Pacific Siege sts-8

by Keith Douglass

  Murdock stood to one side watching it all. At last he spotted the marks on the screen that showed where the Tomcats were flying. Both moved closer to the small town on the Pacific side of the island.

  Time crept by for Murdock. He watched the lines on the screen, the blips of the planes. Then he saw the hovercraft line turn toward shore.

  “The hovercraft has turned toward shore. You have weapons free on the twenties, Tom One and Tom Two,” the CAG said on the radio.

  “That’s a Roger. Tom Two making my warning run.”

  Lieutenant Jerome Wilcox lined up his Tomcat F-14 so he had a small lead on the hovercraft, then nosed down and put his finger on the trigger for the 20mm cannon rounds.

  He pointed the nose of the F-14 just ahead of the Russian Hovercraft and hit the trigger for a ten-round burst. He saw some of the rounds explode on the water forty feet ahead of the small craft; then he was pulling up the Tomcat less than a hundred feet off the Pacific waves.

  “Tom Two. I fired approximately ten rounds in front of the target.”

  “This is Tom One, Home Base. Looks like the craft is not changing course. It’s about a quarter of a mile off shore.”

  “Tom One, you have weapons free on the twenty-mike-mike rounds.

  Hit those aboveboard air propellers if you can.”

  “Roger that, moving into position.”

  Lieutenant (j. g.) Ronson flexed his fingers and pulled the into a flanking attack on the hovercraft. He felt sweat bead on his forehead.

  He’d never fired at a Russian boat before. Hell, he’d never fired at anything that had human beings on it. He could very well kill several men in the next few moments.

  He pushed that out of his mind, and flew the bird. He came up on the hovercraft, angled slightly to keep it in his sights, then nosed down and began his strafing run. He’d been the best at this in his squadron on target practice. This was just another target.

  His hand gripped the trigger, and he decided to fire on this side of the stern and across it over the four huge air propellers, and then put some rounds beyond just to be sure.

  Lieutenant Ronson wanted to wipe sweat out of his eyes. He didn’t.

  Then it was time. He nosed down a little more, knowing he was dangerously close to the water. He hit his mark, and pressed the trigger. He saw the first few rounds hit the water on this side of the Russian hovercraft, then rake across the deck and explode on at least the first double set of pusher/puller propellers before he was past the target and pulling out of the dive slowly, yet staying above the spray of the waves below.

  “Tom One, Home Base. Firing mission completed.

  “The target is slowing, Home Base,” Tom Two said. “Tom Two over her now. I can see that she took several hits. The big air props are winding down. One looks half blown away.”

  “Good shooting, Tom One. This is Home Base. The hovercraft is now dead in the water.”

  “Home Base, Tom One. She seems to be getting under way again, slowly but reversing course. I say again, the Russian hovercraft seems to be reversing course heading north.”

  “That’s affirmative, Tom One. Our plot shows she’s now moving back toward her fleet. Observe but don’t follow beyond ten klicks.”

  “That’s a Roger, Home Base.”

  CAG Captain Olson looked at the admiral. “At least we didn’t sink her. Could have. You’ll probably be getting a message from your buddy Admiral Rostow.”

  Admiral Kenner shook his head. “Don’t think so, CAG. He tried a bold move to get his attackers inside and it didn’t work. He’ll have to lick his wounds and try for a stealth move by night. No, I don’t think that we’ll hear a peep out of our Russian Naval officer friend.”

  The admiral turned to Murdock. “You hear anything from your man in Washington yet about a go for your team?”

  “Not a word, Admiral. Today, I hope.”

  “Be best. You said you think the Russian commandos will be sent in tomorrow night.”

  “Yes, Sir. We need to go in tonight to get there first.” On the Russian island of Kunashir, in the small village of Golovnino, Japanese General Raiden Nishikawa stared in delight as he saw the Russian hovercraft take the strafing by the American fighters. He cheered as it stopped and then turned slowly and moved back toward the north at no more than ten knots.

  His second in command had been with him on an inspection of the security outposts, and both had seen the warning rounds, then the attack on the boat.

