Death Blow

11

The fifteen SEALs charged directly through the deserted embassy, out a gate in the rear wall and into a two-acre grove of hardwood trees two hundred yards behind the building.

“Any wounds?” Murdock asked the men who clustered around him in the brush.

“Small chunk of shrapnel in my leg, but it don’t bother me none,” Howie Anderson said.

Mahanani went over to the big gunner’s mate and checked it, pulled up his pants leg and treated it.

“The metal went through, a slice,” Mahanani said. “Bandaged it up and Howie is fit for service.”

“Good, let’s haul ass out of here. We’re a little north and west of the bulk of the city. A couple of miles will get us away from any Chinese reaction to the embassy. We’ll head generally west, that’s where India is. Let’s move it, double-time.”

Lam was out front a hundred yards as the SEALs did their ground eating trot that would consume a mile in eight minutes. The area was built up but they found a field here and there and a road that seemed to lead nowhere bounded by a few poorly made houses. They saw no one in the area, and there were no Chinese troops that they encountered.

Fifteen minutes from the embassy, Murdock called a halt. “Now, planning session. We have two general choices. We can hike from here back to India to the west, which must be about a hundred miles.”

“We could steal a truck,” Jaybird said. “Done it before.”

“Yeah but I don’t see a hell of a lot of roads heading that direction,” Jefferson said.

“Hijack a plane?” Ostercamp asked.

“Chicoms will have the airports stitched up tight,” Franklin said.

“Ganges,” DeWitt said. “I saw it on the map. It’s somewhere just to the west of the capital.”

“You mean float down the sacred river to the bay?” Will Dobler asked.

“Or find a boat with a motor,” DeWitt said. “The Chicoms are going to be worried about taking control of the country. They won’t spend a platoon hunting us.”

“How far?” Bradford asked.

“If it’s a hundred miles to India on the west, it has to be a hundred and twenty to the Bay of Bengal,” DeWitt answered. “The mouth of the Ganges is more than a hundred miles wide down there, it shatters into dozens of channels that wander all over the map.”

Murdock looked at Jaybird, then Dobler and Mahanani. They all said, “wet.”

“If we go wet, and float, at five knots, it would take us twenty-four hours to get to the mouth of the river,” Murdock said. “We better try to find some motorized transportation.” He looked around in the darkness. “Anderson, you still have that SATCOM?”

“I do, sir.”

“Let’s see who we can raise. They gave us that ship frequency offshore. The cruiser. Try it.”

Anderson set up the antenna, aimed it in the direction of the satellite and had a beep on the radio showing it was aimed correctly.

“Wet One, this is Mother Hen. Do you copy?”

There was no response. He tried twice more. Murdock shook his head. “We have the wrong frequency or they don’t have their ears on. We’ll try later.”

“So let’s get moving to the west,” Dobler said. “Lam out a hundred. Those Chicoms had cammies on that looked a lot like ours. From a distance we’ll even look like Chinks. Might come in handy with the natives.”

They hiked again this time in a single file with Alpha Squad first and Bravo behind. Ed DeWitt brought up the end of the line as rear guard. They soon found the area more and more built up until they were in a residential section of a small town. Now they had to work down streets, past occasional street lights. Now and then they saw a car or small truck. They saw no Chinese troops for two hours.

“We must have come ten miles,” Murdock said as they took a break in one of the few open fields they had seen lately. Murdock checked his watch. It was 2330.

“Six, maybe seven hours to daylight,” Murdock said. “We need to have a boat and be sailing downstream before the sun comes up. Let’s move it faster.”

A half-hour later they came to another section of houses and streets. They had passed over three bridges, but they seemed to be swampy areas and not the river. They went around a building and Lam talked to them on the Motorola.

“We’ve got some Chicoms dead ahead. Looks like a patrol. Seven or eight. They’re coming directly for us down this street.”

“Get out of the way and we’ll have a surprise for them,” Murdock said. He motioned for his men to move to the side of the street, into doorways and in the openings between buildings.

