Counterfire

1

Ground fire ripped through the night sky, leaving glowing red tracer patterns, as the big VTOL Osprey came in fast, turned its engines into the vertical position, and lowered gracefully to the ground where two red flares burned. Two rounds hit the bird near where Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock crouched. He swept back the door and the moment the wheels touched the soft black Sierra Leone soil, he jumped to the ground with Quartermaster First Class Ken Ching and Electrician’s Mate Second Class Vincent Van Dyke right behind him.

Murdock pointed to the left, where they saw muzzle flashes a hundred yards away. They all hit the dirt, and Murdock and Ching brought up their Alliant Bull Pup duo rifles and each sent a 20mm high-explosive round into the trio of gunfire flashes. The twenties shattered the Sierra Leone darkness, and the fire from that sector cut off just after a wailing scream.

Three U.S. Marine Recon fighters followed the SEALs out of the plane. Murdock motioned them to the left, and he and his two men darted to the right and charged out forty yards, then went prone with weapons pointing outward. They were on perimeter defense for the VTOL birds. Now Murdock saw the other five Osprey craft where they had landed in a rough triangle about thirty yards apart. Six men from each bird were deployed outward as security.

Sporadic rifle- and machine-gun fire blasted from the other side of the aircraft. Murdock heard three twenties explode and the small-arms fire stopped. Ten Sierra Leone soldiers dashed past the perimeter defense and to the birds, now with doors wide open. They began unloading their payload of rifles, submachine guns, rockets, RPGs, and thousands of rounds of ammunition from the birds. Murdock had had a chance to check the cargo over on the short ride from the U.S. aircraft carrier Carl Vinson, CVN 70, just off the coast of the small African nation.

Enough weapons and ammo to start a war, or to finish off a group of sadistic rebels the current regime had been battling for six months. Now the government forces of President Ahmad Tejan Kabbah had a chance to deliver the killing blow if they had enough weapons and ammo. This was it. Three SEALs from Third Platoon, Team Seven, were on each of four birds, and two on each of the other two, for security.

Murdock sensed movement to his right and pulled down his night-vision goggles. A squad of rebels about a hundred yards out crept forward through the black night that was turned into a light green shooting ground by the goggles. He lasered the troops, fired an airburst, and cut down six of the eight men with the shattering 20mm round. The other two men in the rebel squad limped away into the heavy growth near the edge of the field.

Behind him, Murdock could hear the native soldiers panting as they rushed to unload the arms and ammo. There was supposed to be a force of over two hundred government troops in the area, to sweep it clean of rebels, but several small groups of rebels had penetrated, and now Murdock heard more firing to the left on the other side of the VTOL birds. He signaled to the Marine sergeant to keep his men there, then he spoke on the Motorola personal radio. They were now using shoulder mikes, which had proved to be sturdier and easier to work with.

“Ching, Van Dyke, let’s hit the other side of the birds and see who we can scare. Move. Now.” The three lifted up and raced under the wing of the big Osprey, across the open space, and under the next VTOL being unloaded. They went out thirty yards beyond it, then dove to the ground seven yards apart. More muzzle flashes showed directly in front of them.

“When ready,” Murdock said, and dropped a 20mm HE round on the flashes of two guns he saw out two hundred yards. The shooters must have fired and moved. “I’ve got them right ten yards. Ching, do a twenty at ten to their left.” They waited, and at the first flash of new firing both SEALs launched a laser 20mm. They exploded over the target, and this time there was no counterfire.

All was quiet for a moment; then they heard the rumble and clank of what could only be a tank. Murdock hit the mike. “SEALs, perimeter. I hear a tank. When you see him, blind him with some rounds of WP, then try for his tread with the twenty HE. Who has him?”

“Sounds like he’s coming my way,” Frank Victor, gunner’s mate second class and new to the platoon, said.

“Victor, is that you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Anybody near Victor down there?”

“Nearby,” Mahanani said. “Critter is coming up on us fast. Any more support in here? Jefferson?”

“Yeah, man,” Jeff said. “I’ve got him. Big sucker, coming up fast, then he slowed down. Don’t think he’s gonna shoot yet. Maybe a hundred yards out there in the dark. No NVGs. Anybody else see him? Has he got ground troops following him?”

“Can’t see him, Jeff. I’m charging out there a ways to blind him, then try for the treads,” Mahanani said. “Who else over here has the twenties?”

“Got one,” Jefferson said.

“Yeah,” Franklin said. “I’m with a twenty. Where are you guys?”

“On the point of the triangle heading north.”

“Don’t leave home without me,” Franklin said. He sprinted across the open space. Two rifles made tries for him from the woods, but missed. He slid in beside Victor.

They ran doubled over and ten yards apart to the woodsy edge of the clearing, and hit the dirt. Now they could hear the engine of the big tank, but it wasn’t moving.

“How do we know it’s not a government forces tank?” Murdock asked on the net.

“Damn, didn’t think about that,” Victor said. “If he shoots at the birds, we’ll know.”

Just then a machine gun on the tank stuttered out two ten-round bursts of fifty-caliber.

