by Jack Terral
Mike watched him descend back to the path to his location. "Anything special up there?"
"Yeah," Dave replied, taking his M-16 back. "We got a big job ahead of us if we're gonna take this fucking mountain."
"And the powers-that-be expect us to take it without sophisticated help like airplanes and heavy artillery," Mike said. "Shit! Let's keep rolling. Don't forget we got to be back at the ERP in"--he looked at the luminous dial of his watch--"a little less than an hour and a half."
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0330 HOURS
GARTH Redhawk had found a partly natural, partly man-made bastion at the apex of the slope. It was on the Zaheya defensive line where he could nestle in the available concealment and enjoy an undisturbed view of the enemy positions. One guard was on duty, and the guy wasn't sleeping or goofing off. He stood his watch like a professional soldier, his short assault rifle slung across his chest as he stood alertly and well balanced on both feet.
The sight of the facilities caused Redhawk to take a silent but sharp intake of breath. The fighting positions built along the wall were reinforced with logs. These had obviously been brought into the treeless area from somewhere else. Additional cover was provided by sandbags, and locations of support weapons had roofs made of layers of timber covered by more sandbags and packed earth.
Redhawk turned to look down the other way. It was more of the same, and now he noticed the camouflaged bunker entrances offering ingress into what would no doubt be shelters, living quarters, and/or storage for ammo and supplies. He also could make out the figures of more men standing-to. These guys were disciplined, well armed, and would be doing their fighting behind extremely strong defenses.
The SEAL slowly and stealthily began a descent of the slope to rejoin Connie Concord and Matty Matsuno.
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SEAL BASE CAMP
0445 HOURS
CHAD Murchison stood his watch with his M-16 locked and loaded as he gazed through his NVG at the figures moving upward toward his position. After a few moments he could recognize Mike Assad on the point as they drew nearer. Even though the recognition of his fellow SEAL was unmistakable, Chad followed the SOP.
"Grin," he said softly, issuing the challenge.
"Grapple," Mike replied with the password. "Four guys behind me."
"Roger," Chad said. The procedure of the first man giving the sentry the number of men following him was to keep enemy infiltrators from joining the rear of returning patrols in the darkness. If Chad counted more than four, then the unexpected guests would be dealt with in an extremely prejudicial manner.
When Matty Matsuno came across the fighting position, he whispered that he was the last man. At that point, Chad gave the frontal slope a meticulous surveillance to make sure that no bad guys were lurking in the vicinity.
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SEAL HEADQUARTERS
0515 HOURS
"SHIT!"
That was the sixth time Lieutenant Bill Brannigan had uttered the expletive during Connie Concord's vocal report on the results of the recon patrol. Ensign Orlando Taylor, the detachment's acting N-2, was taking notes with the anxious concentration typical of an eager young officer.
The other four members of the Sneaky Petes were sitting in a semicircle on the bunker floor around the two officers. Garth Redhawk scratched his chin. "The damn thing looked like a fucking underground castle, sir."
"Same from where I got a look, sir," Dave Leibowitz said. "That place wasn't constructed in a couple of weeks. Somebody took months to put that facility into the side of the mountain."
"And they had plenty of up-to-snuff equipment to do it," Redhawk added. "It sure as hell ain't like this place." He gestured around him. "This is just natural shit with a few additions."
"That's right," Mike Assad said. "All we got here is some caves and fighting holes."
"I know what we got here, Assad," Brannigan snarled. "You don't have to tell me."
"Another thing," Redhawk said. "I got a good look at some of their people. These guys are real soldiers, not a bunch of crazy-ass mujahideen. And they're armed with them little French rifles. What do they call 'em? Bullpups, I think."
Brannigan nodded. "Yeah. I'm familiar with the weapon. Officially they're FA-MAS automatic rifles. That's kind of a misnomer, because they have a selector for semiauto too. The French soldiers call them clairons. That's their word for bugles."
"Uh-huh," Dave said. "They kind of look like that."
"Did you see any mortars or artillery?" Brannigan asked.
