by W. J. Lundy
Quickly they pulled the cart to the nearest fuel truck, and married the cart’s batteries to the truck’s engine compartment. Brad jumped back in the cab and pushed the start button. The truck clicked, groaned, and then roared to life. Sean pulled the cart out of the way and ran to the back of the truck, jumping onto the bumper. Brad ground the truck into gear and pulled forward out of the gate and headed toward the beach.
He could see the top of the boat sticking above the berm, and Nelson running across the bow deck, readying the boat for the fuel truck’s arrival. Swanson and Nelson pulled the anchors and Tony guided the boat next to the pier just as Brad eased alongside of it. Sean quickly jumped out and pulled several feet of fuel line from a reel mounted on the rear of the truck.
Swanson took the other end and connected it to the boat’s tanks. She gave the ready signal and Sean turned a wheel, releasing fuel to the boat. As they waited to top off the boat’s tanks, Sean called the air crew and gave them directions to the tank farm and indicated where they would need to land the bird. They all knew the helicopter would make some noise and possibly bring in unwanted attention, so the timing had to be perfect.
Sean and Brad jumped out of the truck, leaving Nelson and Swanson to finish the refueling. They ran back to the tank farm and pulled a long hose out and away from the fuel point. Sean connected one end to the JP-8 spout and opened the valve. He watched the hose stiffen and he quickly shut the valve back off.
“Brooks, how’s it looking up there?” Sean called over his radio.
“All clear Boss, the airbase is looking like a ghost town,” Brooks answered.
“Roger that, I’m going to call in the bird and get things refueled. Be ready to move back to the beach as soon as it lifts off,” Sean relayed back.
Sean radioed the air crew and gave them the go. Within five minutes, they could hear the whooping of its blades. Just as Sean had asked, they came in from over the ocean instead of flying across the island. Bradley flew the helicopter low and fast. Staying low helped conceal the exact location of the helicopter as it approached the tank farm. The bird touched down in a huge cloud of dust. Sean and Brad turned their backs to the helicopter until it was powered down and the blades stopped spinning.
As soon as it was stopped, Craig and Mr. Douglas jumped out and ran for the fuel nozzles. Mr. Douglas connected the fuel hose and gave Sean the thumbs up. Sean spun the wheel, opening the valve, and watched the hose stiffen as it filled with fuel. Mr. Douglas had told them they should be done in less than ten minutes. Sean received a call from the boat team that they had finished filling the tanks and were anchored back in the cove.
Brad had moved away and was providing security near the maintenance trucks when Mr. Douglas yelled that all of the tanks were topped off, and for Sean to cut the fuel off. Sean spun the wheel and shut off the fuel feed. He then watched as Mr. Douglas disconnected the nozzle and handed it to Craig, who pulled the hose away from the helicopter.
“We are all set here, Chief. Get clear and we can get airborne,” Captain Bradley yelled from the cockpit.
Brooks leaned out of the tower and yelled, “We got company!”
“Primals? How many?” Sean yelled back.
“Nope, these look a tad bit more dangerous. I got two vehicles: a jeep and an open-back truck, ten, maybe fifteen men.”
“Captain, hold off on the engines but be ready to go on my word,” Sean said as he walked past the bird. He met up with Brad and together they slowly walked towards the tank farm’s gate to greet the visitors.
21.
As they casually walked toward the gate’s entrance, Sean continued to communicate with Brooks, who was lying prone on the tower’s catwalk. Brooks had hidden himself in the shadows with his suppressed M14, and his radio headset was perfectly synched with Sean’s.
“Keep eyes on them. Be ready to cover us. You prioritize your targets,” Sean calmly said into the radio.
“You expecting trouble, Chief?” Brad asked as they walked to the center of the lane and watched the two vehicles drive around the corner.
“Not expecting, Brad, just preparing for it. Stay frosty and let me do the talking. Be prepared to react.”
