Keith Douglass
Battleground
DEDICATION
To my good friend, writing critic, and advisor in all things Navy, Cyndy Mobley.
To the ever-vigilant man on the firing line, my agent, Jake Elwell.
And to my research assistant, language guru, and constant critic, Chet Cunningham.
To one and all I say thank you. I couldn't have written this book without your help.
SEAL TEAM SEVEN THIRD PLATOON
Lieutenant Blake Murdock. WEAPON HK MP-5SD sub-machine gun.
David "Jaybird" Stirling. Machinists Mate Second Class. Platoon Chief. WEAPON HK MP-5SD sub-machine gun.
Ron Holt. Radioman First Class. Platoon radio operator. WEAPON HK MP-5SD sub-machine gun.
Marvin "Magic" Brown. Quartermaster's Mate First Class. Squadsniper. WEAPON McMillan M-89 7.62 NATO sniper rifle/McMillan M-88 .50-caliber sniper rifle.
Eric "Red" Nicholson. Torpedoman's Mate Second Class. Scout for the platoon. WEAPON Colt M-4A1 with grenade launcher.
Kenneth Ching. Quartermaster's Mate First Class. Platoon translator/Chinese, Japanese, Russian, Spanish. WEAPON Colt M-4A1 with grenade launcher.
Harry "Horse" Ronson. Electrician's Mate Second Class. WEAPON HK M-21A1 7.62 NATO round machine gun.
James "Doc" Ellsworth. Hospital Corpsman Second Class. Platoon Corpsman. WEAPON HK MP-5SD/Mossburg no stock 5-round pump shotgun.
Lieutenant (j.g.) Ed DeWitt. Leader Second Squad. Second in Command of the platoon. WEAPON HK MP-5SD sub-machine gun.
Al Adams. Gunner's Mate Third Class. WEAPON Colt M-4A1 with rocket launcher.
Miguel Fernandez. Gunner's Mate First Class. Speaks Spanish, Portuguese. Squad Sniper. WEAPON McMillan M-89 7.62 NATO round sniper rifle.
Ross Lincoln. Aviation Technician Second Class. WEAPON HK MP-5SD sub-machine gun.
Les Quinley. Torpedoman's Mate Third Class. WEAPON Colt M-4A1 with grenade launcher or Mossburg no stock 5-round pump shotgun.
Willy Bishop. Electrician's Mate Second Class. Explosives expert. WEAPON Colt M-4A1 with grenade launcher, Mossburg no stock 5-round pump shotgun.
Ted Yates. Bos'n's Mate Second Class. Squad machine gunner. WEAPON HK-21A1 7.62 NATO round machine gun. Second radio operator.
Joe "Ricochet" Lampedusa. Operations Specialist Third Class. WEAPON HK M-21A1 7.62 NATO round machine gun.
Third Platoon assigned exclusively to the Central Intelligence Agency to perform any needed tasks on a covert basis anywhere in the world. A Top Secret classified assignment.
1
Colonel Umar Maleceia waved his silent platoon forward. The combat-outfitted Kenyan rangers blended into the deep shadows along Pier 12 and waited. Colonel Maleceia moved into the glow from the lights on the USS Roy Turner, FFG 68, and marched up the steel gangplank now almost level with the pier.
The sailor on duty on the quarterdeck watched as the Kenyan military officer strode up to the rail. The sailor hurried onto the weather deck and to the rail next to the brow. The six-foot-five-inch 300-pound officer wearing Kenyan Army combat greens stopped three feet from the American and saluted the American flag, then the sailor. The petty officer first class returned the salute.
"Identify yourself, sir, and state your business," the sentry said.
Colonel Maleceia lowered his right-hand salute and at the same instant brought his left hand up from his hip. The silenced Heckler & Koch USP combat.40-caliber automatic whispered twice, and two rounds jolted into the sailor's heart. He died before he could cry out.
