Combat Alley (2007)

by Jack - Seals 06 Terral

  The SEALs loosened their M16s in the saddle scabbards, then pulled the Beretta automatics from their holsters, locked and loaded with one round in the chambers.

  Column left, march! Brannigan said.

  The formation made a left turn, following the leaders around in that direction. They were now parallel to the battle.

  By the right flank, march!

  Everyone swung directly to the right, forming into a single line of mounted skirmishers facing straight at the battlesite.

  At a gallop, charge! Brannigan said, grinning slightly to himself as he thought that John Wayne would be proud of him. The SEALs instinctively cheered amid the thunder of hooves across the rigid ground.

  The only thing lacking was a bugle call.

  AKALI, with his best friend, Buxari, at his side, had turned the five surviving bandits around and ordered them forward into the attack once again. The chief and subchief were at the rear of the formation, as the charge gained speed. After going fifteen meters, Akali and Buxari made an abrupt turn to the rear to gallop for their lives, leaving their men to fend for themselves.

  THE Skipper was the first to fire into the five horsemen coming toward them. In an instant the other eighteen SEALs joined in, the sounds of the pistols barely audible in the noise of the galloping horses. It was impossible to aim effectively while bouncing in the saddle, but the volume of bullets was concentrated at a small compact group of the enemy. Two fell to the side as they twisted from their saddles, a single man pitched over his horse's head. In only a moment last two took hits and hit the ground bouncing and rolling.

  Off in the distance, too far away to catch now, two other riders could be seen making a successful escape. Brannigan ordered a halt, bringing the charge to a close next to where Delta Fire Team had crawled up out of the ravine. Connie Concord yelled, We've got a wounded man. Chad is down there in the bottom of the gully!

  Doc Bradley leaped from the saddle, grabbing his medical kit as he ran over to the edge of the high ground. He slid down to Chad, who was now moaning softly with pain. The hospital corpsman went to work, taking off the field dressing to inspect the wound. The Skipper scrambled down the earthen wall and joined him. How's it look, Doc?

  Soft tissue wound, sir, Doc answered as he prepared a shot of morphine. Not too serious except it appears to involve leakage from intestines into the stomach cavity. That could cause toxic shock. We need a medevac, and we need it right here right now! We can't chance taking him back. He'd have to be moved too slowly. By the time we reached the bivouac, he'd be dead.

  Damn! the Skipper said. He spoke into his LASH. Gomez, this is the Skipper! Get on the Shadowfire radio and call in a chopper to pick up Murchison immediately if not sooner. You know the coordinates. Out!

  A few minutes later Connie Concord's face appeared over the top of the gully. The aircraft is on the way, sir.

  Chapter 15

  LOGOVISHCHYEH

  ANDY Malachenko had been worried about not knowing the latest and trendiest slang expressions and colloquialisms of modern Russia. This seemingly minor detail could easily blow his cover, resulting in some very uncomfortable and fatal consequences. However, after the days he spent with his Russian companions, the SEAL discovered he was more up-to-date than they. Their long years of incarceration in Tajikistan had cut them off from the Motherland, and Andy had been more or less kept up-to-date from letters sent to his parents by relatives still living in Russia. His cover story was reinforced every time one of them asked what he meant by a remark or word he had employed in conversation. He was even able to tell some trendy jokes he had picked up in the correspondence from the old country.

  However, Andy was becoming more and more impatient and frustrated with the passing of the days since he really didn't know what he was supposed to be looking for. In truth, his orders for the mission were ambiguous, leaving him to nose around until he found something relevant. The only information he had gleaned so far was that all these guys were former military convicts which was pretty well known already and they were in cahoots with a crime syndicate operation out of Khorugh. This was also information in the current files. The big boss's name was Aleksander Akloschenko, whose main man was Pavel Marvesky. Maybe the headquarters weenies didn't know about them, but their names didn't seem important to Andy. The Russians wanted to take over the opium harvests in Afghanistan, but who really cared? The word was to leave the farmers alone and let them grow their crops in peace. What difference could it possibly make if the poppy gum was smuggled out by Russian gangsters, the Sicilian Mafia, or any other crime cartel?

  Andy figured the best thing he could do was to continue to play it by ear until he came across something that would seem important to SPECWARCOM or some other staff entity in the perplexing and convoluted world of command headquarters.

  .

  THE KANGAL MOUNTAINS

  9 NOVEMBER

  0915 HOURS

  THE sun was up just above the eastern mountain peaks, but was too weak to radiate any warmth into the chilly air. Andy Malachenko, mounted on one of the horses from the communal stables, huddled in his parka as the animal's hooves clacked over the icy glaze of the rocky path he was following.

  If he wasn't gathering much intelligence, the SEAL figured the next best thing would be to plan ahead in case he would have to make a sudden exit from the present scene. Whether it be to get back with some timely information or to haul ass to safety, it would be a good idea to pick out the best route before it was really needed.

