War Cry sts-9

by Keith Douglass

  "Commander Murdock?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Sir, you've got a radio call up front. Some guy called Stroh."

  Murdock frowned. Now what the hell could Stroh want to talk about that couldn't wait another half hour until they got back to the carrier?

  6

  Sea Knight Two

  Heading for the Monroe

  Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock took the handset from the copilot of the helo.

  "Murdock here, Stroh. What can't wait a half hour?"

  "Decision time, big buddy. We've got a situation here that the brass wants some help on. There's a vital communications center of ours about five miles behind the North Korean lines. The fighting has settled down now with not much movement.

  "Trouble is, that communications center must be kept on the air or totally destroyed. It's a slave unit, no personnel, camouflaged in an old building with antennas hidden in trees. The NKs haven't found it yet. The Army wants to drive a tank force up that way and push the NKs back.

  But that's going to take a week or more.

  "The general wants some security around that unit. Can your platoon go in there tonight at first dark in choppers and hold the place for two days?"

  "Can a cat with wings fly, Stroh? How the hell can I tell if we can hold something we've never seen? What's the troop strength in the area? Are there any NK tanks around there? Is it a regular supply route for the troops on line? Is there a command post for the NKs nearby? Get some information for us. Might be good to drop in a company of paratroops while you're at it and some one-oh-fives. You've got us shooting blind here, Stroh."

  "Okay, okay. We don't know what the generals will decide to do. What I want to know is can your boys be ready to go at first dark tonight? That's more than half a day away."

  "We've had no bad wounds. We can go whenever you need us. First we want some chow and a couple of hours of sleep and time to clean our weapons and resupply. Dijobe?"

  "Yeah, I kapish. Oh, the Vice President just landed on board. Congratulations on another coup. Just don't let your helmet get too tight."

  "We don't wear helmets, Stroh, and our floppy hats stretch to all hell and gone. See you when we get in."

  Murdock went back to a spot in the chopper and nodded at DeWitt. The second-in-charge of the platoon slid in beside Murdock.

  "Your guys ready to go again?" Murdock asked. "Stroh says they have a situation they may want some help on at first dark."

  "The guys look good. Some food and a couple of hours of sack time and they'll be raring to go. What's the mission?"

  Murdock began to outline what he knew of it when Miguel Fernandez lifted up and took a swing at Joe Douglas. Douglas took the punch and laughed.

  "Fernandez, you're a wimp. Always have been. Shit, don't see how you ever got through BUD/S."

  "Eat your own shit, Douglas."

  Douglas snorted. "Hell, Fernandez, us guys don't shit tacos like you fucking chili-snappers."

  By that time, Ed DeWitt had jumped between the two SEALs and stared them down.

  "What the hell is going on here?"

  Both SEALs looked away.

  "I'm talking to you, Fernandez, and you, Douglas. Just what the fuck is this all about?"

  "Nothing," Douglas said. "He kicked me and laughed." "Not a chance I would mess up my boots kicking him," Fernandez shot back.

  DeWitt scowled. He'd never seen the usually easygoing Fernandez so worked up. It had to be more than a small scuffle.

  "Douglas?"

  "Nothing, L-T. Just some small time teasing. Old Fernandez is on edge about something. Irritable as a virgin in heat."

  "You're the only virgin queen in the helo, you queer," Fernandez said softly.

  "Fernandez, enough," DeWitt barked. "Fernandez, what's your side of this?"

  "Aw, hell. Forget it, L-T. Douglas just ain't my best buddy. Why don't we leave it at that?"

  "Cool down, both of you. I don't want to hear any more of this or I'll shack your asses right out of the platoon into Team Seven's supply room. Don't think I can't do it."

  Both men shifted lower where they sat in the big chopper.

  "Yeah, OK, L-T" Douglas said.

  "Right, JG, no supply room for me."

  "Then shake hands. I don't want to hear anything more about this, clear?"

  Both SEALs nodded, and DeWitt went back to sit next to Murdock.

  "Real trouble?" Murdock asked.

