“Make sure, Franklin.”
The SEAL came away from a building and ran forward checking each of the Chinese. The Motorolas spoke.
“All down and out, Skipper,” Franklin said.
“We move forward.”
A half-hour later they came to a series of small streams and then the banks of the Ganges, the holy river of India. The bank had been terraced and concrete platforms built at the water’s edge so pilgrims could come and wash themselves in the sacred water.
“Upstream,” Murdock said. “Maybe fewer platforms and a dock or two with a boat.”
It was a quarter of a mile farther before they found any boats. Most were flat bottomed and too small to carry even six SEALs. A hundred yards on upstream they found a sturdier dock that angled into the river. Tied up there was a thirty-foot boat that looked large enough to hide the fifteen SEALs. Lam looked it over and came back with a grin.
“Looks like a winner. She has a diesel engine, room for fifteen, and if I read the gauges right, lots of fuel. There’s no guard onboard or anyone else, and I didn’t see anyone on the pier.”
“Let’s go steal a boat,” Murdock said.
They moved up and watched the boat and the pier for ten minutes. Nothing happened. Lam and two men slipped on board and checked the craft again. Two minutes later, Lam waved from the gangplank and the SEALs hurried onboard.
“Can you start the engine?” DeWitt asked Lam.
“Hey, does a dog have fleas? You betcha. You ready, Skipper?”
Murdock waved and Lam vanished into a small wheelhouse. A moment later the engine coughed, stuttered, then came the rhythmic beat of a diesel engine.
“Cast off,” Murdock said, the bowline came off the dock, and they moved out into the Ganges. In the dark, the river looked a mile wide. Lam headed for the middle of the channel and turned downstream. He saw no other boats on the river.
The craft had been used to haul freight down the river, but now was empty. It was just large enough so all of the SEALs could sit or lie out of sight.
“We’re making ten knots,” Lam said. Murdock nodded.
“That means it will take us twelve hours to get into the bay.”
“From the wear on the throttle lever, looks like five to maybe seven knots is the normal cruising speed,” Lam said. “That five knots with the current of five should keep us at ten knots. I could goose it up a notch, but we might burn up the engine.”
“Keep it at the ten knots,” Murdock said. “Then we might have some reserve if we need it.”
Nobody had mentioned it, but they all knew that China had a Navy. Had they brought over any boats to this area? It was a long way from China. They may have taken over some Bangladesh river patrol boats. Either way they would be just as deadly. Murdock hoped that they didn’t see any.
He kept trying to watch the shores. Usually they faded into distance and the haze. For a small country with such a large population, the place seemed relatively uncrowded here in the country. He saw only an occasional light, and no real town along the banks. But it was a long river.
In the bright moonlight he could see where massive flooding had taken place recently. The country was mostly a flat plain and made up of the silt of millions of years from the Ganges. That made it almost at sea level and tremendously at risk for flooding. Every few years devastating floods hit the country. Murdock remembered that ten years ago when the floods hit, there were thousands dead and over twenty-five million homeless.
They plowed down the river. They had been on the river since 0030. That meant they had another five, maybe six hours before daylight. That was when Murdock expected trouble. There would be no way the Chinese would know where to look for them. The trouble might come if a Chinese patrol boat came alongside to inspect the boat or just to harass the crew.
Lam had the con. Vinnie Van Dyke was their best small boat sailor, but he was still in the hospital on the carrier. Most of the SEALs had sacked out on and below the deck. Murdock hadn’t named any lookout. He did the job himself. Lam would need some relief at the helm. Bradford would be the next man up.
Murdock went into the little wheelhouse and waved at Lam. There was a small light over the control panel.
“So far, we’re winning,” Lam said.
“Lots of miles to go yet, sailor. In another hour I’ll get you a relief pilot. What’s the routine, stay in the middle of the channel and hope we don’t hit a sandbar?”