“We let them come up to fifty feet of us, then we open fire. We have silenced weapons?”

Six men replied. “Silenced only if that will do it,” Murdock said. “Hold your fire until I give you a go on the Motorola.”

All was quiet in the strange little street. Then they heard some chatter and laughter. Not good patrol behavior. Murdock tightened his grip on his Bull Pup hoping he wouldn’t have to use it.

They saw a lead Chinese soldier come into the street shortly. He looked around and waved the rest forward. When all were in sight and less than twenty yards away, Murdock gave the order to fire.

The six weapons stammered out deadly rounds. None of the eight men in the patrol had time to fire his weapon. All went down to the muffled sound of the SEAL guns.

“Make sure, Franklin.”

The SEAL came away from a building and ran forward checking each of the Chinese. The Motorolas spoke.

“All down and out, Skipper,” Franklin said.

“We move forward.”

A half-hour later they came to a series of small streams and then the banks of the Ganges, the holy river of India. The bank had been terraced and concrete platforms built at the water’s edge so pilgrims could come and wash themselves in the sacred water.

“Upstream,” Murdock said. “Maybe fewer platforms and a dock or two with a boat.”

It was a quarter of a mile farther before they found any boats. Most were flat bottomed and too small to carry even six SEALs. A hundred yards on upstream they found a sturdier dock that angled into the river. Tied up there was a thirty-foot boat that looked large enough to hide the fifteen SEALs. Lam looked it over and came back with a grin.

“Looks like a winner. She has a diesel engine, room for fifteen, and if I read the gauges right, lots of fuel. There’s no guard onboard or anyone else, and I didn’t see anyone on the pier.”

“Let’s go steal a boat,” Murdock said.

They moved up and watched the boat and the pier for ten minutes. Nothing happened. Lam and two men slipped on board and checked the craft again. Two minutes later, Lam waved from the gangplank and the SEALs hurried onboard.

“Can you start the engine?” DeWitt asked Lam.

“Hey, does a dog have fleas? You betcha. You ready, Skipper?”

Murdock waved and Lam vanished into a small wheelhouse. A moment later the engine coughed, stuttered, then came the rhythmic beat of a diesel engine.

“Cast off,” Murdock said, the bowline came off the dock, and they moved out into the Ganges. In the dark, the river looked a mile wide. Lam headed for the middle of the channel and turned downstream. He saw no other boats on the river.

The craft had been used to haul freight down the river, but now was empty. It was just large enough so all of the SEALs could sit or lie out of sight.

“We’re making ten knots,” Lam said. Murdock nodded.

“That means it will take us twelve hours to get into the bay.”

“From the wear on the throttle lever, looks like five to maybe seven knots is the normal cruising speed,” Lam said. “That five knots with the current of five should keep us at ten knots. I could goose it up a notch, but we might burn up the engine.”

“Keep it at the ten knots,” Murdock said. “Then we might have some reserve if we need it.”

Nobody had mentioned it, but they all knew that China had a Navy. Had they brought over any boats to this area? It was a long way from China. They may have taken over some Bangladesh river patrol boats. Either way they would be just as deadly. Murdock hoped that they didn’t see any.

He kept trying to watch the shores. Usually they faded into distance and the haze. For a small country with such a large population, the place seemed relatively uncrowded here in the country. He saw only an occasional light, and no real town along the banks. But it was a long river.

In the bright moonlight he could see where massive flooding had taken place recently. The country was mostly a flat plain and made up of the silt of millions of years from the Ganges. That made it almost at sea level and tremendously at risk for flooding. Every few years devastating floods hit the country. Murdock remembered that ten years ago when the floods hit, there were thousands dead and over twenty-five million homeless.

They plowed down the river. They had been on the river since 0030. That meant they had another five, maybe six hours before daylight. That was when Murdock expected trouble. There would be no way the Chinese would know where to look for them. The trouble might come if a Chinese patrol boat came alongside to inspect the boat or just to harass the crew.

