Colonel Ben-Ami stopped and looked around. “Very well, we’ll see all of you later at our briefing at 1900.”
The rides back to the Army base were in the same nondescript and much-used sedans that they would use that night to get to the PLO training site. Murdock had no idea how far it was. He dozed off, not sure when he’d have time to sleep again. Before he nodded off, he thought about how he had become a cog in a machine again, a fighter in a squad instead of leading the squad. He shrugged. This was his job, he’d do it the way the hosts wanted it done. If he had reason to take over the squad, he could do that too. He slept.
The briefing at 1900 that evening came after showers and chow and a short time on their bunks. They learned little new, except that the SEALs should bring all of the Bull Pups they had plus all of the rounds they could reasonably carry. At least one of the twenties would be in each mission squad as far as they went. Murdock counted out seven of the twenty-millimeter blasting rifles. He figured twenty rounds per gun, but when he hefted the special ammo pouch that looped over the head and rested on his chest, he cut the rounds to fifteen per man.
Colonel Ben-Ami wore Mistaravim Arab clothing now as the rest of them did. The SEALs had become accustomed to it. Most of the clothing was loose and it helped to hide their weapons. Their combat vests, with all the ammo pockets, were hidden by the outside layer of dark Arab shirts and robe-type clothing.
“We’ve made one small change of plans,” the colonel said. “All of you are ready. We will push off in exactly fifteen minutes. The drive will be about three hours and we will keep in touch by radio, so the cars are never more than a mile apart but not next to each other. All cars have specific parking spots that your drivers know. We will leave the vehicles and move up to the objective on radio orders. Our hope is that we will be on site and ready to attack at 0100. Questions?”
There were none.
“All right, gather up your squads, your equipment, and your ammo and explosives, and we’ll move out as soon as every squad leader signals that he is ready to drive.”
No one had been told the exact destination, except the drivers. They weren’t talking. Murdock settled down for the drive, and came alert when the car stopped. He checked his watch. It was just past 0030. A half hour to attack time.
“We there?” he asked. The Israeli driver chuckled.
“Almost. Another quarter mile. Now I can tell you. This is an arid section of the West Bank in a range of hills about a mile from the Jordan River. The combined PLO-Intifada training camp is located here. We have known of it for about six months and have been working on an attack. With you specialists, it’s an ideal time.
“Our target and mission is a set of bunkers at the far south end of the camp where ammunition, explosives, and RPG rounds are kept. It will be heavily guarded. First we have to breach the wire around the camp, which will set off alarms. But identical alarms will be going off at twelve points around the camp at the same time or within seconds.”
The driver looked around. His name was Sholomo Per; he was a twenty-eight-year-old career soldier and a leader in one of the Mistaravim units. Per brought the car to a stop at the end of a road. There were barriers there with signs Murdock couldn’t read.
Per used the radio. “Squad Bunk in position at parking.”
“Good, Bunk. Hold there.”
The men eased out of the car. Murdock had SEALs Ching and Vinnie Van Dyke with him along with the three Israeli special forces men. They waited.
Three minutes later the orders came on the radio.
“All units move up toward the wire. Hold thirty yards off for the attack signal.”
They formed a line silently, and on Per’s arm swing began to jog forward. They had roughly a half mile to go according to the plan. Per spread them out when they came in sight of the boundary fence that marked the southern end of the Arab training camp. They went up within thirty yards and eased to ground and waited.
Four minutes later the word came from the radio. “All units, move up to the wire now and place charges. You have two minutes.”
“We have two minutes,” Per said. “Ching, you have the C-4. Move up to the fence now and plant three charges that will blow a man sized hole in the barbed wire and single-apron. We want to be able to run through. You have two minutes.”
Chin nodded and ran forward. He slowed twenty feet from the wire and crawled the rest of the way. He tied two charges six feet high on the heavy fencing, and then two more down from the top to bottom. He inserted preset timer-detonators, looked at his watch, and waited. When it was twenty seconds to 0100, the radio spoke to them.
“Activate the charges on the fence, now.”
Ching pushed in the timers, lifted up, and ran back to where the other men waited thirty yards away.
“Eight, nine, ten,” Per counted. The explosions came a second later, four of them almost on top of one another. The three SEALs were in front as they charged the wire. Far off Murdock heard other faint explosions. The blast had done a fair job on the fence, but one segment of the single apron fence on the far side was nearly intact. It stretched out for six feet and started at the three-foot-high level nearest the fence. The main vertical wire had been blown away.
Ching was first man through; he held his MP-5 on his chest and dove into the apron wire, smashing it down within a foot of the ground. Right behind him came Van Dyke, who stepped on Ching’s back and leaped over the rest of the wire. Murdock followed, and then the three Israelis. When the last one was past, Ching eased up from the wire, pulled away some of it sticking into his right arm, and came to his feet. Then he ran to catch up with the others.
They ran forty yards directly into the camp toward a soft light over a structure that looked only four feet tall. It was. Vinnie used his Colt M-4A1 Israeli copy and lofted a white star shell over the structures ahead. Now they could see four of the low-lying buildings that were dugouts, with the ammo and explosives underground.
As soon as the star shell blossomed, half a dozen defenders tried to hide. Murdock powered in a twenty round that exploded in the air between the first two buildings. The rest of the squad fired into the area with their small arms. Ching put down one man who tried to run out of the light. Murdock fired two more airbursts between the buildings, and Sergeant Per used his radio mike.
“Right, lads, good work. Now let’s go up and greet the bastards face-to-face.”
They charged forward in a running assault line, holding fire until they saw any targets. A machine gun opened up to the left next to one of the buildings. Murdock fired a lasered round at the edge of the building, and it burst in the air just over the corner. The machine gun stopped firing.
Twenty yards farther and they hunkered down behind the first of the buildings. Per pointed to the left, and he took that side with his two mates. Murdock and his SEALs moved to the right. When they came around the side of the structure, they saw only two bodies. One lifted up and tried to fire, but Ching cut him in half with a six-round burst from his MP-5.
They looked across at the other two buildings. A door slammed and Murdock frowned. Per slid up beside them. “That far bunker with the door that just closed. Can you take the door off with a twenty, Commander?”
“No problem.” Murdock aimed at the door and fired one round. The door disintegrated. He fired one more round through the door and they waited. Nothing happened. Per motioned to the nearby bunker.