  The main road out of Logovishchyeh led down to the town of Dolirod, and from there out to the highway. Obviously if he had a hundred or so pissed-off Russian gangsters after him that would not be a prudent route to follow. His self-appointed mission that day was to find a quick way out of the Kangal Mountains, down to the Pranistay Steppes while avoiding built-up areas. He rode slowly along, scanning the ground and the surrounding hillsides to see if there was a hidden pass or ravine that would allow access to the lowlands.

  The chill seeped through his clothing and he had to wiggle his toes in the stirrups to keep them from growing numb during the ride. A couple of times, when his feet had begun to feel like dead lumps, he had gotten off and walked to get the circulation in his lower extremities back to normal. He knew he was descended from ancestors who had endured eons of murderous cold, but sometimes it got the best of him. The one thing he liked about Southern California was that he didn't have to wear a lot of clothing. Even in the winter months of January and February, a light sweater would suffice to keep a guy comfortable, and there never was any use for gloves.

  The trail he spotted was not exactly that. Instead of being a path, it was no more than an elongated rock formation that led downward from a stand of boulders. Andy urged the horse over to the spot, then pulled the reins to get the animal moving downward with the natural slope of the terrain. As he progressed toward the lower altitudes, the SEAL grew more confident even though the trail narrowed into a ledge in a couple of places that was barely wide enough for the horse. Finally he reined in when he reached a spot where he could gaze out at the steppes through a cut in the mountains. From that point on, the slope gentled out enough that he could gallop all the way down at top speed if he had to.

  Satisfied that he had discovered an excellent escape route, Andy turned the horse and headed back up the mountain.

  .

  STATION BRAVO, BAHRAIN

  STATION HOSPITAL

  1415 HOURS

  CHAD Murchison's eyes fluttered open, then closed, and he sank back to sleep as he had done a half dozen times in the previous few hours. His slumber was shallower this time, and within another twenty minutes he had come awake enough to stay that way. As his consciousness cleared, he looked around as best he could by turning his head on the pillow. He was in a bed in a long line of other beds in which men displaying various types of bandages were resting, reading, or listening to music through earphones. Chad looked the other way and noticed a couple of intr
avenous drips leading from bottles down to his arms. The needles were covered by gauze and tape.

  How are you?

  The feminine voice startled him and Chad turned his face back the other way to see a pleasant young woman in nurse's garb standing by the bed. He nodded to her, and had to take a breath before he could speak. I am fine. Thank you.

  You woke up at an opportune time, the nurse said. The doctor is making his afternoon rounds and is about three beds away. She straightened the sheets over the patient. Is there anything I can get you?

  No, thank you, Chad replied. Now he wondered where the hell he was. What is this place?

  You're in the hospital at Station Bravo, the nurse said. You came in here last night and went straight to the operating room.

  Well He started to speak, then fell back into silence as he began to remember the ambush and the battle that followed. I was wounded, was I not?

  Oh, yes, indeed, the nurse replied. You were most certainly wounded.

  Now an army officer with a stethoscope around his neck stepped into view. Hello, Petty Officer Murchison. How're you doing?

  To tell you the truth I am in somewhat of an addled state, Chad replied. I cannot tell you if my physical condition is good or bad.

  The doctor smiled. You'll have to rely on me for that. I operated on you last evening. While I was patching you up, I did some exploring around and noticed that your bladder and a kidney had been nicked by either a bullet or shrapnel.

  It had to be a bullet, Chad said. There were no heavy weapons involved in the battle.

  Well, whatever it was, those injuries call for a urologist, the doctor said. We're going to ship you to Germany for the proper treatment. After that you'll be headed stateside. Your other wounds are going to heal fine and I'm certain there'll be no serious problems with your urinary parts. Sending you to Germany is a purely routine matter. No need for alarm. He patted the SEAL on the shoulder. You just relax and concentrate on getting better. I'll take one more look at you before they bundle you off tomorrow morning for the flight to Europe.

  Thank you, sir, Chad said.

  The doctor started to walk over to the next bed, but he turned back. By the way, I took out your appendix while I was in there. It was real handy, so I snipped it.

  Chad grinned. Thanks. I really do not require the organ, do I?

  Not if what they told me in medical school is true, the doctor replied with a grin.

  I'll be back to see you later, the nurse said.

  Chad suddenly felt very tired.

  .

  1615 HOURS

  A female medical yeoman walked up to Chad's bed. She was a plump redhead with a lot of paperwork under her arm, and she gave the SEAL a wide smile. Hello. I came by to talk about where you want to go from Germany. I take it you've been informed about that.

  Yes, Chad said. The doctor apprised me of the situation.

  She set her folders down and fished his file out of the pile. Let's see. Your hometown is Boston, so I take it you'll want to go to a medical facility in that area.

  No, Chad said. I would rather go to Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego.

  Really? she remarked. Most guys want to go to their hometowns to be close to their families and friends.

  Not me. San Diego will be just fine.

  Listen, sailor, she said, are you sure you aren't groggy from your operation? Once I do the paperwork it can't be changed.

