Call to Duty

by Richard Herman

  Ahead of them, two Focke-Wulfs were rolling in on a Mosquito. “Pick!” Zack shouted over the radio. “Break right! Bandits at your six o’clock!” But the warning was too late. The lead Focke-Wulf was in the saddle, its guns firing, chewing the tail, then the right wing of the Mosquito away from the fuselage. F for Freddie pitched into the ground going over 300 mph.

  “Come…to…Jesus,” Zack growled, biting off each word, as he hit the switch that injected nitrous oxide into the carburetors, overboosting the Merlins. The Mosquito shrieked in vengeance as it closed on the trailing Focke-Wulf.

  “Damn!” Ruffy shouted as the two Focke-Wulfs pitched back toward K for King. Zack’s inner warning alarm that had never failed him was quiet and he pressed the attack, not knowing that he was facing one of the most accomplished and dangerous fighter pilots in the world—Generalmajor Adolf Galland.

  FIFTEEN

  The Golden Triangle, Burma

  “Time to go,” Kamigami said.

  Woodward paused, taking one last look around the command room deep in Chiang’s bunker. “He’s got to be here,” he grumbled.

  “He is,” Kamigami answered. “But we don’t have time to root the bastard out.” He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. He wanted to find Chiang and make the mission a total success. They did not curse their bad luck for neither believed in it. For them, a victory was earned by hard training, planning for as many contingencies as possible, and then violent execution. But luck had become a factor because they were still wet from wading through the pool to get into the grotto. “Do you feel that?” Kamigami asked. A slight, almost imperceptible movement of cool air brushed against them. They would have never noticed it if they had been dry.

  “An open vent,” Woodward answered. He moved back into the command room. Low against the wall, they saw the grill of an air vent. Woodward held his hand out. Nothing. They quickly worked around the room, testing the vents until Woodward found the source of the air. Woodward pulled the grill aside and probed the darkness with his flashlight. “Here’s his bolt hole,” he said. “In we go.” He crawled into the air shaft. Ahead and around a bend, they could hear scrambling. “Tallyho,” the captain said as he scooted down the duct. Kamigami contemplated the opening and shook his head. There was no way he could fit into the opening. He moved to the door to discourage any unwelcome guests. The only sound he heard was a series of dull thuds coming from the air shaft followed by a dragging sound. Kamigami unsnapped his canteen and took a long pull, needing the drink. “Do you mind lending a hand?” Woodward called from the opening as he backed out. Kamigami hurried over and helped him drag an unconscious Chiang out of the shaft. “The bloody bastard didn’t want to come,” Woodward explained. “So I had to give him the needle.” He felt the side of his face that had the making of a bad bruise.

  “That looks about boot-sized,” Kamigami observed.

  “It is. His.”

  “Where did you inject him?”

  “The foot. Where else?”

  Kamigami picked Chiang up in a fireman’s carry. “You lead,” was all he said. They retraced their steps out of the bunker.

  Fastback’s teams were aboard Gillespie’s helicopter, Rascal One, and strapped in. The security team holding the LZ had pulled in and were ready to board. The two sergeants responsible for making sure no one was left behind told Mackay that “three are unaccounted for” as he made his way forward. On the flight deck, Gillespie was sitting in the right seat with his night vision goggles in his lap. He didn’t need them in the growing light. He turned in his seat while Mackay slipped on a headset. “Colonel, we’ve got to launch, there’s some unfriendly Gomers out there. Saw ’em when we came in. But leaving three men behind sucks….”

  “Launch,” Mackay said. The clock had run out.

  Gillespie nodded and told the gunners to board the security team. A crisp “All on board and ready to go,” came seconds later from the rear. Gillespie reached for the throttles and they lifted into the air.

  “Colonel,” Gillespie said as they gained speed, “this fuckin’ A sucks. I think we should hit E-Squared for a refueling, find a safe place to orbit, and try to establish radio contact with the men still on the ground. What the hell, we can call Spectre in if we need some industrial strength firepower and stay in the area until the backup Pave Low gets on station. Colonel, if they can make it to an open area, we can get them out.”

