by John Muir
CHAPTER 44
THE NAVY INTERLUDE
APUAO GRANDE
De Mesa's flotilla was only 100 metres from landfall. He had begun to think perhaps there was nothing awry. By now the P.C.F. would have passed the area near the resort. He had not heard the sound of any gunfire. Whatever the reason for the loss of communication by the resort H. Q. with the resort, he still had to find out why.
The bows of the bancas gently nudged onto the rocky northern approach of Little Apuao. His men all hit the stones running off the bow; and within seconds had cleared the beach and were in the cover of the rain forest. De Mesa had to decide how to split his remaining 29 men. Eventually he decided on three groups of 10. One would advance through the centre of the island and, the second would pass around the beach front to the east to get any information from the barrio occupants. He would take the last group around the western side.
He issued his instructions and stressed the importance of the rendezvous being unseen 20 metres inside the forest near the sand-spit.
A quick nod of the head and three pre-arranged groups started off on their separate missions. He grunted in disgust as see saw the four bancas with their four shanghaied drivers, rapidly and noisily gun their engines and pull away from the shore.
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Heidi noticed the P.C.F. passing the south-west tip of Apuao Grande near the barrio. This time the speed was much slower and obviously the P.C.F. crew was giving the resort a closer inspection. The extra light of day enabled Heidi to see how well her opposition was armed. It looked like twin 50 calibre machine guns mounted forward and one on the stern deck. All were pointing toward the Island. Heidi knew that type of firepower could cause trouble if they accurately located a target. Then she noticed men, apparently prone on the deck. They too seemed to be armed.
The P.C.F.'s pass-by was more than idle curiosity. It was not unexpected. It was after all what they were here for. The P.C.F. still kept a respectable 200 metre distance offshore as it cruised slowly toward the front of her position. Heidi wondered if she should wait for it to make a third pass, which she knew it would do if there was no reaction to this pass. Any third pass would be even closer to her positions making her firepower even more deadly. But that would also work for the P.C.F. with its 50 calibre machine guns. Their ability to identify the source of fire would be easier.
Heidi considered her possibilities. One of her 50 calibre machine guns was at the spit and the P.C.F would not be in its arc of fire. The 50 calibre on the ridge would be able to fire on the P.C.F., but they would lose time in getting the correct range. It was difficult to estimate distance over the sea. Her main immediate reply would be the 50 calibre gun above the beach under the overhanging tree. They would not start firing until she and the others had begun with fire from their M16's. A few precious seconds of surprise would be lost before her heavy weapons came into play.
She suddenly remembered that she had not checked the training skills of the men on the 50 calibre gun on the beach. Maybe they had no training in its use. Only select people were ever trained. It was too late now to check and organise replacements.
If she opened the action with a missile there would be no need to rely on the skills of others. Leaning across, she picked up the launcher, pulled down the handle, lifted the sight and shifted her position to a crouch.
The P.C.F. was now almost at the closest point it would be to her position. She lifted the loaded launcher to her shoulder and carefully looked along the sight. Continued sight of the vessel would be important as there might not be sufficient heat being generated by the P.C.F. to attract the missiles heat seeking capabilities.
Heidi squeezed the trigger and the whoosh of the missile leaving the tube temporarily threw her careful sighting to a point above the P.C.F. She quickly corrected the sighting back to the water-line below the P.C.F.'s bridge.
With satisfaction she watched the missile cruise back to the sighted path and head toward the P.C.F.. About two-thirds of its journey complete, the missile began to arc upward and to the left of the boat. In dismay Heidi watched it then curve away to the south before straightening and continuing a course toward its ultimate ending south of Canton.
The crew on the boat had already begun firing wildly toward the Island, still without identified targets to aim at. The guerillas now joined in the fire-fight. The effect of the P.C.F.'s 50 calibre guns soon made their presence felt as the trees above Heidi's group were suddenly shattered with a withering burst. Branches of varying sizes began to fall on their position. All her group stopped firing while they extracted themselves from the mess.
Firing at the P.C.F. was still coming from under the overhanging tree, Boy's group down the beach, from the ridge and Dandan's group.
