Desert Mercenary

by Barry Sadler

  Dominic let the body slide easily to the earth, then grabbed it by its robes and dragged it behind the boulder to where Sharif Mamud waited. Swiftly the old man put on the Tuareg's jellaba, wrapping the veil over his face to leave only his eyes uncovered. Disguise intact, Mamud took the Tuareg's place as Dominic slid back into the shadows.

  Squatting behind a patch of brush, Carl waited for the next victim to come near. The sentry was in the most exposed position. He patrolled the fringe of the light cast by the campfire. Carl would have to be quick and silent. Twice the sentry passed him but each time there were too many eyes from the campfire looking his way. It was hard to get set, be ready, then not be able to move, only to have to wait again. The man came close. Then from the cave came a call. Automatically all eyes turned to the entrance. Carl moved, rising up from the patch of brush which concealed him. His hand grasped the Tuareg's throat and he squeezed his fingers, going deep into the cartilage of the esophagus, crushing it as he dragged the body back into the shadows. Another change of clothing and Egon had taken the Tuareg's place. By the time all eyes had returned to the campfire, Carl had two men in critical positions, one on each side of the cave entrance. It was almost time.

  Carl clicked his fingers once, then again. Sharif Mamud moved closer to the ring of men sitting and nodding to the beat of the skin drum. Egon did the same. At their waists their weapons were held in the horizontal position, barrels pointing casually forward. Their Mats 49s had longer snouts than usual. Silencers. Twenty feet away, then ten, Sharif Mamud came near the fire. A man turned to him, his lips forming a question. The question was never spoken. He died too quickly. Mamud's first burst took out three men instantly, pumping fifteen subsonic 9mm's into their bodies. Less than a heartbeat behind him came Egon's burst of fire, cutting down the others, who had no opportunity this time to make their peace with God. The only sound from the submachine guns was that of the bolts slapping back and forth. Eight men died. Carl and the rest of the team emerged from the shadows, leaving Egon and Sharif Mamud to guard the cave entrance.

  Carl moved out into the open. From behind him came the rest of the team. Weapons at the ready, they hit the entrance to the cave. As they moved inside Sharif Mamud and Egon dragged the dead away from the campfire into the dark, then took up positions on each side of the mouth of the cave.

  Following Mamud's directions they split into two units where the cave mouth separated. Carl and Gus went to the left while Dominic and Foche took the tunnel to the right. They ran in a crouch. Two men lay on their sides, blankets about them. Carl passed them by, leaving them to Gus and the others. Swift cuts taking less than five seconds and Gus was on Carl's heels, putting his knife back into its sheath as he ran.

  Ahead of Carl was a brighter guiding light. He slowed to a halt. Gus nearly knocked him down coming to a stop. Carl listened. Voices speaking Tamahaq. Then he heard one in English ask for something. He couldn't make out what it wanted, but the voice was definitely that of a girl. He pointed to the other side of the tunnel, indicating to Gus and one other to move over there. They waited a moment, then began to move closer to the light.

  Carl knew the others could sense the timing. They didn't have to be told. Instincts were working. He knew that each of them took a breath at the same moment he did. They burst into the light, fingers taking up trigger slack to the width of a hair. They each picked out their targets.

  Dark eyes had little time to register alarm before bullets began smashing into faces and bodies. In the cavern the sound was deafening as the submachine guns roared and jerked. Carl moved to his left, keeping the wall to his back.

  The girl and her husband were at the far end on his side. There was only one way out. "Lie down and don't move!" he screamed at them over the deafening echoes of gunfire. They did as they were ordered. Face down, hands over their heads, they lay still. Only one Tuareg managed to get off a wild shot that clipped Gus on the ear, taking with it a dime size plug. The rest went down.

  Jumping over bodies Carl grabbed the girl by her arm and jerked her to her feet, then did the same to the boy. "Get up and move. Stay behind me and do as I say."

  He ran back to the cavern entrance, telling Gus, "You bring up drag."

  They moved back out. Reverberations echoing through the tunnels told Carl the other group had made contact. Probably their shots had set off the Tuaregs. If the other group wasn't pinned down, they would be doing as he had ordered and heading back to the entrance where Egon and Sharif Mamud were on guard. Cries of pain came with the gunfire. Curses in Arabic, Tamahaq, and French were all mixed together. He knew men were dying and could only hope that they weren't his.

  Sharif Mamud and Egon heard the noise. Moving out of the light they knelt down, recognizing the sound of gunfire coming from inside the cave. As muted as it was, it would bring more warriors.

  Roman and Abdul strained their eyes against the dark. They could hear voices. They couldn't understand them but they knew that men were coming. Roman adjusted the metal shoulder stock more securely. Abdul held the shiny brass belt of linked ammo delicately in his hand, ready to move with Roman and keep the belt feeding smoothly, his fingers ready to feel for any twist in it that could cause a stoppage.

  Inside the cave a major firefight had started. Dominic had run into the section of tunnel used as sleeping quarters for Sunni Ali's guards. These were the men Ali had trained personally. Even though Dominic and Foche had gotten off the first shots, the Tuaregs responded quickly. Foche went down. Gut shot. Dominic changed magazines lying down along the tunnel as sparks ricocheted off the stone walls.

