Three men tried to run out the door. They died in a heap just outside. Men crawled out windows on the ground floor, but were splattered with rounds. A fire broke out in one of the buildings. Men screamed and tried to return fire, but they didn’t have a chance. As targets died, the volume of fire fell off.
“Cease fire,” Murdock said. One man staggered out the door of the building not burning, stumbled, and collapsed on the ground outside. Green-clad men pushed forward toward the buildings, then, when they saw the carnage, dodged behind the buildings or ran the other way.
“Fire at any green shirts you see alive,” Murdock said. The sniper rifle replied at once. A man trying to run from one of the buildings to the other made it only halfway before a round took him high in the chest and he fell, slamming hard into the dirt and grass, not to move again.
More shots drilled into the afternoon as rebels tried to get to the back of the buildings.
“Bravo, with DeWitt, move out double time back to the trail and downstream,” Murdock called on the Motorola.
A minute later he ordered Alpha Squad to move in the same direction.
“Bradford, use the Motorola and tell the chopper we’ll be down there in ten minutes.”
There was no return fire or any pursuit. The rebels were in total disarray; those who were left alive were still in hiding.
It took the SEALs ten minutes to jog the mile down the trail to the clearing where the forty-six waited, its rotor turning slowly. The SEALs crashed on board. Murdock counted heads. He came up with eighteen and ordered the chopper to fly.
“Casualty report,” Murdock said into his Motorola so the men could hear him over the chopper noise.
“Checked, Skipper,” Mahanani said. “Only one is the j.g. with his old one, the shot arm. It busted loose, but I did some ointment and a new bandage and he can do the rope climb again.”
“Nothing else?”
“We don’t count scratches and sprains. We’re in good shape.”
“Don’t forget Lam and me,” Lieutenant Ejercito said. “We’d like to be dropped off between these two camps. Anywhere along here.”
“Right.” Murdock went up to talk to the pilot. Two minutes later he set down on a small harvested field beside the stream.
Lam and the Filipino Army lieutenant jumped out of the chopper and took their duffel bag. Lam already had the SATCOM strapped to his back. “Keep in touch,” Murdock called. “Use that SATCOM every night at midnight. We’ll be listening for your call. Tac One.” Lam waved and headed for the brush and concealment.
Murdock waved at them, and the pilot jolted the big bird back into the sky. They had a start. They had reduced the rebel garrison by what he figured was at least thirty men, and demolished one of their headquarters.
As the CH-46 clattered its way over the jungle and ridges back toward Davao, Murdock began to work up his after-action report for Colonel Alvarez. He still wasn’t certain about the man. He wasn’t Muslim, so how could he have any connection with the rebels? He might have spent a lot of his time in this Muslim province, but he was most likely Catholic. There would be no report about Lieutenant Juan Ejercito and Lam being left behind to do advanced recon work. Not a word about that. There had been no sign of the hostages in the large village. Where could the rebels be keeping them?
The briefing was a total surprise for the colonel, and he couldn’t contain his shock.
“You say you captured the one small village, but there were only three rebels there?”
“That’s right, Colonel. We questioned the survivor and he told us about another village only ten miles upstream.”
“Yes, good. Now we know where another one is. We’ll have to plan to hit that one. Maybe the hostages are there.”
“They aren’t, Colonel. We hit that village this afternoon.”
Murdock and DeWitt gave him the report on the attack on the large settlement.
The colonel began to sweat. He mopped his forehead and scowled. “So, you attacked the village and think that you killed thirty of the rebels. Yes, good news. I’ll relay that on to the President. He’s interested in this hostage situation. Says it makes our whole nation look bad.” The colonel fiddled with an unlit cigar that he had been holding.
“This brings up a chain-of-command problem, Commander,” he said. “We follow the chain strictly here in the Philippines. No subordinate takes independent action. All operations must be cleared by my office or by me personally. This is to maintain a balance in the operation and to be sure that you don’t attack villages full of innocent civilians.”