  "Not sure. I'll talk to some of the other guys. Chance we'll have to transfer one of them, or maybe switch one to Alpha Squad."

  "Not in the middle of an operation. Watch them. If it gets too bad. we'll leave one of them on the carrier."

  They landed a few minutes later.

  Ed DeWitt took Ching and Mahanani to sick bay, where their minor wounds were checked, treated, and bandaged. Both were listed as fit for duty and released.

  Murdock found Don Stroh waiting for him at the SEALs' assembly room.

  "I want breakfast for my men," Murdock said.

  "Breakfast? It's just past midnight."

  "Hey, Stroh, this is my carrier. Hustle up some cooks and get them ready for breakfast for fifteen. Have the works, ham and eggs, flapjacks, bacon, sausage, biscuits and gravy, orange juice, cereal, and buckets of coffee. We'll eat, then we'll talk."

  Stroh grinned and found the telephone. Five minutes later he was back laughing.

  "Some commander in charge of the whole damn kitchen thought I was kidding. I told him to check with the admiral. He called me back two minutes later. The enlisted mess will be open for your men in fifteen minutes, and you don't need to wear your dress blues. Damn, but you carry a big stick around here."

  "Not my stick, it belongs to the President. You really want us out of here by first dark this coming afternoon?"

  "Right as rain, Little Beaver."

  "Hey, You're not my Red Rider, I can tell you that. We'll be there for chow. Then you and I and somebody over there in the Eighth Army Headquarters gotta have a long talk."

  Eighth Army Headquarters

  Seoul, South Korea

  General Richard Reynolds, commanding general of the U.S. Eighth Army, stood in front of a wall map of the DMZ that had been hastily converted into a battle map. It now showed the progress of the North Korean invasion, and had been updated only ten minutes before.

  "The war is only twenty hours old, and already it's bogged down," General Reynolds said. He had been awake since just after 0430 that morning and his eyes were bright with anger and loss.

  "This damn bulge in the line right in front of us is the main problem, General," a bird colonel at his elbow said. "So far it's bulged in almost ten miles, which puts it less than sixteen miles from our camp here."

  "Our flanks, Colonel?"

  "Fairly solid. The line is holding on average about five miles below the DMZ on the twenty-five-mile front. At least it's five miles shorter than we thought early this morning. Our airpower is coming in handy. The carrier offshore has fifty eight planes that are fitted out for land bombing and close support."

  "Reserves?"

  "We've pushed half of them up here to the Seoul bulge. The attack up and down the line didn't come at the same precise time, so many of the South Korean troops had time to do some fighting and pull back gradually. That wasn't the case where the tanks hit first. They swamped the Ninety-first with artillery and the T-62's. Cut them in half before the tankers got out of their sacks."

  "Air?"

  "General, our Air Force bases are far enough away from the attack to be safe. Wish we had twice the number of planes we have, but the fifty-eight from the carrier have helped tremendously. They have more helicopters than we do as well. So that part is going well. They coordinate perfectly with our AWACS combat direction and their turnaround time is amazing."

  "So, our biggest problem is the bulge?"

  "Yes, that and one other. We have a communications relay station that was built close to the DMZ for maximum coverage. Now it's
been overrun by infantry elements. It's about four miles behind the enemy's MLR.

  "The center is an unmanned relay point. Most of it's built underground with camouflaged antennas hidden in a grove of trees so they are almost unrecognizable."

  "So there are no personnel there?"

  "Right. However, there is a lot of sensitive communications gear we don't want to fall into NK hands. We can get along without the relay, doing much of it with the AWACS and other facilities. But the gear on site is the problem. I was thinking about ramming a column of tanks and trucks up there, retaking the area, and getting the equipment out. But now with our shortage of tanks, that doesn't look practical."

  "What about an air strike?"

  "Possible, but most of the equipment is well underground and it would take a massive hit to do any good. Also, it would attract attention to that site."

