Seal Team Seven 5 - Firestorm

by Keith Douglass

  "Chief, call me immediately if you get any transmissions from Murdock or from Tom Morton," Stroh told the enlisted man in charge of the radio room.

  Stroh waited. It was nearly two hours before Morton called back. Both ends of the conversation were encrypted, then turned back into regular speech.

  "You trying to get me killed, Stroh? I brought up the idea of using a pair of jet fighters and a chopper to go in and rescue the guys who saved their whole damn country, and President Lee blew his stack. He said that would be risking war with China. I pointed out that China had already declared war on Taiwan, had actively tried to murder ten million of his people. He threw me out of the place. Had his guards lift me up and carry me out to the fucking street."

  "Lee is a show-off. Go right back in there and remind him of the plans he's seen for the invasion of Taiwan. Remind him that sixteen U.S. Navy SEALS have saved his fucking ass. Then tell him he owes us this much. Three aircraft against ten million of his people? Sounds like a damn good business deal to me. Get back in there and make him understand."

  Morton swore for two minutes, then gave up. "Okay, okay. I'll give it another try. I can't promise anything. I did give him golf lessons for two months. Every fucking morning. Maybe I can play on that somehow. You never know what's going to work with these goddamned presidents."

  Don Stroh told him good-bye and hung up the hand set. Stroh paced the commo room. He stared at the radios and all the communications gear. None of it did him any good unless it talked to him. He had been thinking about asking the U.S. President to call Lee Teng-hui. Chat with him President-to-President.

  Stroh pounded his fist into his palm. Nothing to lose.

  Give it a try.

  He sent an encrypted message through directly to the President requesting an urgent talk about the Taiwan situation. He had no way of knowing if the President would respond or not. He checked the time. It was 930 A.M. in Taiwan. D.C. was thirteen hours behind them. That would make it 830 P.m. yesterday in the Capital. At least it wasn't the middle of the night.

  Now all he had to do was sit around and hope that the President thought this incident important enough to call him back about it.

  30

  Sunday, May 17

  0935 hours On board the USS Intrepid Taiwan Strait Don Stroh sat in the communications room of the giant carrier and held his head in his hands. He had sent the message directly to the President at 0930. It was logged. How long should he wait hoping there might be an answer? An hour? Two hours? Six hours? He heard one of the machines chattering. Something was always chirping away in the commo room. Someone tapped his shoulder. He looked up. "Mr. Stroh. A message for you, from the White House." Stroh leaped up and knocked over the chair he sat in. "No shit?"

  "Honest, Sir. Right over here."

  It was coming off the encrypting machine. Stroh read the print out.

  PRESIDENT VITALLY CONCERNED ABOUT THE THIRTEEN SEALS IN CHINA. HE'S TALKING WITH HIS ADVISORS. MAKE YOURSELF AVAILABLE AT 1000 HOURS YOUR TIME FOR DIRECT TALK WITH THE PRESIDENT. STANDING BY.

  Stroh looked at the sailor, who had a big grin. "That's it?"

  "No, sir. The President himself will talk to you on a handset directly at ten hundred. That's about twenty-two minutes from now, sir."

  "Yes, yes. Thanks." Stroh looked at a pad and ballpoint pen on the desk. He righted the chair and sat and put down in order what had happened, where the SEALS were, and what could be done if the Taiwanese Air Force would do it, if the Taiwan President ordered them to. He thought he was ready. He had met the U.S. President twice, but he was sure the man wouldn't remember him. Damn, what else should he be doing? He didn't know. He felt drained, used up, as limp as yesterday's washcloth.

  He'd close his eyes for just a minute. He leaned back in the chair and tried to relax. Just for a minute he'd rest his eyes and then he'd go over his list for the President.

  Someone touched his shoulder again.

  "Mr. Stroh. Mr. Stroh. The President is on the line for YOU."

  Stroh came out of the chair, barely avoiding a tip-over, and went to the console the sailor directed him to.

  He picked up the handset. "Yes, Mr. President, this is Don Stroh."

