Firestorm

36

The SEALS kept hiking down the hill beside the sharp cliff. There was still no way down it. They had to go to the left the way they were committed. They heard the helicopters twice more. The birds were flying well to the left of their position. Probably the Chinese aircraft had landed two miles away in what they hoped was a safe spot to discharge their troops.

"They can move straight up this way and cut off our movement to the left," Murdock told Holt. "Then the truck troops from the right begin moving in, and I'm sure they have some men in the rear who can sweep forward to close the fucking trap."

"So what happens next, L-T?" Holt asked.

"We'll get as far down this slope as we can. They probably have two miles or more to hike. Looks like the terrain is flattening out ahead. We should find a spot to get down this cliff along here somewhere." Five minutes later they heard the water.

"What the hell is that?" Holt asked.

Murdock grinned. "Sounds like running water to me. Not an ocean but the next best thing. It could be a good-sized river."

Jaybird moved up. "A river?" he asked. "Sounds like it. If it's big enough it could be a help."

They heard the jets screaming overhead again. The Chinese must be using them to fire up their troops on the ground. Strange psychology, but this was China.

Another quarter mile and the cliff faded away, the ground leveled out, and they found themselves beside a river.

"Must be a hundred yards across," Red said.

Murdock grinned again. "Yeah, and our Chinese friends are going to close the trap and find absolutely nothing at all inside it that they're looking for… namely us."

Red motioned them to be quiet. He pointed up the side of the river. They could see along it for a quarter mile upstream. In the faint moonlight they spotted six shadows moving slowly forward. They were on the bank of the river where the walking was easy.

Murdock motioned to Horse Ronson to set up his machine gun. He flipped out the bipod and bellied down behind it. Quietly as possible he chambered the first round of a belt of the NATO rounds and looked at Murdock.

The platoon leader held up his hand as he watched the soldiers come closer. When the six were two hundred yards away, Murdock slashed down his hand and the HK 21A1 belched out a nine-round burst of the 7.62mm NATO rounds. After a pause, another five-round burst slanted at the confused Chinese.

Two had gone down from the first rounds. Another stumbled and fell on the second burst. Magic Brown got off two rounds from his M-89 sniper rifle, and another Chinese died in the sand. The last two charged into the brush along the riverbank and out of sight.

"Time for us to take a swim," Murdock said. "Get rid of all the weight that won't help you fight. Keep your weapons. Anybody down to two or three rounds for the AKS leave them here and give the rounds to somebody else."

A single chopper came from the south. It snapped on a searchlight and played the powerful beam on the ground. The SEALS scattered into the sparse growth to find enough cover to hide from the light if it came their way. The light paused for a moment when it showed the dead Chinese patrol members. Then it worked a search pattern to the front with the light probing every tree and bush.

Murdock leaned flat against a pine tree to become part of the trunk. The light swept over him and continued. The chopper worked the area a hundred and two hundred yards away from the bodies, then wheeled and vanished back the way it had come.

"Now it's swim time," Murdock said. "Waterproof the Motorolas and the SATCOM and let's get in the water. It's downstream and away from the bad guys."

"Buddy system without the lines," Murdock added. He pushed into the river with Holt. "Try to stay in contact," he called, then the tug of the current pulled him downstream.

Murdock had not forgotten his two wounded. A shot-up arm and one wound in the side. They were SEALS. They would do better in the water than on land. He tried not to think about it. Jaybird and Doc came moving up to him. They treaded water and floated. Their weapons kept sinking them. Murdock had ditched his AK-47 and given his four magazines to Magic.

They drifted down the river. This close to the coast there was only a sluggish current, maybe two knots, Murdock guessed. He figured they had been in the water ten minutes. He let Jaybird and Doc go ahead, and he grabbed Holt and they swam against the current for two minutes. Three pairs of SEALS came up to them. They had three more men somewhere. Murdock stalled another minute and saw the trio coming.