A flash across the sky to Heidi's front made her realise that Aziz from the ridge had fired one of his missiles at the now fast moving craft. Her eye picked up the trail of the missile while it still had 150 metres to go. Then, 50 metres from its target it too arced upwards and left.
"The bloody guidance system's wrongly calibrated," screamed Heidi.
She snatched the second missile lying near Domingo, brushed it clean of leaf litter and inserted it. The P.C.F. was now at top speed, still racing broadside on, but now to her right. The acceleration of the P.C.F. would generate more heat in the engine for the missile to lock on to.
Again, after sighting, she squeezed the trigger. This time she had held it steady so the line of sight never left the P.C.F.. With trepidation she watched the missiles progress. Again with 50 metres to go it seemed to wobble in its path. Heidi cursed silently willing it to go on. The P.C.F. must have seen the earlier rocket launches and was nearly at its maximum speed as it turned away to increase the distance from the danger. However in so doing it exposed its hot exhaust plumes out of the stern. The missile recovered stability with a good heat-lock and smashed into the hull below the bridge where she had kept the sights fixed.
The explosion ripped the boat in two parts, each lifting out of the water before a second explosion threw thousands of parts of the shattered boat high into the sky. As the pieces dropped back toward the sea, many caught the reflections of the sun as it now appeared over the horizon. The thousands of twinkling pieces giving an unrealistic, almost novel entertaining effect of pathos to the tragedy that had occurred.
She stood and cheered. Then she noticed Helmut was not cheering. He just looked expressionless at the destruction before him.
Domingo stopped cheering when he looked down. One of his companions was still lying on the ground. Domingo kneeled quickly and rolled the figure over. It was the soldier who had just come down off the ridge. A hole, the size of a thumb, was just above his left eye. The back of his head was missing. He must have died instantly. Domingo and the other soldier quickly crossed themselves.
Heidi suddenly felt deflated. She was not happy with the way things were going. Too many events beyond her control were happening.
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The last of de Mesa's groups had rushed to the assembly point when they heard the shooting start. No-one had met any opposition. They had surprised and frightened some early rising local barrio members preparing for the new day.
Several soldiers had crept forward to the outer extremities of the forest next to the sand-spit. They watched with wonder at the fire-power of the little P.C.F.. When the massive explosion occurred they all gasped in awe at the effect on the dawning sky.
Foolishly, several less experienced soldiers stood up and moved forward for a better view. Their protagonists at the other end of the sand-spit had better discipline.
Four of de Mesa's soldiers were hit by fire from across the spit before those standing realised the noises were not part of the remote action. The casualties were dragged back into the forest while de Mesa cursed the stupidity of the youngsters.
He quickly checked to confirm that his two corporals from the Daet episode were uninjured. Then checking those hit he saw that one of the four youngsters was alrea
dy dead. Another was unlikely to survive a bad stomach wound, but he was conscious and screaming. That was bad for morale. The other two had minor treatable wounds. Even though they were out of action for this battle, they would be back on parade within weeks.
De Mesa extracted a syringe from his medical pouch. A pain killing injection into the thigh of the dying soldier would alleviate the agony part of his dying and silence his screaming before the other youngsters started to panic.
His chance of surprise at crossing the narrow 100 metre sand-spit was gone. Now, the action would be one of sniping and attrition. He had already lost seven of the 32 he had started out with. That included the three on the P.C.F he had to presume were dead. Despite this he knew he held some small advantages. Firstly, time was on his side, eventually help would come. Secondly, he could spread his soldiers across a wider front to fire at the defenders of the sand-spit. They by contrast had a narrow neck approach to the sand-spit on their side and had to concentrate forces in less cover. It was much thinner than the cover his men had. His estimate of the opposition at this stage was sketchy from the opening bursts. He knew there was at least one heavy machine gun. For his own soldiers he had to ensure ammunition was not wasted, there would be no re-supply.
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Heidi's R/T buzzed.
"Yes?"
"Rico here," she heard him screaming into the R/T. "We're under attack at the spit."