  "Mr. Stroh. Good to talk with you again. How did your wife do in that art exhibit she was having? Sorry I didn't get there. Maybe next time. Now about those SEALS."

  "We have thirteen inside China, sir. Right now they are about four to five miles from the coast east and south of Amoy. They have singlehandedly prevented the invasion of Taiwan by the Chinese. I understand you have prohibited any U.S. air-power to go to these men's aid."

  "Yes, that would provoke an incident that could be far reaching. We just can't risk that if there's any other way."

  "There may be, Mr. President. What about the Taiwanese Air Force? We helped build it, supplied them for years. Our men have just prevented up to ten million deaths on the island. I'd say they owe us. Could you call the President of Taiwan and ask him to help us? We'd need two jets for nighttime close ground support and maybe a chopper for an extraction of the thirteen men."

  There was a moment of silence. Don Stroh's eyes went wide as he waited. "Yes, that seems like a fair request. What time is it there?"

  "Just after ten A.M. sir."

  "I've talked with Lee Teng-hui before. Yes, I'll get right on it. I'll call you back one way or the other. Yes, Stroh, good idea. They owe us, and we owe those SEALS to get them out of there. They've done a tremendous deed for Taiwan. I'm going to make sure that Lee appreciates that. You stand by, Stroh. I'll be back in touch with you."

  "Will do, Mr. President. Thank you."

  They signed off, and Stroh leaned back in the chair and mopped sweat off his forehead. The sailor came up.

  "Mr. Stroh. We have a printout of that conversation if you need one for your files."

  "Yes, thank you. He's going to call the Taiwan President. Isn't that great?"

  Stroh thought of something else then. The President had remembered him. He'd asked about Barbara's art exhibit. He did remember. What a man. That does it, Stroh decided. If the man ran for President again, he had the Stroh family vote.

  Saturday, May 16

  2118 hours Oval Office, White House Washington, D.C.

  William Hawthorne, President of the United States, picked up the red phone in his office, his face a little on the grim side. "Mr. President, Hawthorne here. It's good to talk to you again."

  "President Hawthorne, I am pleased to speak with you and to thank you and your countrymen for their invaluable aid to Taiwan." President Lee was proud of his command of English and never used a translator with the Americans.

  "Good, good, Mr. President. Since we talked two days ago, the threat to Taiwan has been beaten back and, we think, eliminated. We have one small problem."

  "What's that, Mr. President?"

  "The small band of fighters that has prevented this attack and invasion of Taiwan is still in Mainland China and in extreme danger. We need the help of some of your military aircraft to aid them."

  "Us attack China? That, sir, is not possible. We are a small beetle here beside a giant who can squash us any time it chooses. We can do nothing to irritate the beast.

  "Mr. President. These thirteen men have saved the island of Taiwan. They have saved the lives of up to ten million of your people. They have prevented massive destruction of your armed forces and the deaths of most of your military personnel. We think that you owe these men a great deal."

  "That may be true, but to send our warplanes into China ... it could provoke all kinds of retaliation."

  "If it were done at night, China wouldn't know what aircraft they were. They would have no way of determining who had entered their airspace. You have been violated. It is perfectly natural for you to respond in kind."

  "Yes, I understand your thinking, Mr. President. Is there a time factor?"

  "Our men are safe for the daylight hours. It's morning there, as I understand it. By nightfall we woul
d hope that there could be some rescue attempt or at least some jets for close ground support to help these SEALS stay alive."

  "Mr. President, I will talk with my cabinet and my military leaders. I will convey your viewpoint and your suggestion. I must have agreement here before I can do anything. I will let you know what my people decide within eight hours."

  "Thank you, Mr. President. We have done all we could to help continue the existence of Taiwan. We hope that now you can repay that assistance with some aid of your own so we can rescue these thirteen heroes now trapped in Mainland China."

  "Yes, Mr. President. I understand. Thank you and goodbye."

  The U.S. President put down the handset and frowned. He had no idea which way President Lee Teng-hui would go. He was a politician, a skilled one, and he would act in accord with what was best for his career and then best for Taiwan. It was a toss-up. The President rubbed his hand over his face.

