DeWitt clubbed his man with the subgun, then drove his KA-BAR into his chest, killing the North Korean soldier with one stroke.
Murdock moved up quickly.
"Are there any more?" Murdock whispered. DeWitt and Jaybird took off at once, running silently to the shack and checking it out. Jaybird went around to the front, where he found a door. There were no lights on inside. The structure was about eight feet square. A guard shack?
Jaybird unlatched the door and swung it outward. No reaction came from inside. DeWitt edged around the door and from ground level, aimed his penlight into the darkness. He saw only two bunks, a small table, and two packs and rifles. No more guards.
"Clear shack," DeWitt said into his Motorola, and the platoon moved past the shack toward what looked to be the edge of the airfield ahead.
A fighter swept down the runway from their left to right and screamed into the air. Murdock lifted up and took a better look. They had come to the side of the runway about in the middle. They could see muted lights across the runways and what appeared to be a cluster of buildings. He also spotted two dimly lit antennas.
He and DeWitt checked the area with their binoculars.
"Should be the bulk of their antiaircraft system," DeWitt said. "I'd bet those low buildings in the center will open up and antenna and sensing devices will extend upward during an attack."
"Where are the missiles themselves?" Jaybird asked.
"Doesn't matter where they are. If we knock out their eyes and ears, they won't know where to aim them," Murdock said.
The platoon had spread out over a fifty-yard line facing the runway. The heavy guns lay in the middle, with the submachine guns on each end.
They waited. It was a little after 0400. It wouldn't be dawn for another hour. They had to have the light to identify the right targets.
"Stay in place and keep alert," Murdock said. "Shortly before dawn we'll contact the fly boys. Any problems, sing out on the net." There was no response.
Murdock monitored the air traffic. There was little. He saw two choppers moving around, but nothing that looked like a large buildup for a big push.
Murdock called up Holt who had the SATCOM unbuttoned and ready to use. Dawn was just breaking and streaking the eastern sky.
"Raise the Air Force on TAC One and see if they're airborne and ready to rumble."
Holt used the satellite communications system.
"High Fliers, this is Ground Zero. Do you copy?"
There was no response. He checked the TAC frequency and tried again. This time a voice responded.
"Ground Zero, you're loud and clear. We're wet here and should be near enough your position for some reaction from their antennas in eight minutes."
"That's a roger, High Fliers. Help us find some bull's eyes."
Murdock heard the conversations. He used the Motorola. "The flyboys will come close enough to get the electronics activated. As soon as anyone spots a change in the physical makeup of those buildings over there, sound off. The flyboys won't be making an actual run, just come close enough to get them excited. Stay hard and mean."
Murdock had punched up his stopwatch on his wrist when the Air Force responded with the eight minutes trip time. He watched the numbers click by on the lighted dial.
"Targets," Murdock said in the lip mike. "Take the best shot in front of you. Guys on the far left, take the far left antennas and anything else that looks operating. Guys on the right do likewise, and the middle group takes that bunch. Anything operating is a target.
"If these jaspers have any security at all around the field, we should be getting some heat before we get rid of all the targets. Subguns, be watchful. Now is a good time for you four to take the suppressors off your weapons. They'll know we're here soon enough.
"We'll hold this ground until we have eliminated all our targets, if possible. Subguys be our lookouts. The rest of us will be fucking busy. Any questions?"
"We hiking out the same way we came in?" a voice asked.
"We'll play that one by ear, Jaybird. It all depends on the situation and the terrain."
"Four minutes since the last transmission," Holt said on the net. "These snoopers must pick up planes out a hundred miles. When do they activate?"
"Maybe at fifty miles," DeWitt said. "At twenty-five miles a minute, those Air Force guys cover a lot of ground in a rush."
Murdock checked the big McMillan M87R .50 caliber rifle. He had the five-round magazine in place and fully loaded, with one round in the chamber and the weapon locked. He sighted in through the 32-power scope and smiled. The scope amplified not only the distance, but the amount of light as well.
He checked one of the low buildings with a flat roof. As he watched, the roof moved. It pivoted upward in the middle and on each side. An antenna of some sort lifted up what must be ten feet and slowly turned.
"One antenna is activating," Murdock said. "Check through your scopes, get on your targets. It won't be long now."
Thirty seconds later half the small buildings five hundred yards across the runways from them had shifted in shape or character. Now more than twenty antennas, tracking devices, and a few small missiles showed where there had only been nondescript buildings before.
"Fire at will," Murdock said. He had sighted in on his target in the center, and refined his sight, and squeezed the trigger. The big gun went off with a blast that sounded too loud in the stillness of the North Korean morning.
At once more of the big rifles fired. Murdock watched his target and saw a small hit. He lifted his sights to the la rger part of the antenna and fired again. This time he saw his round strike and nearly break the unit in half. He switched targets, blasted two more antennas and a nearby facilitating building, then slid in a new magazine of five more rounds.
"Make your rounds count," Murdock brayed into the mike so they could hear him over the blasting .50-caliber rounds.
He saw a small utility rig and tracked it a minute, then fired and saw it careen out of control and crash.