“Go,” Murdock said. “He hit one bird. Not sure how bad.”

“I’ve got smoke in,” Franklin said. He aimed ten feet in front of the tank, a huge dark blob among the dark trees, and fired. Then he put another one in front of the tank.

As he did, the other two SEALs sighted in on the side tracks of the monster and both fired about the same time. The tank lurched forward to get out of the smoke. Franklin put two more 20mm smoke rounds in front of it, and Jefferson and Victor both fired the twenties again, two rounds each. The last two rounds found a weak spot on the churning tracks and blasted off the motive force of the tank. It spun around as if it had fully braked one tread. Then the engine whimpered to a halt. The lights snapped off, and the SEALs heard the hatch open but couldn’t see anything. Both SEALs fired an HE round at the tank; then they retreated to the fringe of the woods.

“Coming in, three friendlies,” Victor said on the Motorola. “Don’t get your rocks off on us. We’re on your side.”

The three charged into the triangle of aircraft, then found their defensive spots again, and bellied down, aiming their weapons outward at the heavy growth of trees and brush.

“Trouble from this other side,” Murdock said. “At least a company of rebels moving up. No firing yet. I’ve got them on the goggles. Anybody else with goggles see them?”

“I’ve got them,” Lieutenant Ed DeWitt said. “Looks more like two companies. Where the hell are all those government troops supposed to be? This hardware gets into rebel hands, it’s good night, Irene.”

“I need three more Bull Pups on the east side,” Murdock barked. “Sound off.”

“Sadler coming.”

“Jaybird on the move.”

“Fernandez almost there.”

The SEALs found their leader in the murky half-light of the moon and spread out along the east side.

“We’ve got six or seven Pups over here. For those who can’t see the target, the lieutenant and I will put airbursts on the rebels, then each one of you fire three rounds and hold. Ed. When you’re ready.”

Murdock sighted in with the laser on the slowly moving group of men still bunched up out about two hundred yards. He fired. The resulting crack of the airburst was quickly followed by a second; then moments later six more exploded in the air over the first firing point.

Murdock checked through the NVGs. A few of the troops took cover behind trees. Dozens turned and ran.

“Raise twenty-five yards,” Murdock said, and fired again. More rounds exploded as they tracked the men running away.

“Murdock, Marine Sergeant Nelson. There’s a jeep coming hell-bent for leather through the west side. I’ve got two Marines here and M-16’s. We can’t stop him. Tried tires and windshield. He’s into the clearing heading for the first VTOL bird.”

“I see him,” Tracy Donegan, signalman second class, shouted into his shoulder mike. “He’s too close to the bird for me to use the twenty. Shit, he’s going to crash into the nose of the plane.” They heard the explosion. The large Osprey erupted in flames; some small-arms ammunition still inside began cooking off and firing in every direction. Moments later the fuel tanks went up in a gigantic, roaring fireball.

“Suicide mission,” Donegan said. “Damn, I couldn’t stop him.”

“Lieutenant, how close to unloading are you?” Murdock asked on the mike. The Navy officer had been given a Motorola.

“Almost done. We’re taking off the second two birds now. Marines and SEALs grab the next bird you can. Make your man count. We lost the pilot and copilot and two crewmen in that fire. They were about ready to leave. Let’s move it. Two and three, get out of here.”

“Head for the birds, Marines and SEALs,” Murdock bellowed. His mike caught it, and so did half a dozen Marines who had been firing into the target with their M-16’s.

“Ed, take one bird and count,” Murdock said.

He sprinted to the closest VTOL bird and found a SEAL and two Marines inside. Two minutes later he had five SEALs and eight Marines. He reported his numbers to Ed and Sergeant Nelson.

“We’ve got all the Marines, Murdock,” Ed said. “We have thirteen SEALs in this one.”

“We’re short two SEALs,” Murdock said.

The crew chief of the bird ran in and closed one door. Murdock moved to the other one. “Get out of here. No telling what else the rebels have out there. I’ll see you when I see you.” Murdock jumped down from the Osprey and ran for the fringe of brush as the engines wound up and kicked up dirt and dust while the VTOL slowly lifted off straight into the air. Two rifles picked up Murdock on his run, but missed hitting him. He crashed into the growth a dozen feet, then bellied down in the brush and touched his shoulder mike.

“SEALs, time to come home. Where the hell are you two?”

“Hiding,” the whisper said in Murdock’s earpiece.

“Yeah, I hear you, take it easy. Lots of rebels around you? Click once for yes.” One click came. Murdock waited. He had no idea which direction to go. Then the earpiece spoke to him.

“Van Dyke. Bastards all around me. Most of them from that company you shot to hell. They’re mad. Cheered like wild when the bird blew up.”

“They pulled back a little?”

“Yeah, some.”

“You seen Lam?”

“He was nearby. I think he got hit. We come off the line to backside these fuckers. Should have told you.”

“Can you find Lam?”

“Yeah. I think so. I got a scratch, but it’s nothing. The bad guys have pulled back to reorganize. I figure they knew the shit was coming in here tonight. Heard one truck back there somewhere.”