“Yes, sir. I understand. However, in the field, there must be a certain amount of flexibility in any army or fighting force. When a target of opportunity presents itself, there is no time to call back to headquarters for permission to attack.”
The colonel smiled. Murdock figured he knew he was in command here and held all the trump cards. “I can see your point, Commander. However, in this situation you’re in a sovereign nation, and you must be guided by our rules and laws. I’m sure your senior officers would agree with that.”
“Understood. We’ll make every effort to plan our operations with your guidance and intel about the rebels.”
There was a commotion at the door; then it opened and a man in civilian clothes backed in talking to someone in the other room. He turned around, and Murdock grinned.
“Hey, Murdock and DeWitt. Hi, you guys.” Don Stroh, their CIA contact, turned to the colonel. “You must be Colonel Alvarez. Heard about you. Tough assignment out here in the boonies with all these Muslims shooting up the place. But we have the help that you need. Sorry I’m late, men, but I had a holdup in Manila. I still don’t know why. Some kind of official intelligence agency problem. But now I’m here to get to work.”
“Colonel Alvarez, I’d like to introduce you to CIA Agent Don Stroh,” Murdock said. “He’s our control and advisor and contact with the CIA director, the Chief of Naval Operations, and the President of the United States.”
Colonel Alvarez nodded and after a pause, reached out and took Stroh’s hand.
“Welcome to my country, Mr. Stroh. We’re just getting started on this operation. Looks like it could take a while.”
“Colonel, with the SEALs on board, the whole thing could come to a head faster than you could hope for.”
“We were just finished with our briefing after today’s set-to, Stroh,” Murdock said. “Could I buy you a cup of coffee and get you up to date?”
“Sounds good. The officers club looked interesting.”
They were dismissed by the colonel and headed for the club. Murdock derailed them back to the SEAL quarters.
“Stroh, this place seems to be so full of leaks it would make a sieve jealous. My guess is that the rebels know everything we’re going to do, as soon as we get it planned out. We’re not too sure about the colonel. I’m not saying he’s feeding us to the rebels, but he sent us on two missions. The first one showed us a deserted village and two hung spies with messages. The second one we found three rebels.”
He told Don the rest of the story, and Stroh was surprised by the colonel’s reaction.
“You sure he wasn’t mad that he wasn’t in on the hit? That he couldn’t take any of the credit? Some top brass get feeling hurt that way. Might be worse over here.”
“So, anything new on the hostages?” DeWitt asked.
“Figured you’d know. Two Dutch hostages were ransomed out this morning. Some of the other countries are caving in. We think there are still about fifty-five hostages.”
“If there is a problem with Alvarez, is there a general somewhere we can appeal to for cooperation?” Murdock asked. “We need the choppers for our attacks. Alvarez authorizes them.”
“I’ll see what I can find out. Must be a general out here somewhere. Anybody hurt?”
“DeWitt picked up an in-and-out in his arm couple of weeks ago, but nothing else.”
They entered the SEALs building, and found the men had
finished cleaning and oiling their weapons and had all their gear ready for another attack.
Inside the big room a voice cranked up.
“Well, if it isn’t the D.C. society set’s favorite boy toy, Don Stroh,” Jaybird cracked.
Stroh grinned. “Jaybird, those ladies really know how to take good care of a guy. Not that I’m bragging, but would you believe eight times in one night?”
“Wouldn’t believe two, Stroh,” Ching yelped, and everyone cheered.
“Good to see you guys in such good spirits,” Stroh said. “This one could get ugly. The President wants those American hostages back yesterday.”
“We’re working at it.”
“Where’s Lam? He off his feed?”
Murdock told the CIA man where Lam and the Filipino officer were.
“Yes, I love it. Spy work right here on the ground. I’d guess you didn’t tell your favorite colonel.”
“Not yet. Not until we have to. We’ll make contact with Lam tonight at midnight, see what they’ve found.”