  “Let me talk to Hammer,” Mackay said. The copilot turned Mackay’s wafer switch so he could transmit on the Have Quick radio and talk to the two colonels on board E-Squared’s MC-130.

  “Be advised,” Mallard radioed after hearing Mackay’s proposal, “that Bigboot has two WIA and Rascal Two must return to base at this time. Situation critical.”

  Mackay acknowledged the transmission. At least one of the WIA, wounded in action, was very serious. “They aren’t going to go for it,” he told Gillespie. He was wrong. Mallard came back on the radio and told them to rendezvous with the MC-130 for a refueling. Fourteen minutes later, Gillespie moved into the receive position behind E-Squared’s dark Combat Talon MC-130. He hummed “Try a Little Tenderness” as they plugged into the trailing refueling drogue for a drink of much needed fuel.

  Andy Baulck was waiting for Kamigami and Woodward as they came up the ladder into the grotto. “Trucks are in the compound,” he warned. He led them out of the grotto and through the garden. “I think the best way out is through the cell block,” he said. Woodward jerked his head in agreement and the three men worked their way around the compound and through the shadows until they reached the low building containing the cells where DC and Ricky had been held. They were almost to the last heavy steel door between them and the hole that Baulck had blown in the outer wall when they heard noises behind them.

  “Coming our way,” Kamigami said. “They need a little discouragement.”

  The British captain nodded, pushed the door open, and dove through it. “Clear,” he whispered. Baulck waited until Kamigami had pushed through with his burden before he followed. Woodward half-closed the door as a shield and screwed on the silencer to his submachine gun. He pointed to a grenade on Baulck’s LBE and gave him the ready sign. The sounds of running feet on the other side of the door were much louder. Woodward thrust the muzzle of his MP5 around the edge of the door and mashed the trigger. Only the muffled, distinctive clatter of the submachine gun carried down the hall. “Don’t need the grenade,” he said.

  “Shame to waste it,” Baulck said. He quickly tied one end of a length of copper wire around the grenade’s detonator, holding it in place, while he rigged the other end to the door. Within seconds, the booby trap was set and he followed the other two men through the breach in the wall.

  “Hammer, how copy?” Kamigami transmitted over his hand-held radio. The three were in the truck Fastback had left for them and Baulck was driving, going at full throttle down the road.

  A scratchy voice came over the radio. “This is Hammer. Say call sign.” It was Trimler.

  Relief showed on Kamigami’s normally impassive face but he had a problem—he didn’t have a call sign. “This is the ground element of Fastback. Over.” He waited.

  “Roger, Fastback Ground,” came the reply. They now had a call sign. “Say status,” Trimler said.

  Kamigami allowed a smile. “Clear of objective and moving,” he answered. He was afraid to say too much in case they were being monitored but he had to tell Fastback that they had Chiang. “Mission accomplished and no casualties. Our next objective is Blue Four.” Blue Four was one of the backup landing zones that had been identified during the planning stages of Jericho.

  “Copy all, Fastback Ground,” Trimler replied. “Remain this frequency.”

  “They got the message,” Kamigami told the other two.

  “Company is on the way,” Woodward said, motioning back down the road. “Many guests coming our way and I do believe they have a complaint.” He seemed unconcerned as he studied his map. “Int
eresting choice, Blue Four. We should abandon the truck about here.” He pointed to a spot on the map and punched coordinates into his GPS monitor. The digital readout gave him a direction and distance to the place where he wanted to ditch the truck. “About eight more kilometers,” he calculated. The GPS gave him straight line distance and the road was anything but straight as it twisted and turned through the jungle highlands. “Then I make it three kilometers through the jungle to the bottom of the karst. It will be a hard scramble to the top but it should be an easy pickup.” The landing zone Kamigami had picked was located on top of one of the high limestone ridges called karsts that rose out of the jungle. This particular karst formation had steep sides and a relative flat top that was over five hundred feet above the surrounding jungle. It looked much like a badlands mesa in the middle of a jungle.

