Tiny Burke, who had been on the left flank, moved in closer to Matt. Chief, he said. Them guys are going along with their heads up their asses.
Hey, no shit, Matt grumbled. I don't know how to get 'em to close up. I been whistling and signaling but all the dumb bastards do is wave back at me. I tried talking to that guy Ghairat, but he just looks at me and gives me a shiteating grin. He sighed. I think they'll be more receptive once we're in a combat situation. Right now, they're not too concerned. I guess they just live in the moment.
If we're gonna keep coming on operations out here, we're gonna have to learn their lingo, Tiny said. Or at least some basic words to make 'em understand what they got to do.
I believe they are aware their home village is in danger, Matt mused. They just ain't the type to fret much until the shit actually hits the fan.
Well, I understand that we're in danger, Tiny remarked. I'm moving back to the flank. He pulled on the reins of his horse to return to his original position.
.
RUSSIAN/PASHTUN FORCE
VALENTIN Surov hadn't had much rest in the past forty-eight hours. The roundabout visits to the seven Pashtun villages had been frustrating and time-consuming. Gathering up the remaining seventy Mahsuds had gone relatively well during the visits to their two communities. The fact that five of their fifty brethren had been killed during the raid on the Yousafzais motivated them to badal. But getting them to turn out armed, equipped, and mounted had taken several hours.
Things turned even more inconvenient at the Kharoti, Bhittani, and Ghilzai hamlets, where a total of 215 fighting men were available to join the invasion force. Although it was obvious that there would be dead and wounded among their number, they treated the whole thing like a lark. Surov spoke to them as diplomatically as possible, but his efforts did little in getting them to do something as simple as moving faster in the preparations. Since there was no present danger, they scampered around, going into each other's houses and stopping in groups for excited conversations. At one point somebody threw a soccer ball at a small crowd of men saddling their horses. This erupted into an impromptu melee of kicking the orb around that went on for several long minutes.
But now, in a column of bunches, the small force of 79 Russians and 335 Pashtuns moved across the flat country toward the location of the smallest Janoon village. At this point Surov grinned to himself; the odds of the coming battle were approximately twelve to one. It shouldn't take as long as wiping out the Yousafzai hamlet. A couple of swift runs through the place should wrap up the job in under an hour.
At that point, his plans were to mop up the remainder of the Janoon tribe before turning his deadly intents back against the Yousafzai. Surov had been told the Janoons could muster 85 fighters at the most while the Yousafzai had 105. Even if some Americans were among them, there wouldn't be enough to make much of a difference.
The Russian commander stood in his stirrups to check on the positions of his point men. He had instructed Aleksei Barkyev and Yakob Putnovsky to ride in the direction of three prominent peaks in the Kangal Mountains to the north. They were to head directly toward the middle one to stay on the proper azimuth to the Janoon village.
.
1000 HOURS
LIEUTENANT Bill Brannigan and Chinar rode side by side as the headquarters group continued due east. Senior Chief Buford Dawkins and Frank Gomez were out on point, keeping them on course, while Hospital Corpsman Doc Bradley brought up the rear of the small group.
The going had been rough for a while after they ran into some terrain that included several deep gulley systems similar to the area where Chad Murchison was wounded. One area was so cut up that the group had to make a detour, going back in the direction they came from to swing out wider to the south. Following that disruption, they enjoyed five kilometers of easy riding across some flatlands before reaching an area filled with natural potholes. At that point the quintet had to slow down to avoid injuring the horses, who had to carefully pick their way through the pitted terrain.
As the ride progressed, Brannigan began to worry about the different teams spreading out too far. He checked his position on the GPS, then raised the section commanders to tell them to keep their people along the same longitudes as much as possible. If contact was made with the enemy, the response would have to be closely coordinated and timely.
.
