Battleground

18

Murdock set up a watch with all of the nineteen men. Each one had protection from the pier area, and each one had a weapon pointed that way to reply to any snipers who had stayed behind to harass them.

Minutes ago they had heard the heavy engines as several trucks behind the stalled one at the end of the pier evidently loaded up and moved out.

For ten minutes, all was quiet. Murdock expected the choppers to be coming at any time. Moments later he heard a clanking and a roaring motor, and frowned. Jaybird looked at Murdock and shook his head. "Sounds bad, L-T."

Murdock motioned to Holt, who gave him the handset to the radio. "Rover, this is Inflatable, over."

"Yes, Inflatable. Your birds are airborne. ETA about five minutes."

"May have a problem. You have any air cover up?"

"What kind of a problem?"

"We hear a tank moving up toward the pier. Not sure where it is. A dead six-by truck is blocking one entrance to our site. We can't knock out a tank with our weapons."

"Roger that, Inflatable. We have two Hornets up. They should copy. Wildbees One and Two, do you copy?"

"Affirmative, Rover. We're about three minutes away from the port. Can we have some white flares and some red smoke on the target?"

"That's a roger, Wildcats, soon as we see it. My guess is he'll push the dead truck out of the way and be in our lap. What firepower do these tanks have?"

"Inflatable, they could have our old M-48 Pattons. I think some of them came down here. Kenya was our ally, remember. If it's the M-48, they have a one-oh-five-millimeter long gun and can carry over fifty rounds."

"This is Wildbee One in a fly-over of the harbor. I see no flares."

"No target yet, Wildbee, but the sound is coming closer. We'll put a flare over the suspect area."

"Coming around with Wildbee Two. Flare now."

Murdock nodded at Magic Brown, who fired a flare over the far end of the pier. The flare burst with daytime brilliance, and began to float down on its parachute. They could see plainly the stalled truck and the blocked roadway behind it. At almost the same time they spotted the ugly snout of a cannon on a tank as it did a locked-tread turn and rolled directly for the truck.

"Now, Wildbee, we have target. No time for smoke. Do you locate?"

"Have it, but past target. Going around. Wildbee One should be coming."

"Wildbee One. Have target acquisition, at required altitude, locking on. Firing. One Maverick away."

Murdock and the SEALs heard the roar of the solid-fuel rocket as it slammed forward at over Mach 1 and almost immediately exploded directly on the still-visible rolling tank. The detonation of the rocket was followed by a roaring secondary blast that bounced the SEALs backward as some of the ammunition inside the tank went off. Shrapnel and chunks of the tank came out of the sky like huge snowballs — only these could kill a guy.

"Good shooting, Wildbees. The tank is no longer a problem."

"That's a Roger. We'll hang out a while to see if anything more develops."

The SEALs kept under cover in case any of the Kenyan rangers had hung back. Two minutes later they heard the incoming choppers.

"Inflatable, this is Knight One checking on your situation."

"Knight One, all clear here. Not sure how to get lights on the landing pad switched on."

"Right. We have your position. Coming in now with our own lights."

They saw the bird coming. It was an HH-46D/E Sea Knight. As Murdock remembered, it had no armament. It swung over the ship at two hundred feet, then circled and dropped lower as its landing lights lit up the fantail of the Turner. It touched down, and at once the side hatch opened and twenty combat-dressed Marines poured out. Ten surged to the starboard side of the flight deck and went prone with rifles aimed at the dock.

The rest of the Marines rushed through the hangar, out to the starboard side amidships, and all the way to the bridge taking up defensive positions.

Three Navy officers had exited the Sea King as well, and hurried into the hangar. The big chopper took off at once, and two minutes later a second Sea King settled onto the Turner's deck. This time twenty sailors rushed out of the chopper and into the hangar. That bird lifted off the moment the hatch closed.

Before the next chopper could land, Murdock heard fire coming from the dock area. Murdock used the SATCOM, and told the F/A-18s to stand by. He also put a hold on the last Sea King chopper. Murdock left the quarterdeck and slid to the weather deck beside a pair of Marines.

"Where's the firing coming from?" Murdock asked.

A Marine sergeant pointed to the bow end of the dock where the ruined truck still lay.

"up there. Sounds like a fifty. They aren't on target yet."

The Marine held an HK-21A1 machine gun.

Murdock touched his mike. "Let's get ready with some forty-mike-mike. Throw them up there by the busted truck and tank. Somebody's coming."

Moments later Murdock heard the grenade launchers firing. Two HE rounds went off with a crunch just beyond the ruined and still-burning tank. A WP round exploded back farther.

They could hear the rig coming closer now. Not a tank, maybe a truck or jeep-like rig. Then they saw it in the soft moonlight.

"An armored personnel carrier of some kind," Murdock barked. "Hit it."

The SEAL weapons opened fire. The Marines chimed in with their M-16s and two machine guns. The first volley of rounds made the rig pause. Then they saw someone swing around the top-mounted machine gun.

Two dozen guns fired at the gunner behind the MG. He took three hits and slammed off the side of the rig. Another man reached up for the gun, but the mass of rounds fired made him pull back. More 40mm grenades exploded near the rig. Then two Willy Peter went off on top and beside the lightly defended carrier. The intensely burning phosphorus exploded both the front tires.

A pair of AK-47s pounded off two bursts each from behind the rig, and were met with a withering volley of small-arms rounds. That was the last activity that came from the Kenyan vehicle.