  "So, send in a team of sappers." "Sir, we have no Special Forces to do the job. No Delta teams are available. You heard about the SEALs from the carrier who went in and pulled out the Vice President where the Ninety-first tanks had b een. Could we request them to do the job? They have the explosive skills and the ability to get in and out quickly. I've contacted Admiral Kenner on the carrier to see about the availability of the SEAL platoon, if we want to use them."

  "Are they on tap?"

  "They can be ready at first dark about 1730 tonight. Go in at dark. Have all night to do the job and get out."

  "Choppers in and out?"

  "I'd expect so. Save a ten-mile hike."

  "You don't think a column of tanks could fight in, do the job, and get out?"

  "Looks like a waste of tanks right now, sir."

  "Where are what's left of our battalion?"

  The Ninety-first has six tanks left. We brought them up facing the bulge. The other two battalions were not as badly hurt. I think we have fourteen in each group. I'm not sure where they are situated right now."

  "Enemy air?"

  "Some. The carrier's F-14's are doing a good job overhead. They shot down three MiGs this morning and chased away a dozen more."

  The colonel watched his general. "Sir, the communications center?" the colonel asked.

  "Yes, go ahead and see if the SEALs want the job and if they can do it. What about the NKs' supply lines to the bulge? Can we hit them hard with air and artillery? If we can keep supplies from coming up, we could blunt their charge, maybe keep them right where they are."

  "Yes, sir. We're working on that. Captain Olson, the commander of the air on the carrier, says they are sending out some F-18's to try for some headlight bombing and night strafing. If it works, it will be a big help."

  "Good."

  "Sir, I'm going to contact the Navy again."

  General Reynolds waved him off, and the colonel hurried away. Communications had been one of his big jobs. Now he didn't want to see all of that highly advanced hardware in the relay station be captured by the North Koreans. It took him almost three minutes to get through to Admiral Kenner on the Monroe.

  USS Monroe

  Just after 0100, Murdock, Stroh, Captain Olson, and Admiral Kenner sat in the task force commander's quarters. Stroh had a map that had been faxed to him.

  "The Army says that it wants the SEALs to do the job," Stroh said. "It's a straight demolition. That will be the easy part. Getting in won't be so bad; it will be a surprise for any NKs we run into there. Getting out will be tougher when the NKs call in help."

  "Where is the center?" Murdock asked.

  "It's just north of Kangso-ri, which is about a half mile from the old DMZ and is now in enemy hands," Stroh said. "This is about eighty miles from the carrier's present location." Could we go in with the Sea Knight again?" Murdock asked. "It's big enough to handle our platoon and equipment and has good speed."

  "That's within its range," CAG Olson said. "We can mount two .50-caliber machine guns in the doors for some protection. Night work, so there wouldn't be any enemy air."

  "Land the chopper and power it down, or get it back to friendly country and re-enter on call?" Murdock asked.

  "A problem," Stroh said. "The general says as far as his people know, this sector has a reinforced battalion of NKs regulars. For them, that's about a thousand men. We're not sure how long their sector is, but there must be some kind of reserves and rear-area units on hand. We don't know if they have found the facility yet. It's camouflaged and mostly below ground."

  "Looks like one squad could do the job," the admiral said.

  Murdock shook his head. "Not really, Admiral. We work as a team. If one squad goes underground to blow up the equipment, there's no one covering them on top. If we go we need all fifteen men."

  "We can't hide a Sea Knight," Olson said. "It would have to come in, drop off the platoon, and come back for the pickup."

  "After we blow up the center, we can try to find an LZ where it wouldn't take any ground fire," Murdock said.

  "The pilots would appreciate that," CAG said, and grinned at Murdock.

  Admiral Kenner turned to Murdock. "Commander, can you do the job quickly and get out?"

  "Sir, I don't know. Blowing up a bunker filled with goodies is no problem. Just a matter of identifying the most sensitive and putting enough charges in enough places. As the CAG said, getting out of the area will be the problem."

  "Make you a deal, Commander," the air chief said. "You take the job and I'll throw in a Cobra gunship to shepherd you in and out. Then if you run into some firefights getting out, the Cobra can lay on a lot of lead, the way that one did for you a couple hours ago at the tank camp."

