He and Murdock left the building and ran back to the warehouse, where General Domingo studied a map of the area. He glowered at the news of where Muhammad might be.
“We’ll take all our men,” he said. “We move up from all four sides of the church and the small rectory. Then I’ll go knock on the door and talk to the priest.”
Murdock called his men up, told them to come fully equipped with weapons and combat vests, and they marched out in patrol order.
The Catholic church sat on a lot of its own with no other buildings around it. The rectory perched beside it. Since this was a poor village town, the church was modest, a wooden structure painted white with a gleaming cross over the two-story building.
SEALs took the south and west sides of the church, finding hiding places and cover up to fifty yards from the structure. Rangers covered the other two sides. When all were in place, General Domingo walked up to the church and knocked on the door. No one answered. He checked his watch, then opened the door and walked inside. He was alone.
Murdock’s men were closest to the church door. “If we hear any shots, even one, we’re charging that door. Alpha Squad on the front door, Bravo take the side and back doors.”
They listened, but heard nothing.
Inside the church, the general took off his floppy hat and looked around. No people. Only some candles burning at the altar.
“Hello,” he called. A moment later he called again.
A small priest in his clerical dress came from a door near the front, saw the general, and hurried up.
“I’m so glad you came. They were here all night, but are gone now. They ate everything in the rectory and made me go get more food. There were seven rebels and six hostages. They said if I told anyone they were here, they would shoot me.”
“When did they leave, Father?”
“At daybreak. They hurried out the door and toward the river. I watched them. They went north along the highway. I couldn’t see them far.”
“North?” Domingo thought about it a moment, nodded, and thanked the priest, then hurried outside.
Murdock relaxed when he saw the general. Domingo called the troops together and told them what the priest had said.
Juan frowned and spoke up at once. “I need to do more work on our rebel captive.”
“We haven’t heard anything about the APC,” Murdock said. “We should check with the townspeople to see if they have seen the armored carrier anywhere. If he has it, that might be a last resort.”
Domingo motioned for Juan to go back to the warehouse. The general nodded. “Yes, Commander. A good idea. We’ll use all of our men to canvass the whole damn town. We can do it in two hours. Officers, assign your men to the areas and let’s get asking questions.”
The survey wasn’t total, but Murdock figured they talked to people in at least eighty percent of the buildings and houses. An hour later one of the Rangers came on his Motorola.
“We have a sighting of the APC,” he said. “A man saw it come out of a garage building just before daylight and drive toward the highway. You can still see where the treads tore up the street.”
Five minutes later Domingo and the others looked at the track marks on the soft dirt street, and followed them to the highway. The driver had angled into his turn before he hit the blacktop, giving away the direction he would go on the hard surface. He had turned north.
“Back to the helicopters,” Domingo barked. They all jogged three blocks to the improvised LZ.
“Once that machine turns off the hard-surface road, we’ll be able to see the marks the tracks make and follow him. Everyone with full combat gear and ready to take off in five minutes,”
Murdock’s men were ready. They loaded in one of the two helicopters waiting. Soon the Rangers arrived and crowded into the other bird, and they both took off.
The choppers flew low and slow. One bird watched the surf side of the highway; the other chopper did the same on the mountain side. They worked out two miles, retraced the area to be sure it was clear of any tread tracks, and moved on down the highway. Twice more they doubled back to check their work. By the time they were about six miles out from the town, Domingo used his Motorola.
“We have a turn. Plain as day the tracks come off the road and go up a narrow dirt lane.”
“Here we should get cautious, General,” Murdock said. “Remember those RPGs they have and the fifty. How about some altitude and a high-level survey first to see what we can find. Must be some buildings up here.”
“Yes, Commander. I agree. I was getting too anxious. Let’s go up to two thousand feet and see what we can find. There should be some buildings here somewhere.” The birds circled as they climbed, and Domingo used binoculars as he tracked the vehicle below.
Murdock said the rebels should have known better. Someone on the ground fired an RPG at the choppers at their two-thousand-foot altitude. Not a chance the grenade would get that high. Even before it reached its zenith and turned down, Murdock had put two rounds of 20mm into the area where the smoke trail showed that the rocket had been fired from.
He had shot out the side door, and had no idea if he hit the rebel below.
“At least we know we’re on the right track,” Murdock said. They circled another five hundred feet higher, remembering the fifty-caliber weapon somewhere below. The plain here was three miles wide before the mountains lifted up in a gentle series of hills.
“I’ve still got the tracks,” Domingo said. “They turn off the road and leave a highway of broken shrubs and plants through the small growth of trees. But I don’t see any buildings. Yes, there, just ahead. Looks like an old ranch house that the jungle has taken over. Could be some livable places inside.”
“Incoming,” Murdock bellowed. He pushed his Bull Pup out the forty-six’s door and got off one round at the wisps of blue smoke coming from a small clearing below.
“Got to be the fifty MG,” Murdock said. “Get us the hell out of here,” Murdock bellowed at the pilot. “He’s got a mile range with that fucker.”
The chopper jolted to the left and then the right as it dropped quickly to get out of any firing pattern.