"Negative, sir," Connie replied.
"Shit!" Brannigan said again. "How many people do you think that place can hold?"
"Well, sir," Connie said, "if their entire line is like the parts that Garth and Mike saw, I'd say they could easily take in a couple of thousand."
"Remember what Dr. Joplin said," the Skipper pointed out. "They have only a few more guys than we do."
"Maybe so, sir," Connie said. "He told us they didn't want to make a big deal out of this, but now I'm not so sure. If we start kicking their asses real bad, they'll call in reinforcements quick. Maybe artillery and CAS from the Iranian Air Force. We could be wiped out quick before our side could react."
Matty Matsuno glanced at the Skipper, asking, "Are we at that place they call between the rock and the hard place?"
"Yeah," Brannigan said. He stood up. "Okay, guys. Good job. Get some rest and you better sleep fast. You might be going out there again real quick."
"Aye, sir!"
The Sneaky Petes got to their feet and followed Connie out of the bunker entrance.
CHAPTER 5
SEAL BASE CAMP
FIRST SECTION BUNKER
11 JUNE 1030 HOURS
AT the end of the morning watch, Lieutenant Jim Cruiser's entire First Assault Section were informed they would not be returning to sentry duties on the first dog watch, as they normally would have. They were to go back to their bunker to fix some chow and stand by for further orders. Now, after two and a half hours of waiting, the seven men lounged on their foam mattresses, catching up on lost sleep.
The sights and sounds inside the cavern were ones of dozing men and deep breathing punctuated now and then with snores. When Cruiser stepped inside the rocky abode, he grinned at the spectacle.
"Isn't this a cozy picture?" he remarked. "It reminds me of my happy boyhood days at summer camp." He chuckled. "Well, except for the M-sixteens and the SAW."
Gutsy Olson, the Alpha Fire Team leader, raised his head. "What's going on, sir?" he asked. "The senior chief said we was off watch 'til further orders."
"Right," Cruiser said. He emitted a loud, sharp whistle at those still slumbering. "Let's go! Wake up!"
Monty Sturgis got to his knees and stretched. "And I was having such a beautiful dream."
Pete Dawson, now on his feet, grinned at him. "About a good-looking woman, I bet."
Monty shook his head. "Nope. I dreamed you paid me back that fifty bucks you owe me."
Andy Malachenko laughed. "You must have really been dreaming. He's owed me fifty for three months now."
"Well, hell, guys," Pete said. "I'd rather owe it to you than beat you out of it."
Now everyone was up and looking expectantly at their section commander. Cruiser motioned them to follow him away from the living space to the area near the entrance that was used for section get-togethers. He turned to face them. "Sit down and get comfortable, guys."
Like everyone else in Brannigan's Brigands, the First Assault Section had constructed tables and benches out of the wood from the crates that had been emptied of supplies and ammunition. They situated themselves among the rough-hewn furniture to get the word.
"The Skipper gave me a WARNO," Cruiser said. Whatever sleepy feelings were left over from their naps immediately evaporated, and they instinctively sat up straighter and leaned forward. "Combat patrol," he continued, giving an answer to the unasked question.
"Ambush or raid?" Gutsy Olson inquired.
"Raid,
" Cruiser responded. "The objective is to test the enemy's ability to respond to a small surprise attack on part of their line. In this case, the north flank."
"Uh-oh!" Gutsy said. "This reminds me of that one attack we made down there in South America." He glanced over at the others. "Andy, me, and Lieutenant Cruiser were on that operation against a bunch of neo-Nazi rebels. They were tough bastards, let me tell you. All professional soldiers from South America and Europe. We was going up against 'em for the first time, and the Skipper wanted to find out how much of a fight they could give us. He told us about an old Chinese saying that says that the best way to test a tiger is to let him out of his cage."
"Actually, he said you could do it that way," Andy said, "or go into the cage with him."
"I remember that particular action only too well," Cruiser said. "I was hit and medevaced out of there. It was touch and go for a while if I was gonna be able to walk again." He paused as the unpleasant memory flitted through his mind. "Anyhow, that's exactly what we're gonna do--test the tiger."