The jeep pulled through the gate and stopped nearly twenty-five feet from where Brad and Sean were standing. The truck drove beyond the jeep and parked on the far side. Both vehicles were clearly marked as Oman military. The vehicles looked to be in good working order. Not combat ready, though. Brad thought they looked like security forces, possibly airport police.
The soldiers jumped from the back of the open-topped truck and formed up around the side. They were standing in more of a gaggle than a military formation. Brad carefully watched the group of men. They didn’t have the mannerisms of professionals. They joked and held their rifles carelessly; even more alarming, they were not uniformly dressed. Some wore tennis shoes; one soldier was even in sandals. ‘Maybe these men are contract security?’ Brad thought to himself.
Two men in military uniform climbed out of the jeep, one a tall, dark-skinned man with an African complexion, and the other a smaller, possibly Persian, man. Neither of them, nor the soldiers for that matter, appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent. Brad’s internal warning bells began to chime.
The African man walked with the swagger that identified him as the one in charge. He spoke privately to the smaller man. The two pretended not to see Brad and Sean as they took their time walking back to the truck and speaking with their men. There was a great deal of laughing as the men nodded their heads in agreement with the man in charge.
“Looks like we may be dealing with some arrogance, no telling who these fools are,” Sean whispered. “Just stay casual, hands off your weapons.”
After several minutes, the two presumed officers turned, as if they had just noticed the presence of the uniformed Americans and the large helicopter sitting in front of them. The presumed leader turned and said something to the smaller man and they both laughed. They began strolling towards Brad and Sean. Brad saw that only the shorter man carried a rifle. The tall man had a holstered pistol.
Brad noticed that the tall man was wearing a mix of uniforms. He had on a Saudi uniform jacket, with American-style MultiCam pants. His cover looked like an airline pilot’s cap, or maybe a ship’s captain’s hat. He was wearing the railroad track insignia that would identify him as an Army captain. The other man’s uniform was better put together, but it was of a completely different pattern and appeared to be an enlisted man’s rank.
They stopped about eight paces away. They continued speaking to each other as if Brad and Sean were not there. The shorter man belted out an exaggerated laugh. Then the tall man locked eyes with Sean and spoke in a stern voice. Sean calmly shrugged his shoulders and showed the palms of his hands, indicating he did not understand the man’s language.
The man shook his head. “Of course … Americans. You never bother to learn another language. Is this better for you?” the tall man said.
“Oh yes, thank you, that’s much better. How can we help you gentleman?” Sean answered.
At this both men let out another exaggerated laugh. “Help us … You are a funny American. You are stealing from us. You have stolen fuel and who knows what else.”
“Oh come on, pal. You know what is going on in the world. We are just borrowing some fuel and we will be on our way. I’ll write you a receipt and I’m sure you will receive payment from Uncle Sam.”
The men laughed again. Brad looked beyond the men and saw that the band of the soldiers had spread out and were holding their rifles nervously.
The tall man stepped forward and shook his head in disappointment. “I am sorry, but we must place you under arrest; and I will have to confiscate your helicopter, and its crew.”
“Oh is that so? Damn, this is just turning out to be a horrible day for me. I was hoping we would be able to work this out. So who is it again that’s arresting me?” Sean asked.
Brad watched the men in the back clo
sely. They had stopped moving and seemed to feel confident that they had the Americans trapped. They began to step closer, then halted again when they were less than fifteen feet away.
“I am General Osman; I am in command of this entire base and island. Now you will surrender your weapons to me,” the tall man said in a stern voice.
Sean used his hands to mockingly straighten his uniform, then looked back at the man, smiling. “Oh no way, shucks. My bad, General, the captain’s rank on your pirate uniform threw me for a spin there. I went and got all confused.” Sean stopped speaking for a second, then brought his eyes to the ground and shook his head from side to side. When he looked back up, he gave the general a serious stare.
“You know what? Fuck it; I’m too tired for this horseshit today. See, I don’t know how you managed to put yourself in command. But I’m going to ask you really nice-like to turn around and go back to where you came from. All we need is a few minutes and you can have this island all to yourselves again.”