All three were holding hands or holding onto vests. Dewitt had Frazier and Fernandez in tow. They came close.

"Frazier's a little weak, but he says he'll make it. Told me he isn't about to go KIA in fucking China."

Murdock relaxed and he and Holt moved along with the three. Ahead he could see lights.

"Far shore," he said to Dewitt, and he saw the 2IC slant toward the shore. The river here was about a hundred yards wide. The lights were all on one side. As they drifted slowly past the lights, Murdock got the idea that some sort of festival was in progress. There was dancing under outdoor lights, and stalls and booths and fancy costumes.

They didn't catch up with any of the others, but neither was there any disturbance, so they must have gone away from the lights as well.

Murdock and Holt kept up with the trio. They felt an added tug of the current as the river narrowed and dug deeper into the soil of China. He welcomed the increased speed.

Dewitt turned and waved, and Murdock swam over near him.

"We dumped Frazier's 4A1. He's having a hard time. Can I trade you Frazier for Holt for a while?"

Murdock swam up and caught hold of Frazier's arm.

"Which is the bad side?" he asked.

Frazier turned toward him, his eyes glassy, then shook his head. "Sir, right side, sir."

"Easy, Frazier, easy. You're out of Hell Week. All we're doing is getting down this river to the salty Taiwan Strait. You're going to make it fine. Right, Frazier?"

Murdock looked at the man. He was nodding. Murdock shook his arm, and Frazier came back to the present.

"Take it easy, Frazier. We don't leave men behind, remember? You're with us all the way."

Murdock saw what Dewitt meant. It took more effort all the time to hold Frazier up. Murdock called quietly for Holt, who came back and held Frazier from the other side.

"No sweat, sir. We'll get him there."

Ten minutes later Murdock saw big trouble ahead. He figured they had come two, maybe three miles when he heard the rumble of motors. He knew what they were at once. Shallow-draft river patrol boats.

"Dewitt," Murdock called.

He swam over from where he had been and nodded.

"Patrol boats ahead," Murdock said. "Swim up and contact the other men and get them all out of the water on the right-hand side. Looks like more protection on that side. Leave one man close to shore we can spot."

Dewitt waved, and struck out with a crawl stroke that would eat up the distance quickly, taking Fernandez with him.

Murdock and Holt began angling back to the right-hand shore. They hit bottom twice and pushed off. The growl of the patrol boats came sharper now. The river made a bend to the left, and then Murdock could see them.

Six flashing lights showed maybe a quarter of a mile downstream. There were six patrol boats working slowly against the current, searchlights playing over the water and touching both shores, probing through brush and trees.

"Looking for us," Holt said.

"True, let's hit the bank and get into some cover. We'll find the rest of the men later."

They got Frazier to shore, but had to help him walk as they worked up the bank into a thick growth of brush and some trees. Frazier shook his head.

"I can make it. Damn side isn't that bad. I can make it."

Murdock sent Holt running downstream to find Doc and bring him back. He hoped the others weren't too far ahead.

Dewitt swam as strongly as he could while holding onto Fernandez for what he figured was five minutes. He hadn't found the others. Then he heard a cough ahead and stroked hard again. He found them standing neck deep in the water near the shore.

"Out and into the brush," he said. "Murdock is just behind. Doc, you better get back along the bank and see if you can do something to help Frazier. He's not good. They might be near shore or in the brush somewhere. He's hurting pretty bad."

Doc waved and shook the rest of the water off him, made sure his MP-5 was drained, and took off upstream at a jog. Dewitt moved the men deep into the brush. He'd seen the probing searchlight and he wanted to be sure they were out of sight.

Doc ran along the shore. The boats were far enough away so he was not taking any risk staying in the open. He heard someone coming and dropped to his knees, his MP-5 up and ready. A shadow loomed out of the darkness and before he could swing the weapon up, someone slammed into him.

Doc jolted to the ground and rolled over. He started to swing his room broom around when he heard a chuckle.