Holt tapped Murdock on the shoulder. "The fly-guys have broken off and pulled back so we could have the fun."
Murdock nodded and sighted in again. He fired the big gun until he could feel it grow hot. For a moment, he surveyed the antennas under their siege. Some of the buildings had closed their roofs. Some had antennas that wouldn't retract, so the roofs couldn't move.
When the antennas were all wounded or broken, the SEALs attacked the adjacent buildings that did not open up. "Sheds are probably where the electronics are positioned," Murdock said in a lull in the firing. "Use up some of your rounds there. I want each man with a fifty to keep two rounds for the return trip. We just might need them."
Murdock worked the bolt, chambering another big .50 caliber round into the weapon, and found a new target.
"We've got company coming from the left," DeWitt said. "Twin lights. Anybody get him in his sights?"
"Yeah, got him," Ronson said. He got off two rounds, and the lights on the small truck went out and DeWitt growled.
"Oh, yes, scratch one vehicle. Could be some foot-sloggers moving our way. I'll go out fifty and watch for them."
"Easy out there, JG," Murdock said. Then he fired five more times into the complex.
"Call out on the net when you're down to two rounds," Murdock said. He checked his watch. It had been three minutes since they fired the first shot. He checked his own weapon — down to three. One more round.
They began chiming in then when the shooters had two rounds left.
"DeWitt, you have anything?"
"Six men working my way. Don't know I'm here yet. Still thirty yards away. Give them another minute." There was a silence then as the last of the fifties fired.
"Pulling back," Murdock said. "Ed?"
Just then, Murdock and the SEALs heard the stuttering of the MP-5 that DeWitt carried. The weapon jolted out six round bursts twice, then twice more.
"Coming home," DeWitt said. "Four of them are down or dead
and the other two running their yellow asses back the way they came."
"Let's move," Murdock said. "Find us, Ed, and take the tail-end Charlie spot. Back the same way we came." A minute later they heard heavy motors of trucks grinding toward them.
"Company," DeWitt said. "The old eyeballs show me two six-bys that must have troops. What, about twenty per rig. I'd say we will have forty fresh troopers on our tail in about three or four minutes. Suggest we find a good defensive spot and wait for them."
"Roger that, Ed. Close it up. We're coming to a small rise, not much but a minor little hill and some brush and trees. Better than a rice paddy. Everyone over the top and find a firing position just over the crest. Company coming."
It took them almost three minutes to set up on the small hill. They made just enough noise on purpose to attract the North Korean troops into the right area. Murdock had his four MP-5 subguns in the middle of the line. The SEALs spread out five yards apart. All had a full quota of hand grenades.
"Save the fifties for now," Murdock said on the net. "We'll use the subguns when they get close enough. If any make it through that welcome, we'll use grenades. It's downhill so we'll get a roll."
They waited.
"Coming," Lam said. He had the best ears in the platoon. "Little to the left."
Murdock picked them up on his NVGs. They were still 150 yards down the hill. Some small brush and trees confused the matter, but the NKs had shifted to the left. Murdock clanked a .50-caliber round on the long gun, and grinned as the chasers shifted their angle and came head on. When they were a hundred yards away, Murdock gave the order to fire.
The four submachine guns chattered on three-round bursts. They were the only defensive weapons they had. They took return fire, but the NKs were firing only at the muzzle flashes. They had no targets and did no damage.
"Wish to hell we had a few Claymores," Jaybird said as he lay on the ground watching below. At the first volley from the top of the hill, the NKs went to the ground and fired back, but didn't move on up the hill. Jaybird said there were about thirty men below. Murdock could hear shouting from below, and watched as an officer went along prodding the men, screeching at them. Murdock couldn't resist. He chambered one .50-caliber round in the big McMillan and found the officer near the NK troops. The man turned full front to the top of the hill, and Murdock fired. The round slammed into the infantry lieutenant and blasted him ten feet down the hill. Where he used to have a chest now was a huge hole and smashed ribs and shards of his spine. The NK troops sagged back to the ground.
It took them ten minutes to launch an attack forward. Murdock figured the top noncom in the company was prodding them. They stormed upward another fifty yards; then the withering automatic fire from the H&K MP-5's stopped them again. Jaybird threw a grenade. It hit about forty yards down the hill, bounced, and went off near enough to the troops to bring some wails of pain.
"Hold the grenades," Murdock said. "Let them get closer."
"Don't think they'll come any closer," DeWitt said. "They're crawling away."
"Let's do the same thing, the opposite direction," Murdock said, and the platoon came to its feet, strung out five yards apart, and followed Lam, who led them down the hill, across a small stream, and toward the coast.
They came to the guard shack, paused to clear it, and went on past that and the bodies of the two NKs they had dispatched earlier.
They were a quarter of a mile from the road they had passed coming in when Lam gave them a down signal on the Motorola.
"Skip, better come take a look," Lam said into the radio.
Murdock moved up quickly to where Lam lay in the grass behind a small bush. Slightly downhill and ahead of them, Murdock saw the road full of trucks. He counted eight all big enough to carry twenty armed troopers.
"Where the hell did they come from?" Murdock asked.
