Authors: Keith Douglass
Willy Bishop reported he had a little over a hundred rounds. DeWitt gathered the AK-47 ammo from his squad, and had four full thirty-round magazines and two partials.
Murdock nodded. “Should be enough. We’re hoping to blind them and get inside quickly. I’ll call you off if we get a door open.” He looked at the men spread out, then used the mike.
“How many flashbang grenades we have left?”
The reports showed they had only one.
“Bring it up,” Murdock said.
“How many WP forty-millimeter or hand grenades we have?”
This time he found out the M-4A1 men had twelve of the smoke grenades. He still had one WP hand bomb.
“Okay. Ed’s two men stay with him. Find yourself some
good cover with a good field of fire at those shooting slots. The rest of you on me.”
They went deeper into the brushy cover, and circled the rock house, coming up at the back under Nicholson’s direction. Murdock looked over the chances. The last good cover was thirty yards from the rock house, the closest brush was on any side.
“Red, any wind?” Murdock asked.
“Very light, L-T. Some, blowing left to right.”
Murdock put Nicholson and Ching on one side, and Al Adams and Lampedusa on the other with their rocket-launching M-4A1 carbines.
“Ching, when I give the word, I want one WP round at the left side of the back of that rock house. We’ll see how high the smoke blows and what effect it has. Then we’ll do six rounds and if it works, we’ll charge the place. Who brought the TNAZ that Lincoln usually carries?”
“I got the package, L-T,” Ching said.
“When the smoke works, you and I charge up to that left-hand door and you put on two charges and blow the fucker. I’ll be pushing some grenades into those windows.”
Murdock had been on the mike. “Everyone have the game plan?”
“If the smoke doesn’t cover?” Red asked.
“Then they have us outgunned and we wait for darkness. Pretty sure they don’t have NVGs, so it’ll be a walk in the park.”
“Yeah, let’s get this over with,” Ching said.
Murdock adjusted his throat mike. “Ed, do it,” Murdock said.
They heard the firing from the front, the chatter of the MG and the deeper crack of the Kalashnikov. Murdock waited twenty seconds, then pointed at Ching. He fired one WP round, letting it bounce before it hit the rock wall. It burst into a Fourth of July display with its hotly burning phosphorus. Then the trails began giving off smoke and it drifted slowly to the right rising, for a moment blanking out the whole wall.
Just as it did, rifles fired from two of the slots overhead.
The rounds came close to Murdock, who rolled to the side behind a six-inch-thick hardwood tree.
Ching had moved as well, and the rest of the men in deeper brush took cover.
“What the hell now, L-T?” Ching asked.
“We wait for the smoke to clear, then we use our long guns and blast those firing slots. Looks like they were made to fend off arrows and spears, not high-powered weapons. Everyone hear? Get a firing position along this front.”
The troops moved up and spread out with fields of fire. The smoke drifted away lazily. When it was gone, Murdock reacted. “Open fire.”
The rifles and carbines slammed thirty rounds into the slots. Murdock could see some rounds hitting the sides of the angled stone and ricocheting inside.
“Smoke now,” Murdock said. “Fire for effect.” The four SEALs fired six more rounds of WP at the same spot as the first one. Murdock watched the rounds burst and the smoke rise. Ching looked at Murdock. Murdock got up on one knee in a sprinter’s stance. Ching did the same.
“Now,” Murdock said, and the two men ran the thirty yards flat out for the rear of the building. Murdock knew there would be some firing from the rear window slots. They sprinted and zigzagged. A bullet splattered in front of Murdock, but only some dirt and gravel hit him. They covered the thirty yards quickly, and panted as they crouched against the wall.
“Hold fire, rear,” Murdock said into the mike. He could hear DeWitt’s team firing at the front, and knew there were also return rounds from inside the rock house. Murdock heard rounds fired from the wall above him, but the smoke had blinded the shooters, and he figured his men were safe.
Ching already had out the high explosive that succeeded C-5. It was TNAZ, twenty percent more powerful and lighter in weight than its cousin. Ching plastered a pliable one-eighth pound of the explosive on each door hinge, and attached timer-detonators. He had preset them for ten seconds. He motioned to the L-T that they would go around the corner to get away from the blast.
