Ambush sts-15

by Keith Douglass

  Murdock and the others in the room were silent.

  “One more thing. I won’t have any insignia on. I know that you men function as a team and there is no rank in the field. The two leaders do everything every other grunt does. I can do that. I’m coming, or you’re not going. Clear enough?”

  Murdock grinned and held out his hand. “Welcome on board, sir. What will we call you?”

  “Domingo has worked for forty-two years; in the field I’ll be Domingo. I’d like an hour to fire some of your weapons.” He looked at one of his aides. “Captain, take one of the SEALs and get the weapons and ammo, and come back and pick me up here. We’re due on the range in fifteen minutes.”

  “Jaybird, go,” Murdock said. The two men left the room quickly.

  “I’ll check on ammo and see what we need,” Senior Chief Sadler said. He hurried out.

  “Not much we can plan on this one, General. We’ll go in, find an LZ as near the place as we can, then hike in and take the compound down. We won’t be able to use our hot weapons because of the hostages. This will be a surgical strike, not a broadsword bash. If there are only fifty defenders, we should have no trouble. My big worry is that they will use the hostages as shields.”

  “We go in silent,” DeWitt said. “We go in with knives and the two EARs, and try to take down all the awake guards around the hostages before we fire a shot.”

  “Great minds,” Murdock said. “So, if we can control the hostages from their quarters and fire out, we’ll have the war half won.”

  “Then we mop them up and call in the choppers,” De Witt said. “They will be back in Davao by then, so we’ll have a fifty-minute wait.”

  “Worst possible?” Murdock said.

  “If they have enough guards inside the hostage area to hold it and we have to try to take it down from the outside.”

  “Right, and if they threaten to execute a hostage every five minutes unless we withdraw, and they shoot the first one,” Lieutenant Juan Ejercito said.

  “Don’t even suggest that,” Murdock said.

  “What’s this EAR weapon?” the general asked.

  DeWitt explained it to the general.

  “It doesn’t harm them in any way?” General Domingo asked.

  “Not that we can tell. Maybe a headache or two, but nothing serious or lasting.”

  “I must admit that as an old infantryman, I’m amazed at what I hear about this twenty-millimeter rifle. It actually shoots a twenty and you can get airbursts with it?”

  Murdock went through it for him. Then he looked at his watch. “Sir, we better get back to the men and get set up for tonight. We’ll need extra chow and some late chow, and probably some new ammo. Who will our contact man be?”

  “Major Ramos will handle that for you,” the general said. “My car should be here. I’ll be in your quarters without any insignia and in jungle cammies to get outfitted with gear at 1800.”

  The SEALs jumped to attention as the general walked out the door. Murdock looked at DeWitt. “I just hope to Christ that we don’t come out of this mission with a wounded or dead general.”

  Juan shook his head. “Hey, he’s a legend in the Army. One of the top rebel fighters of all time. He can do it all. I was pleased when he was sent over here to take command.”

  Murdock nodded. “I hope he’s that good and that we don’t have any bad luck on this one. It could get a little grim.”

  * * *

  Back in the barracks/general room, the SEALs took the news of an assault with a few cheers and a lot of calm professionalism. This was their job, they’d do it.

  When Jaybird came in an hour later, he was all smiles. “Hey, that bloody general can shoot. He’s a natural. Took to the Bull Pup and the EAR after one quick run-through. We’re not going to have any trouble with him.”

  “Trouble?” Vinnie Van Dyke asked. “What does he mean, trouble with the general?”

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you guys. General Domingo is coming along with us on this mission. He’ll be fitting into Ostercamp’s slot. Don’t worry, he’s a combat man who’s been fighting the rebels and guerrillas around here for ten years. Probably has as many kills as most of us. He came up through the ranks from private.”

  “No rank in the field?” Bradford asked.

  “Oh, damn right,” DeWitt said. “He understands that. You won’t see any stars on his shoulders when he’s with us.”

  They finished prep for the mission, then went for an early chow that had been arranged.