  One of his aides came in reminding him about a reception he was due to attend. He sighed and stood. He wondered if those thirteen SEALS in China would be dying while he smiled and made polite conversation at some damned reception. He wished that he knew one way or the other.

  31

  Sunday, May 17

  0824 hours Old mine tunnel Near Amoy, China Murdock had sat at the mouth of the mine tunnel and watched day come to China. It was the first time he'd seen it--and, he hoped, the last. He stared out through the concealment of the brush in front of the opening. He could see what he figured was five miles to the east. There was no sign of the Taiwan Strait. How far were they from the water?

  He wished he could push aside the ground mist and some haze as the day brightened. Some of it would burn off or blow away. Maybe then he could see the strait shimmering to the east.

  Now he concentrated on the mission at hand. He had his men safe for the time being. He had spotted no military traffic below. Jaybird up in the lookout had seen nothing to alarm them. Only one truck had been spotted, and it had appeared to be a farm vehicle of some kind. It had driven into the valley about three miles out and stopped at a pair of low buildings.

  Murdock wished he had a 20-power scope. Usually a SEAL had little use for one, but right now in this ground war phase of the mission, a long-range scope would be handy. As he watched, he saw a three-truck convoy roll from the left side of his view into the middle of the valley and stop. He could see figures leaving the trucks. They seemed to be talking about something. Then they all got back in the rigs and drove away past the rest of the valley and out of sight to the north.

  The SEALS' luck was holding so far. All they needed was another ten hours of good fortune and they could head for the beach.

  Two hours later, Murdock called Jaybird.

  "Nothing doing, Skipper. All quiet out in front."

  "Good. I'm sending Red up to replace you. Time for some shut-eye for you. He'll be up directly. Nothing new on the big radio so we don't know about any help coming."

  Red woke up when Murdock shook his shoulder. He came awake at once ready for action. No warmup required.

  "Yeah?"

  "Take the lookout from Jaybird. I'll show you where it is. Keep your Motorola on and your eyes open. If we get any visitors who look like they will overrun this spot, get your ass back down here without being seen."

  Red nodded and headed up the hill to where Murdock pointed.

  Jaybird came back, waved at Murdock, and sacked out. Murdock called Dewitt over.

  "You had any sleep?"

  "Some."

  "Good. My turn. If I'm out more than three hours, wake me. If any troops head this way, give me a yell. I'm due for a nap." Dewitt said he'd handle it, and went to the front to look out at the valley.

  It was almost 1400 when Dewitt awoke Murdock.

  "We got some company. Not sure how far they'll come this direction. Near as I can tell, there's about a hundred of them. A Chinese infantry company maybe."

  Murdock came to his feet at once and went to the front of the tunnel.

  At least a hundred, he decided as he watched the line of green-clad figures working slowly up the valley. They were spread thin over the mile-wide opening, but it was narrowing as they came forward. He saw four big trucks a mile behind the figures. They must be rushing men to every possible spot where the enemy could be and letting them sweep forward. Bad news.

  The troops looked to be doing a good search job, poking into piles of brush and growth, checking out trees and the one building in the area below. They were still two miles away, but there was no indication they might stop their search.

  "What do you think, Skipper?" Dewitt asked.

  "Same as you. We wait and see how far they come. If they get here we hope to hell they don't find the opening to this tunnel. If they do we're fish in a barrel."

  "But the odds are better staying in here than trying to run for it," Dewitt said.

  "Agreed. We've used our skill and talents up to this point. Now we have to sit back and see how our luck is running. We win or lose on one throw of the fucking Chinese dice."

  Murdock touched his throat mike. "Red, you still there?"

  "That's a Roger."

  "Better get your butt down here. Try not to leave any tracks, especially around the entrance. Want to have all of our chicks in one basket here."

  "I'm moving. Over a hundred of them soldiers out there. Hope we don't need to tangle with them."

  Both the officers watched the Chinese move ahead slowly. They were in a long line of skirmishers. The SEALS could see now that the men had their rifles slung over their shoulders with the muzzles down. They were out on a hike.