Stroh frowned, then rubbed one hand over his freshly shaved face. “Think that I should make a call to Manila. I met a general there who is a good friend of our resident field agent here. See what I can find out about the command in this region. There may even be a general hiding out somewhere on this base. I’ll find a secure phone somewhere and make some calls.”
Murdock checked with the Senior Chief. All was well. The men were ready and waiting.
“Figure some sack time tonight and maybe no mission tomorrow,” Sadler said. “We’ve got to give Lam some time to come up with something out there in the boondocks.”
“I’m betting they do,” Murdock said.
After chow, the men sat around their quarters talking. Murdock came in, and DeWitt slid over and got into the play. They were talking about the security.
“Don’t seem like they got shit for security here,” Ostercamp said.
“Maybe they want it that way,” Sadler said. “They bring us in, then give us bad intel, and if we get some good shit they leak it to the rebels, who are long gone by the time we get there.”
DeWitt joined in. “Look at their record so far. They sent us on a mission to an empty village. Then the next day we hit a small village with the great big total of three rebels in it. So far they have shown us next to nothing. If it wasn’t for that prisoner talking today, we’d be zippo out of two. As it is, our only success is when we did it ourselves, and without telling anyone in the Philippine establishment.”
“I’m with the j.g. on this one,” Vinnie Van Dyke said. “Hell, the top brass must have brought us in. The local brass doesn’t like getting stepped on, so he shits all over us and we get pulled out and it ain’t no skin off his chin.”
“Fuck ’em all,” Franklin said. “Hell, if they don’t want us here, I’d just as soon be back in Coronado cruising for some hot redhead who is just crazy to get laid.”
There were a few huzzahs and shouts.
Murdock chuckled. “Hey, Franklin may have the right idea, but for now we’re stuck here, so we do what we can. Say Lam gets a hot prospect for us, a big camp or even where the hostages are. How do we go to Colonel Alvarez and tell him we want six choppers to go in and bring out the hostages? He’s gonna say where and how do you know, and then we have to confess that we don’t much believe in his intel and we think he’s a traitor to his country and he should fuck off.”
“Then he whips up his .45 and shoots the Skipper, and we shoot him and his aide, and we have our own war right here on base,” Canzoneri said.
“We might have to come up with something soon if Lam snoops out a new target for us, say by tomorrow night. They can’t have much for us tonight. First they’ll have to figure out where to go and look. My guess would be on upstream on the same river.”
“How can we go around the colonel?” Sadler asked.
“There may be a way,” Murdock said. “Stroh is working on that right now. The only obvious way is to outrank him. Get a local general to take over the hostage problem so he can authorize choppers for attacks and eventual hostage rescues.”
By 2350 most of the SEALs were out of their bunks, or waiting around the SATCOM, which Bradford had turned on to receive. Midnight came and passed. Nothing happened. They looked at the SATCOM set, and somebody yelled at Bradford to check his dish setting for the satellite. He did, and the set gave him a small beep that it was ready.
By a quarter after they had heard nothing from the radio. Half the men went back to bed. At a quarter to one, Murdock motioned to Bradford to turn off the set.
“They must be moving, or running out of a problem, or maybe just trying to get in position tonight to monitor something tomorrow,” Murdock said. “Get some sleep.”
The rest of them went back to their double-tier bunks. Murdock lay there not able to sleep. Why hadn’t they called in? He told Lam to call every night at midnight. Maybe he didn’t think he needed to call tonight. Yah, maybe. Still, Murdock couldn’t put down a feeling of unease at the situation. Were Lam and Lieutenant Ejercito alive and well, or had they been caught, tortured, and then executed by the Muslim rebels?
9
Jungles of Mindanao
Near Davao, Philippines
A half hour after the chopper took off, Lam and Juan Ejercito lay in the brush watching the rebel Muslims pick up the pieces of the attack on the two buildings. They had left the duffel hidden and hiked back up to check out the blasted rebels.