  “Nice to have a genuine general on your side,” Fernandez said. “He lifts a brow and things get done.”

  Just after 1800 Domingo arrived. He had walked over from his office. He wore jungle cammies and a soft hat; all had been well used. On his hip he had a .45 automatic in a battered holster.

  Jaybird had dug into their replacement supplies and laid out a complete setup for Domingo. As soon as he came in he held up one hand. All conversation stopped.

  “Men, my name is Domingo. I’ve had some experience fighting these rebels over the years. I’ll be going with you. Call me Domingo. I’ll fit in wherever I can. Thanks.”

  Jaybird motioned, and Domingo looked at the gear. He grinned. “Oh, yes, I dreamed of a setup and weapons like this a million times. Now I can use it.”

  Jaybird had him outfitted in a half hour and familiar with all the gear. He loved the radio.

  “What weapon do you want to carry, Domingo?” Jaybird asked. The small pleasure of using the man’s name and not rank seeped through.

  Domingo grinned. “Whatever weapon the wounded man had. I’ll fill his slot.”

  Jaybird grinned. “Ostercamp had the H & K NATO 7.62- round machine gun. You better talk to the j.g., Mr. DeWitt, about your weapon. It’s his call.”

  The new Filipino sergeant was outfitted as well with equipment that Sergeant Estrada had used.

  By 1900 the SEALs were on the tarmac in front of the hangar where the forty-six sat warming up its engines. Murdock had a chance to talk to Domingo.

  “General, on this mission I won’t use your rank again. We do need a little chat. Out here in the field we have no rank, but I’m still in charge. On this mission, you answer to me. I’ll listen to your ideas as I will the rest of the men’s, but the final decision in everything is up to me. Do you agree?”

  “Absolutely, Murdock.”

  “For this mission, in the field, I outrank you. I don’t think we’ll have any problems. You’ve done your share of rebel chasing, so we’ll get along fine.”

  They shook hands, and Murdock went out to talk to the chopper pilot. He was a captain, and his nameplate said he was Samar. Murdock told the captain their destination, and indicated that he should drop them off, and then turn around and fly home.

  “I want you on a five-minute alert the rest of the night and all day tomorrow back here at the field. Better sleep in your flight suit. When it’s time to come out, we’ll have to get out of there fast.”

  “Understood, Commander. We have no set LZ?”

  “Right, we don’t want to alert them that they will have company. We’ll check out the area. It’s in the mountains, or on the slope of a mountain, which won’t help. If there’s any danger to the bird, we’ll do a rope drop keeping you thirty feet off the deck.”

  “Sounds like good insurance. I’m ready for you to load. Oh, I won’t be taking a door gunner or a crew chief on this run. Saving some weight. Besides, my chief is down sick.”

  * * *

  The chopper took off precisely at 1910 and turned west toward the mountains. The southern part of Mindanao had mountains just behind Davao, Murdock had learned, then a fairly wide plain in the middle and a ridge of mountains near the west coast. Those were the ones they would drop in on.

  Murdock wished he could come up with some kind of a strategy or a plan, but there was nothing they could do until they were on the ground and could determine the layout of the place and where the strengths and weaknesses were. They had about
forty-five minutes of flying. It was nap time for most of the SEALs. The three Filipinos sat rigid, unable to relax.

  Murdock dozed once, came alert, and checked his watch. They were more than halfway there. He went up to the pilot.

  “You know these ridges over here, Captain Samar. Any places where you can find a good LZ?”

  “Not usually. More likely a little opening in one of the valleys between the ridges. Like the ones we’re coming up on now. See how they peak and then run down the other side? No real level spots except if the valley below is wide enough and some stream has gouged out a flat place here and there.”

  They were shouting to hear each other over the noise of the helicopter. Looking down, Murdock saw some flashes.

  “Gunshots from down there?” he asked.