  Dominic looked down at Foche. Blood was coming from his stomach and his back. He was a goner. Foche knew it too. Blood bubbling between his lips, he choked out, "Well, get on with it. You know what has to be done. You wouldn't leave me alive for them to play with, would you?" He coughed, a piece of torn flesh from his stomach coming up to his mouth. He spat the bloody clot out and looked up, waiting. Dominic knew he was right. He glanced down the tunnel. Men were gathering there and there was no way he could hold them by himself. Without any hesitation or warning he pointed his submachine gun down and blew the top of Foche's head off. Instant death, freedom from pain.

  Dominic moved back taking Foche's weapon with him. Now he was just trying to keep them off his back as he fought his way to the entrance of the cave. At the junction he met with Carl and Gus. He answered the unspoken question. "Foche is dead."

  Sparks ricocheted off granite wails. Sparkles of light from both sides searched for soft tissue to enter. The superior firepower of the raiders gave them an advantage. Changing magazines as fast they could, barrels were already heating up to a red glow in the dark.

  "Grenades by series!" Carl commanded.

  Pins were pulled and the bombs were tossed into the dark as far as they were capable of throwing them. Carl used the grenades as a delaying tactic. Throw a couple, then retreat, throw a couple, then retreat. They leapfrogged back to the entrance of the caves.

  The voices outside had come together in a mass. Cries of anger and confusion were closer. Egon and Mamud could hear them clearly. The dull thumps of the grenades in the tunnel told them they were about to get into deep shit. If the Tuaregs boxed them in at the mouth of the cave they would be trapped.

  Roman's mouth grew dry and sticky. He looked at Abdul, his black face oily in the dark. They knew that their waiting for action was about to end. Abdul smiled gently at the Spaniard as if to say, "It is in the hands of God."

  Sunni Ali heard the muted gunfire. Rising from his bed he rushed out of his tent, calling his men to him. He had no doubt as to what was taking place. From their slumbers confused men gathered clutching their weapons.

  "To the caves!" he cried. "They are after my hostages. Go! Run! They must be stopped."

  Tuaregs swarmed in the dark running, Sunni Ali whipping them on. This was no time for tactics. He didn't care if his men ran into an ambush as long as they slowed up the raiders. He yelled to his senio
r radio operator, "Reach all you can. Have them on alert and ready to ride!" Then he raced after his men, jacking a round into the chamber of his SMG. He was only fifteen seconds behind them.

  The first ragged group of eleven Tuaregs entered the light of the campfire. Roman took up the slack. Between the rapid fire of the machine gun and the Mats 49s of Sharif Mamud and Egon, they all went down.

  Carl came out of the cave dragging the girl behind him. Her husband bent over to take a weapon from a dead Tuareg. Carl saw. A good sign this, the young man was ready to fight. Turning the hostages over to Egon and Sharif Mamud he told them, "Get them away. We'll slow things up here." Sharif Mamud led the way past Roman and Abdul, taking them into the dark and removing their Tuareg robes as they went.

  Carl gave the rest of the team their orders. "Into the shadows by Roman. Form a perimeter. Let the main body get into the light by the cave. Wait for my orders to fire." He knew it wasn't likely that the next body of Tuaregs to reach them would take off blindly into the dark. They would wait for someone in authority to tell them what to do.

  Carl could hear them coming. "Get grenades ready and pass the word to the others," he whispered to Gus. Pins were straightened out and the small bombs set where they were easy to reach.

  Sunni Ali came to the entrance of the cave. He didn't have to go inside. He knew his captives were gone. The bodies of the dead did not concern him. What he wanted to know was which way had they gone and how many were there. To his men he cried out, "Spread out and search for their trail!"

  Carl couldn't let them do that. He sighted on the man giving the orders and took up the trigger slack. As the last thousandth of an inch was reached, a Tuareg warrior ran in front of his leader and took five rounds meant for Sunni Ali. Carl cursed his luck. When he fired, the rest of the team came in with rapid fire, no fancy shooting. It didn't matter whether what they hit was killed or wounded as long as it stopped them from being able to follow.

  "Grenades. Now!"

  While the bombs were in the air he told Roman and Abdul, "Take your guns and move out. Set up in the canyon where you can give us cover fire at first light. We'll be right behind you."

  Confusion was on their side. The rapid fire from the submachine guns gave them an edge they used to its maximum effectiveness. The sole surviving Tuareg moved away from the glow of the campfire.

  Sunni Ali burned up two magazines firing at the ring of boulders. He thought he'd hit one. Whoever it was in the rocks, they were good. They had waited for him to be in an exposed position with his men, when most would have just taken their prize and run for it. To his lieutenants he ordered, "Take men, spread out, and keep firing. There can't be too many of them."

  Mamud led the way back into the rocks. Then he turned to cover a section of rough ground, leaving a trail which, if they were lucky, the Tuaregs would think they had taken.

  "Let's do it!" Carl yelled as loud as he could over the increasing crescendo of gunfire. "Leapfrog it out by twos and threes."