Murdock looked at the windows, held up his hand in a wait signal, then ran to the nearest window, broke the pane with the butt of his MP-5, and pushed two fragger grenades between the bars and through the window. He ran for the near rock wall corner, then nodded at Ching.
The SEAL pushed in the timer-activation switches, then hurried around the corner.
They heard the karumph of the two hand grenades inside the building after their 4.2 second fuse train burned down. Ten seconds is a year when you’re waiting for a charge to go off, and Ching had started to go back to check it when Murdock caught his arm. Just then the twin explosions blasted half a second apart.
Murdock and Ching were around the wall in seconds. The rest of the squad raced across the thirty yards to join them at the rear wall. The two hinges had disintegrated, and the door had pivoted on the heavy lock and then broken off. A yawning black hole showed inside.
Ching hosed it down with ten rounds from his carbine. Murdock leaned toward the hole and threw in the flash grenade. The SEALs covered their ears and eyes. Murdock pulled up his night-vision goggles, and as soon as the six pulsing explosions and the six white-hot strobe lights faded, he rushed into the void.
In dull green light, he saw he was in a kitchen area. The grenades had trashed some kitchenware and furniture, but no bodies were present.
He charged to the connecting door, kicked it open, then knelt beside the protection of the wall. A burst of automatic-rifle fire buzzed through the opening. He rolled in a fragger grenade and waited the 4.2 seconds for the explosion.
When the shrapnel from the bomb stopped snarling through the open door, Murdock surged into the room. He took the right-hand side, and Ron Holt with his NVGs took the left. Through the faint green patina, Murdock saw two men trying to rise on the right-hand side. He drilled both with three-round bursts and they flopped to the floor. The sound of the firing in the rock room was like an echo chamber. Murdock wasn’t sure he could hear much.
“Clear right,” Murdock said into his mike.
He heard Holt on the left kick something, then send a six-round burst into the corner. The rounds echoing in the rock room sounded like doomsday itself. When the sound faded, Holt reported.
“Clear left, L-T.”
The room had one door leading off it. Holt kicked it open. There was no reaction.
“Scrub it down,” Murdock said.
Holt reached his MP-5 around the door frame and squirted twelve rounds into the room, covering most of the floor space. Again there was no reaction.
Holt leaned around from floor level and checked the room through his NVGs. He lifted up, and did the same thing again.
“Looks clear to me, L-T,” Holt whispered. The two SEALs burst into the room, and found it empty.
Ching and Nicholson were right behind them. Ching saw the door leading from this room, and pushed it open gently, staying well to the side. The hinges squeaked. When the door came fully open, someone in the room spat six rounds through the void. Then there were footfalls, and a door slammed.
Ching checked the area from floor level by leaning out to look around the jamb. He jolted out, and came back. Just as he cleared the frame, it shattered with three rounds of angry bullets. Ching caught some splinters in one hand. He swore softly, pulled a fragger off his webbing, jerked the pin, and rolled the bomb inside after letting it soak for two seconds with the arming spoon popped off. The bomb went off two seconds after he threw it.
At once, he checked again, and pulled back. He did that twice, then stayed looking inside. “Look’s clear, L-T,” Ching said. As he did, he lifted his M-4A1 and emptied ten rounds from his magazine into the room. Then he charged in, and confirmed it was clear.
Murdock found a firing slot at the front wall. He looked at a door to his left.
“How do you get to the second floor in this place?” he
asked. Nobody knew. They cleared the next room. The rest of the eight men Murdock had brought with him were in the rooms behind. He could split up and send some men upstairs if he could figure out where the stairs were.
Murdock saw two doors out of the room. He opened one slowly. Light poured in through two firing slots in the thick rock wall. No one was inside.
“Over here,” Magic Brown said.
Murdock went to the second door that Magic had opened. There were stone steps set against the wall that led upward. Murdock closed the door softly.
“Anybody up there isn’t coming down, and they won’t give up easily. Any suggestions?”
“Grenades,” Magic said.
“Yeah, sure, and what if it bounces around and falls down the stairs?” Nicholson asked.
“Flashbang grenade,” Jaybird said.
