Counterfire

11

Murdock looked out the cabin of the 105-foot Israeli patrol craft at the lights of Gaza City. They were over a mile offshore and the lights were fused together into a glow. The Israeli Navy lieutenant checked his watch.

“Twenty minutes until 0200, Commander.”

“Move in slowly at five knots. Plenty of time. Get us to a quarter mile if you can, then we’ll swim.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” The Navy man made a transmission on his radio and both the patrol crafts moved toward shore. The second boat held the sixteen Israeli underwater forces.

Murdock checked his watch. “Better gun it up to ten knots, Lieutenant. This is one party I don’t want to be late for.”

The boat captain nodded at his man on the throttle, and the boat moved ahead faster. The Israeli team in the second boat caught up quickly.

“Quarter mile, sir,” the lieutenant said.

“Dead stop,” Murdock ordered. DeWitt had been checking the SEALs at the bow of the ship. He had been over every bit of gear and straps twice. Murdock walked in beside them, with the flippers giving him trouble on land or deck as they always did. They had decided on wearing their cammies and no rubber suits. They wouldn’t be in the water long enough to make up for the clumsiness the wet suits produced on land. They had also decided not to go with the Draegr rebreathing device. They would swim in on the surface. Nobody could see them in the dark anyway, and they wouldn’t have to worry about finding the Draegrs or dragging them along on the firefight.

“We’ll go overboard in three minutes. Gives us ten to swim in and get ready for 0200. Everyone ready?”

Murdock saw the dim outline of the second patrol boat, which was without lights, forty yards away. He looked back at his boat driver. “Tell the other boat we get wet in two minutes.”

They dropped in by squads, surfaced quickly, and powered toward shore. They had decided to stop just outside the surf line and wait until two minutes before attack time. Then they would swim directly through the breakers and head for the sand. If nothing happened at 0200, they would play wet logs on the beach until the jets came in.

Murdock had seen a few floodlights around the PLO headquarters, but not as many as he’d figured. Now as he waited just beyond the breakers, he could see there were more lights than he first thought. He knew he wouldn’t hear the jets coming. The first sound they would hear would be the detonation of the missiles, with the jets flashing overhead seconds later. He had no idea what type of missiles the Israelis would use, but he was sure they would be big ones that could get the job done. Four missiles had been planned. The SEALs would be moving up on the sand after the first two, then wait out the second pass.

His watch glowed that it was 0200. He didn’t hear the missile, more sensed it, and he snapped his head around to watch the big building. One side of it suddenly exploded in a huge ball of flames, the sound crashing over them a moment later. The second missile came then, producing flames and a brilliant flash and roar as it exploded on the other end of the complex. Murdock could see the center of the three-story building slowly sag, then crash down into the second story, and then all of it collapsed onto the ground floor.

The sixteen SEALs on the surface began their crawl stroke into the breakers and through them until they could feel the sand under their feet. They hesitated in the waist-high water as more waves broke over and around them. The third and fourth missiles came into the firestorm of blasted rubble a moment later, both hitting almost at the same time. It was overkill, but Murdock didn’t worry about it. He waved the men forward and they charged up the beach, splashing through the waist-high, then knee-high water as it surged back at them from the sloping beach. They kicked off the troublesome flippers and surged ahead.

Murdock didn’t see them until they began running up the beach. The underwater men from Israel were on his right and exactly on time, heading for the right half of the big bonfire. Murdock and the SEALs took the left-hand section for any mop-up needed and to run down any escaping terrorists. Behind somewhere, Murdock heard a high-speed engine whining toward him from the sea. That would be the SAS men coming in to attack the six off-site targets.

Murdock’s SEALs charged up the sand and over a decorative low fence toward the structure. What was left of it standing was burning. There was no chance to get within fifty feet of the flaming mass. They had just started to circle to the left end of the place, when a secondary explosion caught them all by surprise. The pounding, roaring blast came at the far left end and put out part of the fire, but sent burning boards, roofing, and other debris high into the air.

“Hit the deck,” Murdock bellowed. He hadn’t even had time to get his Motorola working. The burning boards dropped all around them, some sailing as far as the sea. When everything stopped falling, Murdock sat up.

Jaybird slid in beside him. “Secondary? Their stash of boom-boom?”

“Must be. Let’s get on the rest of the way round here and see what’s on the other side.”

