Tropical Terror

13

“Unhook the beer truck from the lead Hummer,” Murdock barked. “We’re bugging out into the fields to the north. We can outrun them in the rig and live to fight another day.”

“What about the bomb?” DeWitt asked.

“We leave it here, for now. We’ll be back. We’ll contact CINCPAC for their suggestions. Maybe drop in two hundred Marines to secure the area and lift it out with a chopper. Let’s choggie, ladies. Time we got the hell out of Dodge.”

They dropped the tow chain and gave covering fire against the roadblock ahead as the two Humvees charged down a dirt track to the north and away from the Chinese.

Murdock went out a mile, then stopped, and Holt set up the SATCOM.

CINCPAC was excited.

“You found the bomb. You have it under control?”

Murdock explained the problem.

“We’ll advise you. Get into a safe position and hold.”

“Roger that,” Murdock said, and started to turn off the mike. “Better leave it on receive,” he said to Holt. “It might take them some time to figure out what to do.”

“Right now the fucking Chinese have moved up the road and taken control of the beer truck and the bomb,” DeWitt said, using his binoculars and his NVGs.

“Casualties?” Murdock asked over the Motorola.

“I’m not feeling what I’d call great.”

Murdock recognized Ronson’s voice. “Ronson, you hit?”

“Picked up a lead messenger in my chest. Not feeling at all chipper, Skipper.”

Mahanani bailed out of the other Humvee and slid into Murdock’s. He found Ronson sitting against the side of the rig. He laid the SEAL down and opened his vest and his shirt. His flashlight showed a round purple hole in Ronson’s chest six inches below his left shoulder. When the corpsman felt around Ronson’s back, his hand came out smeared with blood.

Mahanani put a bandage over the front entry wound, then eased Ronson over and checked his back under his shirt. An inch-wide gaping hole showed. He held the mini-flashlight in his mouth and put a gauze pad over the wound to stop bleeding, then treated it as best he could and bandaged it tightly.

“Ronson, buddy, you just lay there quiet. We’re going to get you some help.” He ran around the side to Murdock.

“Chest shot, Commander. He needs help right now. My suggestion we move easy-like a couple of miles away and get an evac chopper in here. Could be a lung or some big artery up in there. He could be bleeding internally. I don’t like it. He’s critical right now.”

“Take a SATCOM and a driver and move this Humvee out near the highway. Stop and call CINCPAC. Tell them the problem and demand a chopper out here within thirty minutes. There’s a Marine Corps Air Station not over ten miles away. They must have a hospital or clinic there. Go. Now. Go.”

Franklin went along to keep Ronson from moving around. Mahanani drove. The rest of the squad bailed out of the Humvee. The rig moved toward the highway where Mahanani could see headlights. It was just after 0450. He stopped a mile from the road and used the SATCOM. He’d been told how to set up the antenna. CINCPAC came through on the first try.

“That’s the story, CINCPAC. Could the Marines out here come get Ronson? He’s critical right now with that chest shot.”

“That’s a Roger, SEALs. They will have an evacuation bird and medics in the air in five minutes. They say put out a flare, any color, for an LZ. You copy?”

“Copy, CINCPAC. No enemy fire this area. The patient is ready.”

Mahanani drove closer to the highway, found a wide-open space, and parked. He took out three red flares from his vest and walked fifty yards away from the Humvee.

He looked toward the coast, and at once could hear a chopper. It was coming in fast and low. He pulled out the flares and held them ready. When he figured the bird was two hundred yards off, he popped the first flare, then a second one. The chopper came in fast, slowed, then settled to the ground between the flares. Mahanani ran to the helicopter.

Five minutes later Mahanani and Franklin watched the big chopper lift off. A doctor and a nurse on board were working on Ronson even before the liftoff. He was in good hands.

“Let’s see if we can find the cap and check out where the action is,” Mahanani said. They used the Motorola, and Murdock reported they were about a half mile north of where they had been before, watching the Chinese.

Murdock stared through his night-vision goggles and then his binoculars. He wasn’t sure what went on in front of him. The Chinese had moved up and taken over the beer truck. They had no way to move it. Would they keep it there until daylight and then get one of their half-tracks back here? He had no idea where the rest of the Chinese troops were. He still thought the SEALs and Marines had captured all of them before.

Ten minutes after the radio call from Mahanani, the other Humvee steered into the area beside Murdock.