"Who by and how many?"
"They're soldiers and lots of them. Send help."
Heidi was frustrated with Rico's panic and lack of rational assessment of the opposition. But she could not take any risks.
"I'll send Dandan's group to you."
"Yes, yes."
"Out," said Heidi, wanting to cut short Rico's panic. She buzzed Dandan, told him of the situation and to take control.
"Domingo, check the machine gun crew on the beach."
He jumped forward over the sand verge, on to the beach and ran toward the overhanging tree. Heidi wondered if the P.C.F. had managed to get any radio reports away before the fatal missile struck. Then she buzzed Boy, Aziz and Raji to check on casualties. Boy reported one walking wounded. Thankfully there were no others. Raji reported there was a lot of screaming among the hostages but no injuries.
By the time she had finished her calls, Domingo had returned. She saw from the expression on his face that something was wrong.
"Well?"
"They're both dead," he replied, head down. "They've been shot to pieces. They must have taken a full blast. Even the machine gun is bent out of shape."
Heidi knew she could not delay the withdrawal for a further 11 hours until after sunset. The enemy was now at the side door. She could not rely on the remaining three missiles, one of three heavy machine guns was unserviceable and she now had only 21 regulars, plus the eight management team fit for action, if she included Helmut. And that was another problem. A cursory visual check of his M16 after the fire-fight with the P.C.F. showed that he had not fired a shot. His heart and commitment had still not returned.
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When the shooting started, T.A. was confused. It was coming both from north east and south-east of their position. He thought Pater's earlier assumption about the voices outside their hide-away might be wrong. They could have been rescuers.
"It'd be a bit risky to go out at the moment," said Pater. "There'd be too many trigger happy shooters if you were seen in the open."
"But what about the voices we heard, couldn't they have been soldiers?"
"Nah, they spoke Arabic."
"You sure?"
"Yep. I 've worked in that area often enough. I can even understand the odd word or two. They weren't Filipino."
"Was it the Iranians?"
"Hang on. Have you forgotten already? The guy that killed Podgy was an Arab. He'd been whispering to one of his mates in Arabic. There's Arabs involved, I know that, I just don't know from where."
"The dead one wasn't one of the Iranians."
"I know, they mightn't be....."
A loud explosion cut Pater short.
"Jesus, what was that. There's some heavy shit going on."
Silence immediately followed Paters comment. T.A. wondered what had caused the shooting to stop so abruptly. Just as suddenly, shooting started again, but now to their north.
"Sounds like the spit," offered Pater. "I better see what's happening."
"Not without me."
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Heidi began to hope the P.C.F. had managed to get a message sent, especially if they said they were facing missiles. That would reduce the likelihood of an aircraft or helicopter attack, or a frontal attack on the main beach.
Any thought-out mission would probably mean a surrounding of the island at a distance, then sneak landings on the blind side of Canton Island and further landings on Little Apuao. From good sniping positions on those islands her soldiers' positions would be untenable.
Heidi decided she would reduce the numbers of regulars gradually rather than a mass exodus. The danger from the soldiers at the spit could be controlled. She could reduce Aziz's group on the ridge from six to three. Raji guarding the hostages only needed two helpers. That meant six could leave early and take the bodies and the wounded Filipino with them. With 15 regulars left and the eight management group she could cope for now.
The mystery of the missing group of four still worried her. Before she could investigate that, the hostages would need to be fed and supplied with water. Then, food and water to last her soldiers for the day.
She grabbed the R/T and asked Boy to organise kitchen staff from among the hostages to prepare the food. The early leavers could deliver the food, then go. She was sure there would be no immediate direct assault across the Spit from Little Apuao for now. It would be suicidal. But the arrival of any heavily armed reinforcements would change that assessment.
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"Wait here for a few minutes," said Pater quietly. "I'll do a quick check of the trail. Maybe I can tell how many Arabs there were and where they were heading."
T.A. nodded and watched Pater sheath his deadly knife and pocket his .22 pistol. Then he checked over the M16 gathered from one of the dead Filipinos. After listening carefully at the narrow opening he crawled out.