“We really kicked the shit out of them,” Lam said.
The Filipino lieutenant grinned. He had told Lam to call him Juan, it would be easier. “We did. Those twenty-millimeters are astounding.”
They had counted twelve different men working around the building. The two motorcycles were totaled. They wouldn’t even be good for parts.
“Motorcycles are the elite transportation in here where there are no real roads,” Juan said. “Only the top men own them. Which means we may have wiped out some top brass in there.”
“Hope so. Are we through here, or what?”
“Thinking of grabbing one of the survivors and doing some gentle questioning.”
“Great idea. You see anybody with stripes on his green sleeves?”
“I don’t think they use any rank. Just leaders and followers. If you don’t know who is who, you don’t belong in the group and get yourself shot dead.”
“Tough outfit. We wait until dark to snatch one?” Lam asked.
“Best. Then we can take him into the brush, question him, and he won’t be missed until morning. By then we’ll be halfway to their new GHQ, or whatever location we get out of our friend.”
The rebels carried bodies out of the building.
“Laying them out in a row,” Lam said. “Must be going to have a mass Muslim funeral.”
“Never saw one,” Juan said.
They counted as the bodies came to the line. Juan saw the last one. “Twenty-eight,” he said. “That will put a big hole in their ranks. Three hours to dark, five or six until I can snatch a live one. Let’s take a sleep period. Can you wake up on demand?”
“Not usually.”
“I can. Back into the jungle a ways, and watch for snakes. They move around this time of day.”
* * *
At 2200, Juan roused Lam. “Time, Lam. We’ll move up about where we were before, but closer. You’ll cover me with the MP-5, but fire only if I’m in big trouble and can’t get out by myself. That means at least four of the bastards pointing guns at me. I’ll go in with my pistol and knife. Should be enough. No combat vest.”
Lam watched the soldier slip through the woods to the cleared area, then come upright and walk toward the old headquarters as if he belonged there. Two men passed him without a glance. It was dark enough that his uniform nearly matched that of the rebels. Here they all had green shirts and pants. There were few lights in the village. Candles and kerosene lamps, Lam guessed. None showed in the burned-out building, only one in t
he other structure.
Juan headed for it. He was only a dozen yards away when a man came out and hurried toward him. Juan said something and the man stopped. He motioned and as he did, Juan put the five-inch blade of his fighting knife into the man’s side so the point gouged in a quarter of an inch. Juan put his arm around the man’s shoulders, and they walked quickly toward the brush and the jungle.
Two minutes later they were in the cover and Juan had put a gag around the man’s mouth. They hiked farther into the jungle, past a swampy area and to a slight rise. Lam figured they were a mile from the village.
The prisoner looked young. Lam had given up trying to figure these men’s ages. He could have been sixteen, but was probably in his late twenties. Lam guessed he was five-five and maybe 120 pounds. A lightweight.
They were in a small rocky clearing. Juan jerked the gag off the man and spoke pleasantly to him a moment in Filipino. Then, with no warning, Juan slugged him hard on his jaw and knocked him down.
“Get up,” Juan roared.
The man struggled to his feet feeling his jaw.
“Now we get serious. How many rebels were killed today?”
“Six.”
Juan hit him with a jab that splattered his nose and brought a froth of blood that ran down and dripped off his chin. He staggered backward but kept his feet.
“How many?” Juan asked again.
“Twenty-eight.”
“That’s better. What’s your name?”
“Piang Miguel.”
“We make a deal, Piang. From now on you tell me the absolute truth and I won’t hit you. Agreed?”
“Yes.”
“Who rode the motorcycles, your leaders?”
“Yes.”
“Were they both killed?”
“Both, yes.”
“How many rebels were here before the attack?”
“About forty-five and some women rebels.”
“Where did your leaders go to report to their superiors?”
“Down the river almost to the coast. Near the town of Lebak, but inland about ten miles.”
Ambush sts-15 Page 9
