War Cry sts-9

by Keith Douglass

  "Sighting in on number two," Broadhurst said.

  "Go, Broad. Nice shooting. One more round and we get out of sight. Keep the engine running." The second round only grazed the NK tank as it jolted into a quick left turn. The round exploded behind the T-55.

  "Hope they had some infantry back there," Kitts said. "Now, Anderson, get us behind the other bank. We'll hide for a few minutes and see what that other gent out there does."

  He wanted to get out of the tank and check the rest of his teams. He used the radio instead.

  "All units, pick out targets when you can see them. Let's fire and hide. Wait for the last minute before you fire. You know the routine. We're six against eleven. We clobbered one."

  "Major, I had one bogie in my sights," Broadhurst said. "It was one of the bigger T-62's, and he suddenly vanished. Something blew him all to hell. Couldn't have b een one of our rounds. We have any air support out there?"

  Kitts frowned. "Damned if I know." He used the radio again. "Anybody who can, unbutton and take a look upstairs. See if we have any air support. Anybody else see that T-62 get blown up?"

  Two of the tanks had seen the T-62 disintegrate.

  Kitts opened the turret and looked at the sky. At first he saw nothing, only heard the rumble of tanks from across the river. Then another sound came, a high whining kind of sound.

  Jets. Fighter-bombers? He hoped. He edged higher on the tank, then stood up. He could just see over the ledge of dirt they were parked behind.

  To his right he saw a North Korean T-62 slanting to the left a hundred yards across the river. He never saw the plane, but he heard it, a roaring, whistling sound as the jet slashed through the air overhead. At the same time something long and dark jolted into the moving tank and exploded. All Kitts could see a moment later were refrigerator-sized parts.

  "Yes!" he shouted. Kitts slid back in his tank, closed up, and moved it to where he could see across the river again. A T-55 turned at the water and presented him a side view two hundred yards away.

  "Broad, nail him," Kitts said.

  "Take a second," the gunner said. "Now, oh, yeah."

  The tank lurched as the 105mm rifle fired off, a messenger of instant death. The computer-guided round jolted into the side of the rushing T-55 and exploded, blowing off the near-side track, tearing off the turret, and causing a dozen secondary explosions as some of the rounds inside detonated.

  "Yes, scratch one more NK machine," Kitts yelled. "The fucking odds are getting better. Let's get back in our hideyhole and look out the other side."

  High overhead, two F-18 Hornets from the Monroe circled for another run at the rumbling North Korean tanks below.

  "Hey, Top Hat One, I nailed that bastard. Did you see that? Secondary all over the place. Good old shaped charge. Does the job."

  "Roger that, Top Hat Two. Just keep that three thousand feet of altitude and hang tough. Lots more targets down there."

  The Hornets came in for another run with their television guided 460-pound missiles ready. Each plane carried four of the Maverick missiles especially designed for use against tanks. The U 5-pound high-explosive charge was aimed at the top of the tank where the armor that could deflect certain kinds of rounds was weaker.

  "Got me another one lined up," Top Hat One called. Then he slanted down with his F-18 Hornet, checked his airspeed to be sure he was above the Mach.09 firing speed, and launched.

  "Top Hat One, this is Calico Cat."

  "Yeah, tomcatting around again. We're chomping up tanks."

  "We have two MiGs approaching your position, Top Hat. ' Two of us are on the way to meet those visitors and give you some top cover. Stay low."

  "That's a roger, Calico. Wham, we just erased another NK tank. Good hunting up there. Calico."

  On the ground, Major Kitts watched two more enemy tanks get blasted into piles of junk by the aircraft. He didn't know what kind they were, but the stars on the wings were reassuring. He spotted no more tanks in his immediate area.

  "All units, how many NK machines can we count that are not dead?" "I've got six," one radio voice said.

  "I can see only five."

  "Everyone still in his nest?" Kitts asked.

  "So far as I can see," Lieutenant Olson said. "I'm back about a half mile. None of our guys is moving. Time to leave the nest?"

  "Let's play bird dog a little longer. Maybe the planes will drive some more of them into the open for our guns. How many for damned sure kills do we have?"