Lam had the con. Vinnie Van Dyke was their best small boat sailor, but he was still in the hospital on the carrier. Most of the SEALs had sacked out on and below the deck. Murdock hadn’t named any lookout. He did the job himself. Lam would need some relief at the helm. Bradford would be the next man up.

Murdock went into the little wheelhouse and waved at Lam. There was a small light over the control panel.

“So far, we’re winning,” Lam said.

“Lots of miles to go yet, sailor. In another hour I’ll get you a relief pilot. What’s the routine, stay in the middle of the channel and hope we don’t hit a sandbar?”

“About the size of it. Saw some small arms fire back there a ways. None of it came our way.”

“If the Chicoms are all over the place, I can’t see them,” Murdock said. He paused staring into the moonscape. “Maybe they’re just in the population centers.”

Two hours later somebody nudged Murdock awake where he had been sleeping in the hold.

“Trouble, sir. Looks like a patrol boat.”

Murdock came awake in an instant, recognized Mahanani’s voice and jumped to the deck.

“Twin lights and a searchlight coming at us. Range maybe two thousand yards and closing.”

“Wake up the troops and have them lock and load. We could be in for some action.” Murdock wished he’s brought a pair of binoculars. This wasn’t supposed to be long-range work. He stared into the moonlit darkness ahead of them. Yes, running lights and a searchlight swinging back and forth over the water. The boat was on the far side of the river working the far bank. Already Lam had angled the craft toward the right-hand bank.

Murdock moved up beside him. “Want me to shut down the power and let the current run us downstream?” Lam asked.

“Take longer to get by him that way. No sense in giving him more chances to see us. With his motors running he won’t be able to hear us in this little tub. Wonder what kind of armament he has?”

Murdock had checked the book on Bangladesh before they left the carrier. She had three frigates in the 340-foot class. With any warning at all, those craft should have put to sea until the problem on land was resolved. He couldn’t remember the type of patrol craft they had but they would probably have some in the 195-foot class and more of the 120-foot size.

Murdock guessed that the larger ones had taken off for sea, as well, which would leave the smaller ones to be captured and used until the Chinese Navy arrived. That type patrol craft would probably have radar, missiles, and some 25mm twin guns. Way too much firepower for them.

“Let’s find some overhanging trees or vines and try to hide behind them against the shore,” Murdock said.

Lam eased the craft closer to shore, scraped over a sand bar and moved out again. “That won’t work,” Lam said. Ahead they could see a small river entering the main flow.

“Give it a try?” Lam asked.

Murdock checked the patrol boat. Still twelve hundred yards off.

“Yeah, nose in easy against the flow and see if it has a bottom.”

The small ship angled more sharply to shore, had to turn back against the current to get into the downstream slant of the river entry. Then Lam edged forward a few feet at a time. A small curve in the tributary showed just ahead. Lam checked the riverbank. They were nearly screened from the patrol boat.

“Another twenty yards, Skipper,” Lam said.

“Go.”

The little boat edged farther up stream until Lam decided it was far enough in, then he used just enough throttle to keep the boat in the same spot against the two-knot current of the small stream.

Murdock saw his men moving into firing positions around the craft. He hoped they didn’t have to work against the missiles and the 25mm twin guns, which could chew this little wooden boat into shreds in minutes.

“All quiet on the boat,” Murdock whispered into the mike. The SEALs knew the drill. They didn’t talk, move or lift weapons. It was as quiet as a tomb, which is where they could be if somebody made too much noise.

Now they could hear the growl of the larger boat’s diesels as it strained upstream against the five-knot current.

“Almost opposite us,” Lam said. “Can’t see them, just a feeling.”

They waited.

Fingers were outside trigger guards to prevent any accidental firing.

They waited again.

They all heard it then, the high-pitched whine of the diesel at full throttle as the larger boat on the Ganges revved up its motor and charged more quickly up the muddy flow toward the capital. The men listened to it for sixty seconds.