“The doc on the chopper said Ronson should make it. They’ll stabilize him and keep him alive until they get him to the hospital. He said in fifteen minutes Ronson would be in an operating room.”

“Good. Now what the hell are these fucking assholes going to do with their favorite nuclear bomb?” Murdock asked.

The SEALs quietly moved the Humvees into a slight depression where they would be out of sight of the Chinese troops. Some of the men caught quick naps. Murdock paced around the vehicle trying to come up with an answer. Why hadn’t they found all the invading Chinese troops? Where had they hid? What would they do now? They had no way to transport the ton of crate and bomb.

It was a cool morning breeze that brought Murdock out of his nap where he leaned against the Humvee. The breeze was enhanced by a buzzing and then a whupping, and he scanned the sky looking for the chopper. Maybe the Marines were coming in with a thousand men to capture the bomb.

No, just one bird. It was low, so low that Murdock caught only quick looks at it as it came in from the sea. It circled and dropped down out of sight. Murdock swore. That was the spot where they had left the beer truck and the bomb. Almost any military chopper with a sling could carry a ton of goods. The helicopter could have come off any of the Chinese destroyers, which routinely carried one.

The rest of the platoon stirred and came alert. Lam sauntered up.

“What they doing with a chopper?” he asked.

“Moving the bomb, what else? Get Holt and the radio,” Murdock snapped.

The radioman came up quickly, already setting up the dials and the antenna. The all-ready beep came, and Murdock took the handset.

“CINCPAC. This is Murdock. The Chinese have control of the bomb again. Now they have brought in a chopper. Don’t know what they’re up to. How close are the local Marines or maybe an F-l4 from the Jefferson?”

“Carrier planes are all restricted. Marines can put an armed chopper up. Near the same area they picked up the wounded man.”

“That’s a Roger. Tell them to rush it or the bird and bomb might not still be here.”

“Will do, Murdock.”

Lam went forward to find out what the Chinese were doing. He had his Motorola hooked up.

Five minutes later the call came. “Damn, Skipper, they don’t waste any time. They put slings on the whole damn beer truck. Couldn’t get the bomb out of it, my take. The chopper has lifted off and now the sling is tightening. There it goes. You should be able to see it about now.”

Murdock watched the whole beer truck lift slowly away from the green of Hawaii and move into the air. The trip would not be fast, as the helicopter seemed to be straining just a little to keep flying. It headed straight for the mountains, toward what looked to Murdock to be the most rugged section in sight.

There was no sign of the Marine chopper. Murdock talked to the lip mike. “Drivers, let’s choggie. We’re heading straight up the hill as far as these little donkeys will climb. Moving out.”

Ed DeWitt came on the Motorola. “We going after the bomb?”

“How many defenders can they have around it up there?”

“Damn few. But what if they don’t stop on top, but keep going over the summit and down the other side?”

“Then we contact CINCPAC for some tracking from that side of the mountains. Moving.”

The Humvees were built for off-road work as well as blacktop, but there was a limit to how far up the slopes of the Koolau Mountains they could go. Ching got his rig over a ravine Murdock doubted that he could, and then the second Humvee made it, and they climbed another quarter of a mile before they came to a sharp gully that they could not beat.

“Hit the ground, we’re walking,” Murdock said. He had made a regular check behind them, but saw no sign of the Chinese forces that had captured the bomb from them. He had no idea where they had vanished to. They had to be hidden away somewhere in the immediate area. He’d let CINCPAC worry about that.

The undergrowth became thicker as they moved up the slopes. The higher they went, the more rain fell, and the more rain, the more trees and shrubs and grasses. They hiked up the ravines and ridges and more slopes and ridges. Now and then on a high spot, Murdock could see their objective. A slightly open spot in the rugged and green-covered spires where the chopper might have found room to land, or at least to hover while the sling was unhooked.

Lam kept to the point, and came back about ten minutes later.

“Something up ahead that looks like a small camp, maybe an outpost. I spotted four men. There’s a fire and some lean-to shelters made from branches and poles.”

“Sounds like a Boy Scout camp,” Murdock said.

“No, sir, these were Chinese. I checked them with my glasses. They’re all armed.”

“We go through them or around them?” Murdock asked.

“No way to go around unless we want to slide down about fifty feet of sheer rock.”

“So we go through them. Three or four rounds of twenties could do the trick.”