The bird Domingo was in had tried the same maneuver, but the other way. “We’re hit,” Domingo shouted into the Motorola.
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“We’re not hit too bad, and the pilot says he can fly to the left and down, but not with much maneuverability. Must have hit some of the control wires. We’re maintaining control, looking for a cleared spot. Down to a hundred feet and out of range of the MG. Murdock, are you all right?”
“Not hit, and we have a good sighting on the spot where the tracked rig stopped. We’ll go treetop level and the MG won’t be able to get on us. I want to rip a dozen rounds of twenty into that area and see if we can discourage the MG and maybe cut up the APC or some of the men.”
“We’re almost down, Murdock. Figure we’re about a half mile from the tracks and that dirt road. We’ll assemble and move your direction. Don’t mistake us for the rebels.”
“That’s a roger, General. We’re treetop now and coming in from the other direction. He won’t even hear us until we’re almost on him. I have three twenties shooting out the left-hand door.”
Murdock moved to the floor and got into firing position. The other two twenties were aimed over his head.
“Almost there,” he shouted. “We’ll get there and bank away and give us a broadside. Coming up. Banking, now.”
All three weapons fired one round into the area where they could see the sandbagged position of the fifty-caliber MG; then they were away and hugging the treetops again. They heard the fifty-caliber fire, but none of the rounds came close.
“Once more from a different angle,” Murdock yelled at the crew chief, who told the pilot.
The second run at the position was better, and they could see the machine gun set up on a tripod and the men trying to turn it to bring it to play on the chopper’s sound. They banked, and all three fired at
the machine gun. They saw the twenties hit, and this time there was no answering fire.
They pulled away, and Murdock told the pilot to find the other chopper and set down near it. He did. The SEALs poured out of the bird and Murdock put them on double time, tracking the Rangers on their way to the showdown with Muhammad.
The SEALs caught the Rangers as they had taken cover in the jungle along the narrow road. Murdock used the Motorola and put his men in the jungle cover.
“We had one round of fire from in front,” Domingo told Murdock on the radio. “I sent a three-man patrol up there to flush him out. One of them has a radio. No word.”
They waited five minutes, then moved ahead cautiously. The Rangers were out front. The radio crackled. “Hey, we’ve been under attack. Somebody shooting arrows. Yeah, Jose took one in the shoulder and it hurts like hell. We can’t hear them, can’t see them. Who the hell shoots arrows anymore?”
“The Negritos?” Juan said.
“Maybe coconut hunters,” Lam said.
“Talk to them in Filipino,” Juan said. “Tell them that we are not chasing them, we’re looking for the bad men with long guns.”
The radio was silent for a while.
“Would it help if we told them we know one of their chiefs?” Lam asked. “What was that little guy’s name we ate wild pig with?”
“Could help. Tell them we know Blackie and his band,” Juan said.
There was some talk on the radio that was not aimed at the mike. Soon the voice came on the radio again.
“Okay, all clear here now. I told him that we knew Blackie, and he said the chief with the funny talk was known to them. They are here to collect coconuts and take them back into the hills.”
“Let’s move up,” General Domingo said.
The Ranger scout out front with a Motorola moved slowly, watching everything he could in the dense jungle growth. Twice he stopped and listened, then moved ahead. He was halfway across the open plain when a submachine gun chattered directly in front of him, and only the dense growth saved him. He jolted into the moist ground cover and waited. The weapon fired again at close to the same place, but six feet over, missing him. He lifted up, but couldn’t see the shooter.
“I can’t dig this guy out,” the scout said.
“How about an EAR?” Murdock suggested. “Enough of the shock wave should get through the brush and growth to knock out the shooter.”
Domingo agreed, and moved his man with the borrowed EAR to the front. He crawled up to the scout. They whispered a moment, then the Ranger fired the EAR where he was instructed.
“Move up cautiously,” Domingo ordered. The two men crawled and wormed their way twenty feet forward, and found one rebel sleeping at the switch, his weapon at his side. They bound him hand and foot, took his sub gun, and the scout moved out again.
“EAR worked good,” the scout said. “I’m moving forward.”
Five minutes later the Rangers passed the sleeping rebel and worked ahead through the jungle.
The Ranger scout came on the air. “General, I’ve got a sandbagged machine-gun position dead ahead. Not over forty yards. Lots of jungle between us, but I can see him. Behind that it looks like the outline of a building of some kind, but it’s been entirely overgrown with jungle vines and trees.”
“Hold there,” General Domingo said. Murdock moved forward as well with Lam. They all converged at the point man about the same time. Domingo had brought an EAR gunner with him.
“That should be the hideout right behind the MG,” Domingo said. “We can’t use the EAR unless we want to carry everyone out.”
“Sir,” Lam said. “I can move over there about thirty yards so I’ll be shooting at the MG nest, and the rest of the power will go out in the jungle, not inside the building.”
Domingo looked at Murdock. “Are they that directional?”
“From what we’ve seen before, General, I think it would work the way Lam said.”
“Move out,” the general told Lam. “Lieutenant Quezon, bring up the rest of the men. Extreme quiet. Not a sound. DeWitt, bring up the SEALs too. No sound. We’re about thirty yards from the old building.”
