Firestorm

15

Lieutenant Blake Murdock watched his two men slide into the water and swim strongly toward the Chinese patrol boat. It drifted slowly toward the mouth of the bay. Outgoing tide. He had forgotten about that. It could be a help. The dead craft floated twenty meters offshore.

He heard the growl of the other Chinese patrol boat across the bay. It was less than half a mile away and coming toward them fast. Murdock could see the lights on the craft as it cut slightly downstream to counter the tidal current. It would be five minutes before the Chinese came close enough to evaluate their sister ship.

He watched through the dusky China night as Ronson and Sterling climbed on board and vanished inside the patrol boat. His other men had strung out along the shoreline at combat intervals. Two men faced back the way they had come as a rear guard.

It seemed like an hour before Murdock heard the Chinese patrol boat's engine turn over, then catch and the heavy pounding of the diesel engine steadied down. The craft edged slowly toward shore. Ronson showed at the rail and waved. His fist pumped up and down. The Platoon Leader pointed at the two men nearest him and then at the boat.

They carried their gear, waded out, then swam the last twenty feet to the side of the craft, where they could push their weapons on board and crawl up. They waited to take Johnson on board until the boat was almost aground. Magic Brown and Ken Ching carried and floated the wounded SEAL to the craft, and four men lifted him on board. Doc was there, and put him on the deck and went to work on him again. Doc swore as he tended the bullet wound. Murdock scowled. That meant that Johnson was in bad shape.

The last two men off the shore were the two officers. The boat was so close to China that they tossed their weapons onboard and didn't have to swim.

"The control panel got shot up, L-T," Ronson said. "Twisted a few wires back together and she's good as new. Almost."

Dewitt checked the oncoming Chinese patrol boat. "She's about two hundred yards off and throttled down," he said. "I'd say her crew is looking us over. Hope they don't have night-vision goggles."

Murdock looked at the other boat, then at Ronson. "Ease her along the shore seaward. We'll see what our buddies over there do."

The craft turned and edged along the shore for twenty meters. Then the Chinese crew snapped on a searchlight and swept over Murdock's navy.

He had positioned four of the.50-caliber Mcmillans along the starboard side facing the other boat. The gunners had instructions to open fire if the enemy searchlight came on. The first booming shot from the heavy sniper rifles smashed the searchlight, and three more rounds slammed into the pilothouse. A small-caliber machine gun opened up aft on the other boat, but he didn't have the range.

Three CAR-15s splattered bursts of.223 lead into the aft section and the pilothouse, and the Chinese gunned their motor and pulled back another hundred yards. They returned some rifle fire, but evidently didn't have a bow.50-caliber weapon.

"Gun it," Murdock said, and Ronson shoved the throttles forward and the little boat jolted ahead toward the bay's mouth. Now the other Chinese boat turned and followed, with half-a-dozen guns slamming hot lead at the SEALS' ticket home.

The men with the Mcmillan fifties moved aft and kept up their fire. It was less effective now, but held the Chinese well off.

Gradually Murdock's crew pulled farther away from the trailer, and Murdock stared from inside the pilothouse at the bay mouth now less than two hundred yards ahead.

Jaybird was at Murdock's elbow. "So, say we make it out of the bay, what the hell then? They must have been alerted about us by now. They should have something in the air soon. I hear the Chinese have a good attack chopper."

"I don't know about their choppers, but they do have a good little jet fighter with rockets. I'm not sure it has night-attack capability. We just play it by ear out here. We're not into the open sea yet."

As if to punctuate the statement, a burst of machine-gun rounds from the chasing patrol boat slammed into the pilothouse and sent chips of wood and glass flying. Murdock felt a sting on his cheek, and found blood on his hand when he investigated. The three men in there ducked, but Ronson kept the boat on full throttle charging toward the bay mouth.

Murdock crawled from the pilothouse and moved two more fifties to the back.

"Get rid of some of your ammo," he told them. "See if you can cripple that hound dog on our trail."