“Sir, I’d go with the silent snipers. Won’t warn anyone else on up the slope that we’re coming. Must be other troops up there near the chopper.”

“Agreed,” Murdock said. Into the Motorola he called up Bradford and Fernandez. The rest of the platoon held its ground as the two snipers, Lam, and Murdock moved up to where they had good fields of fire. Murdock stayed just behind Bradford.

He hunkered down behind a giant koa tree and edged around it so he could see the campsite. It was only fifty yards ahead and he had perfect sight lines for firing.

Fernandez was twenty yards to the left, finding a shooting spot. The earpiece ticked three times and Bradford nodded. He sighted in on a Chinese soldier who had just stood up from behind the fire. He had a rice roll over his shoulder. Inside was enough cooked rice and other food to last him for a week.

Bradford fired and the Chinese soldier slammed backward out of sight.

Another Chinese soldier on the far side of the fire suddenly crumpled where he sat, sprawled on the green forest floor, and didn’t move.

A third soldier leaped up and darted away from the shooters. One silent round caught him in the back and he slammed into a tree, slowly fell away, and sprawled on the ground. Murdock realized it was almost daylight. Fringes of dawn still shadowed some areas. The sun would be up soon.

“One more of them out there somewhere,” Bradford said.

“Let’s move up and find him,” Murdock said. The four men moved like shadows from one tree to the next. If the Chinese soldier knew they were coming, he never heard them. He lifted up over a fallen log behind the fire and stared around, then dropped down.

Murdock clicked his mike twice and the four men stopped.

Bradford had seen the head come up and go back down. He aimed at the spot, just an inch over the top of the log, and held his sight and waited.

The head eased up again, then came higher so the man’s eyes cleared the log. Bradford fired. The top of the man’s head exploded into the green surroundings, turning some of the leaves a fall-like crimson and shades of pink and pale red.

The four moved up again. There were no other troops in the area. Lam took off up a hint of a trail toward the top and the chopper, while Murdock brought up the rest of the platoon. Lam came back and reported no evidence of any troops ahead for at least a half mile. The platoon moved on. The terrain became steeper and the men tied their weapons on their backs to use their hands to help them climb. It was fully light now.

Lam kept fifty yards ahead of them. He would double-click on the mike if he wanted them to stop.

Lam eyed the perpetual green of the lush windward side of Oahu. More rain here and more plants and flowers and trees. He could see the pinnacles maybe a half mile ahead now, but they were still high on the skyline. He wondered how the platoon would get up the last slants.

Lam carried a silenced Colt M-4Al Commando set for three-round bursts. He parted a giant fern and looked ahead. Two Chinese soldiers saw him at the same time. He pivoted up the Commando and slammed six silent rounds at the two Chinese. They both jolted with the hot lead rounds, lost their weapons, and slid to the ground, dead before they came to a stop.

Lam dropped to a crouch hidden behind the fern. He waited. Had they been coming to reinforce the outpost? Maybe. He waited another minute, then double-clicked the mike and trotted back to where he found the platoon flat in the green of Hawaii. He told Murdock about the confrontation. They went back up for a look.

Murdock watched the bodies for five minutes. No one moved, no one came down the semblance of a trail.

“Let’s take a look,” he said. They moved up slowly, weapons covering the two men on the ground. A minute later Murdock saw that both Chinese were dead and that there seemed to be no alarm.

“Come on up,” Murdock said to the radio. He held Lam until he saw the troops coming, then let him move out ahead on what by now had turned into a well-traveled and recent trail. The weeds and wild ferns had been trampled down, and some small trees even hacked off at ground level.

Lam move up cautiously. He could see a trail now that worked up the slope toward the pinnacles above. They were still a quarter of a mile and maybe six hundred feet above him. He had no idea how the trail could go up the sheer cliffs. They looked fifty feet high and went straight up.

He worked silently ahead through the emerald green of the Hawaiian forest. There were more kinds of trees than he had ever seen, and he knew that almost all of them had been brought to the islands by humans.

The woods thickened and the trail turned around a heavy stand of the native koa trees. He paused beside a large one and looked out. Ahead there was a level space that looked like a natural clearing. For a moment he didn’t believe what he saw. Then when it registered and clicked into place, he shrank back so he was sure he was out of sight.

“Cap, you’re gonna have to see this to believe it,” Lam said softly to his lip mike. “Best get up here pronto.”