"Damn, Doc, I nearly wasted you good," Holt said. "How you know I was coming to fetch you?"

"You came within a red cunt hair of getting three slugs up your left nostril. How bad is Frazier?"

By the time Doc got there, Frazier was feeling better. Doc gave him a shot of morphine, a drink of water, and two chocolate bars. "Don't ask me where I got them," Doc growled.

"We have time to get up to Dewitt before the patrol boats get here?" Murdock asked.

"Not likely, L-T. We best do a hide-hole right here if we can."

They moved deeper into the brush and settled down flat on the ground.

Five minutes later, the patrol boats came chugging by. The powerful searchlight dug through the trees and brush, but revealed nothing unusual to the Chinese men on the boats. They kept on working their way upstream.

"The water again?" Frazier asked.

Murdock made up his mind. "No. Too dangerous. They could come steaming back downstream silently and catch our asses. We'll stick to the land. We should be getting close to the beach."

They went back to the shore and worked up to where Dewitt and the rest of the platoon waited for them.

"How is he?" Dewitt asked.

"Better," Murdock said. "We'll stick to dry land for a while. The beach can't be far away now."

Red came up and checked the stars. "L-T, we need to swing away from the river to get southeast. We ready?"

Murdock sent him out thirty yards ahead and he and Holt followed. All had drained and checked their weapons. All were locked and loaded and ready to fire. Murdock asked Doc about Fernandez.

"His arm is giving him a bad time. I put it in a sling and gave him a shot of morphine. He should make it. He's one tough cookie."

Their line of march cut across a field, edged around a small village without a single light, and then back on their heading. Murdock kept hoping he would smell salt air. He didn't. Maybe there was an offshore flow of air. Yeah, that must be it. They had to be within a mile of the surf.

They hit a road that went almost in the direction they wanted. They took it and the men eased up a little. The walking was better there than across the uneven fields, jumping rice paddy dikes and wading through unharvested grain.

A truck's lights down the road drove them into the field and they kept there after that. A half mile farther along, Murdock stopped still. He turned his head and grinned. Salt air. At last he could smell the salt air.

He ran up to Red and they checked out what lay ahead. They saw a few lights of what must be one small village to the left maybe a mile off. To the right they saw no lights of any kind.

"Salt air, Red. You smell that?"

Red nodded. "About fucking time. How far?"

"No idea, but our Chinese friends have no clue where we are, which is good for us," Murdock said. "They checked the river and our former position. We vanished into thin air on them. No reason they should think we're down here. Now, all we have to do is find the beach, give a yell on the SATCOM about where we are, let them triangulate the transmission, and come and pick us up."

They stared straight ahead down their star path.

"Let's hit the road again for a half hour. Then we'll see just where that beach is."

Twenty minutes later they slowed and stopped. Murdock moved up beside Red.

"Trucks," Red said. "I can hear them and they are right in front of us somewhere. We need a little rise or a hill or something."

The ground around them was flood plain and flat as a rice paddy.

"Closer," Murdock said.

They walked ahead a hundred yards and came to a slight rise. When they looked over it they saw lights strung along what only could be a road. Trucks rolled both ways. The salt air seemed stronger to Murdock.

"Trucks and more trucks," Red said. "The damn Chinese must have a division out looking for us."

"Good, give them something to do while we slip right through their net and into the water. Four hundred yards to the beach. Let's move up as close as we can get without giving away our position. We need a good look at this situation."

The word was passed. No talk, no noise, quiet or dead. They worked up slowly, crawling the last fifty yards through tall grass that gave them perfect concealment.

Murdock and Red eyed the roadway from the grass. It was built up like the other road, only this one had knots of Chinese troops every hundred yards. They were all carrying weapons, each group now and then patrolling halfway to the next group.

"Doesn't look good, Skipper," Red said.

Murdock could hear the faint roar of breakers across the road. He could see no lights beyond the road. It had to be the beach just beyond that thin line of troopers. His only problem was how in hell did he get across that line without losing half his platoon.