The SEALs regrouped and circled their end of the complex. What had once been a series of connected buildings, some of them three stories high, now was nothing but a burning mass of rubble not over three feet high. The SEALs went back to the water side.

One section, six feet wide, near the middle was not yet burning. They moved up as close as they could. Murdock stared through the blown-out window and saw what he decided had been an office. A desk remained and a chair in front of it. On top of the desk sat a white paper bag about the size of a lunch sack.

“Some terr is gonna miss his late-night snack tonight,” Jaybird said. They found two men crawling away from the building. The MP-5’s chattered and the crawlers stopped moving permanently.

Murdock pulled out his Motorola and called the Israeli team.

“Yes, Yanks, I hear you. Not much left on this side. We’ve found two survivors who we dispatched. We’ve circled our end and it looks like we’re about done here.”

“We’ve found the same situation. You see those SAS men come in?”

“Heard their boat. Haven’t seen them.”

“So where are these other six targets?” Murdock asked.

“Not the slightest. Figured the Brits would do them.”

Murdock heard someone coming from the beach, and looked over. There were two of the SAS men, one limping badly. They saw Murdock and headed his way.

“Fucking boat flipped on us. Lost a lot of our lads. We need some help. Can we team up with you blokes on this one? I know the targets.”

“Let’s go,” Murdock said. The word passed to the last SEAL in the area, and they jogged forward with the Brit. They went down a block, past curious residents on the sidewalk looking at the firestorm near the beach.

“Fifth house down,” the Brit lieutenant said. “Frame house with yellow trim.”

They sensed no opposition from the civilians. A block later they came on the house. The front door stood open. Two men in the yard looked up, saw the military unit converging on them, and ran into the house.

“We’ll take the back, Ed, you go in the front,” Murdock said on his Motorola.

“Got it,” Ed said.

Murdock led his seven men to the side of the house. He saw two lights snap off inside the building. At the last window he threw a fragger grenade hard through the glass, then kept on going to the rear of the structure.

The small bomb went off with authority inside. Murdock put his men on the ground and they watched the rear door a moment. One man came running out, and six Parabellums drilled through his body, dropping him into the dirt of the backyard.

Murdock heard two grenades explode inside the house; then the radio came on.

“Going inside,” DeWitt said. “Don’t fire into the place or use grenades. We’ll clear.”

Alpha Squad remained on the ground and waited. They heard a half-dozen shots fired in the house, then another grenade and more shots. A short time later the rear door opened and a voice bellowed.

“Friendlies here, SEALs coming out the back door.”

The troops moved to the front of the house, and the SAS man pointed on down the street.

“Second and third targets are half a block down this way. We have two houses side by side. They must know we’re coming by now.”

“DeWitt, take the far house with our SAS man. We’ll get the near one. Go.”

“Your house is concrete block with no paint, small tree in front, no sidewalk,” the SAS man said.

“Hey, Brit. You have a name?” Murdock asked.

“Yeah, I’m Trent-Jones.”

“Okay, Jones it is. I’m Murdock. Concrete block with small tree. We’re moving.”

Both houses were dark when they came toward them. At once a rifle fired from one window, and the SEALs took cover behind two parked cars and three good-sized trees. “I’ll cover you,” Murdock said “Jaybird, Van Dyke, and Ching, move to the back door and cover it. Go on my fire.”

Murdock moved his Bull Pup to 5.56 and fired three rounds into the nearest window, then three more rounds into the next window. He worked down the side of the house until his three men were safely past the windows and to the rear. He pushed the selector on the Bull Pup to 20mm and fired one round into the front door. It blew the whole wooden door all the way inside the house. Murdock sent one more twenty round inside; then he and the rest of the squad charged the front of the house.

There was no answering fire. The SEALs pressed against the front of the concrete structure and waited. “Jaybird, hold it back there, we’re going in,” Murdock called on the radio.

“Roger that.”

“Howard, you and I. I’ve got the left.”

They charged through the door, covering their sides of the large room they found. It was so dark they couldn’t see anything. Murdock used his penlight, holding it three feet from his body. The powerful but small beam showed two dead bodies on the floor, both holding submachine guns.

“Two terrs down here,” Murdock said on the radio. They charged through the rest of the house, and found one more man in the rear room. He was wounded. He screamed at them and lifted an Uzi in Murdock’s beam of light. Howard put four rounds of Parabellums into his chest, and he dropped the weapon and met his ancestors in half a second.