  The White House, Washington, D.C.

  The green light above the door of the Situation Room had been on for three minutes, signifying that the President was on his way. Mazie stood when the doors opened and Pontowski entered. He was followed by Cox and Burke. She was struck by how haggard he looked and, for the first time, fully realized that he was an old man. Yet age had not diminished his intellectual abilities and only his body had worn out. Mazie waited until he sat down before she dropped her plump figure back into her chair. She waited for him to speak.

  “What’s the news, Mazie?” Pontowski had no trouble reading her face.

  “Mostly good, sir,” she answered. “All of the hostages have been rescued and are on their way out of Burma. The helicopters should be in Thailand’s airspace now. One of the team was killed, two wounded, one of whom is very serious, and three unaccounted for. We didn’t get Chiang.”

  Pontowski stared at the wall.

  “Mr. President,” his chief of staff, Leo Cox, said. “That’s an acceptable trade-off for a mission of this type.”

  Burke said, “Now’s the time to cut and run, Mr. President.”

  The President still said nothing. Mazie watched as he drew on some deep inner resource and put the concern for his wife on hold. “Who are missing?” he asked.

  Mazie’s face paled and she forced an iron will over her voice. She did not want to crack now. “Command Sergeant Major Kamigami and Captain Woodward, the British exchange officer, and an ISA operator, Andrew Baulck.”

  “What was Woodward doing there?” Burke snapped.

  “Unknown at this time,” Mazie answered. Her voice was stiff and controlled. “But we’ll find out.”

  The President’s eyes were locked on her. “Please tell me the details,” he said. Mazie shuffled the papers in front of her, marshaling her thoughts. When she started talking, her voice was matter-of-fact and normal but her face was still drained of all color. Within moments, she had recapped the situation.

  “That’s all we have for now,” Mazie said. The lieutenant colonel running the Situation Room handed her a new message. She scanned it and blood raced to her cheeks. She was glowing when she looked up at the President. “The mission commander has reported that Captain Woodward, Sergeant Kamigami, and Baulck have escaped from the compound with Chiang in custody. They are moving toward a pickup point. The command ship is staying in the area with one helicopter and Spectre to try for an extraction.”

  “Was this planned for?” Cox asked. Mazie shook her head. “Sir, we’re up against many unknowns,” he reasoned. “We need at least one backup helicopter, preferably two, before we go into an unknown situation like this for an extraction. Otherwise, we compound the danger of losing the one helicopter, not to mention the people on the ground. I think we should hold off until we can get our forces lined up.”

  “Take the time to position our forces and do it right?” Pontowski asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Cox answered.

  “I agree,” Burke chimed in.

  “Do we have the time?” Pontowski asked, remembering when the clock had run out for Operation Jericho years before.

  “That’s an unknown,” Cox answered. “We’re only talking about a few hours’ delay.”

  Do we have the few hours? Pontowski thought. What was the best course of action now? He didn’t know. He looked at Mazie, studying her face before he spoke.

  The Golden Triangle, Burma

  Time had become lost in motion as Baulck tried to match Woodward’s relentless pace through the jungle. It amazed him that Kamigami was still carrying Chiang over his shoulders and keeping up, sandwiched in the middle. The sergeant called a halt and dumped Chiang on the ground. “He’s coming around,” Kamigami told them. Chiang was regaining consciousness from the knockout injection Woodward had given him and was blinking, trying to focus his eyes. He shook his head and finally saw Kamigami. It wasn’t a pleasant or reassuring sight to wake up to. “Stand,” Kamigami commanded.

  Chiang struggled to his feet and looked confused. “Water,” he rasped. His throat was raw and dry. Woodward handed him a canteen and let him take a long drink.

  “Captain,” Kamigami said, “you lead. Baulck, you follow with Chiang. I’ll bring up the rear.” He swung his MP5 to the ready and waited until they had disappeared into the underbrush before he followed.