Murdock waited five minutes. Already he had sensed new sounds on the Turner. The main engines must be turning over. Murdock took the mike from Holt, who had been beside him during the firing.

"Knight One, I'd say you have a safe landing zone now. That's a go-ahead to land."

"Inflatable, that's a Roger. ETA is about two minutes."

The big chopper settled gracefully to the steady deck aft, and twenty more sailors rushed from the rig into the hangar deck and to their pre-assigned duties on board the fast frigate. Seconds after the men cleared the Sea King, the hatch door slammed and it took off into the black Kenyan sky.

Murdock and the Marines remained as guards on the starboard side of the Roy Turner.

More sounds rumbled in the big ship. More lights came on, and Murdock saw lookouts posted where they were supposed to be.

Murdock settled down to wait. On the carrier, they had told him it could take from five minutes to an hour to get the Turner ready to ease away from the dock and start its trip down the channel. It would depend on what condition she was in, what damage had been done by the layover, and if any of the vital components had been shot up during the retaking of the craft.

Thirty minutes after the last chopper landed, Murdock saw sailors casting off the lines that tied the Roy Turner to the dock. A second lieutenant with the Marines stationed half of them on both sides around the bow and half of them on the stern.

Murdock touched his throat mike. "Looks like we may have a wrap on this part of our job," Murdock said. "Casualty report."

Doc Ellsworth came on the Motorola. "L-T, we've got one serious I know of. Ted Yates took an AK-47 round in his lower leg. One bone is broken for sure, maybe both of them."

"We have a splint?"

"Not that I know of. He's resting easy. We'll wait for the carrier's corpsmen. He's had a shot of morphine."

"Any others? Speak up, guys. I need to know now."

"I scraped my face on this damn no-skid deck, does that count?" Lincoln asked.

"Not if you can see out of both eyes," Murdock said. "Ronson, Nicholson, and Brown. How are those old wounds?"

They each came on pretending to be not sure what their lieutenant was talking about. In the end they all said they hurt like hell but they would live, and wouldn't be cut out on the next phase of the mission.

"Yeah, we've got to do some high and mighty planning on that one," Murdock said. "Politics is gonna be a factor here soon."

Murdock kept his troops on alert until the frigate moved all the way down the channel and out past the little village on the north shore. In a few minutes, the frigate would come alongside the big carrier, and then the troops could really relax.

General Umar Maleceia had taken off his military jacket and loosened his tie. His shirt showed sweat stains in his armpits and a streak down his chest. He held a long cigar, but hadn't been smoking it. His fury fell on his second in command, Colonel Jomo Kariuki, who stood across the desk from the big commander in chief.

"What the hell you mean, you just heard? You sent that tank and the men out after the ship hours ago."

"The phone lines are not-"

"Phone? Why the hell do we have radios?"

"My general, they are not that reliable. I couldn't get through. I phoned and at last-"

General Maleceia threw a paperweight at the colonel, and hit him in the chest. The colonel backed up rubbing the bruise.

"The tank was destroyed by a missile, the personnel carrier was burned up by white phosphorous grenades, he said. "I have confirmed reports that the U.S. Navy ship left the pier, and then left the port at about 2120."

"Gawd damn!" The general dropped into his large leather swivel chair and leaned back. "I've got nothing left to negotiate with. No trump cards, not a gawddamned thing."

"Sir, we still have our Navy ship and two or three aircraft."

"Sure, send them against the task force out there? Hell, they have a carrier with probably a hundred fighters on the decks, and all sorts of helicopters with missiles, and the missiles from all the covering ships. I've seen them operate. Nothing can get through that screen of missiles, let alone three little ships and a couple of outdated fighters."

"Sir, if I may ask. What is next for us?"

Maleceia picked up an in basket from his desk and threw it at the colonel. He missed. "Next? How the hell do I know? It depends what the Americans do. If they're satisfied with getting their ship back and sail away, we might hang on here yet. If they attack, then the whole thing may collapse."

The telephone rang. Colonel Kariuki leaned over and picked it up. He listened a moment, shook his head, and hung up.

"What? What?"

"I'm afraid some bad news. The TV station and the radio station here in Nairobi have fallen to forces loyal to the President. Our men walked away and refused to fight them."

"Bastards. Cowards. Have them all shot."

"I can't do that, my general. They all went back to the President's side. They took the whole barracks with them. About a thousand men here in Nairobi."

General Maleceia stood and paced the length of the room. He went to the windows and looked out.

"Double the guards around the headquarters. Bring out all of the machine-gun mounted small jeeps we have. Get all of our fifty-calibers out and manned. Make damn sure there is no problem with deserters here. If anyone tries to desert, shoot him on the spot."

Colonel Kariuki saluted the stiffened back of his general, and hurried out of the office to put the new guard orders into effect. It would certainly keep anyone from leaving, and it might keep out a minor attack. Did the President still have any units loyal to him that had tanks? He couldn't remember.

The colonel smiled. If things went from this bad to much worse, he had his own plans. He still had his civilian clothes. He also had the Mercedes stashed in a private area not even the enlisted men knew about. He could be out of the complex, through Nairobi, and into Tanzania in two hours. He had a supply of U.S. dollars and South African rand gold pieces that would last him the rest of his life. Yes, it paid to make plans well in advance.