Tropical Terror

12

The admiral headed for gate number five, and Murdock and his men drove back to their quarters on Pearl. They turned their cars and trucks in at the motor pool. The big search on Pearl was over.

“Stand down,” Lam said back in their quarters. “That mean all the shooting has stopped?”

“It’s supposed to,” DeWitt said. “Always hard to get the field units all to stop shooting at the same time.”

“So where is the bomb being taken?” Ronson asked.

“Where would you take it?” Murdock asked.

“From that gate they could go north into Pearl City and up into the middle of the island. Or head for Honolulu and Waikiki Beach. Hell, I’d head for the beach.”

“Hell, yes,” Holt said. “Them bastards who smuggled in the bomb want to go for a midnight swim on the beach down there.”

Murdock went to a phone. He’d been feeling downright naked ever since they turned in the vehicles. So if some cop did pick up a sighting on that beer truck, what could the SEALs do about it? Nothing.

“Admiral, thanks for taking my call. I have one more suggestion. How about my troops in a pair of Humvees with full arms and ammo ready to chase down that beer truck if the cops sight it anywhere? Be a hell of a lot better than to have the cops and their parabellums.”

“You’d stay on-base?”

“Thinking about putting one rig in Honolulu and the other one in Pearl City. We could be ready in case they went south or north. We have one SATCOM. We’d need another one so both rigs would have them for coordination.”

“Do it, but keep the weapons out of sight until you need them. We’re supposed to stand down. I’ll have a SATCOM sent over to the motor pool. We’re on TAC Three at my HQ. Keep in touch there about your position.”

“Thanks, Admiral. It would speed up things if one of your people could authorize the rigs from the motor pool.”

“Done, SEAL, and good hunting.”

An hour later they were rigged out and ready to go. In the bottom of the Humvee’s open space there were two leaded blankets folded and ready for action, courtesy of the NEST contingent.

DeWitt took his pick of positions and chose to go north. Murdock took his squad south and worked the non-tourist streets near the Ala Moana Highway, which lanced through the heart of Honolulu. They had a generous supply of weapons, including the two EARs and all of their Bull Pups and MGs and sniper rifles.

It was just after midnight when the first report came in. Holt had the SATCOM tuned to the CINCPAC frequency and heard transmissions most of the night. No one had spotted the beer truck.

About 0030, he perked up and called to Murdock. He put the sound on the speaker.

“That’s about it, Admiral. Unit 342 said he saw the beer truck and thought nothing about it. He had just come on duty and hadn’t checked out all the standing orders. He’s sure now it was the New Wave Brewery truck.”

“His position and direction,” the crisp military voice asked.

“He was on Kapiolani Boulevard and it looked like the truck was heading for the freeway.”

“Thanks. Give a double alert for all your police units in that area and on the freeway to watch for the beer truck. A one-ton van with blue-and-red lettering and paint job.”

Murdock told Ching to head for the freeway. It was in the center of town well north of the Ala Moana main drag. He made two turns and came out on the King Street on-ramp to the Lunalilo Freeway heading east.

“DeWitt, did you get that trans from CINCPAC?”

“We did. We’re working on the best route from here to your position. If he comes west on the freeway, we might spot him. We will close the gap toward you, so keep us informed where this cat might be prowling. Set up a meet if you get any solid info about the truck. We’re moving.”

“That’s a Roger, DeWitt.”

All Alpha Squad watched for the truck. Ching hugged the right-hand lane at fifty miles an hour and let the traffic slice past him. They were on Hawaii Highway 1 for only a few minutes when the radio came on again.

“This is State Trooper Philbin. Saw your beer truck, it was in the slow lane on the other side, heading west. Not sure, but it probably was on the off-ramp to the Pali Highway Number 61. If so, he was heading north up the grade.”

“Do it,” Murdock growled. “Let’s go north. The off-ramp is coming up.”

Ching hit the cloverleaf off-ramp and nailed the Pali highway.

“If that was the rig and it came this way, he couldn’t be more than a few miles ahead of us. Can you get any more speed out of this wreck?” Murdock asked.

With the load of the lead blanket and the SEALs, the Humvee was straining to keep up with traffic up the Pali Highway. They couldn’t pass many cars, so Murdock wasn’t sure they could catch the truck ahead of them.

He checked with DeWitt on the SATCOM. DeWitt had heard the transmissions and would turn north when he came to the Pali Highway. He figured he was still about six or seven miles from it. Murdock reported to CINCPAC that he and the other Humvee were heading up the Pali.

This all might be a wild-goose chase, but it was their wild goose and the only one in town right now.

At the first gas stop, they pulled in and Murdock talked to the attendant.

“Beer truck?” the redheaded kid asked. “Hail, no, bro, I ain’t seen no beer truck up this way. Fact is, don’t ever remember seeing one. I think they go around the mountain.”

The second gas stop, and then the third, proved to have the same message. If there had been a one-ton-sized beer truck, the attendants hadn’t seen it.

They took the turn toward Kaneohe on the other side of Pali, and Murdock began thinking. The beer truck guys might be heading for the Chinese troops over there. It was a chance.