  “Yes, some wild-eyed rebel with an AK-47 trying to be a hero,” Samar said. “Those rounds could hurt us if they hit us, but not much chance of that. They routinely fire at our Air Force planes. That’s partly how we know where the areas are the rebels control.”

  “We need to go up a little higher?”

  “Not on my flight plan. We’re still two thousand feet over those rifles, and that’s straight up. Seven hundred yards is a long shot for a rifle against a little target like we are.”

  They flew for another five minutes, and Captain Samar said it would be about ten minutes before they would start looking for an LZ.

  The impact of the rifle round came like a bright star. The bullet grazed the canopy and made a long crack in the Plexiglas. At the same time three more rounds hit the chopper and the pilot scowled.

  “Damn, somebody has our range,” the pilot said. He jerked the bird to the left and down to get away from the bullets. Murdock almost fell when the pilot jolted the helicopter to the left.

  “Anything vital hit?” Murdock asked.

  “Should know in about two minutes. Worst problem could be an oil line. Not very well protected on this model. I’m moving lower toward that ridge up there. See the one in the moonlight? It has a lot of trees, mostly pine in here, but sometimes there are landing spots. Probably should check out the bird on the ground if I can.”

  They came in lower and slowed, and then Samar saw an open place. It was an area of slab rock twenty yards square where nothing would grow. The pilot grinned and pointed at it.

  The CH-46 was dropping down now closer to the ground and heading for the rock sheet.

  They were ten feet off the ground and over the rock when the engine quit, the rotors wound down, and the big bird dropped straight to the rock slab below.

  “Hold on!” Murdock bellowed; then they hit. The landing gear smashed flat, the body of the bird slammed hard into the rock, and they all heard sheet metal crumpling. The craft slued sideways and the rotors slammed into the rocks and shattered.

  To Murdock it seemed five minutes before the huge metal box stopped smashing and falling and tipping. Then it all quieted.

  “Get out the doors, now,” Murdock brayed. “Might catch fire. Move, move, move.”

  He grabbed Captain Samar, who seemed dazed, unstrapped his belts, and pulled him back toward the doors. The craft lay on its side. One door was facing the rock slab; the other side door was straight overhead. The big ramp door on the back had bounced open and yawned to one side.

  “Out the ramp,” DeWitt barked, and the men struggled to sit up, then stand and move toward the opening. Murdock had to help the pilot. They were the last ones out, and Murdock saw that DeWitt had moved the men off the rock into the fringes of trees twenty yards away. He struggled that way with the captain.

  Bradford and Howard ran out to help them.

  They stared back at the bird. “Casualty report,” Murdock snapped. “Alpha Squad, any injuries?”

  “Sprained ankle,” Lam said, “but I can walk on it, no sweat.”

  “Twisted shoulder, but not bad,” Ching said.

  “Bravo Squad?”

  DeWitt spoke up. “Murdock, we’ve got one broken arm and a batch of bruises and scrapes. We’ll live. Khai has the busted left arm down by his wrist. Mahanani is working a splint on it now.”

  “Everyone has his equipment and weapon?” Murdock asked.

  “Oh, shit,” Howard said. He raced back to the wounded forty-six, and slipped inside.

  “Thought for sure it’d be burning by now,” Captain Samar said. “Must be fuel and oil leaking all over the place. That hot engine could spark it.”

  “Howard, get out of there,” Murdock screamed.

  The big black man slipped past the ramp and ran full tilt for the woods. Five seconds later the whole forty-six blew up like a Roman candle in July. The explosion slammed Howard forward and drove him to the ground. He covered his face with both big hands, then when the first force of the blast was past, he stood and hurried to the rest of the platoon. He carried three rifles and a combat harness and the big first-aid kit from the chopper.

  “All right,” Murdock said, staring at the shadowy faces in the darkness. “Anybody else want to try to be a fucking dead hero?” He looked around, but nobody said a word.

  “We’ve got a situation here. Captain. How far do you think we’re from the last ridge to the coast?”

  “Six, maybe eight miles. About three ridges over.”

  “This is our situation. Oh, Domingo, you okay?”