  The men reported in four for sure dead NK tanks from their guns. That, with Kitts', made five. The fly guys must have killed four or five. Maybe the NKs had lost ten tanks today. But five or six of the Russian tanks still made up a potent force.

  "Let's go hunting," Major Kitts said.

  The six U.S. tanks powered out from their hiding places and aimed north. At once one of the gunners on the east flank saw a T-62 doing a slow turn away from the river. After two rounds from the American tank, the NK machine pivoted on one track and went down the bank upside down into the river.

  Two T-55's were caught in a hasty retreat. One was damaged, but ground out of sight over a small hill. The other one took a direct hit, and the 105 round blew off the top of the tank. Major Kitts came to a stop on the crest of a small hill and scanned the land to the north. There were no more North Korean tanks in sight except the dead and the burning.

  He slid back down and tried his long-range tactical frequency.

  "Ninety-first calling Second Regiment."

  He made the call three times; then the speaker came to life.

  "Ninety-first, you still out there? We lost track of you. What's your position and your strength? Good to hear from you. We've got a spot where we need your tanks. I'll want a complete report. How are you on fuel? Tell me. Now is a good time."

  Major Donovan Kitts grinned and punched up the send button. He told his colonel exactly what had happened since early morning the day before. It was great to hear a friendly voice from headquarters on the radio.

  USS Monroe

  The second day of the war dawned bright and clear on the carrier. Murdock slept in until 0700, had a quick breakfast, and beat Jaybird to the assembly room. He phoned the munitions man on board, and came up with a commander who knew every ounce of powder, ball, and missile on the carrier.

  "Damn right we have TNAZ, all you can carry. You want timer/detonators too, I'd guess. You'll have to sign for it. How much?"

  Murdock tried to decide. Smaller charges on individual hardware, or one big blast to bring down the ceiling and bury everything?

  "Quarter-pound blocks?"

  "Aye."

  "Make it twenty-five pounds."

  "Twenty-five? You planning on blowing up half the damned countryside?"

  "Just about. Nice stuff to have around. Oh, some primer cord too, and we'll need more ammo. My chief will get back to you on that this morning. We'll pick it up all at once."

  "Night trip?"

  "Seems to be. Thanks."

  The men came in on time, and settled down to cleaning and oiling equipment and weapons. They gave Jaybird a list of how much ammo they needed. They would go fifty percent over normal for the chopper run in and out.

  "Wish to hell we had some RPGs," Bill Bradford said.

  "Oh, hell, yes, you want to carry a dozen?" Lampedusa asked. Everyone laughed.

  They had a quick lunch, then three hours of sack time before they assembled again to get ready for the 1730 flight.

  "If we get there early, we'll set down in friendly territory and bum a few minutes until it gets dark," Murdock said.

  "Take an interpreter?" DeWitt asked. "We still have those two on board we used yesterday." They decided to take one along.

  Promptly at 1730 they stepped on board the Sea Knight and got ready to rumble.

  7

  Sea Knight Two

  Near Kangso-ri, South Korea

  The flight in from the carrier took thirty-six minutes, so it wasn't fully dark. They
landed two miles below the MLR, the main line of resistance, where the fighting took place. They were still in friendly territory. They waited for fifteen minutes.

  When the black Korean night settled over the peninsula, they lifted off and swept over the small town of Kangsori, then flew two miles to the left, where they found the designated target site by the small grove of trees with two antennas in them and a small wooden farmhouse. Murdock, riding in the small cabin, nodded at the pilot. "Put it down here before we have company."

  The door gunners had their .50-caliber machine guns charged with rounds and waiting. No enemy troops appeared. The SEALs hadn't seen any signs of military once they'd passed the MLR. Strange.

  As soon as the chopper touched down, the fifteen SEALs boiled out of it, half on each side, and stormed up to the farmhouse. Access to the underground was through the building, which had been gutted, with some security put in.