“About the size of it. Saw some small arms fire back there a ways. None of it came our way.”
“If the Chicoms are all over the place, I can’t see them,” Murdock said. He paused staring into the moonscape. “Maybe they’re just in the population centers.”
Two hours later somebody nudged Murdock awake where he had been sleeping in the hold.
“Trouble, sir. Looks like a patrol boat.”
Murdock came awake in an instant, recognized Mahanani’s voice and jumped to the deck.
“Twin lights and a searchlight coming at us. Range maybe two thousand yards and closing.”
“Wake up the troops and have them lock and load. We could be in for some action.” Murdock wished he’s brought a pair of binoculars. This wasn’t supposed to be long-range work. He stared into the moonlit darkness ahead of them. Yes, running lights and a searchlight swinging back and forth over the water. The boat was on the far side of the river working the far bank. Already Lam had angled the craft toward the right-hand bank.
Murdock moved up beside him. “Want me to shut down the power and let the current run us downstream?” Lam asked.
“Take longer to get by him that way. No sense in giving him more chances to see us. With his motors running he won’t be able to hear us in this little tub. Wonder what kind of armament he has?”
Murdock had checked the book on Bangladesh before they left the carrier. She had three frigates in the 340-foot class. With any warning at all, those craft should have put to sea until the problem on land was resolved. He couldn’t remember the type of patrol craft they had but they would probably have some in the 195-foot class and more of the 120-foot size.
Murdock guessed that the larger ones had taken off for sea, as well, which would leave the smaller ones to be captured and used until the Chinese Navy arrived. That type patrol craft would probably have radar, missiles, and some 25mm twin guns. Way too much firepower for them.
“Let’s find some overhanging trees or vines and try to hide behind them against the shore,” Murdock said.
Lam eased the craft closer to shore, scraped over a sand bar and moved out again. “That won’t work,” Lam said. Ahead they could see a small river entering the main flow.
“Give it a try?” Lam asked.
Murdock checked the patrol boat. Still twelve hundred yards off.
“Yeah, nose in easy against the flow and see if it has a bottom.”
The small ship angled more sharply to shore, had to turn back against the current to get into the downstream slant of the river entry. Then Lam edged forward a few feet at a time. A small curve in the tributary showed just ahead. Lam checked the riverbank. They were nearly screened from the patrol boat.
“Another twenty yards, Skipper,” Lam said.
“Go.”
The little boat edged farther up stream until Lam decided it was far enough in, then he used just enough throttle to keep the boat in the same spot against the two-knot current of the small stream.
Murdock saw his men moving into firing positions around the craft. He hoped they didn’t have to work against the missiles and the 25mm twin guns, which could chew this little wooden boat into shreds in minutes.
“All quiet on the boat,” Murdock whispered into the mike. The SEALs knew the drill. They didn’t talk, move or lift weapons. It was as quiet as a tomb, which is where they could be if somebody made too much noise.
Now they could hear the growl of the larger boat’s diesels as it strained upstream against the five-knot current.
“Al
most opposite us,” Lam said. “Can’t see them, just a feeling.”
They waited.
Fingers were outside trigger guards to prevent any accidental firing.
They waited again.
They all heard it then, the high-pitched whine of the diesel at full throttle as the larger boat on the Ganges revved up its motor and charged more quickly up the muddy flow toward the capital. The men listened to it for sixty seconds.
“Getting fainter,” Lam said. “The bastard is heading upstream to see the king.”
They waited five minutes until they could barely hear the ship’s diesels, then Lam eased the boat backward out of the small stream into the Ganges and they powered downstream at their usual ten knots.
Twenty minutes later Murdock saw lights of what had to be a fair-size city on the far shore. The sound of small arms and machine-gun fire erupted along the shoreline, then all went quiet.
“Wasn’t aimed at us,” Murdock said into his mike. He could sense the men relax. Bill Bradford took over the ship’s controls and steered the craft toward the opposite shore as they passed the lights of the city. When they faded, Bradford took the boat back to the middle of the wide river.