1030 HOURS
CHIEF Matt Gunnarson was startled when the Pashtuns to his direct front suddenly broke into a mad gallop, heading straight ahead at breakneck speed. Within seconds the rest of the tribesmen joined them. Expecting the worst, the chief spoke into his LASH to the rest of the team.
I don't know what goosed 'em, he said. But expect the worst. Could be they spotted the enemy. Draw your M16s and form as skirmishers. Dawson and Burke, stay where you're at. Miskoski, pull up between me and Dawson. He waited until they were properly formed up. At a trot, march!
The SEALs sped up, riding across the open ground at a steady pace, each man holding his M16 ready. After a few moments passed they saw what had caught the Pashtuns' collective attention. The Janoon village was a couple of kilometers ahead. By the time the Brigands arrived on site, the Pashtuns were dismounted and mingling with the villagers, laughing and talking as they greeted each other.
At that point Chief Petty Officer Matthew Gunnarson lost it.
Goddamn it! he yelled in a fury. What the fuck's the matter with you shitheads? Get some security out! The fucking enemy could be just over the horizon!
The people, some grinning while others frowned in puzzlement, looked at the foreigner who was bellowing gibberish at them. The natives could see no point in being worried and upset. Everything was fine. At that point the SEALs made a simultaneous decision to set an example. Tiny Burke went to the front of the village and took up what was obviously a guard position. Joe Miskoski and Pete Dawson did the same thing to the right and left sides. Pashtuns may be excitable and impetuous, but they're not stupid. In less than a half minute they realized what the Americans were doing. The warriors immediately got their AK-47s and split themselves up to join the SEALs. Some others went to the far side of the village to stand watch there. Now the chief petty officer relaxed. Things were beginning to look better.
Then a salvo of shots came in from the left front, followed by some from the right front. A couple of beats later, incoming fire was directed at them from the direct front. Matt went to his LASH again. Brigand Boss, this is Alpha at our objective. We are under attack. I say again. We are under attack. Out.
Now it was Brannigan's voice over the net. Sections and teams report!
First Section, over! replied Cruiser.
Second Section, over! answered Taylor.
Next came Fire Teams Bravo, Charlie, and Delta.
All sections and teams, head for the Alphas at the Janoon village. Out!
As the rest of the detachment along with their native allies swung toward the target area, Chief Matt Gunnarson joined the fighting lines. There wasn't enough time for any organization or direction. The enemy was already headed toward them at a gallop. To the defenders it appeared as if an entire cavalry corps was charging down their throats.
.
THE BATTLE
THE 79 Russians had broken down into previously organized echelons with Valentin Surov leading the most forward group of 28. Directly to his left rear came 25 more under the command of Aleksei Barkyev, while to his right rear, and spread out a bit more, came 26 led by Timofei Dagorov. All around them, riding insanely without form or discipline, were 335 close-packed Pashtun fighters, bumping against each other and breaking up the Russian lines as they intruded into their space.
THE SEALs and Pashtuns in the village began firing into the mass of horsemen pounding straight at them. Aiming wasn't necessary. They simply pointed the bores of their weapons at the horde and made rhythmic pulls on the triggers. Some of the ammo was tracer, and the fiery streaks behind the slugs lit the trajectories of the rounds. All
went directly into the attacking formation.
SUROV had to swerve wildly around two men and their horses, who crumpled to the ground to his direct front. Humans and animals tumbled in a dust-raising mass of yelling and neighing.
At that point the Russian losses were light, but the crazyass Pashtuns were getting blown out of their saddles at a heavy but acceptable rate. The former army officer had plenty of natives to spare, and was not particularly concerned about the losses.
The attacking force went straight through the village, arriving on the other side in a disorganized jumble of Europeans and Pashtuns with their horses crowding and pushing together in a nervous mass. Surov shouted orders in two languages to restore some discipline to the formation, and the two groups began pulling apart to team up with their own ethnic brothers.
