"Left three degrees," Timmons said, his face buried in the radar hood. "I think we're getting a buzz from a Gun Dish."
"ZSUs," Shaw said. He pronounced it zoos. "Can you get a lock?"
"No way," the BN replied. "You're on manual release."
A blazing line of green fire rose dead ahead, so close it seemed impossible that they would miss. Shaw jinked left, then right, his eyes fixed now on the pipper crawling toward the target graphic on his screen. One mile now, less than ten seconds…
Something hit the Intruder's wing with a dull thump, forcing Shaw to correct. "Left two!" Timmons shouted.
"I've got it!" The pipper reached the target box and he pickled the bomb release.
The A-6 shook with a succession of small bumps as the Rockeye cannisters fell away, two at a time. Shaw rammed the throttles home and hauled back on the stick.
He'd been deliberately conservative in the approach, not wanting to scatter Rockeye bomblets into the Nyongch'on compound. Of course, that could mean missing the lead tank in line.
The ZSU shuddered, overwhelmed by the wall of sound trailing behind the enemy plane. Captain Sun rose cautiously in his hatch just as a rapid-fire succession of brilliant white flashes began popping away in the night several hundred meters from his vehicle. The roar of explosions continued second after second, but fading into the distance; the Yankee had released a string of cluster bombs, each strewing hundreds of bomblets south along the road. One particularly savage blast shook the air, and an orange fireball rolled into the sky. Streamers of fire arced through the darkness as ammunition boxes detonated, rippling and flashing like Chinese firecrackers.
The thunderous bombardment continued, but the explosions were erupting farther and farther to the south. Sun had already decided that he was out of the line of fire. The enemy bombardier had delayed his release a split second too long; the other three Shilkas in his command might have been hit, but his was safe.
Or would be if he could get off the road and into Nyongch'on. No American aircraft would attack him there and risk the lives of his own countrymen.
"Kapsida!" he shouted at the driver. "Go! Go! Go!" The ZSU lurched forward.
Lieutenant Sikes heard the growl of the approaching vehicle and knew at once what it must be. It would be too much to ask of Lady Luck for the Navy ground attack planes to get all the KorCom ZSUs with one pass. Flames seared the night toward the southwest, but at least one of the Soviet-made AA wagons had escaped and was heading toward the camp. It sounded as though it were approaching the main gate, which was facing the road on the south side of the camp.
"Krueger," he snapped. "Austin. With me!"
The two SEALs materialized seconds later. The entire team, except for Robbins, Pasaretti, Vespasio, and Huerta, had rendezvoused at the airstrip. They waited now in the shadows cast by the burning wreckage of the Mi-8.
"Yessir!" Austin said. He carried a silenced H&K MP5. Krueger was the team's second machine gunner, a blond giant who carried the bulky M-60 slung over his shoulders, and wore crossed ammo belts which gave him the air of a muscle-bound hero of some paramilitary movie epic. To his teammates he was known as "Hulk."
"Either of you guys see any RPGs laying around?" Sikes asked.
"Yeah, Boss," Krueger said. "Armory, up by the communications shack. Brian took out some guy with a 'G after we blew the com tower."
"Okay. I need your '60 with me. Austin, get the RPG. Meet us by the motor pool."
"On my way." The SEAL with the MP5 turned and vanished into the shadows again. Sikes touched Krueger's shoulder. "Let's go, Hulk."
The two men ran south, toward the roar of engines.
"Hold it here!"
The Shilka drew to a shuddering halt just outside the main gate as Captain Sun studied the camp through narrowed eyes. Something was decidedly wrong here. He could see the flames from several spots beyond the barbed-wire-crowned chain-link fence. The camp might well have been bombed before his arrival, but that seemed unlikely, given that American POWs were being kept here.
A pair of bodies caught his attention, lifeless forms in mustard-colored jackets sprawled near the gate, AK-47s at their sides. A third body lay farther inside the camp.
So, Nyongch'on had already been attacked by ground troops ― American Special Forces or Rangers, possibly, or even South Korean commandos. Those incoming helicopters were probably intended to ferry out the POWs once they were freed.
A peal of thunder reminded him that there were still killers near, invisible in the sky. More Yankee bombers could be overhead at any time. He dropped down into the turret and banged the hatch shut. "Forward!" he barked.
The Shilka's tracks chewed at the earth, and the vehicle ground forward. There was a rattling jar, and then the chain-link fence parted like cloth before the heavy machine's advance. Something whanged off the hull, followed by a staccato drum-roll of metal striking metal. Machine gun! The Shilka's turret armor was thin ― only nine millimeters ― and was easily pierced by.50caliber machine gun fire. From the sound, he guessed that these were.223 rounds, M-16s possibly, or an M-60.
He peered into the gunner's periscope. Nothing… no! There! He spotted the telltale flicker of a muzzle flash close beside the wreckage of a motor pool garage.
"Turret traverse!" he yelled. The gunner worked the turret control, swinging the quad guns into line. The Shilka's quad mount was extremely versatile, able to engage any target between eighty degrees high and minus seven degrees low. In Afghanistan, the Russians had used them to great effect against guerrilla ground forces. "Depress fifteen!"
He switched to the weapon sight. Cross-hairs centered above the muzzle flash, bouncing with the ZSU's forward motion. Machine gun fire continued to hammer at the turret. The loader checked the receiver. "Ready to fire!"
"Fire!"
The quad guns roared.
"Hit the deck!"
Explosions shrieked and howled, filling the air with whirling splinters and chips of stone. Sikes rolled to the left, sheltering behind the concrete block foundation wall of the motor pool garage as 23-mm shells tore through the wooden side slats like bullets through paper. He'd been hoping to find a point on the ZSU's armor thin enough that the M-60 could penetrate it, but Krueger's volleys hadn't seemed to have any effect at all. The quad turret swung back and forth in short arcs, the cannons rattling away in short, sharp bursts as hell exploded inches above Sikes's head.
"Pull back!" he yelled, wondering if his voice would carry over the storm of noise. Explosive shells chewed into the foundation blocks, spraying chunks of concrete into the garage. "Krueger! Pull-"
He stopped when he saw Krueger, slumped over the stock of the now-silent M-60. Most of the big SEAL's head was gone.
The stuttering howl of the AA tank's guns fell silent, replaced by the roar of its engine as the driver throttled up. Sikes reached down to his harness and detached a grenade. The ZSU was still way too far for a throw, but the monster was grinding closer.
And closer…
Captain Sun pressed the radio handset to his ear. "Yes, Comrade General!" he shouted. The Shilka had ceased fire, but the engine was thundering now as they rumbled forward. "Yes! Enemy commandos had infiltrated Nyongch'on-kiji!"