“High and dry, this is Wet Two with a friendly log moving downstream,” Jaybird’s Motorola came to life. “Figure we’re four miles plus. Do you copy?” The sound of the Motorola filled the brushy area.
“Read fives, buddies,” Jaybird said. “Keep floating. Bring us back a big fucking, hairy assed chopper.”
“Amen to that bro. We’re moving again. No more transmissions. Don’t see any people, no boats, no planes, but then no hungry sharks either. We’re out of here.”
“Good swimming, guys.”
Five miles down and no chopper. Where the hell was that bird? Murdock tried to get his mind back on Ardith, but somehow it wouldn’t turn on. He thought about their situation. Damn bad. He thought about their chances. All depended on that one lone forty-six they hoped was coming. It had been arranged. Yeah, they had set it up, so where was he? Range was right, should be no enemy action on the water or around the multiple mouths of this hundred mile wide delta of the Ganges.
Wrong mouth? Yeah. He wondered how many of the channels the bird had been working up and then back down. How long for a forty-six to fly forty miles? Sixteen minutes as Murdock remembered.
Damn it to hell, where was that chopper?
Lam heard it first, a faint hum that grew from the north and became louder.
“Boat, Skipper,” Lam said. “Coming this way fast.”
“All of us back in our holes, and keep your weapons locked and loaded so you can lift up and fire when I bellow. This one could get sticky if the boat has troops and they are searching the islands. They might be looking for that chopper crew or the patrol boat crew. Then again, they could be searching for us.
“We stay covered up from right now until all problems are past. If we have to lift and shoot, Alpha Squad take the beached boat and riddle it. Bravo work on the search party. Should be a barrel of laughs. Or it might be a boat traveling downstream and not even wondering about this island.”
The boat came closer. Murdock lifted slightly so he could see it. A patrol boat, forty footer, maybe. Would need a small boat to get men ashore. Yeah, that big a craft was damn bad news. Where the hell was that chopper?
14
The black-and-blue patrol boat raced toward them downstream at what Murdock figured was twenty knots. The closer it came the more he could see. It had a big machine gun mounted on the bow, Probably a .50 caliber. It had a high cabin and a walk around the front deck. He could see men on it, one ready on the MG, two more in the aft area. He couldn’t tell if they had rifles or not. The craft had to be forty, maybe forty-five feet. Normally a boat like that could have a crew of four and carry up to ten troops.
Now the boat was fifty yards off their island coming toward the north end. Suddenly the craft throttled down, did a quick turn to the left, then a small circle and used just enough power to hold its position near the point of land of the SEALs hide-away island.
The boat revved up the engine then and did a slow look around as it eased downstream twenty feet from the shore. When it came opposite the highest area, down from where the SEALs hid, the .50 caliber opened up and the gunner slammed a hundred rounds into the built-up section.
Murdock gritted his teeth. For sure when they came up the other side of the island they would do the same thing to the brush patch. He had to decide to take out the craft before that, or lose half, maybe all of his men. When to do it? Should they lift out of their holes, get to the back side of the high ground and take the boat before it got to their brushy hidehole position?
“Looks like trouble,” Will Dobler said from his hole. “They use that fifty and we’re dead ducks sitting here.”
“Damn straight, Chief.”
The patrol boat worked farther down the quarter-mile island and at last it was out of sight of the SEALs. Murdock sat up.
“Listen, you guys. We’re ducks in a row here. Come out of your holes and we move to the back side of that high ground. As soon as he gets the boat around the bend down there. When we’re shielded we move over there and take him out when he comes up on this side of the island. No other way.”
“Hold it right here for about five,” Dobler said.
They waited for the five minutes, then Murdock stood and the SEALs came to life. “Bradford, give the chief a hand here. He needs a third leg.”
“That’s what his wife keeps telling him,” somebody cracked, and Dobler grinned through the pain in his right leg.
“Jaybird, look over his wound as soon as we’re behind that rise,” Murdock said. “Might need a new bandage.”
They moved quietly, by twos, dashing across the fifty yards to the rise in the land, keeping out of sight of the patrol boat.
Dobler and Bradford came in last. The SEALs spread out five yards apart along the reverse slope of the rise so they could just see over the top. Weapons were ready.
“How are we on ammo for the twenties?” Murdock asked. The word went down the line. The figures came back and it came out to about eight rounds per man. That was for each of the five guns.
“Use the rounds carefully,” Murdock said. “Everyone fire what weapon you have. Range shouldn’t be a problem.”
“We knocking it out or just disabling it so it floats downstream?” Ken Ching asked.
“Knock it out,” Murdock said. “She might have ten troops in there. Don’t want to share our island with them.”
They waited.
Five minutes more and they heard more fire from the fifty downstream. Then the sound moved closer.
“I’ve got him in my sights,” Tran Khai said. He was the last man in the row downstream.
“Hold fire until he gets to the middle of our line,” Murdock said. “If he shoots at this rise like he did last time, open fire at once.”
Again they waited.
Soon they all could see the boat. It dodged closer to shore, and the fifty fired again away from the SEALs, then it was at the middle of the line.
“Let’s do it,” Murdock said. He sighted in on the little wheelhouse, and fired.
The 20mm impact-fused round exploded just below the console where the driver stood. It blew the man and his steering gear out of the boat.
In rapid succession five more rounds hit the boat. One caught the machine gunner in the chest and punched him halfway over the side of the ship. The rest of the small arms chattered, drilling holes all over the boat, jolting one man over the side.
“Cease fire,” Murdock said. The gunners held fire then and watched. The craft’s engine sputtered but kept running. “One more round each on the twenties. All the others, ten seconds firing,” Murdock said and the weapons spoke again. This time two 20mm rounds hit at the water line, and blew large holes in the fiberglass hull. The engine cut off. They saw two men dive overboard and be swept downstream with the current.
The boat gave in to the current and drifted away. She took on water fast and listed to that side, then began to sink. One more man swam away from the boat, but by then it was well into the current. The man wouldn’t be able to get to their island. Another fifty feet and the small patrol craft slid under the water. They saw two men working downstream, not wanting to tangle with whoever had sunk their boat.
“No troops on board,” Murdock said. “Good. They don’t know we’re here yet.”
“Nobody knows were here,” Dobler said. He closed his eyes and shuddered.
“Jaybird, get over here with two morphine for Dobler.”
Jaybird ran over and dug out the ampoules and gave the senior chief the shots.
“Hey, Chief, that’s going to make you feel better. That damn chopper is coming any minute now and we’ll get you some real medics.”