Then just to his left, fifty yards from the first soldiers, another group of Kenyan rangers hit the ridge firing. The rounds weren't aimed at anyone. They couldn't see anyone. They simply fired down the slope.
Murdock's men concentrated on the new targets. Answering the SEALs' fire came a scattering of rounds, and Murdock heard a sharp cry to the left.
"Holt, that you? You hit?"
He got only silence.
Murdock crawled five yards to where he had last heard from Holt. The radioman lay on his back, the SATCOM radio half torn off his shoulder pack.
Murdock felt Holt's back and side, but didn't find any blood. He slapped the radioman's face gently. Holt shivered, then shook his head and blinked.
"What the hell?"
"Your radio just became a casualty. You hurt anywhere?"
"Sore as hell in my back and side. Maybe the round hit the radio and that damn SATCOM hit me and knocked me out."
Murdock unstrapped the radio and dropped it on the ground. He hit his Motorola mike. "DeWitt, we just lost the SATCOM. Get Willy Bishop to warm up his contact with the planes. We can use some close ground support on this PUPPY."
The men on the ridge kept firing. Murdock moved his men twice, and told them to hold fire so the Kenyans couldn't find them and have a target.
Two minutes later DeWitt came on the Motorola. "SATCOM contacted the F-14s. They see the firing, want a flare and a red smoke on the target. They'll be here in three minutes."
"You shoot the flares in two minutes," Murdock said.
It was a long damn two minutes, Murdock decided. Then the white flare burst over the Kenyans and a red smoke hit among them, and within seconds two F-14's came down in rapid order blasting the Kenyan troops with 20mm rounds.
"Fire at will," Murdock said into his mike, and all the SEAL weapons opened up again.
One more jet came sweeping in, blasting the men and probably the trucks behind them just as the flare burned out, and Murdock nodded. He saw two fires burning behind the ridge. Two trucks to the torch. The Kenyans would be lucky if they had enough men left for one truckload.
Engines roared, and the remains of the truck troops motored away in the direction they had come from.
"Back to the ravine," Murdock said.
It took them fifteen minutes to get the tired sailors on their feet and out of the safety of the ravine. Two more had to be carried now as they moved down the slope toward the inlet three hundred yards away.
Murdock didn't believe that it took them ten minutes to move the three hundred yards. Just as they hit the trees near the water, he told Bishop to call the LCACs circling offshore.
"Tell them we're on the beach ready to board," Murdock said.
Bishop came up to Murdock. "Message sent, Sir. They said they have three craft and will be on-site here in eight minutes. How fast are those air-cushioned boats anyway?"
"The LCACs can do forty knots when they're in a rush, which they will be. We're going to put fifty-nine men on each boat, so it will be damn crowded, but the ensign from the boats said it will work."
Commander Judd came up. "Three craft coming in?"
"Yes, Sir. Time to split your men into three groups. We'll load fifty-four of your men on each of the air-cushion boats and get the hell out of here."
"With five of your men, that's almost sixty men to a boat," Judd said. "Where will they put us?" Then he shrugged. "They must know what they're doing. I'll split up the group."
Murdock told DeWitt to put his squad on one of the hovercraft, saying he'd split his own squad between the other two. Then the SEALs spread out, all facing toward the prison, as a rear guard to wait for the boats.
Murdock had wondered about the air-cushion craft as well. They had almost no cargo space, were only eighty-eight feet long, and topside were covered with ducts and fans and blowers. He hoped the sixty men could find a place to hold on.
Murdock heard the jets overhead. They'd be there until the landing craft were tucked up to the carrier four miles to sea. What could go wrong, now? Maybe the Kenyan Navy. They had talked about the patrol craft the Kenyans had. The question was how many of the ships had gone over to the colonel in the coup. They heard some of the ships had simply put to sea to wait out the confusion.
On the carrier, they had been most worried about the two Kenyan fast-attack craft with missiles. They were the Nyayo class, 186 feet long, and could do forty knots. They carried SSM-40TO Melara missiles with radar guidance and 210kilogram warheads.
The F-14's would be watching for them.
Bishop came up and gave Murdock the listen/talk handset.
He heard the fighters overhead.
"That's a roger, Bird One. The three bogies are still on course, now about fifty miles and closing. They have ignored our ID calls. They definitely are not friendlies."
"This is Home Plate. Tom Birds, your weapons are free. Splash two. I repeat. Splash two."
"This is Tom Bird Three. I say lock on. I have a fox three from Tom Bird Three." It was the aviator's code for a Phoenix missile launch.
"This is Tom Bird Four. I have lock on. I say a fox three from Tom Bird Four."
"Two Phoenix birds away and homing," Tom Bird Three said.
A moment later. "I have splash on bogie three."
"Splash on bogie two."
The air was quiet for a moment. "The third target has just turned and is heading back the way he came. Looks like the fun is over."
"Well done, return to your cover assignment," Home Plate said.
On the ground by the inlet, the SEALs heard the whine and roar of the air-cushioned craft two minutes before they saw them. Three of the craft raced forward at a surprising speed, making a huge spray of water and foam as the ducted air fans beat air into the water to keep the craft lifted off it, while fans in back slammed them forward. Suddenly they cut power and slowed dramatically before they drove directly on the beach from the water, scattering sand and sticks from the air blowers. The engines idled down, and the front ramps lowered on both craft.
Commander Judd had the men in three groups on their feet waiting. They moved on board like well-trained combat troops. Murdock gawked in surprise. He got his men on the second and third craft, saw DeWitt get his squad aboard, and then the ramps came up. At once they roared off the beach into the water and slammed down the inlet toward the bay. The LCAC boats hadn't been on the sand more than a minute and a half.
Their only armament were 12.2mm machine guns. Murdock told Magic Brown to get out his fifty just in case they needed it. The sixty men crowded the rail and clung to the sides of air shafts and any spare spot they could find on a deck filled with pipes and tubes and compartments. Murdock saw why the specs said the boat was made to handle only twenty-four troops.
They entered the bay proper, and turned left in a gentle curve spraying water fifty feet. Douglas tailed Murdock wherever he went. His radio was still set to the aircraft, and a moment later they heard the landing craft's radio.
"Tom Birds, this is Cushion One. I've got lights and a wake coming up fast behind us. Can you see it? Left side of the island in the channel."
"Looking, Cushion One. Yes, have it. Looks like a fighting ship. Kenya have any big patrol craft?"
"Tom Birds, could be a fast-attack boat with missiles. We're ducks on a pond here. They match our speed."
"We can't see much on each fly-over."
"Can you tell if they have missile launchers?"
"I'd say that's a roger," another voice came in. "Can't be sure. Can see what looks like a three-inch gun on the bow."