  "Deal," Murdock said. "Captain, you sure you don't sell cars on the side?" They laughed. "If I could be excused, I have some work to do before tonight. I hope your armament people have lots of C-5 and TNAZ on board."

  By the time Murdock found his way back to the SEALs' assembly room, only Jaybird was left there.

  "I sent the rest of them to their sacks," Jaybird said. "We almost had another ruckus between Douglas and Fernandez. What's the story there?"

  "Not sure, but if it keeps up, we'll leave one of them behind on the next mission."

  "I'd say Douglas is the least effective of the two, but that's up to you and the JG. It wasn't anything violent, but there's a strong undercurrent there I don't like to see in the platoon, let alone with two guys in the same squad."

  "We're watching it. We've got a go for tonight. We chopper over friendly country for about eighty, then jump in the fucking frying pan for five miles to find our target."

  "Sounds like fun. After dark?" "Right. The CAG is giving us a Cobra gunship for company and putting .50-caliber MGs in the Sea Knight's doors."

  "Good. Have the CAG send along the gunners. Then the helo will have protection when we can't man the MGs."

  "Good idea. I'm about ready to find my bunk. Catch you in the morning here. When did you tell the squads to be back?"

  "Back at 0900, Cap. Figured some work, then some sack time after noon chow."

  "See you then. Don't stay up all night."

  91st Tank Battalion

  A half-hour before dawn, Major Donovan Kitts had his tankers in their shielded firing positions seven miles below the former DMZ. They were ready to rumble. Solid Korean embankments hid everything on the tanks from the top of the treads down. The long guns and turrets were masked by tree limbs and branches.

  They waited.

  "I hear something coming, Major," the radio crackled in Kitt's ear.

  "Make sure," the tank battalion commander said. "I don't see anything. Which direction?"

  "Due north."

  They all listened. Major Kitts was closest to the enemy, less than fifty yards behind the rushing river. The water was still much too high for the North Korean tanks to swim across. They would have to stand and fight.

  Kitts looked across the roiling water. He could die right there today. The idea had never occurred to him before. He was twenty-eight years old, single, had his West Point ring, and the go
ld leaves of an Army major… and he could die there today.

  Not by damn if he could help it.

  He heard the tanks coming then, not one, but three or four heading directly at him. Three or four!

  He slid down in the hatch of his tank until he could just see over the rim.

  "Company," he said. "Got them, Major," Broadhurst, his gunner, said. "I've got two of their Russian-built T-55's at about six hundred yards. Should we take a shot or let them get closer?"

  "Closer, Broad. I want them bastards to die hard and fast. Yeah, I see them. Just two." He flipped the radio switch. "All units, all units. I have two NK fifty-five crawlers straight north at about six hundred. Hold your fire as long as you can. If they spot you, shoot. I'm buttoning up. Good hunting."

  He clapped the top down on the tank and took his position.

  "Yeah, let's rock and roll," he added. "Broad, what's the range?"

  "Five hundred. No change in direction. They probably don't know the bridge is out and the river is too high to cross."

  "Yeah, when they see that they'll turn to the side, east or west, giving us a good broadside shot. Let's see how it plays out."

  The edges of dawn faded away and it was fully light. Kitts watched the smaller of the two Russian-made tanks the North Koreans used roll forward. Their course hadn't varied a degree since they'd come over the slight rise a mile away.

  "You've got the left one?" Kitts asked.

  "Roger that, Major," Broadhurst said. "Zeroed in and computer laid, ready to shoot. Continual update."

  Kitts watched the rolling tanks again. In a moment he saw the gun barrel of the T-55 swing to the left, then back again until it centered on his tank.

  "Fire," Kitts barked. The 105mm round went off with the familiar roar. Some smoke and powder fumes tainted the inside of the steel box, but none of the four men noticed it.

  Kitts watched through his AN/W2 ruby laser range finder as their round hit the North Korean tank just below the long gun and penetrated the armor. A moment later the T-55 lifted a foot off the ground, then careened to the left and tipped on its side.