“Good, but we’re out of them.”
“One man go up them fucking stone steps quiet and cautious,” Doc Ellsworth said.
“Who?” Murdock asked.
Nicholson shrugged. “Hell, gotta be me. You other guys would spook a herd of turtles.”
Nicholson took off everything on his gear that would make any noise, hefted his M-4A1, and moved the rest of them to the other side of the room.
Then he opened the door soundlessly, slid through a foot-wide slot, and closed the door.
Red moved up one step at a time. The stone gave off no squeaks or rattles. He moved standing up, hoping that he could see over the floor level soon. He had on his NVGs, and they helped in the nearly dark upstairs. Red wondered if there was more than one big room upstairs.
He crept up higher, but still couldn’t see over the floor. He paused, listening. Nothing. Not a chirp of a cricket, or a bird, or a man wheezing or breathing loudly. Another step. Still not high enough.
One more step and he lifted on tiptoe so he could see over the landing. There was no wall beside the stairwell, just a
three-slat board railing. He checked under the lower rail, and saw in the green-tinted light two beds without linens or mattresses, a pair of chairs, and a large closet.
Slowly Red inventoried every square foot of the room.
There was no one there.
Except maybe in the closet. He lifted up another two steps, and angled the carbine’s muzzle over the wooden floor. He had taken the silencer off the carbine. Red triggered a dozen rounds, drawing a line of bullet holes two feet off the floor across the wooden doors of the five-foot-wide closet.
When the sound stilled, there were four more SEALs just behind him on the steps. He put six more rounds into the closet, then surged up the last three steps and charged the doors. One had opened an inch. He threw open the door, training his weapon on the inside.
Nothing was there.
He jerked open the second door, and found the same situation.
“Nobody up here, L-T. If there was somebody here, he squeezed through that six-inch firing slot.”
Murdock pushed past the others and checked every corner of the one big room.
Nobody.
“Where did they go?” Murdock asked. “We know there was at least one more live one in here.”
“What about that other fucking door downstairs?” Ching asked.
They ran for it. When Murdock got there, Ching was ready to kick in the door in the next room. He did, staying clear at the side. No shots slammed through the opening. He bellied down, and took a look into the half-lit room.
“Sonofabitch!” Ching bellowed. “This is where that second door comes out of the place. Has that other window, and the fucking door is open.”
Murdock ran to the door and looked out. “Oh, shit. We didn’t leave anyone outside to cover this door. We must have chased them around in a circle, and they hauled ass through this door. Nicholson, on the double.”
Red spent ten minutes outside looking at the grass, leaves, and weeds just beyond the second door. He took off in a line directly in back of the building, looking carefully at the ground as he went. A minute later returned.
“Okay, here’s what we’ve got. I found tracks of four different kinds of boots. One set is deeper into the mulch than the others, which I’d figure is our fat general. They couldn’t be ahead of us by more than twenty minutes. It’s downhill from here. That fat guy is going to slow them down.”
“Good, we’ll go get them,” Murdock said. He frowned. “Ammo report.”
The three in front of the building were down to ten rounds each. The rest of the platoon members were on their last thirty-round magazines, except two, who had one more spare. The AK-47’s were dry and discarded. They all had their belt pistols, the heavy H&K special Mark 23s with two twelve-round magazines. “If we get down to fighting with our forty-fives, we’re in shit city,” Murdock said. He scowled and walked around a minute.
“This all means we’re damn short on ammo,” Murdock said. “We use it only when we have to. We have four more guys out there to waste, but we have to do it carefully. Let’s go, Red.”
1602 hours
Rock fortress
North of Nairobi, Kenya
The platoon scout headed down the trail of footprints leading from the now-benign rock fortress on top of the Kenyan hill. The remaining men in the Third Platoon followed stretched out at ten-yard intervals.
Murdock was in his usual place just behind Nicholson, and Ron Holt shadowed the Platoon Leader with his SATCOM radio. The trail wound through the woods, not along the road they had come up. It angled down a slope through heavy trees and brush, but Nicholson had no trouble following it.
At one point on hard ground with little vegetation, he had to do a small circle to pick up the trail, but he found it again and they moved out.