"I'm on pins and needles about the execution phase of this thing," Monty Sturgis said. "I got to tell you guys that this is the strangest operation I've ever been on in my ten years in the SEALs."
"Okay," Cruiser said. He laid his map out on the floor so they could all see it. "This is gonna be an RON. We'll leave at thirteen-hundred hours from headquarters. There's a hole in the top of the bunker just big enough for a man to pass through. Gomez is using the place for commo. He sets his Shadowfire radio out there for long-range transmissions. There's plenty of concealment around the place, so we'll leave from there, and head east far enough to drop below the horizon. Then we move north about fifteen kilometers to this point on the map. It's near the desert where we ran our DPVs in Operation Rolling Thunder." He used his laser pointer to indicate the spot. "We should arrive there at approximately seventeen-thirty hours. As you can see from the wider contour lines, it's not so steep in that area. That's always a welcome break. At that time we'll turn west to this point"--he employed the beam once again--"which we'll reach at twenty-hundred hours. From there we turn south to an area that is at a direct right angle to the enemy lines. That's where we start climbing back up into the Gharawdara Highlands. When we're within a couple of kilometers of the enemy sometime after zero-one-hundred hours, we stop. I'll send two of you guys forward for a recon on the objective, which is the Zaheya positions." He glanced up at his team leaders. "Each of you guys give me one man for that chore."
"Morales," Gutsy Olson said.
"Halonen," Monty Sturgis announced.
"You two guys will go for a look-see and bring back any helpful intel you can get," Cruiser said. "Do a good job, because at oh-five-hundred hours we attack the place. We'll stay engaged only long enough to get them to respond, then we haul ass straight across the valley and up the slope to our home positions."
"Will we be making a fire-and-maneuver withdrawal, sir?" Monty Sturgis asked.
"No," Cruiser replied. "We're going to be running as fast as we can. Minimum time is of the essence when we cross that two hundred meters of no-man's-land."
"Damn, sir!" Dawson exclaimed. "Those Persians or whatever they are will shoot us in the back!"
"Every weapon in this detachment will be covering us," Cruiser said. "We'll also take advantage of the cover and concealment given us by the rock formations and tall shrubs while we haul ass. The Skipper wanted me to emphasize that it's important that we keep running. However, if anyone is hit, we bring him back with us. Buddy up for that purpose and keep your eye on your partner during the withdrawal."
"What are we taking with us, sir?"
"We'll be lean and mean," Cruiser answered. "One bandolier of ammo each, two canteens, personal medical kits, rations for one meal, energy bars, and any other small items you prefer for this sort of operation. All that goes into your rucksacks. It won't be a heavy load. You'll wear your pistols and knives on your belts. The grenadiers will bring along their M-two-oh-threes with six rounds each. Benson will have three bandoliers for the SAW. And don't forget your NVGs. We'll use the One-twenty-sixes with LASH headsets for commo. Usual call signs." He looked at his watch. "Get your gear together. I'll check it when you're ready. Then we'll take it easy and store up some energy until twelve-forty-five hours. That's the time we'll head for headquarters to leave. Turn to, guys."
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SEAL HEADQUARTERS
1255 HOURS
FRANK Gomez, the detachment RTO, had built a sturdy ladder from some lumber he pried off a supply crate. It made it easier to ascend the fifteen feet to the opening in the cavetop than having to climb up the rock ledges that led to the exit.
Now the nine men of the First Assault Section were lined up to ascend to the opening to begin the first leg of their patrol. Gutsy Olson led the way, with his Alpha Team members Pete Dawson and Rick Morales following. Lieutenant Jim Cruiser and the SAW gunner Tex Benson were aligned behind the Alphas. Monty Sturgis was the last man, with his rifleman Andy Malachenko and grenadier Wally Halonen just ahead of him. Everyone had his rucksack in his hand rather than on his back, since it was impossible to wear it and fit through the narrow opening above.
Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan stood beside the men. "We'll be keeping an eye out for you guys tomorrow morning. And don't worry. There'll be machine guns, grenade launchers, and M-sixteen rifles laying down covering fire while you rush across the valley back here. Good luck." He glanced up to where Gutsy stood. "Alright, Petty Officer Olson. Lead the way."
"Aye, sir!"
Gutsy went up the rungs until he reached the top. He pushed his rucksack through the opening and followed, rolling into a covering position with his rifle when he was through the hole. Pete Dawson quickly appeared, crawling a short distance down the rear slope before rising to a crouch to move farther from the top of the mountain. One by one, the others followed. When Monty Sturgis appeared, Gutsy teamed with him and the pair made their way to the spot where the rest of the team waited. Now everyone slung their rucksacks on their backs, and Cruiser gave the word to move out. The order of march was the same as used for climbing the ladder--the Alphas, Cruiser and Benson, then the Bravos.
Gutsy put Pete Dawson on point as they began their northerly trek. Everyone immediately settled into the rhythm of the movement, instinctively covering their area of fire with strict vigilance. The last man in the formation was Andy Malachenko, who would periodically turn completely to check the rear as they progressed toward the objective.
The most likely direction of an ambush was from the higher ground to their left, but if some of the bad guys were out on a patrol of their own and had managed to make their way around the SEAL positions, they might be lower down the hill. If the enemy was out for combat, they would not hesitate to fire upward at the section. The terrain made for a slightly uncomfortable walk because of the slant, but those SEALs who had tender ankles--a shared malady gotten from dozens of extremely hard parachute landing falls--had carefully applied Ace bandages to those sensitive lower joints to keep them from feeling too much of the strain.
This area they descended was already known to them. It was just a short time before that they had pursued a combined force of Pashtun rebels and Arabs up that same steep terrain until forced to break off contact because of tactical disadvantages.
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1720 HOURS
THE section reached the first turning point ten minutes ahead of schedule in spite of taking a break to readjust their equipment. No matter how careful a man was, there was always a strap or two that somehow slipped or drew tauter during the first kilometers of a hike. It was also a good time to take a piss, enjoy a deep swallow or two from a canteen, and for the two smokers in the section to take a few drags off cigarettes.
When Cruiser saw that everyone had caught his breath and was ready to continue, he reversed the two fire teams' positions, and now the Bravos took the lead as they turned west.
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1940 HOURS
&
nbsp; WHEN the patrol came up to the second turning point, from where they were to change to a southerly route, Cruiser called another break. The SEALs had been on the move for two hours and ten minutes, and while not really stepping out, their hike had been steady. The terrain was flat with only gentle rises now, and they would be switching back in the opposite direction from the first leg of the trip. This meant the most physically demanding part of the operation--the ascent back up into the Gharawdara Highlands.
"This final stage is going to be the most difficult," Cruiser reminded them. "We should reach the ORP a bit before zero-one-hundred hours. Not only will we be negotiating steep terrain, but there'll also be security issues to deal with. That means flankers out as well as a point man and a Tail-End Charlie. Bravo Team will be in the front. Sturgis, your team takes the lead. Put out a point man and a flanker for the right side."
That was an easy request, since there were only two other men in the team; it was only a matter of who did what. "Andy will take the point and Wally goes on the flank."
Gutsy Olson spoke up before being asked. "I'll put Rick on the left side and let Pete bring up the rear."
"Then we're set," Cruiser said. "Take another ten minutes, guys, and I advise you to treat yourselves to an energy bar and some swallows of water. This is going to be a hard climb."
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MIDNIGHT
THE fatigue had set in, but the superbly conditioned SEALs could deal with it through a combination of spiritual and physical conditioning. It was a matter of concentrating on the job to be done while letting the discomfort sink so deep into the subconscious that the conscious mind was not aware of it. The seeming chickenshit demands put on them in BUD/S back at Coronado had drilled this primeval instinct into their psyches without them having any awareness of acquiring this remarkable capacity.