“Getting fainter,” Lam said. “The bastard is heading upstream to see the king.”

They waited five minutes until they could barely hear the ship’s diesels, then Lam eased the boat backward out of the small stream into the Ganges and they powered downstream at their usual ten knots.

Twenty minutes later Murdock saw lights of what had to be a fair-size city on the far shore. The sound of small arms and machine-gun fire erupted along the shoreline, then all went quiet.

“Wasn’t aimed at us,” Murdock said into his mike. He could sense the men relax. Bill Bradford took over the ship’s controls and steered the craft toward the opposite shore as they passed the lights of the city. When they faded, Bradford took the boat back to the middle of the wide river.

“Has to be a half mile across along here,” Bradford said.

“From the maps I saw the river is sometimes two miles wide and at times ten to twelve miles across with hundreds of small islands.”

“How do I know where the channel is?” Bradford asked.

“This is the Hindu’s holy river,” Murdock said. “Maybe a little prayer at this time would help.”

“Think I’ll pass on that one, skipper. I don’t even speak Hindi.”

Murdock checked his watch. 0235. Maybe four hours of darkness left. He should have checked sunrise in this part of the country. Why? He was only going to be gone three or four hours to the embassy and back in the chopper.

A star shell burst far down the river.

“What’s the range?” Murdock asked.

Most of the SEALs had drifted back to sleep. Bradford growled and then tried. “Three miles?”

“We couldn’t even see it at three miles. Two miles at the most, maybe a mile at the least. What I’m more curious about is who shot it off and why? Is it a signal or are the Chinese troops just nervous as hell this first night in a foreign country?”

“Hope they’re nervous, skipper.”

“Howie, are you sleeping?” Murdock asked the mike.

“Not so you could notice it, skipper. Want to try the SATCOM again?”

“Roger that. We shouldn’t be moving too fast for a fix with the antenna. Give it a whirl.”

A short time later, Howie came on the net.

“I’ve got somebody, Skip, just don’t know who they are. You want to give it a go?”

“Be right there.”

Murdock moved a dozen feet aft and took the mike. “This is Wet One looking for Mother Bird,” he sent out.

“Yes, Wet One, not sure what frequency this is. We’re a unit of the Indian Army in Calcutta. Who are you?”

“Could you contact Mother Bird on this frequency and do some relay work for us?”

“Yes, indeed. Heard there were some Yanks in town. Just a minute.”

The air went dead for two minutes.

“Wet Ones, you are well known here. Your Mother Hen says she’s aware of your situation. If you can give them coordinates they will attempt to have a meeting.”

“Best we can do on coordinates is the central mouth of the Ganges. We’re now in transit at ten knots.”

“I say, you have been moving. Will relay.”

Two more minutes passed.

“Wet Ones, Mother Hen says a CH-forty-six will find you if you can give them an ETA.”

“Problem. We’re now about twenty miles south of Dhaka. We’ll kick our boat up to fifteen knots and we should be about forty miles from the Bay of Bengal by 0630. Should be daylight by then. We’ll keep going best we can after daylight but can’t promise we’ll get there, depending on Chinese activity. Got that?”

“Right, have it down. Relaying.”

It took five minutes this time before they were on the air again.

“Mother Hen says she will send the bird to the mouth, then track north on the best channel and look for you. No trouble for you chaps to get in that bird in flight?”

“Done it a hundred times. Tell the bird we will watch for him and use red flares.”

“Will do. Congratulations on your exfiltration so far.”

“Many miles to go yet. Thanks.”

“Hey, Cap. Come take a look at this,” Bradford said from the small wheelhouse.

Murdock told Howie to keep the set turned to receive and adjust the antenna every five minutes, then went to the wheel.

“Far shore, maybe a thousand yards up there. Dark now but won’t be for long if they repeat.”

Murdock watched. A sudden flash of a string of lights erupted along the far shore followed at once by a series of loud explosions.

“The bang-bang are an added attraction,” Bradford said. “What the hell do you think this is all about?”