  “A little shook up but fit for duty, Commander.”

  “Good. Juan and Kalibo?”

  Both said they were shaken up, but okay.

  “We’re eight miles from our target. We lost our transport and our only way to contact Davao. The portable radio we were going to bring with us is now melted into a puddle of cooling metal. No help will be coming from Davao. Samar here won’t be overdue for another hour and a half back at Davao. I don’t know about the Air Force’s search and rescue. Will they send out a bird on our course, Captain?”

  “Not until daylight.”

  “So we do it on our own. No bullshit now. Can everyone hike up and down these fucking hills?” There was a chorus of Hooo-yas. “If somebody can’t hike we’ve got to know now, so you can stay with the burned-out hulk here so the S & R can find you. Sound off.”

  Silence. A night bird off somewhere wailed out a mating call.

  “Okay. Captain Samar, what was our compass heading for the hostages?”

  He sang out with the azimuth reading.

  “Get on it, Lam. You’re point. Samar, you were shaky coming away from the chopper. Can you hike these hills?”

  “Yes, sir. I can make it for eight miles.”

  “Kalibo and Domingo. You both ready to move?”

  Their two voices answered, and Murdock nodded.

  “Okay, Lam, head out. Bravo behind you and Alpha will bring up the rear. We’re in single file at five yards. If anyone doesn’t have at least one long gun, sing out.”

  Silence.

  “We should have seven Bull Pups and two EARs. Lam, stay five yards in front of Bravo. Let’s chogie out of here.”

  Murdock thought the jungle would be thinner up on the higher slopes of the hills. Now he decided the higher the slope, the more rain and the more vegetation. It was hard going as they hiked down the side of the ridge, across a small stream, and up the far side.

  Khai fell on the way up the next hill, and screeched in pain.

  “Man behind Khai, take his weapon,” Murdock said into the radio.

  “Got it,” Jefferson said. “I’ll help him now that he knows he needs it.”

  Mahanani found Khai’s bruised and swollen leg, and wrapped it a dozen times with tape. He gave Khai some pain pills, and they kept hiking.

  Lam was just over the top of the ridge when he stopped, and used the radio. “Murdock, you and the locals better take a look at this.”

  “What do you have?” Murdock asked on the net.

  “I don’t have the foggiest, Skipper. Not too sure I want to go down the other side. From what I can see from here, there seem to be about twenty fires down in the s
mall valley below and then one large fire that lights up half the jungle. Come on up and take a look.”

  16

  Mindanao jungle

  Philippines

  Murdock, DeWitt, Juan, Domingo, Lam, and Kalibo lay on the crest of the ridge and stared down at the fires burning three hundred yards down the hill in a small valley.

  “Cooking fires,” Juan said.

  “So it could be a company of regulars down there eating their late supper,” Lam said.

  “Could be,” DeWitt said. “What’s the big fire for?”

  “Domingo?” Murdock asked.

  “Can’t tell. Cooking fires, for sure, but we’re too far into the brush here for regulars, as regular as rebels ever get. Why would they be in here? Not reasonable.”

  “This is one of the areas the government has set aside for the aborigines,” Juan said. “There are more than sixty different groups of ancient and original people of these islands. A lot of them want to maintain their original culture. Lam met some of the Negritos, the pygmy tribe. There are dozens of others, like the Tasadays, here in northern Mindanao. They are Stone Age people who knew nothing of iron or steel or modern man until they were first discovered in 1971.”

  “You think these could be some such tribe?” Murdock asked.

  “I’ll go see,” Lam said. He looked at Juan, who grinned and stood.

  “I’m with you, Lam.” The two faded into the jungle growth below the ridgeline and worked their way down toward the fires.

  “Why the big fire?” Lam asked Juan.

  “Looks like a ceremony of some kind. A wedding, a death, a change of leader. Maybe they killed a couple of big deer and a wild pig or two and decided to celebrate. I did a paper on our aborigines when I was in college. We toured six different tribes.”