CHIEF Petty Officer Matt Gunnarson was an experienced combat leader with the ability to maintain a steady hand over the situation while keeping his mind working a few steps ahead of what was going on at any given moment. It took him only an instant to realize the attackers had been forced to pause to reform their ranks, and he immediately jumped into action to take advantage of the brief lull.
The first thing the chief did was go back to his bellowing and gesturing. The three other SEALs of Alpha Fire Team knew exactly what he had in mind, but their Pashto comrades in arms could only guess at what was wanted of them. Matt's primary concern at that point was to get all the women, children, and old people into a safer area. He decided to abandon the central and western parts of the village, and hole up in the eastern area. That way the civilians could crowd into the buildings and hunker down while the fighters positioned themselves for more assaults.
The SEAL team leader was relieved there were no heavy weapons, such as mortars and machine guns, to deal with, nor did any of the enemy seem to possess grenades. This was going to be a gunfight, pure and simple, and he had figured out a couple of ways to turn things to his favor. At least he hoped he could last until the rest of the Brigands arrived.
Within a minute, all the natives caught on to what was wanted of them, and the population began running toward the indicated area as their tormentors still milled around on the west end. They crowded into the homes and workplaces, getting within the walls that offered protection from the small arms fire. The valuable horses were also led into the structures without any protests from the people.
The chief spotted a pile of sandbags on top of the building that was used as a lookout post. He yelled over at Pete Dawson. Get your butt up in that fighting position and cover us while we get organized down here.
Dawson obeyed wordlessly, scrambling up a ladder. A half dozen Pashtuns, seeing what was going on, reacted in their usual excitable way by following after him. Within seconds, the SEAL was nestled behind the barricade with three fighters on each side. He stood up long enough to glance out past the houses on the west side.
Hey, Chief! he yelled down. It looks like they're gonna take another run at us!
When the Pashtuns below saw the chief, Miskoski, and Tiny Burke run to places that offered excellent fields of fire, they followed suit. The group was no sooner situated than the pounding of hooves and yells of attackers could be heard thundering straight at their defensive positions.
The attacking mass was broken up by the scattered housing of the village, and this channeled their assault into a half dozen paths. The defenders concentrated their fire in those areas, but they were too few to make much of a dent in the 400 horsemen they faced.
GUTSY Olson and his Charlie Fire Team, along with forty-two Janoon fighters, galloped swiftly across the open country northward toward the village. The Janoons, in an area they knew well, were aware their destination was the smallest village of their clan. Although their knowledge of English was practically nonexistent, they instinctively sensed the very real danger for a group of their people. Illiterate people have a special instinct of comprehension that has not been dulled by memorizing symbols representing sounds that are then put together to form words. Their eyes perceive intent, purpose, and objectives in group activities such as hunting and war. This is done through instinctive interpretation of the physical action of people, animals, and, under certain circumstances, even climatic conditions. Sociologists, psychologists, and anthropologists refer to this collective sixth sense as the EAS, i. E., the Environmental Awareness Syndrome. Some consider the phenomenon spiritual or even supernatural, likening it to the primal but successful herbal and healing processes used by primitives all over the world.
SUROV ordered a halt on the eastern side of the village, but instantly changed his mind and led his force that now numbered a bit under 400 farther away to get out of range of the defenders' fusillades. Aleksei Barkyev rode up to the Russian leader. Valentin Danielovich, he said. We must keep up the pressure. Every time we hesitate, we lose more men when we charge again.
Surov laughed. You mean to say, Aleksei Ivanovich, that we lose more miserable Pashtuns. No more than five of our comrades have given up the ghost in all this fighting.
Now Timofei Dagorov left his unit to join them. How long is this going to take?
What's the rush? Surov asked. Do you have a crowded social calendar today?
Dagorov grinned. I am simply hungry and wish to eat. It has been a while since breakfast.
Then I shall hurry things along, Surov quipped. When I order the next charge, I want you two to have your men hold back long enough to let the Pashtuns get ahead of us. Then we shall follow them to the objective, using them as cover.
