in. “Look at their record so far. They sent us on a mission to an empty village. Then the next day we hit a small village with the great big total of three rebels in it. So far they have shown us next to nothing. If it wasn’t for that prisoner talking today, we’d be zippo out of two. As it is, our only success is when we did it ourselves, and without telling anyone in the Philippine establishment.”

“I’m with the j.g. on this one,” Vinnie Van Dyke said. “Hell, the top brass must have brought us in. The local brass doesn’t like getting stepped on, so he shits all over us and we get pulled out and it ain’t no skin off his chin.”

“Fuck ’em all,” Franklin said. “Hell, if they don’t want us here, I’d just as soon be back in Coronado cruising for some hot redhead who is just crazy to get laid.”

There were a few huzzahs and shouts.

Murdock chuckled. “Hey, Franklin may have the right idea, but for now we’re stuck here, so we do what we can. Say Lam gets a hot prospect for us, a big camp or even where the hostages are. How do we go to Colonel Alvarez and tell him we want six choppers to go in and bring out the hostages? He’s gonna say where and how do you know, and then we have to confess that we don’t much believe in his intel and we think he’s a traitor to his country and he should fuck off.”

“Then he whips up his .45 and shoots the Skipper, and we shoot him and his aide, and we have our own war right here on base,” Canzoneri said.

“We might have to come up with something soon if Lam snoops out a new target for us, say by tomorrow night. They can’t have much for us tonight. First they’ll have to figure out where to go and look. My guess would be on upstream on the same river.”

“How can we go around the colonel?” Sadler asked.

“There may be a way,” Murdock said. “Stroh is working on that right now. The only obvious way is to outrank him. Get a local general to take over the hostage problem so he can authorize choppers for attacks and eventual hostage rescues.”

By 2350 most of the SEALs were out of their bunks, or waiting around the SATCOM, which Bradford had turned on to receive. Midnight came and passed. Nothing happened. They looked at the SATCOM set, and somebody yelled at Bradford to check his dish setting for the satellite. He did, and the set gave him a small beep that it was ready.

By a quarter after they had heard nothing from the radio. Half the men went back to bed. At a quarter to one, Murdock motioned to Bradford to turn off the set.

“They must be moving, or running out of a problem, or maybe just trying to get in position tonight to monitor something tomorrow,” Murdock said. “Get some sleep.”

The rest of them went back to their double-tier bunks. Murdock lay there not able to sleep. Why hadn’t they called in? He told Lam to call every night at midnight. Maybe he didn’t think he needed to call tonight. Yah, maybe. Still, Murdock couldn’t put down a feeling of unease at the situation. Were Lam and Lieutenant Ejercito alive and well, or had they been caught, tortured, and then executed by the Muslim rebels?