“Has to be a half mile across along here,” Bradford said.
“From the maps I saw the river is sometimes two miles wide and at times ten to twelve miles across with hundreds of small islands.”
“How do I know where the channel is?” Bradford asked.
“This is the Hindu’s holy river,” Murdock said. “Maybe a little prayer at this time would help.”
“Think I’ll pass on that one, skipper. I don’t even speak Hindi.”
Murdock checked his watch. 0235. Maybe four hours of darkness left. He should have checked sunrise in this part of the country. Why? He was only going to be gone three or four hours to the embassy and back in the chopper.
A star shell burst far down the river.
“What’s the range?” Murdock asked.
Most of the SEALs had drifted back to sleep. Bradford growled and then tried. “Three miles?”
“We couldn’t even see it at three miles. Two miles at the most, maybe a mile at the least. What I’m more curious about is who shot it off and why? Is it a signal or are the Chinese troops just nervous as hell this first night in a foreign country?”
“Hope they’re nervous, skipper.”
“Howie, are you sleeping?” Murdock asked the mike.
“Not so you could notice it, skipper. Want to try the SATCOM again?”
“Roger that. We shouldn’t be moving too fast for a fix with the antenna. Give it a whirl.”
A short time later, Howie came on the net.
“I’ve got somebody, Skip, just don’t know who they are. You want to give it a go?”
“Be right there.”
Murdock moved a dozen feet aft and took the mike. “This is Wet One looking for Mother Bird,” he sent out.
“Yes, Wet One, not sure what frequency this is. We’re a unit of the Indian Army in Calcutta. Who are you?”
“Could you contact Mother Bird on this frequency and do some relay work for us?”
“Yes, indeed. Heard there were some Yanks in town. Just a minute.”
The air went dead for two minutes.
“Wet Ones, you are well known here. Your Mother Hen says she’s aware of your situation. If you can give them coordinates they will attempt to have a meeting.”
“Best we can do on coordinates is the central mouth of the Ganges. We’re now in transit at ten knots.”
“I say, you have been moving. Will relay.”
Two more minutes passed.
“Wet Ones, Mother Hen says a CH-forty-six will find you if you can give them an ETA.”
“Problem. We’re now about twenty miles south of Dhaka. We’ll kick our boat up to fifteen knots and we should be about forty miles from the Bay of Bengal by 0630. Should be daylight by then. We’ll keep going best we can after daylight but can’t promise we’ll get there, depending on Chinese activity. Got that?”
“Right, have it down. Relaying.”
It took five minutes this time before they were on the air again.
“Mother Hen says she will send the bird to the mouth, then track north on the best channel and look for you. No trouble for you chaps to get in that bird in flight?”
“Done it a hundred times. Tell the bird we will watch for him and use red flares.”
“Will do. Congratulations on your exfiltration so far.”
“Many miles to go yet. Thanks.”
“Hey, Cap. Come take a look at this,” Bradford said from the small wheelhouse.
Murdock told Howie to keep the set turned to receive and adjust the antenna every five minutes, then went to the wheel.
“Far shore, maybe a thousand yards up there. Dark now but won’t be for long if they repeat.”
Murdock watched. A sudden flash of a string of lights erupted along the far shore followed at once by a series of loud explosions.
“The bang-bang are an added attraction,” Bradford said. “What the hell do you think this is all about?”
12
Murdock watched the flares far ahead on the bank glow for a moment more, then snuff out. “Let’s move to the other shoreline, we have plenty of river here. Looks like a combat situation. Flares and lots of firepower. But they didn’t sound like small arms.”
“Shoulder rockets of some kind?” Bradford wondered. “Sure as hell nobody getting any sleep over on that bank.”
“If that is some holdout Bangladesh military up there, we can’t help them because we don’t know which side is which.”