  Ching, Quinley, and Bradford had the bulk of the TNAZ. Murdock waved them forward. By arrangement, Ed DeWitt put the rest of the platoon in a perimeter defense around the building. The front door of the small house stood open. Murdock went in first right after he threw a flashbang grenade inside. Once through the door, Murdock could see no soldiers through his NVGs. He called in the rest of the sapper squad, and they rushed to the second room, where they found the trapdoor under a small bed. They used flashlights going down the wooden steps. Ten feet underground, they found a concrete-box room. It had dozens of electronic boxes and computers and relays, all tied into cables going out through pipes in the overhead.

  "Let's do ten charges with four timer/detonators set for thirty seconds," Murdock said.

  "Sympathetic explosions will trigger the rest of the juice. Go, go, go."

  The three men planted the high-explosives where they would do the most damage. There was a chance the ceiling wouldn't fall in if it were laced with rebar. They'd have to take the chance.

  It took them a minute to locate the right spots, place the bombs, and insert the detonators. When they were done, each man held up a hand. When the third hand went up, Murdock nodded, they punched the timers to the on position, and all four men hurried up the steps and out the door.

  "Move it," Murdock said to his lip mike on the Motorola. "Get out of there, Ed. At least fifty yards. Go."

  By the time Murdock and his three men were out the farmhouse door, the other SEALs had vanished. Murdock took the left-hand side, and had led the way out forty yards when the explosion jolted the ground. It felt more like a small earthquake than an explosion. Smoke billowed from the farmhouse door, and part of the roof collapsed.

  Murdock had hit the dirt when the blast came with its small r umble, and before he could get to his feet he heard small-arms fire from the right, where Ed DeWitt must be with the rest of the platoon.

  Murdock's ear piece activated. "We've got company," DeWitt said. "Not sure how many, but they know we're here. Coming from the north, must be fifteen or twenty. So far only small arms fire, no MGs."

  "Hunker down, buddy, find some cover," Murdock said. "We'll swing around to the left and see if we can track the visitors."

  Murdock and the three men ran bent over to the left, entered the grove of trees, and kept going to the other side of the thirty-yard-wide thicket.

  Murdock hit the dirt and the other three followed. Directly ahead not more than fifty yards, they saw the winking of muzzle flashes. The rounds were not coming at Murdock. He reviewed his weapons. Ching had a colt with grenade launcher, Quinley had the caseless-rounds H&K G-ll, and Bradford had his sniper rifle. His own subgun was outranged.

  "Ching, drop in four HE forties on them. As soon as they hit we'll open up. Faster the better."

  Ching loaded and fired, and had two rounds in the air before the first one hit. He was slightly short, moved it up, and fired twice more. With the first explosion of the 40mm grenade, firing from the North Koreans slackened off, then built back up. The second two rounds came down right in the middle of them, and the firing nearly stopped.

  "Good shooting, buddy, we didn't have the opening here." It was DeWitt. Murdock fired his H&K MKP-5 submachine gun. He'd taken the suppressor off and now had the range. Two minutes of rapid fire from the four men silenced the attacking soldiers.

  "Where to?" DeWitt asked.

  "South," Murdock said in his Motorola. "Let's link up. We're to the south, you come to us. Just past the trees on your side."

  Before Murdock stopped talking he heard it. Then he knew for sure what it was. "Belay that, JG. We've got a fucking tank breathing right down our naked necks over here."

  The tank loomed out of the night directly ahead of them and rumbled forward. It was a big sucker.

  "What the hell we do about him?" Bradford asked. "Take him out," Ching said.

  "Sure, wiseass, how?"

  Murdock wondered the same thing. Then he remembered the TNAZ. "How much of that explosive you guys got left?" Murdock asked.

  They had about three pounds.

  "Quarter of a pound should boost the tracks off the rollers," Murdock said. "All we have to do is get close enough to him. Each of you take a quarter pound and give me one too. Put in detonator/timers and set the timers for thirty seconds. Whoever gets a chance at a tread, jam in the soup and push the timer, then get the hell out of there."

  "This could turn out to be a fun trip," Ching said.

  They split, two on each side of the big tank that kept coming straight at them from about forty yards. Murdock wondered if the driver had nightscopes. He bet the man didn't.