To be ready for his return, T.A. checked if the diving knife attached to his leg was secure. He wondered whether to take the baseball bat with the M16 that he now had. Apart from Pater's brief instruction on how to use it, he had never handled one. He decided to take both.
"Stay in there," a gruff voice rasped quickly from outside the hide-away. T.A. recognised it as Pater's voice and wondered what was wrong. Within seconds he guessed at the answer.
"Where the hell did you two guys come from?" said Pater.
T.A. was only confused for a moment. Someone had obviously seen Pater on the track and he was trying to tell T.A. what was happening.
"You two guys are too big to be Filipino, and those bloody rifles are dangerous where you're pointing them," he went on. "Are you Arabs part of a rescue party?"
T.A. understood what Pater was indicating. He heard Pater moving left away from the hide-away entry in an attempt to keep T.A.'s position safe. But he wondered what Pater was expecting him to do and why Pater had not used his M16.
They obviously had Pater covered; otherwise he would have shot first. Then T.A. wondered why the Arabs had not fired. The trail was only wide enough for one person at a time. The Arabs had still not said anything.
Pater's voice became louder and showed he had moved to about 10 metres to the left of the entry.
"Shit, even you pricks couldn't miss me from 10 metres."
He was telling T.A. the gap between them. T.A. could hear both the Arabs pass the entry. He just wished he could guess what Pater wanted him to do.
"O. K., so you arseholes don't want to make noise. Is that why you've got your big knife out? I might just jump over you and stick it up your arse."
T.A. tried to think what Pater wanted, but his common sense was telling him to stay where he was. His body was shaking inside telling him he was too scared. Pater was expecting him to help. But how did Pater want him to do it? Should he charge out screaming and shooting? He knew he did not know enough about the M16 and he might hit Pater anyway. He knew he could not just stick a knife into the nearest Arab's back. He tightened his grip on the baseball bat and began to crawl quietly toward the entry.
The nearest and hindmost Arab was 5 metres away, carrying two M16's, one slung over his back the other pointing downward. His back was to T.A..
The furthest Arab was also carrying 2 M16's, one slung and the other pointed presumably at Pater. T.A. could not see Pater.
The thought of Podgy's body lying on the bar flashed across his mind. It seemed to trigger his anger. T.A. charged forward. It all seemed just as before when he used the bat. This time though he heard himself scream as he began to swing the bat. The man to his front began to turn.
T.A. did not have as much room as before. The swinging bat glanced off an overhanging branch and down on to the barrel of the M16 the Arab had now raised. It flew into the forest end over end. The jarring from the blow shot up T.A's arms and he almost let go of the bat. The Arab was quick and he began to unsling the remaining M16. T.A. swung the bat upwards, this time aiming at the barrel which was beginning to threaten him. The effect of the strike hit the barrel back and upwards onto the Arab's masked face making him stumble backward.
Instinct for preservation of his life made T.A. drive forward while the Arab was off balance. Two handed he rammed the bat into the Arab's stomach region. The Arab bent forward with the blow, then, T.A. drove the bat up under the Arab's chin. The man fell back into the forest at the side of the trail.
T.A. readied to swing the bat at the second Arab. Pater was already pushing the head of the second Arab into the ground.
From Pater's expression and holding the bloody knife, the second Arab was already dead. Pater looked up at T.A., then moved quickly to the Arab T.A. had hit. Pater crouched and from the sweeping stroke of Pater's arm T.A. guessed the Arab's throat was now slit just as those of the four Filipinos on the trail had been.
"You're worth you're weight in gold boy," Pater said.
T.A. had that hollow feeling again. He was not pleased with what he had done, but he knew he had to do it.
Pater unmasked the two bodies before dragging them further into the rain forest. He hid the four M16's behind a tree a further 10 metres down the trail.
"They were Arabs all right. When the first one drew his knife on me, I guessed for some reason they didn't want to attract any attention by shooting me." Pater paused for a few seconds and looked at T.A.
"You're blood's worth bottling."
T.A. shuddered. He wanted to keep all his own blood.