  The rest of the team was doing good, steady work, giving each other cover as they withdrew. When the first men passed Kitchner he started dropping rounds down the tube. He placed the first rounds on the far side away from Carl and his men, then started walking them in to the front of the cave.

  Sunni Ali ran into the mouth of the cave to take cover. He knew the fire wouldn't last long. The one advantage he had was time. The raiders could not stand and fight. They would have to run, and that was when he would catch them. But right now he had to check on his vehicles to see if they had been damaged or destroyed. His men would pick up their trail and stay on them the rest of the night. With dawn he'd know which way to move and have a better idea of how many of the enemy there were to deal with.

  With Gus on his heels, Carl was the last to break contact when the mortar rounds started coming in. The Tuareg went into instant panic and confusion. They weren't used to that kind of firepower coming at them. But Carl didn't fool himself by thinking this was the end of it. He knew they had a long way to go.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  When they reached Kitchner dropping shells down the mortar tube, Carl yelled out, "Pack it up, blow the rest of your ammo, and get gone!"

  Kitchner dropped a grenade down the tube, then another by his remaining rounds; no sense in leaving the enemy anything that might be useful and took off after Langer and Gus.

  They pushed it hard for an hour. Contact was broken with the Tuaregs but he knew it wouldn't stay that way long. When dawn came the nomads would be after them.

  "Take five," Carl ordered. "Dominic, set out some trip wires on the back trail. The rest of you spread out where you can rest and still see what's going on. Let's not get careless now.

  "Egon, get Sims on the radio. Tell him to move out. We'll be at the rendezvous point by 1100 hours and we'll check in again with him at 0900. Then have him relay the info to Monpelier. Got it?" Egon repeated the message, took the radio, and began to send word.

  Sunni Ali was relieved to see that at least the raiders had not gotten far enough back in the tunnels to find his vehicles. They would be needed shortly, but first he had to do some thinking.

  Retiring to his tent, he took from a mahogany case his own maps of the region. Time and movement were the keys. Once he had the direction of the enemy's route confirmed, then he'd be able to plan. Logic was now needed. Eyes poring over the map, he checked it against his mind and memory.

  The raiders were on foot and had gone back into the mountain. They must have transport waiting for them somewhere. Their commander must know that if they stayed even one day in the area they would be found. Their job was to get in and get out as fast as possible with their prize. Therefore they must be heading to a place where they would be retrieved by either ground transport or aircraft.

  Considering their rate of movement and the maximum distance they could travel in a given period of time, and he would give heavy odds that he was right about the time factor, it was inconceivable that the raiders would plan on spending more than twenty four hours in his land. The options would be severely reduced once he had their direction confirmed. There could only be so many places from which to leave the mountain and reach a site where transport could pick them up. When they arrived there, Sunni Ali would be waiting for them with his own armored cars and heavy weapons.

  The lone Tuareg moved between the ancient boulders. For a brief moment his eyes rose to the distant horizon. That was his mistake. The trip wire was broken and a grenade blew his left leg off at the knee. Sunni Ali had his direction.

  While he was waiting for such information, he had given orders that the Hanamogs and American jeeps be made ready. Their crews stood by. These men he had trained as carefully as the panzer crews had been trained in Germany during the early days of the war. They knew their jobs.

  On his map Sunni Ali made a check mark where the boobytrap had exploded. Soon he would have another mark on his map and with each one he would be closer to reclaiming that which was his. His radiomen had been given the order to contact all outposts. They were put on the alert for any ferengi in the area and were told to stop all forms of motor transport. Nothing was to go through or get out.

  Sims was pushing it. Three times he'd had to stop and pull one of the Land Rovers out of sand traps. Wiping his goggles clean he stared hatefully at the mass of Mt.Baguezane. The great bloody thing seemed to go on forever. Graves pulled up alongside of him, yelling out through his window, "Hey limey, did you see them?"

  Wearily resigned to such verbal abuse, Sims responded sardonically,, "Of course I saw them, you great bleeding clot. Do you think I'm blind? What's bloody more important, I'm sure they saw us also. And if they did, we could be in for a real pisser, what?"

  Shifting into low to climb the side of the wadi Graves yelled back, "So what do you say we forgo this bit of pleasantry and try to reach our destination on time?"

  Langer had moved to the rear. The explosion of a grenade had been clearly heard. It had echoed off th
e stones for miles. He wished they'd had more time to leave a false trail or take better efforts to conceal their movements but they didn't.

  Mamud joined him. Shading his eyes with a hand, he looked back the way they had come. "They are there and they are getting closer."

  Langer nodded. "I know. How are the kids holding up?"

  Mamud inclined his head down the trail they were taking "They are doing well enough. The boy is strong and eager, and the girl has a good heart but her legs are weak."

  Carl wasn't too concerned about that. If necessary he would have Gus carry them out on his back.

  "I'm getting a bit worried about the time, Sharif. It would be best if we could slow up the pursuit a bit."

  Mamud knew what he was thinking, that the time could come very soon when someone would have to stay behind and fight a delaying action so the others could escape. That would, of course, be their last resort. But it was not yet necessary for such a thing to be done. They still had some time left.