  They came closer.

  Twenty minutes later they were within a half mile of the tunnel. The opening had narrowed as they came up the valley. Murdock counted again and saw no more than fifty troops. Half of them must have split off and taken the valley next to this one. Good. Fifty was a hell of a lot better than a hundred.

  Red joined Murdock and Dewitt inside the tunnel.

  "Red, wake everyone up and get them ready to travel," Murdock said. "All gear stowed, everything set for a firefight. Check all weapons and have them locked and loaded."

  "We busting out of here, L-T?"

  "If we have to. Odds aren't so bad now, maybe four to one. I want the MP-5 guys first, then the CARS, and the heavy stuff behind." Jaybird came up rubbing his eyes. "I sleep that long?"

  "No, you're still dreaming. Take a look out front." Jaybird did, then leaned back in. "Less than a quarter of a mile. They gonna make us in here?"

  "Hope not. If they do, we crash out of here with the MP-5s chattering and head to the side, across the slant of the hill. See those trees over there maybe eighty yards? We'll make a stand there until we can bug out."

  "Bug out?" Dewitt said. "I haven't heard that term for twenty years."

  "It still works." Murdock went back to the front of the tunnel and stared through the branches of their handmade blind. The Chinese were closer now. They didn't seem dedicated to their search. He could hear some bantering and laughter. Now and then a sharp command came from someone, but soon the talking started again.

  Directly ahead of the tunnel, he saw six Chinese soldiers working their search. They probed into heavy brush, trampled some down, checked a small stream that splashed by. They worked closer.

  Someone yelled at them and they stopped and looked left and right. They were ahead of the line. They waited.

  Murdock motioned Jaybird up with his MP-5. With hand signals he told Jaybird to take the left three and he had the right three. The soldiers were still a hundred feet away.

  The platoon leader knew that he and Jaybird could waste these six and the rest of the Chinese wouldn't know it for a while. Then they could find the gap and close in and it would be a tough fight. If they hit the six, they would have to be in the process of moving out fast. They could hear the six men talking now. Murdock signaled Ching to come up. He listened, but shook his head. "A word here and there. They're
too far away."

  The three men watched as the soldiers moved closer. Murdock aimed at the three on his side and waited. Sweat popped out on his forehead. He hated waiting. All his years in the Navy had never taught him patience. He remembered the prayer his mother had told him once. "Lord please grant me patience--and do it right now!"

  The Chinese were within fifty feet now, and Ching nodded. "They're talking about a leave they went on. Many girls, much wine, and plenty of food."

  "Fucking big help," Jaybird said.

  Now the soldiers looked left and right and slowed.

  Murdock squirmed where he sat looking out from the hole. The Chinese moved again. Now they were within twenty feet of the blind made of cut-off branches rammed into the ground. If they hit it with their rifles, the whole thing might fall down revealing the tunnel.

  The Chinese chattered again and Ching nodded. Then one of them held up his hand and the talk stopped. He looked to the left. The soldier laughed and waved at his buddies. He said something and they all cheered.

  Murdock looked at Ching.

  "Break time," Ching said. "They have a ten-minute rest period and can drink water if they have any."

  The six men looked around, then walked forward to within six feet of the blind and sat down in the shade.

  Murdock signaled Jaybird to move back. He and Ching sat near the opening watching the Chinese. They drank from canteens, laughed, and talked.

  Ching listened, but couldn't even whisper what they were saying. They were so close Murdock could smell their sweat. He looked at his watch. Ten minutes would be an eternity. Then where would the six Chinese soldiers go? If they found the blind and the entrance to the tunnel, it would be time for the SEALS to shoot their way out and get over to that patch of thicker trees. He'd lose some men, he knew. There were just too many Chinese out there.

  They waited.

  Murdock held up five fingers. Ching nodded.

  After nine minutes on Murdock's watch, the Chinese soldier evidently in charge of the others stood, yawned, and stretched. He said something and the others stood. They talked back at him, and he shouted something and they quieted. He waved, and they began walking away from the blind.