  United States Naval Hospital, San Diego, California, if you please, Chad said.

  She shrugged. Okay, sailor.

  .

  LOGOVISHCHYEH

  YARKOV'S HOUSE

  10 NOVEMBER

  0845 HOURS

  THE two Tajik bandits were plainly upset, and their usual fear of the Russian gangster chief had been smothered by their bad mood. Akali and Buxari refused an offer to sit down, though they did each take a mug of hot, strong coffee that Gabina had brewed. The little gay interpreter Gulyar was nervous, since he was well aware that the Russian was not the type to take a lot of disrespectful complaining and finger-pointing, particularly from a couple of hill bandits.

  You told us there were only five Americans! Akali said through Gulyar's translation. So I took no more than twelve of my best and bravest fighters with me.

  Buxari interjected, That would have been more than enough to fight a successful battle against only five.

  But there were ten times that! Akali exclaimed. Fifty Americans charged us on horseback. We would have fled, but honor bade us stand and do our best to defend ourselves against such overwhelming odds. We fought a long battle before all my men lay dead and riddled by bullets at our feet.

  Yarkov nodded as he listened to Gulyar change the Tajik to Russian. He knew the two bandits had never been in any fight in which they didn't have the advantage in numbers and position, and they would not have attacked so large a force of heavily armed Americans. He figured that they blundered into a small group that was quickly reinforced by a larger. And he also would bet there were no more than ten to twenty Americans involved.

  Now Buxari joined in again. We shot up all our ammunition.

  Yes! Akali exclaimed. I demand a payment for the loss of my men and ten thousand bullets.

  Mmm, Yarkov mused. I am curious as to how you two got away.

  How? Akali said. I will tell you how. Buxari and I fought like tigers and they finally fled from us, leaving us in the carnage of that awful battlefield.

  Allah had mercy on us, Buxari added. And there were helicopters too.

  Yes! Akali cried. What were we to do? We have no Stingers like the Pashtuns had when they fought you Russians and your Hinds. Rockets and bombs exploded all around us.

  Were there tanks? Yarkov asked, trying hard not to burst out laughing.

  I believe I saw one, maybe two, Buxari said, as the story grew wilder.

  I think there were three, Akali said. The situation was impossible. We are lucky to be here.

  Yarkov was tempted to run the two liars off, but he needed the bandits from time to time during his operations. If he got rough with them, they would gather up their women and children and flee to the highest ranges of the Kangal Mountains. It would take an army to dig them out, and they would stay there until they all either starved or eventually wandered off to more hospitable climes where there were good hunting and robbing opportunities.

  I will give you another thousand somonis, Yarkov said. And five hundred bullets.

  Akali spoke angrily. That is not enough!

  Yarkov knew the two would keep all that for themselves without giving a thing to the families of the dead men. I have just told you what I am going to pay in compensation for your troubles. So take it and go. He snapped his finger at Gabina. Fetch Surov!

  .

  THE BARRACKS

  1030 HOURS

  ANDY Malachenko was lying on his bunk reading a year-old Russian weightlifting magazine when a slight disturbance at the other end of the barracks interrupted him. He sat up and noticed that Igor Tchaikurov was talking loudly. Since everyone seemed interested, Andy dropped the magazine and went down to see what was going on.

  The former Spetsnaz man was laughing. ... And those two idiots Akali and Buxari spun this tale of almost singlehandedly fighting off hundreds of American soldiers. Luka Ivanovich told me they said there were even helicopters and tanks, and all their men were killed until only those two were left standing. But finally they scared off the Yanks by their ferocious two-man counterattack and they managed to escape before enemy reinforcements arrived.

  As Tchaikurov continued his own version of the wild story the two Tajik bandits had told Yarkov, it became obvious that a few Americans had won a decisive victory over the bandits. Andy wondered if those attackers had been Brannigan's Brigands.

  Luka Ivanovich gave them some more money and ammunition to placate the lying bastards, Tchaikurov said. But he is worried that the Americans have come into the area to make sure there are no poppy harvests next spring a
nd summer.

  One of the gangsters complained, That would be a disaster for us. It is the only thing that is going to allow us to continue our lives here.

  Do not fret, Tchaikurov said. The boss is going to contact Akloschenko in Khorugh. He can make arrangements to get us reinforced with some tough guys from Moscow. He looked over at Andy. Hey, Mikhail Andreovich. There might be some of your old pals in that bunch, huh?

  I would not doubt it, Andy replied.

  And do not forget the Tajik Army, another Russian added. There are some big shots in the government that want their piece of that opium pie, hey? They will send at least a couple of rifle companies to reinforce us.

  Of course, Tchaikurov said. And that might include real tanks and helicopters instead of those dreamed up by bandits.

  Now Andy had some intelligence to pass on. If a formidable force roared out of the Kangal Mountains down onto the Pranistay Steppes, the detachment would be cut off, then slaughtered. The only way that could be prevented was to make sure reinforcements were brought in from Coalition troops before the attack.