"We do an end run, or maybe a double reverse?" Lam asked.
"We're not going through a hundred and fifty men, that's for fucking sure," Murdock said. He stared at the trucks. "We get on the other side, then we blow the trucks with the fifties. Yeah, let's take a hard left here."
They worked around the trucks in single file and ten yards apart. The North Koreans had no security out. It seemed the men were simply on the way somewhere, and had stopped to relieve themselves or for chow. The time pushed to 0545. Murdock tried to remember how far to the beach from the road. Not far. A mile, a mile and a half?
No more. He watched the troops below. They weren't moving. The truck engines had been turned off. They handed out food. That would take an hour.
The SEALs' silent line melted into the brush two hundred yards to the side of the trucks.
Murdock found what he wanted on the far side of them. He could smell the salt air now. Good, not far.
They set up in the edge of a clearing five hundred yards from the trucks. He assigned the rigs to eight men, and told them to use up their two rounds.
"A fuel tank would be good, but the engine will be acceptable." They could see the rigs clearly in the morning light. Everyone fired except Murdock. He was keeping his one last round for insurance.
The rounds screamed into the hapless trucks. Four armor piercing messengers found engines and blew the vehicles into worthless junk. One round hit a fuel tank and it exploded, showering burning gasoline on two of the other trucks, which soon exploded as well. Twenty seconds after the fifties began firing, the SEALs were done, lined up, and moved out double time for the surf.
They hit the sand five minutes later, strapped their weapons on their backs, buttoned up their Motorolas in watertight flaps, and hit the water.
They were just beyond the breaker line when Murdock heard the growl of a motor. The rest of them caught the sound too.
"Probably a coastal patrol craft," Murdock shouted so most of the SEALs could hear him. "Stay together. We'll duck-dive if we have to. I don't see any boat yet."
They kept swimming on the surface away from the coast. They had an appointment out a half mile. Murdock heard the patrol craft again. This time it was accented with twelve round bursts from a machine gun.
The sound faded, then came back stronger. "Coming our way," Murdock said, and the word passed from SEAL to SEAL. They could all hear it then, and some could see a wake as the craft plowed through the Yellow Sea straight at them. It wasn't going to turn away this time. Murdock waited until it was less than fifty yards away. Then he shouted to dive, and the thirteen SEALs turned turtle and dove downward.
Murdock took six strong strokes down and leveled off, watching above him. The water was clear and he could make out the surface. Then it was laced with hundreds of bubbles as the North Korean coastal patrol craft slashed through the water overhead.
Murdock surfaced slowly, took a huge breath, and checked the route of the boat. It kept moving in a straight line. He had no idea what kind of a search pattern the skipper on board was using.
The rest of the SEALs surfaced, and Murdock called for a sound-off to get a head count.
Everyone was there. He called Holt over.
"I'll boost you up and you unzip your Motorola and give a call to the RIB. Make two calls, then listen."
Holt waited for the boost all the way out of th e water down to his waist, then unzipped the watertight and took out the Motorola.
"SEAL Three calling RIB. Ready to motor."
He waited ten seconds and made the call again. This time a reply came back faintly.
"Yeah, SEAL Three. We've been playing hide-and-seek with an NK patrol boat. Saw your bonfire. Heading back your way. Transmit every minute. Your volume will help lead me to you. Figure we're almost at the range of the boxes."
They made four calls; then Murdock let Holt back into the water. He took out a green light stick and broke the inside, letting the chemicals flow together and produce a steady green glow. Three minutes later, the RIBs came alongside and picked up the SEALs.
"You crazy, using a light stick this close to North Kor
ean coast?" the coxswain asked.
Murdock snorted, "Hell, I figured you could outrun those guys. Let's go home. We'll fight about it on the destroyer."
17
The Yellow Sea
Off North Korea
The coxswain of the first RIB yelled at Murdock over the whine of the engine that jolted them through the water at nearly forty knots.
"Nice going with that glow stick, Commander. We've got an NK patrol craft on our tail."
"One of the big ones?"
"Probably a hundred and forty feet," the coxswain shouted. "Hope it doesn't have missiles on it or we're in fucking big trouble."
"How fast can we go?"
"This new ten-meter will hit forty knots, but no way we can outrun a missile. We can hope to hear some eighty-five millimeter rounds coming at us. That will mean they have no missiles."
He used the radio for a minute, and then got back to Murdock. "We're splitting off from the other RIB. Give the fuckers back there two targets to worry about. Hold it, here comes a round."
They couldn't hear any incoming sound, but an explosion blasted a crater in the soft green of the sea.
"He's three hundred meters off," the coxswain said. "Damn good. We'll do some maneuvering. Tell your guys to hold on with both hands."
The V-section-bottom fiberglass boat took a hard right turn, then a left, and plunged through the building seas. They took water over the bow, and in a moment the three crewmen were as wet as the SEALs.
Another round came in, landing far to their right this time. Murdock knew the patrol boat was trying for a bracket, but they had no forward observer. He wondered if they had radar. They must to come even this close. With any luck they'd only have surface-search radar. That was all they needed right now. He hoped it was only a Pot-Head I band. But he couldn't know.
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