“All clear,” Murdock said. They went back outside just as DeWitt and Jones charged the front door of the other house. Murdock heard firing from the rear.

“We’ve got two downed terrs here,” Donegan said on the Motorola. “Little bastards thought they could outrun a bullet.”

“Two more dead inside,” De Witt said. “We’re done here.”

They could hear sirens — fire, police, or the Palestinian Authority military police, they didn’t know which one.

“Let’s haul ass out of here,” Murdock said. The SEALs jogged toward the sea, cut back a block, and then down another deserted street until they could see the dark waters of the Mediterranean. Trent-Jones went with them. “You swim?” Murdock asked the SAS man.

“Like a salmon, but I should go find my mates.”

“Was there another officer with them?” Murdock asked.

“Yes.”

“He probably has most of them in tow. The sirens will push them back to sea. We’ll try to find them once we get out a ways. Can you strap your weapon over your back?”

“Quite, regular procedure. How far out do we swim?”

“I’ll contact the patrol boat before we hit the water. He should come in to a quarter mile and key in on our light sticks. At least that’s the plan. We’ll see how well he can follow orders.”

Murdock told the SEALs to stash their Motorolas in waterproof compartments on their cammies. He called the boat.

“Patrol One, you should have men in the water in two minutes. Can you read me?”

“Surfers, we have you. We’re a mile off. Are you north or south of the target? We can still see it burning.”

“We’re north now about three hundred yards. Have you heard from the Israeli swimmers?”

“They have been picked up by Patrol Two.”

“We’re moving. Did you know that the SAS boat flipped? You might ask Patrol Two to watch for survivors. We have one SAS man, Lieutenant Trent-Jones, with us.”

“Will relay. We’re looking for seventeen?”

“Right. We know of one wounded Brit on shore. Do your best.”

Murdock put away his radio. “Let’s get wet, men,” he said, and led the way into the water. Without their flippers it was harder work swimming out, but nobody complained. They had no wounds that Murdock had heard about, and it was only a quarter of a mile.

When Murdock figured they were far enough, he had each man take out a signal stick, break it to start it glowing, and hold it up as high as he could and still tread water.

Trent-Jones stayed near Murdock.

“This is a bit cold, isn’t it? But better than waiting on the beach. Were those the Palestinian Authority sirens we heard?”

“Probably. They held off long enough so the danger had passed. They don’t like to get involved, I’ve been told.”

“Hear something coming,” Lam shouted. The rest of them listened, but it was a full minute before Jaybird let out a yell. “Starboard about two hundred,” he bellowed. They all waved their light sticks.

“Be a damn shame if this is a Palestinian patrol boat,” Jaybird yelped. “Hope to hell they don’t have any out tonight.”

Two minutes later they recognized the Israeli patrol boat, and it cut power and slid up to them through the calm Mediterranean. Once aboard, Murdock asked about the SAS boat.

“The report we have is that it capsized on a rough wave near shore and went down. The other patrol boat heard their Mayday and rescued twenty of the SAS men out of the water and the three crewmen. Five were found on the beach by a search party including the one with the broken leg. Four of the SAS men are missing and presumed drowned.”

Trent-Jones slumped in his seat in the cabin. “Four of my men gone. How could it happen? We train in small boats. We dump boats and know what to do.”

The Israeli patrol boat captain looked at the notes he had taken on the radio transmissions. “One explanation I heard is that two of the men may have been trapped belowdecks and couldn’t get out. The other two could have been knocked unconscious when the craft went upside down, and drowned.”

“We lose anyone else on the operation?” Murdock asked. “The Israeli underwater men?”

“All accounted for, Commander.”

“Then we missed the other three house targets,” Trent-Jones said. “I don’t even know where they were. The SEALs took down three of them; at least we did that much.”

For Murdock the twenty-mile boat ride was a long one. He was feeling the British SAS man’s loss, his pain at the way he and his men had fared in the attack. They had been lucky to lose only four men. Could have been the rough wave caught the boat broadside when it was turning for the run to the beach. Long damn ride.

Murdock was exhausted by the time they hit the dock at Ashdod. Then came the wait in the cold wet cammies for the chopper ride up the coast to Tel Aviv. By the time they were back in their quarters at the Army base, the sun was starting to shatter the blackness of night. Murdock couldn’t get out of his mind the look on the SAS man’s face when the lieutenant learned he had lost four men. That man’s agony would be with Murdock for a long time.