Don Stroh came on board and talked with Murdock.
"Just had late word from the President. He says good luck on this mission. He congratulated your platoon on the great work you've done so far down here, and hopes all goes well today."
Murdock nodded. "We don't expect a lot of trouble. If we run into any, we may call on you for some assistance. I know, the President of Kenya said no more air strikes, but that wouldn't include an evacuation. We're going to have to be lifted out of there at some point. No way we walk three hundred miles to the coast. As we planned it, we'll need to exfiltrate with a Seahawk. Two hours for the big birds to get there when we need them. We'll remember that. Better remind the XO to have one of these Seahawks standing by for the next few hours, or maybe days, until we call."
The two shook hands, and Stroh left the chopper seconds before one of the crewmen closed the hatch.
Ten minutes into the flight from the carrier, Murdock looked around at his fourteen men. Half of them were sleeping. He grinned. Not at all uptight. Most of them had been this route before. Just another day at the office. This one could be a damn dangerous office. He checked his watch.
This mission seemed to be a simple one. Go in, determine for sure that the big general had been killed in the bombing, get out, and call for a pickup. It would be a two-hour delay between the call and the bird arriving on site, but they should be able to sustain that with no problem.
It all depended on a lot of things.
How many troops were still in the headquarters?
Were they still in a fighting mood?
How close to collapse was the new regime?
He pushed the questions out of his mind, and tried to relax. No telling which way this one would go. The bombs might get the general and his top staff, and they might not. The powers that be had decided that sunup was too early to expect the big man to be in his office. So they'd slated the bombing at 0800. He should be there by that time.
Which meant the SEALs had to remain hidden for two hours more before the raid.
So they would do it. They were SEALS.
Murdock felt the hand on his shoulder, and came awake. He must have dozed. The chopper crewman shook his shoulder again.
"Lieutenant, we're five minutes from our LZ. Figured you'd want to know." The crewman grinned.
Murdock lifted up in his seat. "Okay, SEALS, up and at 'em. Time to rock and roll. LZ coming up in about five minutes. Time to lock and load. Everybody conscious?" He heard a chorus of grunts and groans.
"The ones who ain't conscious ain't talking," Jaybird cracked.
Murdock checked out the small window. They were still high over the land, but they were dropping quickly. A crewman came in, unlatched the big hatch door, and pushed it open.
"Stay clear," he said. Murdock was first man next to the hatch. He could see the ground rushing up at them now. They leveled out about fifty feet and slanted over the terrain. Ahead in the darkness he saw a clump of what might be trees. The Seahawk pivoted around them, came in behind them, and settled slowly to the ground. The second they hit ground, the crewman slapped Murdock on the shoulder, and he jumped to the ground and zigzagged toward the dark mass of trees thirty yards away.
Fourteen SEALs followed him in rapid order. The noisy chopper behind them took off at once. The men hit the fringe of the trees in a line staying five meters apart. Murdock waved at Red Nicholson, who sprinted into the trees silently. He was gone two minutes by Murdock's watch. Then he came back nodding, and the SEALs moved into the trees.
Murdock's watch showed it to be 0407. On time, with time to spare. The men remained quiet. Nicholson vanished again toward the front of the trees.
That was when they heard firing from somewhere in front of them. It was the solid rattle of the Seahawk's 7.62 machine guns hammering away at what Murdock figured must be the front gate.
"Should pull any suspicion from the chopper's sound here," Murdock whispered to Holt, who was two meters away. They heard small-arms fire, but not much of it, evidently coming from defenders at the front gate. Then the machine gun made another series of strafings before the night turned quiet.
Without a sound, Red Nicholson slid in beside Murdock.
"L-T, we've got about a hundred fifty yards of open space beyond the trees to the fence. I didn't see any guard towers or guard posts. One guard did a lackadaisical walk of a post inside the fence, but he didn't show up again. Either a damn big post or he's goofing off somewhere.
"Fence looks easy enough for our wire cutters. Inside the fence maybe twenty yards is a big pile of trashed lumber. Looks like a bulldozer smashed a building and they dumped the remains there. It's ten, twelve feet high and thirty yards long. Should be enough for us to hide behind until we make our move."
"Maybe an hour or so to dawn," Murdock said. "Take Lincoln with you, and two wire cutters, and make us a door. Send Lincoln back when you're ready for us."
Red and Lincoln moved out through the trees and brush without a sound.
Four minutes later, Lincoln came back through the trees and waved at Murdock.
All had on their Motorolas. Murdock whispered into the mike. "Let's move it."
They went in squad formation with the men spaced out ten meters apart. The wire had been cut and tied upward, leaving a four-foot-high opening. Lincoln stayed with the wire to fasten it back in place when everyone had entered.
Murdock stepped behind the pile of wood, plaster, and trash and nodded. Yes. It was jumbled enough that they could fit into holes and crannies. If they didn't move, somebody walking past along the fence probably wouldn't notice them. He found a spot and slid into it, as did the other men.
Lincoln came along a short time later and picked his place.
"Now we wait," Murdock said into his mike.
Holt moved up closer to Murdock and passed an earpiece to him. He had set the frequency to UHF so he could talk to or listen to the tactical aircraft. The sound came through clearly.
"Cover One to Rover."
"This is Rover."
"Cover One. We shadowed the big bird in the last twenty miles. They landed, discharged, and did their thing at the front of the complex. We find no air in the vicinity whatsoever."
"Very well, Cover One. Come home."
"That's a Roger, Rover."
The radio went silent. Murdock handed the plug back to Holt. "Monitor it so we'll know when the bomb runs start."
Holt nodded and eased back from Murdock into his shelter in the wreckage. Murdock checked his watch. It was 0435. Another half hour at least to dawn, then another three hours to attack time for the Hornets.
"We've got some wait time. Guard duty for the man on each end. Rest of you rest easy but watchful."
It grew light gradually, which fooled Murdock for a moment. Then it seemed suddenly to be daylight, with the sun brimming the far eastern sky. The men wormed deeper into the rubble. Some of them pulled boards over them to help the jungle cammies blend in better.
It was just after 0600 when two men on bicycles pedaled along the outside of the fence. They were young, not soldiers. They never even glanced at the pile of rubble. Murdock held his breath when they came to the spot where the SEALs had cut the fence. Neither of them looked at the spot. Instead they shouted to each other, then pedaled hard in a race. Murdock relaxed.
Murdock's legs started to cramp. He moved, and bent them, and tried to get them relaxed. As he did, he checked his watch again. Had it stopped? No, it showed almost 0700. Another hour. The birds should be talking soon. From the deck of the carrier to this spot the Hornets should take about fifteen to eighteen minutes at their jet speed.