The pair swung their horses around to ride back to their units. Surov stood in his saddle with his AKS-74 above his head. Hamla kawi!
The Pashtun horsemen struck their animals with quirts, then stuck the whips in their teeth as they charged back toward the village. They immediately came under heavy fire from the close-packed defenders who once more delivered volleys from the cover of the buildings they occupied.
PETE Dawson, still on the roof, now had sixteen fighters who had joined him. Together the group poured sprays of 5.56- and 7.62-millimeter steel-jacketed slugs into the mass of men who galloped directly into their line of fire. Numerous figures were knocked spinning out of their saddles to bounce and roll across the walkways between the village buildings.
The return fire from the charging tribesmen of the Mahsud, Kharoti, Bhittani, and Ghilzai clans was not well aimed, but there was plenty of it. The uncoordinated but heavy swarms of bullets slammed into the defensive positions, gouging hunks of mud from the buildings and splattering into living flesh.
The Russians came in close behind them, protected by human shields as they swept through the village to the far side.
BILL Brannigan had maintained a canter to allow Charlie Fire Team to catch up with the five-man headquarters group. As soon as Gutsy Olson and his trio of SEALs joined them, the nine men broke into a gallop northward toward the scene of fighting.
Ensign Orlando Taylor, his SAW gunner Doug Mac-Tavish, and Delta Fire Team were only a scant five kilometers behind them, while up to the north Alpha Team was even closer to the besieged Janoon village. And close on their trail, Jim Cruiser led Tex Benson and Bravo Fire Team toward the same objective.
These SEALs brought a total of 152 Pashtuns to join the 4 Brigands and 35 Janoons fighting at the village.
BRANNIGAN and his bunch were the first to arrive at the battlesite. They came in from the north, the Americans spread out in a galloping line as skirmishers with the Pashtuns bunched up in their usual disorganized way. When they first spotted the enemy, the bad guys were on the far eastern side of the village, preparing to make another run at the defenders. The Russians and their pals were mingling as they formed up, making easy targets for the new guys in town.
When the mass of flying bullets crashed into the attackers, they instinctively pulled away from the source of incoming rounds. At the same time, Matt Gunnarson spotted the reinforcements, and ordered mass firing to increase the advantage. The result was a
crossfire that emptied more enemy saddles. This time the Russians were dropping as thickly as their native buddies.
Surov did not have to give any orders to pull back, and it wouldn't have done him any good if he attempted to maintain control. The minute they tried to withdraw from the unexpected attack, another group hit them from the south. This was Ensign Orlando Taylor, his SAW gunner, and the Delta Fire Team. Five M16 rifles and the one M249 squad automatic weapon joined the salvos directed at the attackers. The Russians and Pashtuns were so close-packed that many of the falling corpses and wounded men collapsed on top of each other as they fell to the ground.
Now Lieutenant (JG) Jim Cruiser, Tex Benson, and the Bravo Fire Team joined in the melee. What had been a battle of resistance with little hope for the defenders had turned into a meat grinder for the attackers. Saddles emptied perceptibly as the Russian-Pashtun force made an impromptu and sloppy run for safety in an eastern direction. The SEAL relief force turned to follow as Matt Gunnarson's guys, along with their Janoon buddies, fetched their horses from the buildings to mount up to join in the chase.
By the time the run was at top speed only Valentin Surov and a half dozen Russians were still noncasualties. Of the original number of Pashtuns who rode with them, no more than 15 percent were still alive. After a kilometer of flight, the two groups instinctively split up, with the Russians galloping toward the nearby Kangal Mountains and the Pashtuns heading for their home villages.
The pursuers also parted company according to ethnicity. The SEALs pressed on after the Russians while the Yousafzais and Janoons, all swearing badal, furiously pursued their tribal enemies.
Combat Alley (2007) Page 25