The man was obviously shocked. He spoke rapidly to the short man next to him. Brad didn’t understand the words, but he could tell that the tall man was frustrated and not used to having his orders ignored.
The general scowled. “I am going to give you a count of five, then my men will execute you. This will be your last warning. You are under arrest,” the tall man again demanded.
“Well darn. I was really hoping that it wouldn’t come to this …. Brooks you still on? Yeah, this isn’t going well … Go ahead and take the short fat man …” Sean said.
“Wait … who is this Brooks?” the fake general demanded.
There was a muffled pop and a zip through the air as a high speed projectile passed between Brad and Sean and smacked the short man in the middle of the forehead. The short man stood with a blank expression for a few seconds, then fell over and onto his back. The fake general was in shock. Brad watched as the man’s arrogance turned to fear. He took a single step backwards, then looked back at Sean.
“This is an outrage, now my men will …”
Sean interrupted the man and spoke into the radio.
“Yeah, Brooks, the tall one next, yeah that’s right … the one with the captain’s bars on his uniform.”
“No, no, no, wait, wait,” the man pleaded with Sean as he took another step back. “We can negotiate, we can negotiate.”
“Hmmm, hey Brooks, give me a second, buddy. Sounds like the general wants to negotiate, just hang tight okay?”
Brad looked back at the armed soldiers ... or were they pirates? They all looked confused, as if they didn’t know what to do when they were off their game plan. Brad guessed they hadn’t come across this situation before. They were probably used to robbing civilians and the random merchant that came into port looking for fuel, and had never been challenged before.
Sean stepped forward and placed his hands on his hips. “So, here’s how this negotiation will work. You and your men will turn around and leave.”
“Come on friend, you can at least compensate us for the fuel and the death of my man.”
“Okay … That offer is now off the table. Offer two is this. You drop your weapons now. Turn around and drive through that gate. You have to the count of ten, or we kill all of you,” Sean said, losing patience.
“You shoot me!” the general shouted. “No, I shoot on you! I have many men with rifles! They will skin you alive! I have many more in the barracks. You have one hidden man with a rifle,” the fake general said, losing his temper.
“General … Captain, Pirate … or whatever you want to be called today. See that helicopter behind me? That is a chain gun hanging out of that window. If you would care to look behind you in the harbor, that pretty boat there has a mounted 30-millimeter cannon. And yes, let’s not forget my trained friend who just happens to be so good with his rifle he could kill all of your men on his own. Now what’s it going to be, Pirate?” Sean said.
The general locked eyes with Sean and gave an angry stare. He slowly reached into his holster and pulled a small revolver out. He dropped the small hand gun near the body of the short man. “Very well, you have ten minutes, then I come back,” the fake general said.
The tall man turned around and faced the other men and began yelling at them. They scrambled, looked confused, dropped their rifles, and ran back to the trucks. The tall man walked back and sat in the jeep as the engines started and they pulled through the gate.
“We need to hurry. Captain Bradley, get that bird fired up. Brooks, back to the boat now,” Sean yelled.
The Black Hawk began whining and the blades picked up speed. Soon they were whipping, kicking up a cloud of dust. Sean ran to the pilot’s seat and spoke with Captain Bradley. He closed the cockpit door and ran back to Brad. Brooks pulled up behind them; his MP5 was still slung and he carried the large M14 at the ready.
They stepped off quickly with Sean leading the way. The Black Hawk lifted off the ground and flared back, intentionally causing a large cloud of dust and sand to screen the back drop of the running men. The helicopter gained altitude and turned, heading out to sea and taking a path directly over the attack boat.
Sean was the first to reach the top berm. Just as he got there, they heard the first reports of automatic weapons fire coming at them from the base. “Yup, right on time. Guys like that can never leave well enough alone,” Sean said.
They ran and dove behind the berm as poorly placed shots hit the sand around them. Brad dared to peek over the berm and could see a small armored car and several men moving in their direction. There was a pirate on a 12.7-millimeter gun in the armored car’s turret. The rounds were skipping off the ground and flying over the attack boat. Brooks dropped to his belly and brought up his rifle. A single round discharged and the pirate on the gun dropped back into the vehicle.