  “They were going to land?” Major Hitachi asked.

  “Yes. I’m sure they wanted to. That class hovercraft can carry a tank, maybe two, and at least two hundred combat soldiers. We were lucky today that the United States drove them away.” Nishikawa shook his head, and stared at the retreating hovercraft making less of a spray of water than when it had arrived at what he guessed had to be over thirty-five knots.

  “But tonight, after dark. What is going to happen then? We still have three days on the seven day deadline. But the Russians were ready to violate their own limit by invading us today. What will they do tonight? We must be especially alert as soon as darkness falls.”

  Murdock returned to the compartment as soon as he talked with the admiral in the TFCC. The SEALs had finished with cleaning, checking, and oiling their weapons. Each man had his gear laid out for inspection, mostly so each one could check and double-check to be sure he had with him what he wanted on the mission.

  Murdock went to his table, and laid out his gear again. Yes, it was all there. They would not take the big, heavy Mark 23 H&K .45-caliber pistol. He wanted the men able to move quickly.

  A sailor came in the door and looked around. When he saw Murdock, he went up to him and held out an envelope.

  “Commander Murdock?”

  “Right. I hope you bring good news.”

  The man grinned and hurried out of the room.

  Murdock tore open the envelope and read the typed-out message.

  The ready room’s chatter tapered off as one after another of the SEALs saw the messenger and wondered what the message would say.

  Murdock read it quickly, and looked up. “We have a go.”

  The room exploded with cheering and stomping, then quieted again.

  “Stroh says we got past the Japanese Prime Minister with the EAR weapons. He hopes to hell that they work. He also said that he figures we’ll have to take our regular weapons in, but he won’t be telling the Prime Minister about that. Looks like Dewitt and I better go see the admiral.”

  By the time they tracked the admiral down in his quarters, it was a little after 1100.

  The admiral already knew of the go.

  “Your PBRs are already on board. You can load them with your IBSs and get them lashed down while they are in the hold. Then they’ll go out a hatch near the waterline and you can board them. What’s your time schedule?”

  “Sir, dark here is about seventeen hundred. How far from shore and the town are we?”

  “I checked. We’re fifteen miles off shore and about five miles south of the town. The PBRs will do twenty-four knots. If you leave here an hour before dark, you should have plenty of time to get offshore a mile at dark and get into your IBSS.”

  “Good. We’ll be ready at fifteen hundred to load the boats, then plan on casting off at sixteen hundred.”

  “Any last-minute special equipment or gear you need, Commander?”

  “No, sir. We’re ready. We’ll have our SATCOM tuned to the carrier’s tactical frequency for voice, and check it before we get onshore. I think we’re all set, sir. Thank you for your help.”

  Admiral Kenner smiled. “No problem. Oh, you could put in a good word for me with the CNO next time you have lunch with him.”

  Murdock laughed. “Admiral, I hardly know the man. If I take him to lunch, I’ll be sure to mention you.”

  Back at the ready room, Jaybird Sterling hurried up to Murdock when he came in.

  “Skipper, I’ve got our guide here to take us back to the ste
rn.

  That’s evidently where our IBSs are and the patrol boats. He says we’ll launch the PBR craft there and then board them.”

  “True, after we lash the IBSs on the bow of each of the PBRs.”

  Murdock looked around. “Jaybird, get these guys to chow, and then we’ll do the last-minute packing up. We’ll be pushing off from the carrier at sixteen hundred — that’s a little over four hours. Now chew some tail and get these guys fed.”

  21

  Thursday, 22 February

  USS Monroe, CVN 81

  Off Kunashir Island

  Kuril Chain, Russia

  By 1530, the SEALs had lashed one of the bulky, inflated IBS boats to each of the river patrol craft. Murdock didn’t recognize the craft.

  The ones they had were the Mark II series, the older variety. They were thirty-two feet long, displaced 8.9 tons fully loaded, and had two GM V-6 diesels to produce 420 horsepower to run two Jacuzzi water jets.