Murdock talked to two more gas stations, and on the last one he hit gold.

“Beer truck? Yeah, never heard of that brand of beer. I asked the guy about it. He said he was sold out on this run, but he’d drop me off a free bottle next time he came through. Looked like the rig was still heavily loaded, but I didn’t say nothing.”

“Which way did they head when they left?”

“Guy asked me how to get to the Valley of the Temples, so I told him. On up the coast. Highway Number 83. Can’t miss the signs to the left.”

Murdock reported in to CINCPAC where he was and the first positive sighting of the beer truck and where it might be heading. Murdock grinned when he angled the Humvee back on the highway. “Oh, yeah, he’s heading for the Chinese invasion force up here that we and the Marines captured. Wonder if he thinks they are still here, or if we didn’t get all of them.”

They drove.

It was less than half an hour later that Murdock recognized the valley where the chopper had dropped them off before. “These guys weren’t looking for the Valley of the Temples, but the road this side of it,” Murdock told Ching.

They pulled in a hundred yards and stopped. Murdock used the SATCOM and talked to DeWitt. He would be through Kaneohe in half an hour. Murdock decided to wait. He had the men check their equipment, reload their weapons, and get ready for some action.

DeWitt turned up in twenty minutes. He and Murdock talked, and then they headed the two Humvees up the dirt road that led to the valley where they had found the Chinese invasion force before. It was a little spooky, Murdock admitted to himself. But if all the Chinese were gone from this area, why would they tell the truck driver to bring the bomb out here?

A half mile up the road Murdock had Ching pull over. Lam checked the dirt and gravel road. There was almost no development up toward the hills here. No reason for a blacktopped road.

Lam came back with a big grin.

“Oh, yes, one set of fresh tire tracks. Soft place back there where I could make out the tire tread pattern. I’ll know it if I see it again. They’re moving up this road.”

“Not far up here to the mountains,” Murdock said. “Not too far to where we took on that battalion. We cleaned up on them and the Marines mopped them up and took away the POWs. Why is the bomb coming up this way?”

“Maybe we didn’t get all the guys who came ashore,” Lam said. “How about another battalion hiding in the trees and brush and laying still waiting for the Marines to go away?”

“Could have happened,” Murdock admitted. “These guys are bringing the bomb up here for some reason. We better take it easy. Get Tran out there with you, Lam, and do point for us about a quarter of a mile ahead. Tell us if you run into anything that looks like a roadblock or an outpost.”

They kept the Humvees in low gear with the lights off, and moved up the dirt road only by the light of the waning moon.

They had gone little over a half mile when Tran came out of the darkness and waved them down.

“Commander, we’ve found it. The beer truck is up ahead in a small clearing. Trouble is, there’s at least fifty or sixty men around it in a perimeter defense. Lam says they’re Chinese with weapons and dug in with good firing positions. He said no sign of any white men up there.”

Murdock and DeWitt talked it over with Senior Chief Dobler.

“Twenties,” DeWitt said.

“Damn right, but what’s that going to do to the beer truck?” Murdock asked.

“Kill it probably,” Dobler said. “Course we can always roll it down the hill. We’re up here a ways on the slope.”

“Going to blow all the tires if we do a job with the twenties,” DeWitt said. “But if they’re dug in, that’s about the only way we can beat them.”

“The EAR?” Murdock suggested.

“Won’t be that effective in the open. We could nail about a third of them, but that leaves a lot of firepower up there.”

“Will the twenties hurt the bomb?” Dobler asked.

“Not so you could notice,” DeWitt said. “First the shrapnel has to get through the sides of the truck, then hit the wooden crate. Going to stop most of it.”

“It must have an antenna on it somewhere if they plan to set it off by radio signal,” Murdock said.

“Yeah, or maybe the keepers attach the antenna when they get the word to do so,” Dobler said.

“Attach it and say hello to their ancestors.” Murdock snorted.

He scratched his chin. “We leave the rigs here and move up on foot. We’ll set up an arc and use the twenties. Then when we have them beat down, we’ll fire six shots from the EAR and move in.”

“Hoping the rest of the battalion doesn’t rush down here and get in our way,” DeWitt said.

“We worry about moving the rig after we get it,” Dobler said. “We can always tow it with one of the Humvees.”

Murdock called the men around and explained the situation and what they would do. There were no questions. The six men who usually used the Bull Pup twenties loaded up with ammo, and the rest checked their usual weapons.

Tran took them up to where Lam waited. He had pulled back to three hundred yards.

“Twenties?” he asked Murdock. The commander nodded. “How about I put two red flares in there for you to get your lasers on?”

Murdock said to do it when the troops were ready. He spread them out ten yards apart in a gentle arc around the near side of the target. He could make out part of the truck now with his NVGs. He spotted a few of the mounds of dirt.

“Go on the flares,” Murdock said softly into his lip mike. Two reports came as the rifle flares were fired at the beer truck. One hit just behind it, and one twenty yards to the side. Both gave the Bull Pup’s range finders and video cameras targets to laser on.