  “Move it,” Baulck said, pushing Chiang after Woodward. But the general stumbled and fell. Baulck bent over him. “You don’t seem to understand the rules, fuckhead,” he growled. “I’m not a nice guy like the CSM who didn’t mind carrying your yellow ass around.” He pulled his knife and drew the razor-sharp blade across Chiang’s neck. “I do mind and won’t do it. But I won’t cut your throat like the nice sergeant. I’ll gut you and stake you out belly down on an anthill, like that one over there.” He grabbed Chiang’s shirt and rolled him over onto his back and cut his belt and the waistband of his pants.

  “I’ll keep up,” Chiang whispered. Baulck let him get to his feet.

  “Would you quite futzing around,” Kamigami said from the underbrush.

  “Just explaining things to the general,” Baulck replied.

  The foliage started to thin as the ground rose in front of them. Chiang was panting for breath when a sharp stitch jabbed at his side, causing him to flinch in pain. He paused, shot a look at Baulck, who had again drawn his knife, and rushed ahead, falling farther behind Woodward as the slope grew more steep. The faint sound of pursuers crashing through the underbrush behind and below them was growing louder. Then his left calf muscle cramped and he fell to the ground as slivers of pain shot up his leg. Baulck closed on him, ready to make good his promise. But Kamigami was right behind and pushed the ISA operator out of the way. He scooped Chiang up in a fireman’s carry and followed Woodward. Slowly, the sounds of their pursuers faded as the three men set a killing pace, now moving more parallel along the slope than up it.

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Chiang said, believing that only Kamigami was protecting him from Baulck. “I think I can walk on my own now,” Kamigami dropped him onto his feet and he took a few hesitant steps before moving faster.

  Woodward waited until they caught up with him. “The steepest part of the karst starts about two hundred meters ahead,” he said. “Don’t need those blokes chasing us when we go scampering up to the top.”

  Kamigami nodded and the three men quickly redistributed their remaining grenades. “See you on top,” he said and turned back toward their pursuers.

  “Time to do it,” Woodward said and led them up the last part of their climb, using the vegetation for handholds.

  Mallard listened to the metallic voice coming over the SatCom radio, the computer-driven encryption and decryption stripping away its human qualities. But the transmission gave him hope. “You are cleared to proceed with the extraction per your recommendations,” the voice said. “Minimize casualties and expedite.”

  “We’re still in the driver’s seat!” Mallard was exultant.

  “With some very big restrictions,” Trimler added. “But I think we can do it.” With a big slug of luck, he mentally added.

  Moving downslope prove
d to be easy as Kamigami retraced his steps. The terrain was familiar and allowed him to mentally work the problem. He had to, first, close on their pursuers without being seen and, second, lay an ambush that allowed him to escape. He had no illusions about his chances nor did he intend to needlessly sacrifice his own life. He paused when he came to the edge of a small clearing they had skirted earlier. The grass was ragged and barely knee-high. The recent rains had knocked much of it down and allowed little hope of concealment. This is the place, he thought. He listened for a moment, before he plunged into the open, running through the grass in a zigzag pattern. Then he was in the shelter of the trees on the other side. Again he listened. Nothing. Aware that a gentle breeze was blowing in his face, he sniffed the air. Still nothing. But he knew that they had to be nearby. He searched the foliage until he found what he wanted, a long thin branch. He carefully cut the branch free, making sure not to leave any signs of his work, before he cut it into four sections about two feet long.

  He moved back into the clearing and retraced his steps, making the trail even more obvious. About two thirds of the way across, he reached the most open part where the grass was the lowest. This was the optimum place to set the ambush. He planted two sticks in the grass eight feet apart and parallel to his trail. The sticks were set back as far as he could reach without leaving the path. Then he stretched a length of thin wire between them to serve as a trip wire and tied a grenade to the base of one of the sticks. He carefully extracted the pin and used one end of the trip wire to hold the grenade’s actuator handle in place. It was a delicate operation and even a strong gust of wind could move the grass enough to set it off. Anyone even brushing against the wire would detonate the grenade. He set up a similar trap on the other side of the trail before he moved into the safety of the jungle. He moved into cover where he could see the trail.