Before he finished talking, an engine whine and growl came across the water.
“A boat,” Bradford said. “Doesn’t sound as big as that last one, maybe a thirty, forty footer.”
“Even a small patrol boat will have a pair of machine guns,” Murdock said. “Hope he doesn’t have a searchlight.”
They watched ahead but couldn’t tell if the boat was coming toward them or just moving around the fighting area. Now small arms fire did filter though the darkness.
“Machine guns,” Murdock said. “Lots of rifle fire and auto rifle. Somebody is throwing out a lot of lead up there.”
“Just so it’s not aimed at us,” Bradford said.
“Sounds like they will be too busy working over each other to worry about us, even if they did spot us, which I’d bet they won’t. If that patrol boat has radar, it won’t be aimed at us either.”
Murdock called on the radio and had Dobler rouse the troops.
“Better be ready in case they do spot us and one side decides we shouldn’t be here,” Murdock said.
“Yeah, heard the ruckus. Doesn’t sound too large, maybe a platoon against a platoon. No real heavy stuff.”
“Neither kind would be good for us. Have the men ready, just in case.”
The small boat powered down the river a little faster now. They had boosted their power until Murdock figured they were making their fifteen knots. He wasn’t sure what they should do come daylight. Hide everybody except one man at the wheel. Keep at their fifteen knots and hoping that the Chinese didn’t have any patrols down this far. From what he remembered on the map the broad spread of the mouth of the Ganges looked like one big floodplain with hundreds of low-lying islands that must be under water half the time. Nothing would be built up in an area like that. So why would the Chinese want to patrol it? He did remember one town on the east side of the area, but he didn’t know how large it was. Wait and see.
They eased past the firing on the far shore. A flare popped up now and then to cast a bright light on the bank, and firing increased, then the flares snuffed out and the shooters were blind again. The boat they had heard was quiet as well. Murdock worried that. If they had a radar it would surely pick them up. It just depended if the operator was interested in the far side of the river.
They were slightly past the firing on the far shore, wh
en a searchlight snapped on less than two hundred yards ahead of them and the boat’s engine roared as the craft came straight for them.
“Kill that light,” Murdock thundered into his mike. The long range guns barked, a Bull Pup gave off the familiar sound of a 20mm round being fired. The searchlight died but a machine gun chattered at them. A half dozen more of the heavy coughing sound of the twenties blistered into the night, and a moment later the MG on the boat went silent. At the same time the engine died.
In the pale moonlight Murdock could see a shadowy shape ahead. His boat was overtaking the other craft. Now they came closer at their fifteen knots and they could see the ship turn slowly.
“Adrift,” Bradford said. “Our twenties must have knocked out the crew as well as that damn machine gun.”
“Small favors we will take,” Murdock said.
They were past the firing on shore now, and Bradford moved the small craft back to the center of the river. He figured it was at least three-quarters of a mile wide here.
Murdock slumped on the small deck outside the wheelhouse.
“Give me a yell if anything shows,” he said and told Ostercamp on the radio that he had the watch. That done, Murdock cushioned his head on his arms and slept.
Ostercamp worked around and over bodies to the wheelhouse and grinned at Bradford.
“Sure as hell leveled that patrol boat with the twenties,” he said. “Wonder what else we’ll find downstream?”
“That’s what you’re here to watch for,” Bradford said and they both kept quiet then and looked downstream.
Murdock awoke at 0530 and checked around. He was tired and sore from sleeping on the wooden planks. He stretched and looked at the wheelhouse. Dobler held the wheel and waved at Murdock.
“Welcome to the world, skipper. No action since that patrol boat got greedy.”
“Good.” Murdock rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Be light in a half hour, Chief. Any suggestions?”
“Keep to the middle of the water and pray that we’ve been making more than fifteen and that we’re closer than forty miles to the damn Bay of Bengal.”
“What are the odds?”
Death Blow sts-14 Page 12