The men with the twenties began to fire only seconds after the flares hit. There was an immediate outcry and confusion in the line of Chinese troops around the truck. The SEALs could hear orders being shouted. Then more rounds exploded in deadly airbursts, and Murdock saw some of the dug-in men stumbling around with wounds. Others picked up and ran for the rear, away from the deadly shrapnel from the sky.

“Two more flares, white-parachute ones,” Murdock ordered. The flares went up and burst over the scene, giving the other shooters targets in the sudden glare.

The firing sequence lasted only for three minutes. Murdock called a cease-fire. He could see no shots coming from the positions. One section right behind the beer truck could have suffered fewer casualties than the rest of the circle, but all had taken a deadly total.

“Two EAR rounds in the area,” Murdock said. “One on the right side of the truck, the other on the left.”

After a hurried radio talk, the two EAR shooters coordinated and fired.

When the whooshing turned into an ear-pounding roar, Murdock hit the lip mike.

“Let’s move up in a line. No firing unless we get some shots from survivors. Moving out.”

The SEALs swept forward. No shots came from the defenders. The SEALs used flashlights to check the bodies. Three shots were fired, dispatching wounded. There was no sign of the white men. Ching inspected the vehicle and told Murdock the bad news.

“The rig got hit hard. No way we can get the engine running. All the plug wires are shot to hell and half the other wiring. We’ve got four flat tires. The JG’s suggestion about towing could work. We’ve got some chain in the Humvee.”

“Go get the Hummer,” Murdock said. “We’ll stand guard in case some close-by friends of the family drop in. Make it fast. Some of them bugged out and will report down some line of vocal communication if no other way. I wonder how many of these troopers the Marines missed up here.” Ching ran down the road.

Five minutes later Ching drove the Humvee into the small clearing and backed up to the nose of the beer truck. Murdock had checked the bomb in the wooden crate. First order was to take the lead-blanket shield out of the Humvee and drape it over the top and sides of the bomb. It was almost big enough.

By that time Ching had the tow cable fixed, and the men gathered around as he gunned the Humvee’s l50-hp V8 diesel engine with the automatic transmission and eased up on the tow chain.

The chain strained. Then the beer truck inched forward. Lam sat in the driver’s seat with one foot ready on the truck’s brakes so it didn’t slam into the Humvee. The men gave a whispered cheer as the Humvee moved down the road towing the beer truck behind it. The flat tires flapped and shuddered, but they weren’t moving fast enough to throw the tires off the rims. It made easier going.

Soon the pair of rigs was up to nearly five miles an hour, and the straining Humvee diesel kept it moving in low gear. Murdock and Ronson took up a position as rear guard. DeWitt and Fernandez had the point.

It was too quiet. Murdock didn’t like that. He left Ronson on the rear guard and jogged to the front of the column. The Humvee was straining over the more level ground, but still moving the bomb. They had to get it out where they could call in a chopper pickup. A pickup for the bomb. They stopped at the spot where the other Humvee sat. Quickly, the second lead blanket was added to the first one over the bomb crate and the parade continued.

They had traveled what Murdock figured was another mile, and he could almost smell the salt air, when DeWitt came boiling back from the front.

“Boss, we’ve got big troubles. I could hear them a mile away. Didn’t think they could be for real. When they came close enough, I made them with my NVGs. Must be a whole damn battalion out there in front of us in a blocking position right across the road. No way we can go cross-country with this beer truck.”

“A battalion? How could they get in front of us? Where were they hiding when the Marines were here? Show me.”

Five minutes later, Murdock was satisfied. The Chinese force straddled the road ahead and fanned out on both sides for at least a half mile. The troops were singing, shouting. He saw some cooking fires, even though it was not yet 0400. Murdock surveyed the landscape in the moonlight.

They were in what was left of the coastal plain. It couldn’t be more than four or five miles to the ocean. The area was laced with networks of dirt tracks and roads.

“We set up the MGs and sniper rifles, and get out our Bull Pups and make a blast at their troops on the road and on each side.” Murdock was instructing his men through the Motorola.

“We use the twenties and the EAR and everything we have. Hopefully, we can punch a hole through and blast out of here with the three rigs.”

“At five miles an hour?” Lam asked on the net.

“Probably not, but it’s worth a try. Let’s get in a thick line across the road and take a shot at it.”

Parachute flares walked down to the Chinese. They were five hundred yards ahead. The lasers targeted the Chinese in the light, and the deadly firepower of a full SEAL platoon lashed out at the enemy.

At once the SEALs took return fire, and dove into ditches and behind trees for protection. The lead Humvee took a dozen rounds, but the supplemental armor shed the lead and left little damage.

Murdock lifted up from the shallow ditch on the right-hand side and surveyed the situation. The Chinese had taken serious casualties from the twenties, but they still had enough men to throw out deadly counter-battery fire.

No chance to get through. Murdock scowled in the dark. He hated leaving the bomb, but it was all he could do under the circumstances. They couldn’t get the bomb through the Chinese force, that was clear. Now all he had to figure out was just what the hell they did next.