Murdock used his binoculars on the vine-encased building, but couldn’t see much inside. It was like looking inside a tree. At last he spotted something moving deep in the structure. Yes, there were men in there. It would be worth the risk. Only, where were the hostages?
Lam radioed that he was in position. The rest of the troops had not arrived yet. Then Murdock growled deep in his throat. As he watched, six civilians were marched out into the open just in back of the machine-gun nest. They were in plain sight, some even with shafts of sunlight slanting off them. Four women and two men. The rebels darted back into the old building.
“Hold fire, Lam,” Murdock said. The general nodded. “What the hell can we do now?”
General Domingo contacted his men and told them to hold in place.
Lam whispered into his mike. “Skipper. Remember how tight the focus is on these things, maybe only four feet wide at a hundred yards? I’m at a different angle from you. I can still see into the old building, and I have an eight-foot slice of space between the backs of the hostages and the inside of the building. Plenty of space to get off some shots without harming the hostages.”
Murdock grinned. He looked at the general.
“Yes, Lam, take your shots,” the general said. “Do it now. Do four shots in forty seconds. Quezon and DeWitt, bring up the troops. We need the best snipers we have up closer.”
“Every man behind a thick tree,” Murdock said. “After that first EAR shot, all hell is going to break loose from that machine gun. Hold fire for a minute, Lam. We need to get situated.”
The men found thick trees and stood behind them.
“Fire when ready, Lam,” Murdock said.
Murdock watched around his tree. He concentrated on the machine-gun crew less than forty yards away. The gunner’s head jolted toward the whooshing sound; then he pivoted the machine gun in that direction. Murdock had a clear shot. He aimed the Bull Pup on 5.56 on single-shot, and before the machine gunner could pull the trigger, a deadly slug jolted into his chest and knocked him off the gun. The second gunner rolled him out of the way and got behind the automatic weapon. Murdock’s second shot nailed him in the throat.
Lam’s second EAR shot blasted into the structure behind them.
Murdock leaned out. “Hostages, run to either side of the gun emplacement. Get lost in the jungle. Go now before those inside recover.”
One man translated, and the hostages scuttered away, walking, running, and semi-jogging. There were no shots from inside the building. Murdock sent twelve rounds into the machine-gun nest, and saw the third man there half stand, then dive over the side of the parapet but not quite make it. He didn’t move.
“Let’s go in,” Murdock said. Lam stood and rushed forward. The EAR was around his back and his Colt M-4A1 in his hands. Murdock charged across the forty yards with General Domingo and his scout right beside him. They darted into the vine-covered structure and saw the whole place go dark.
“Like a tunnel in here,” Lam said. He held up his hand, and everyone stopped moving. They could hear nothing. Then what could only be a door banged shut. Lam saw in the dark better, and he ran forward, past a green wall, around some old furniture that was molding and falling apart, and through what could have been a grand living room. Then he was at an outside door that perched half-open on long-rusted hinges. Lam pushed it all the way open and jumped behind the wall.
Six hot lead messengers blasted through the open space. Lam turned his head to hear better out the door, and heard someone crashing through the jungle.
“Left side clear,” Lam said. “Skipper, we’ve got one live one, maybe as many as three, heading out through the jungle.”
Murdock slid to a stop beside him.
“What the hell are we waiting for?”
They ran into the heavy, green, moist growth for ten
yards, and Lam stopped, listening. General Domingo had not been close enough to go with them. Lam pointed to the left and they moved that way, slipping through the growth, making as little noise as possible. Twenty yards forward and Lam stopped again, with Murdock right behind him. Lam listened.
“They’re heading for the road,” Lam said.
“What good will that do them?” Murdock asked.
The roar of a diesel engine came suddenly from somewhere directly ahead.
“The damn armored personnel carrier,” Murdock said.
“Shit. Our twenties ain’t gonna put a dent in that baby. What is it, one of ours they stole?”
“Probably one we sold to the Philippine Army and the rebels snatched it. What kind of main gun does it have?”
“Jaybird would know,” Lam said.
“Wrong,” their earpieces reported. “Jaybird doesn’t know. Not enough input. The U.S. has two or three types. Could have anything on it up to a forty-millimeter front gun. We’ve seen them before.”
“Yeah, the tracks,” Murdock said grinning. “And Lam and I both have two quarter-pound chunks of TNAZ.”
“Let’s go get it,” Lam said.
They plowed through, past, and over the jungle growth. They sensed that the machine was moving away from them, but not quickly. It couldn’t knock down the big trees. Evidently it had been driven in as close as they could get it to the old ranch house and parked.
“So, they must have a track back out of the heavy stuff,” Murdock said. “We find the track we can run it down. In this stuff they can’t make more than maybe ten miles an hour.”
It took them five minutes to catch up to the APC enough to find the wagon-wide track through the less-dense jungle. It had bulled its way in past some good-sized trees, and around them, flattening many smaller ones. Now going out was easy.
“Tracks,” Lam said, and took off on a sprint toward the sound of the diesel engine and the clanking of the tracks. They could see ahead fifty yards, and the rig wasn’t in sight.
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