  They had a top speed of twenty-four knots, and were set up to haul ten combat troops. They had four 12.7mm machine guns and two Mark 19 grenade launchers. Murdock talked to the coxswain. “We need to get from here to a mile off Golovnino, and arrive just at full dark. We want you to come into a mile off as quietly as possible. We don’t care if you throttle down to five knots, just so nobody onshore knows we’re out there.”

  “Understand,” the coxswain said. “I’ll be the lead boat. We’ve got enough speed to get up there and then move in the last mile or two on low power. Keep your guys inside the boat. We don’t want to have to go back and pick anybody up.”

  “You ever worked with SEALs before, Chief?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  The Navy crew lowered the patrol boats into the water out the hatch that was three feet off the waves. Both the IBSs were lashed down securely.

  At 1550, Murdock had Ed Dewitt load in his seven men. Five minutes later the Second Squad was on board the patrol boat, and Murdock put his squad in the other one.

  It had been a while since Murdock had been on a thirty-five-foot boat in the open sea. They left the carrier slowly, then picked up speed. At twenty knots the spray coming over the bow soaked all of the SEALS, and the February weather was not balmy.

  “Next time let’s take a nice dry chopper,” Jaybird said. The rest of them were too cold to shout back at him. At 1645, the coxswain tapped Murdock on the shoulder. “We’re offshore of the town and about five miles out. Not much of a glow, but you can see some lights.”

  Murdock saw them. It was almost dusk. “How long to move in to a mile off?” Murdock asked.

  “We can do it in ten minutes, or twenty, or anywhere in between.

  Your choice.”

  “Let’s make it twenty.”

  Fifteen minutes later the small patrol boats came to a stop, and two SEALs on each craft unlashed the IBSs and got them in the water.

  The SEALs loaded carefully. The engines had been tested just before they left.

  They had their Motorolas on, and Murdock called for a net check.

  All fifteen men sounded off in his earpiece.

  By that time it was fully dark. They tied the two boats together with a twenty-foot buddy line.

  “Ed, take the lead,” Murdock said in his mike. They watched the two river patrol boats back away and ease out to sea on low throttle.

  “Let’s do it,” Murdock said. The IBSs’ motors coughed softly, then purred, and the craft began their hushed approach to the lights the SEALs could now see plainly on shore.

  Dewitt powered the small craft along at five miles an hour so the boats wouldn’t produce a wake, and so the softly hushed motor could not be heard from the shore. He and Murdock had agreed that they would go in where there were no houses or buildings, maybe a half mile from the village itself. The lead craft’s motor coughed once and quit.

  Joe Douglas, on the tiller, grabbed the starting rope and pulled twice on the starter; then it coughed once more and purred into a steady rhythm.

  Ten minutes later the first boat scraped on the gently sloping sandy beach; then the second IBS came in right beside it, and the SEALs jumped out and ran into some small hardwood tree growth just beyond the beach. They took everything they brought with them. The IBSs were expendable.

  The twelve men with the EAR weapons led the squads as they worked along the beach a hundred yards. Joe Lampedusa was the lead scout. He had tied his Colt carbine over his back, and carried the EAR in both hands. The glow of the ready light on the weapon showed, and all he had to do was pull the trigger. He went down to one knee, and tried to see through the darkness.

  He flipped down his Night Vision Goggles and checked again. He could see no people. They were still a short ways from the village.

  Now he could see plainly which way to go.

  They came to the edge of town, a street with a dozen houses on it.

  He saw few people and no military.

  When he was about to move ahead, a uniformed soldier stepped out of the shadows of a house and walked across the street. Murdock had given Lam the freedom to shoot. He lifted the EAR, sighted in, and pulled the trigger.

  The soft whooshing sound came, and a moment later the Japanese Ground Self Defense Force soldier slumped down, his rifle clattering on the hard-packed earth.

  Murdock ran up beside Lam, who pointed to the EAR and to the man ahead in the street. “A sweetheart of a weapon,” he said. Together, they ran forward, cinched plastic riot cuffs around the man’s wrists and ankles, and carried him behind a house.

  The rest of the SEALs moved up, and word whispered down the ranks that the EARs worked fine.