The firing picked up from the heavy weapons, and fire from the other boat trailed off. Then they were at the swells of the East China Sea as the little craft slipped out the bay entrance.

"They must have some cutters or destroyers in Foochow," Jaybird said.

"Probably. Due east, Ronson. We need at least a mile offshore before we blow up this baby."

Murdock called for Doc Ellsworth, who came up shaking his head. "Ain't good, Skipper. Lost so damn much blood. If we have to go into the water, he won't make it. Plasma won't do no good now."

Murdock nodded. Behind them the patrol boat had given up the chase. It sat just outside the bay for a couple of minutes, then sailed north toward Foochow.

That was when Murdock and the other men heard the heavy growl of a larger, high-speed ship. The sound came from the north.

"Called off the puppy and sent out a real fighting dog," Magic Brown said. "This mutt won't be scared off by our fifties."

"Frazier," Murdock called. "Rig two charges below with ten-minute timers, but don't set the timers yet. We're gonna get wet. Get your masks and flippers on, the SEALS are going back to mother."

Doc Ellsworth came over to Murdock. "You better come take a look at Johnson. He's getting worse. He can talk, but that's about all."

Murdock knelt on the aft deck where Johnson lay. Even in the faint night light he looked pale.

"Hang in there, buddy. We're out and away and should find that sub soon."

"Can't do it, Skipper. Been a good cruise with you. Take care of the guys."

A flash of pain jolted Johnson, and he lifted his head off the deck, then let it down. "Oh, damn, but that hurts. Why does it hurt so bad, Doc?"

"Don't know, Johnson. I'll give you another shot of morphine. That will make it stop hurting."

"Save it, Doc. You might need it. This is my last mission. Sorry I got in the wrong place."

"Johnson, we'll get you through," Murdock said. "Just hang in there."

Johnson closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and died.

"He's gone, sir."

"Yeah, good man. Goddammit!"

"We taking him back with us, L-T?"

"Absolutely. Your job, Doc. Use a buddy line around his chest. We're going in the water but we won't be moving fast." Doc nodded and left.

"Ronson, aim this thing southeast and tie down the wheel. When that motherfucker out there gets within three hundred yards, we all go over the side. Then you give her full throttle and get wet yourself."

"Roger that, Lieutenant."

The SEALS got ready to go back to the safety of the water. Whenever things get too hot or they need cover and protection, SEALS always go into the water. It's their second home. They're at ease there, comfortable, in familiar territory. This time all they had were their fins and masks. No scuba, no Draeger LAR-V rebreathing gear. Just them and the East China Sea.

Murdock checked on Doc. He had Johnson zipped up in a thin plastic sea-green body bag. Doc tied a buddy line around the bag at Johnson's chest.

"Never done this before, Skipper. Hope to hell I never have to do it again."

"We won't leave him behind, Doc. We'll pace ourselves to your speed. We'll be more than a mile off when we hit the water."

Doc nodded, and the platoon leader checked his other men. He found nobody else wounded except for some scrapes and tears and two of them dinged with scratches from flying glass.

The growl of the attack craft came closer now. They couldn't see it through the darkness, but it evidently had them on radar and had zeroed in on their course.

"Dump your weapons and extra ammo," Murdock told them. "Won't do us a damn bit of good against this mad dog coming. We're on swim-and-fin time. Evade and escape. Magic, I want you to stay with Doc and help out with Johnson.

"Holt, get aft and dangle one of those sonar beepers in the wet. Maybe our sub friend is nearby somewhere. He damn well better be."

Murdock could see a searchlight now from the cutter.

"Southwest, Ronson, tie her down."

Two minutes later they could see the hulk of the Chinese raider bearing down on them. She was bigger than Murdock had suspected.

"Let's go for a swim, men," Murdock said. "Doc and Johnson first. Set the timer on those charges. Let's get the hell out of Dodge."

The SEALS went over the side and grouped quickly. Ronson was next to last off and Frazier, who set the timers on the charge of C-4, was the last one out.