At once ten of the dark-green-clad troopers from the dock's shadows raced to the brow and hurried silently up it. Half went forward, the rest aft on the 453-foot U.S. Navy ship. Each man had a special assignment. A moment later Colonel Maleceia motioned, and twenty more Kenyan Army rangers rushed onto the ship.
Aft, Gunnery Chiefs Winslow and Harper had just checked the Sikorsky SH-60B Seahawk helicopter that sat on the pad on the fantail outside the chopper hangar. Both men had returned from a night in the Mombasa saloons and were not entirely sober.
"Told you this baby has the new R-standard ASW sensors," Chief Winslow said. "Told you so. You can see the antenna right there."
"You're drunk Winslow. You wouldn't know a sensor from your mother's army boots." They both laughed and nearly fell down. "Pay up, Winslow."
Just as Winslow reached for a roll of bills in his pocket, two Kenyan rangers surged out of the chopper hangar with the 20-mm six-barreled M 15 Vulcan Phalanx perched on top of it. The Kenyans fired their AK-47s as soon as they saw the U.S. Navy men. A dozen rounds slammed into both chiefs and threw them against the side of the Seahawk, where they died instantly.
Seaman Roberts, on his regular security patrol rounds, heard the shots aft, and then heavier booming blasts from up forward. He ran that way up the weather deck on the starboard side past the alleyway that traversed the middle of the ship. He drew his issue .45 1911 automatic and charged a round into it. Damned big trouble somewhere. The firing sounded like shotguns. Somebody shooting shotguns on the Turner?
Below the wing of the bridge, two figures rose out of the darkness. Twin flashes from the pair made Roberts dive to the left. He was too late. One of the AK-47 slugs hit him in the chest and drove him backwards into a giant pool of blackness.
The first shots stirred activity on the quarterdeck. Lieutenant Marvin Foster, the Officer of the Deck, came away from the podium and looked at Seaman Johnson.
"You hear shots?"
The seaman on roving security patrol nodded, drew his .45, and headed for the port side. He never made it. A dark figure with a shotgun edged into the passageway and fired one shot of double-aught buck. It almost cut the sailor in half. The second round slammed Lieutenant Foster against the bulkhead, where he slid down, drawing grotesque patterns of blood on the fresh paint.
Chief Bos'n's Mate Randolph stepped cautiously into the starboard door of the passage to the quarterdeck. He had a five-round shotgun, and fired one round of double-aught buck into the gunman who had just killed the OOD. He bent at the side of the dead officer and pulled out a ring of keys. Quickly, before any more attackers came onto the quarterdeck, he found the right key, turned it in the slot, and hit the General Quarters alarm. The rhythmic metallic gong sounded again and again through the Roy Turner. Now Randolph figured maybe some of the men would have a chance.
Below-decks, the Security Alert Team leader heard the General Quarters gong and unlocked the armory door. Inside, the light was always on. He quickly took the lock off the long weapons, shotguns, and M-14 rifles, and pulled out a pair of Mossburg shotguns. A dozen men surged toward him reaching for .45 automatics and 9mm pistols and their magazines. Some took shotguns and pockets of rounds. Most of the men were in shorts and T-shirts right out of the sack from their coops.
"What the hell's happening?" one man shouted.
"Nobody knows, but we got shitfaces all over the place shooting at us," somebody said. The Security Alert Team leader left the armory open, and ran up a ladder for the deck above. He met no one on the ladder.
Another dozen more men raced to the armory and grabbed weapons and scattered. Now firing could be heard from several parts of the ship.
Forward, the Kenyans ran into a pair of sailors who had been smoking at the rail and watching the lights on the Mombasa waterfront fifty yards away. When the warning gongs sounded, the two sailors turned and ran for their General Quarters posts. They didn't make it. Two Kenyan rangers fired one round each of double-aught buck from their shotguns. The two sailors caught most of the slugs, slammed over the low railing, and splashed into the harbor below next to the pier.