Brooks and Brad ran for the inflatable and dragged it back into the water. Sean was crouched low, walking behind them and talking into the radio as more rounds began to explode into the top of the berm once the armored vehicle’s gunner was replaced.
The 30-millimeter gun on the fast attack boat’s deck opened up and launched high explosive projectiles at the armored car. Brad heard the crack, crack, crack of the rounds smacking the ground, then the whoomp and secondary explosion of a hit on the armored car.
Brad leapt into the boat behind Sean just as Brooks started the engine. He held onto the side of the inflatable as Brooks raced it forward and made a quick lap around the attack boat. Brooks cut the boat hard and revved the engine; they drove fast and flew up the dive deck.
Sean tossed a line to Swanson, who quickly tied the inflatable off to the deck. The large boat’s engine roared and turned in the water. As the attack boat changed direction, the forward-looking deck gun was taken off line; Sean and Brooks stepped up to the fifty caliber machine guns on the back deck and continued to place suppressing fire on the pirates, who were now spread out but still firing.
The boat picked up speed and quickly raced away from the beach and back into open water. The SEALs stopped firing and focused their attention on strapping down the inflatable. Sean took a headcount and verified everyone was okay before he walked to the raft and lifted out his gear.
“What a bunch of assholes. The world is falling apart and we still have people wanting to kill us … and for what … a helicopter that those fucktards can’t even fly?” Sean said, shaking his head. “Tony, make our course towards Socotra please, and check in with the bird. Let them know we are enroute.”
“On it, Chief,” Tony shouted back.
22.
The vessel leveled out at a smooth thirty knots; Brad was still on the back deck looking over the side. He had stripped down to his T-shirt and was enjoying the view. They had decided to follow the coast south to the island of Socotra. He could see the shore far in the distance, a tan outline of the desert coast. The sun was shining hot on the deck but the ocean’s spray was cool and comforting.
Brad moved to a bench near the
back dive deck and sat down. He pulled his Oakley’s down over his eyes and laid his head back. Brooks was at the controls now. Brad heard the hatch close and looked up to see Tony make his way back onto the deck. “Mind if I take a seat?” Tony yelled over the roar of the engines.
Brad nodded to him, and the older man sat at the opposite end of the bench. Tony reached into his pocket and fetched a cigarette. Cupping his hand from the stiff breeze, he lit the end and took a long drag.
“Best thing about being off of that platform, I can finally smoke in the open again,” Tony said.
“That’s the best thing? I think I’ll go with not having things trying to attack and eat me twenty-four-seven,” Brad shouted back.
Tony pulled the cigarette from his mouth and laughed. “Ha ha! Yeah, you’re right; I think I’d like to change my answer.”
They both laughed together. “You know a fishing pole and a case of beer would make this the perfect trip. I was kind of hoping to have time to track one down back at the last stop; a fishing pole, I mean,” Tony smiled.
Brad nodded in agreement and settled into the bench, letting the sun’s rays warm his face. “How long is it to Socotra?” he asked.
“Well if we can maintain thirty, I’d say we should be there in a good fifteen hours.”
“And the Black Hawk?”
“It won’t take them long at their speed. We’re already out of radio range with them. This bucket only has a shitty HF radio and we only got about twenty-five miles range. They will be getting to the island in daylight, so hopefully they can find a nice safe place to hide,” Tony explained.
“Unless the stories are true and the Navy is parked there waiting with welcoming arms,” Brad said, smiling.
“Yup, unless that happens. Well I’m going to go scrounge up some food in the galley, you take it easy Brad,” Tony said as he snuffed his cigarette and threw it into the breeze.
Brad sat enjoying the sun for a few minutes longer before he got up and entered the bridge, where he found Brooks sitting at the controls, leaning forward in deep concentration. Brooks looked back and noticed that he was being observed. He slapped the controls again and shook his head.