They watched the patrol boat steam away from them, and saw the dark shadow of the Chinese warship veer away from them as it followed the boat.

Five minutes after they went into the water they had joined up, established their buddy lines, and were set to move.

"We stay on the surface unless that ship comes back looking for us and gets too close," Murdock said. "We'll move east away from the mainland. That sub commander will thank us for every quarter of a mile we get away from Mother China back there."

Murdock put Doc in the lead with Magic Brown as they towed the body bag. So far it was floating thanks to the trapped air inside the plastic bag. Doc established a slow crawl stroke and they moved away from China.

Two minutes later a flash of light blossomed on the sea to the southeast.

"Right on sched," Frazier said. "Good-bye patrol boat."

They heard the large Chinese ship's engines again.

"They're coming back," Murdock said. "If he gets anywhere close or that damned searchlight is about to hit us, we duck-dive until it's dark and clear."

Five minutes later the Chinese cutter swept past them a quarter of a mile seaward. The big searchlight came nowhere near their position. They continued to swim away from shore.

Doc called to Murdock, who swam up beside him.

"Losing air out of the bag, L-T. The things weren't designed to be float bags. Air coming out around the end of the zipper. Another ten minutes and we'll be towing him underwater."

"You're on point, we'll follow at your speed."

They had been in the water for forty-five minutes by then. They hadn't planned on a swim and had decided back on the carrier not to wear wet suits under their land-action cammies. Now the cold was starting to get to all of them. Not as bad as a four-hour training session off Coronado in winter, but cold enough to numb fingers and toes.

"He's coming back," Magic called softly.

The hulk of the Chinese cutter was almost on them this time. They waited until the searchlight swung their way, then dove. It took both Magic and Doc to keep Johnson's body bag just below the surface of the choppy green water. They kicked downward and stroked down and managed to keep the green bag submerged until the yellow light above them swung past. Both surfaced with lungs burning.

They all came up and sounded off in a quick count, and Murdock knew he had all of his men. They watched the dark hulk of the cutter slowly move away from them heading for the coast.

"The cluster-fucking Chinese Navy has done it again," Jaybird said. They all laughed in a tension easing moment.

Doc and Magic moved out again to the east towing their dead friend behind them.

A half hour later they were still swimming. Murdock called a halt.

Doc said it for all of them. "Where the fuck is that damn sub? We've had that sonar beeper in the water for almost two hours. They chicken bastards and won't come in this close to shore?"

Murdock told them all to float and relax. He found Dewitt and they talked.

"Should have found us before now," Murdock's second said.

"Must have been that Chinese cutter that spooked them," Murdock said. "The screws might have sounded like a destroyer."

"That's been over half an hour ago."

"We could shoot up a red flare," Murdock said.

"Yeah, and have half the Chinese Navy on our backs in twenty minutes."

"I don't think so. They got their noses bloodied twice, they won't want to try for three in a row."

"You have a flare gun?" Dewitt asked.

"Always carry one." Murdock took the small flare gun from his fanny pack and broke open the waterproof plastic seal. "Loaded and ready to go."

"Let's do it," Dewitt said.

The muffled report of the flare gun and then the brilliant red flare on a parachute surprised the SEALS. "This is crazy," Sterling said. "Get ready to dive again," Chin agreed. "Might work," Brown said. "Nothing else is fucking working."

The thirteen men watched the flare drifting to their right. The bright red flare burned for almost a minute, then sputtered out.

The SEALS waited.

Less than a minute later a bullhorn sounded to the east of them. "Got you, swimmers. Where are your two IBSS?"

The SEALS gave a cheer.

Ten minutes later they were all on board the USS Dorchester changing into dry clothes.

Murdock checked his watch 0422. Plenty of dark time out there. They were scheduled to rendezvous with the carrier as quickly as they could get there. They would have a few hours of sleep and then get ready for the second half of their mission. Murdock grinned. This was beginning to feel a lot like Hell Week back at the Coronado BUD/S training command.