“Could be the government trucks. I see two coming in now. They have some troops with them. We’ll try to hook up with them and get out of here.”

“Birds all left?”

“Right, too dangerous to stay any longer. RPGs would kill them from this woods-to-plane range. Look for Lam.”

Murdock watched the two trucks move up to the stack of boxes of rifles, machine guns, and ammo at the site near the first VTOL, which was still burning. They pulled the ammo out first so it wouldn’t explode. He wanted to run that way and bring back some help, but he didn’t know the language. Strike that. English was the official language here in Sierra Leone. But he knew they would shoot first and talk later.

“Got him,” Van Dyke said.

“How bad?”

“Not good. Looks like one in the arm and another one in his leg, up high. He’s almost out of it.”

“Where are you from the burning chopper?”

“Yeah, see it. To the east, maybe twenty yards in the brush. About opposite that second stack of ammo on this side.”

“I’m moving up that direction. Don’t the fuck shoot me.”

Murdock moved slowly and silently. He had this routine down to an exact science. Never put your foot down until you were sure it wouldn’t break something and make noise. He found the two SEALs about five minutes later.

Van Dyke had bandaged Lam’s upper right arm and his lower leg. The in-and-out on his leg was no problem.

“I can walk, I can walk,” Lam kept saying.

“The shoulder isn’t so good,” Van Dyke said. “I think it’s a ricochet and it’s still in there.”

“So what?” Lam asked. “Let’s move. The last chopper ready?”

Murdock checked the two bandages. They would stop the bleeding even when Lam walked.

“We move quietly around to the side where the trucks are coming in. I’ll try to talk to one of the Sierra Leone soldiers without getting my head blown off.”

“Where are the choppers, that new funny VTOL one?” Lam asked.

“They had to leave, too much danger,” Murdock said. “We’re on our own for a while.”

“My fucking fault,” Lam said. “I got hit and couldn’t move there for a time. Why didn’t you use the radio?”

Murdock stopped and looked closely at Lam. His earpiece hung down his back on the thin wire. Murdock pushed it back in place, and they glided slowly through the thick growth toward the road where the trucks were coming in. So far Murdock had seen three come, load up, and leave. The workers who unloaded the planes were gone. He saw no one. Each truck must bring its own work force. He stopped opposite the fourth stack of ammo and weapons. The truck would come to them.

They sat down to wait in the fringe of woods. Murdock looked at Van Dyke. “You said you picked up a scratch?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about. Place on my arm. I think it was some shrapnel from one of our own twenties. So no Purple Heart.”

Murdock pushed back Van Dyke’s jungle-camouflaged shirtsleeve and checked it. A jagged line two inches long oozed with a line of blood that ran down his arm and dripped off his fingers. Murdock used his first-aid kit and put some ointment on the gash, then wrapped it tightly to stop the bleeding.

“Some damn scratch,” he said. Van Dyke grinned.

A truck came five minutes later, ground to a halt, and left its lights on aimed at the stack of weapons and ammo. Four men got out of the truck and began taking the goods to the truck. Murdock watched the loading. He could come up on this side of the rig without being seen.

“Stay,” he said, and brought his Bull Pup to port arms and slid across the twenty yards to the side of the old van-type truck without a sound. He paused at the near side, then crept around the front until he could see the men working. One soldier stood to the side evidently directing things. English, they spoke English.

He tried the direct approach without showing himself.

“Lieutenant, I need to talk to you,” Murdock said loud enough so the man could hear him, but not the workers. The soldier turned sharply, a submachine gun coming up.

“What the hell. Who is there?”

“A friend. I just helped bring in this stack of guns and ammo. I’m a United States Navy SEAL and I need your help.”

“You could be a rebel.”

“If I were, you’d be dead by now, right?”

The man twisted his face into a frown, then nodded. “Yeah, guess so. I saw the strange planes leave. How do they do that?”

“Vertical takeoffs and landings. After takeoff, the whole engine turns until it’s level with the wing and the plane flies forward like any plane.”

“Yeah. Okay, come out, but keep your hands up.”

Murdock did as he stepped out and moved forward.

“Stop, close enough. You say you’re with the U.S. Navy?”

“Right, the SEALs. We’re specialists in covert projects like this.”

“So, the U.S. brought in these weapons?”

“Yes, but nobody is supposed to know about it.”

“Yeah, but I know about it.” His sub gun came up and centered on Murdock’s chest from six feet away.

“We’re on your side, the government’s side,” Murdock said.

The man with the submachine gun laughed. “You don’t say, brother. Got news for you. We’re not on your side. Knew right away that you weren’t a rebel. Guess why. ’Cause we’re the rebels, and we thank you for the fine weapons and ammunition.” He laughed again, and Murdock saw no chance to get to him or to use the Pup.

“Stand steady, SEAL. Since you’re a warrior, I’ll give you a choice. You want me to kill you quick, or slow? One in the head or two in the belly, so you can moan and scream and go out of your mind with pain? Which one, American Navy SEAL, which one?”