  Half-a-dozen civilians hurried cautiously from one building to another. When they had left the street, Murdock moved his men forward into a vacant lot. Ahead they saw more buildings, some with lights on.

  Before they could decide which direction to go to find the military headquarters, a small Russian-style jeep growled around the corner. The headlights brushed over two SEALs who had just stood up.

  There was no outcry from the jeep. Murdock and two men he designated fired at the jeep while it was half a block away. The three men in it slumped over, and the rig nosed into a building with a small crash and the motor died.

  Three civilians ran out of the building and looked at the unconscious men. They chattered for a moment, then went back inside without offering to help the men.

  Ching slid in beside Murdock. “I didn’t get it all, but the Russian civilians said these stupid Japanese must be drunk again.

  Another one said all they wanted was the Russian vodka and their women.”

  Murdock sent Mahanani up to put riot cuffs on the three; then they moved on forward.

  Another sentry walking a post came around a corner and saw them.

  He reached into his pocket for something. Before he could get it out, Washington had dropped him with a blast from his EAR. The sentry slumped to the ground without a sound. Washington ran to him, cuffed hands and ankles, and rolled him into the shadows.

  Murdock studied the street ahead. It led down to the small bay.

  No good that way. He looked the other way on the street. There were more lights that direction. He thought he could see a two-or-three-story building, but he wasn’t sure.

  Lam came back from a quick scouting mission.

  “Best way is to stay a block this side of that main drag. Lots of people out there moving around. Also, I saw another jeep patrol and looks like a sentry on every other block. We can work toward the center of town and hope the military headquarters is down this way.”

  Murdock nodded, and the two diamond formations moved down the street, with Murdock’s squad in front. Lam found another sentry and put him down with the EAR, but not before the man let out a shrill cry.

  No one came to help him. The SEALs moved forward.

  Murdock heard some music coming from one house they passed. He figured it was a balalaika. At the next interse
ction they spotted a half-ton truck with a heavy machine gun mounted in back and a gunner on it. He had aimed the weapon down the main street.

  Ron Holt and Murdock took the shots. Murdock’s went inside the cab. Ron Holt nailed the gunner. The man slumped down, fell off the seat, and into the body of the truck. Murdock heard nothing from inside the cab. He and Holt raced forward. Murdock found two men unconscious in the cab. He put plastic cuffs on them, and Holt said his man was secure. They moved on another block; then they could see a two-story concrete-block building to the left. It was half a block off the main street, and had a series of floodlights around it.

  In front Murdock saw three jeep-like rigs, a six-by truck, and two smaller vehicles. This evidently was the motor pool as well. Murdock called Dewitt and Jaybird up for a conference. His men were against buildings, in moon shadows, off the street so the civilians wouldn’t be alarmed.

  “That it?” Dewitt asked, looking at the two-story building.

  “My guess,” Murdock said. “How we going to do it? I see one door on this side, small windows up high like a fortress. Lam, come up here,” Murdock said on the radio.

  Lam ran up and flattened out beside the others.

  “Take a quick look around that building. Don’t let anyone spot you. What we need is another door or some man-level windows we can use to shoot through. Take a check.”

  Lam nodded, and left sprinting across the street and past some buildings. Then he cut through the block and vanished.

  “if we can find three openings to shoot through, we should get enough bounce around inside there to do in anybody who’s home,” Jaybird said.

  “Agreed, but we need the openings,” Murdock said.

  “Are there drivers in those vehicles?” Dewitt asked.

  “Can’t tell from here,” Jaybird said. “I’ll go up and check.”

  “Wait until we get ready to do the headquarters,” Murdock said.

  “Then we’ll do them all at once.”

  Two soldiers left the one door they could see in the headquarters.

  Both had rifles. They talked, and laughed, and headed directly at the SEALS.

  “I’ve got them,” Murdock whispered into his lip mike. He pointed at Jaybird and Dewitt. Both sighted in on the soldiers and fired. The whooshing sound of the EARs came again like a heavy sigh, and the two Japanese Self Defense soldiers crumpled like rag dolls without uttering a sound.