  Murdock crawled twenty feet to the left of where the tank should come, and waited. He used the mike to tell DeWitt what they were doing. The 2IC was to go south when he got the chance. They would link up later.

  The tank rumbled ahead. Without warning, the .50 caliber machine gun on the front of the tank blasted, sending a stream of big slugs out front but nowhere near the SEALs. It kicked off seven rounds, then another seven-round burst.

  Murdock grinned. He was shooting at shadows, and drawing attention to himself. Dumbass.

  The tank clattered ahead at a walking pace. Murdock crawled forward so he'd have a chance at the tracks, but still room to get away if the brute pulled a locked-track ninety degree turn on him.

  The tank was ten feet away when Murdock lifted up, held the quarter pound of explosive in his right hand, and ran for the churning tracks. His foot hit some brush and he stumbled, but kept his feet. The tracks kept grinding around. Where to put the bomb? He decided on the up side of the track, just before it started its downward trip to grip the ground.

  He waited, walking along beside the beast. Now. He pushed in the timer, dropped the TNAZ on the inside of the rollers, and sprinted away. Behind him, he saw Ching running in the same direction.

  "Sixteen tanks, seventeen tanks, eighteen tanks," Murdock counted trying to work off the seconds. At twenty-eight tanks, the sky lit up with a small sun and a roaring sound cascaded toward him, jolting him forward a step before a storm of hot air slapped him forward another step.

  Ten seconds later the second bomb went off — on the other side of the tank, Murdock figured. The blast effect on Murdock was not so great, but he dove to the dirt anyway. Behind him twenty yards away, he saw the tank through the soft moonlight. It had stopped. The track on Murdock's side was completely off the rollers, and the rig had slewed around in half a turn as the other tread had kept grinding before it blew up.

  "We just nailed ourselves a tank," Murdock said on the mike. "Where the hell is everyone?"

  "Commander, we're about two hundred yards south of the grove of trees," Jaybird said. "That tank blast was north of us."

  "You have eleven bodies?"

  "Roger that."

  "We're moving that way soon, so hold your fire."

  The four SEALs lay where they had dropped when the tank blew. All waited for the turret to pop and a head to show.

  "How the fuck long we gonna wait?" Quinley asked in a whisper into his lip
mike.

  "Long as it takes," Murdock whispered back. "He's still got that fifty up there that can chew us up."

  Murdock squirmed in the dirt and weeds. He had his subgun up on three-round-burst setting, and a fragger in the other hand. Another minute. He'd give the tank commander another sixty damn seconds.

  Before the time was up, Murdock heard the grating as the tank turret rattled, then lifted up. A moment later an Asian head lifted out. Three weapons slammed rounds into it and the man slid back into the tank, dead in a thrice.

  Quinley was closest to the top. He jumped up the tank's tracks and dropped a cooked grenade down the hatch. The almost instantaneous explosion rattled the tank, but set off no rounds inside.

  "Move out," Murdock said to the mike, and the four SEALs joined up south of the tank and headed for where they figured DeWitt would be with the rest of the platoon.

  They found them five minutes later flaked out in a small patch of brush.

  "Time to call in the chopper?" DeWitt asked.

  "We have any more company around here? A chopper is gonna kick all kinds of bad guys out of the brush."

  Lampedusa, their chief scout and the best set of ears in the platoon, lifted his fist and they all quieted.

  "Company, trucks, five, maybe eight on that road over there about two hundred yards. I saw it before on a little recon."

  "Maybe they'll just drive by," Murdock said. "Heading north or south?"

  "Coming our way, Cap."

  "We were close there. Now we have to wait and see what these newcomers are going to want."

  "Us probably," Jaybird said.

  They moved into a line of skirmishers fifty yards from the road. Each SEAL had an open field of fire to the road. It was more a track through the countryside than a highway. One truck wide, dirt surface, but showing a lot of use, Lam had told the officers.

  Two minutes later the first beams of the headlights showed to the north, and swept down the roadway at a hazardous thirty miles an hour.