The second group was followed by a third, smaller group, one of whom began to gesticulate and apparently shout angrily. The men that had flopped got up and moved into the woods as more men and now mules flooded into the area. Gear was unpacked, the men in the woods came back with wood and in less than an hour a camp was in place. They’d lit fires for warmth and to cook their food and were acting anything but tactical.
The mules appeared to be carrying stores, spare ammo and, notably, heavy weapons. There were five that carried, between them, two 80mm mortars, some ammunition cases for them and a half a dozen RPGs and ammo. All the mules were heavily overloaded and looked just about at the end of their rope. But, then again, mujahideen mules always looked at the end of their rope.
Mike did a count on the group and determined that there were quite a few short of two hundred, closer to one-eighty. He wasn’t sure if that meant another group or that the intel estimate was wrong. They might have detached a group to take the wounded to a base somewhere, for that matter. Figure five wounded based on the Spetznaz report, two or three seriously. Four stretcher bearers per, a few guards for support. That might be it.
By full dark the group had been fed and were bedded down, propping up scraps of plastic against the continuing rain. There were a few guards on duty, but the group didn’t appear to expect trouble. Given that they were deep inside Georgia, that said it all about their ability to move freely in the country.
Mike moved back to the hide and picked up the radio.
“Base this is Six,” Mike said. “SEAL REP. ECHO, One Eight Zero. Two Eight Zero Mike Mike. Six Romeo Papa Golf.” There were one hundred and eighty bad guys, heavy weapons were two eighty millimeter mortars and six RPGs.
“Six, Base,” a female voice replied. “Copy Echo, One Eight Zero. Two Eight Zero Mike Mike. Count Six Romeo Papa Golf.”
“Roger,” Mike said. “Get Five. Contact in Three Zero Mike.”
“Roger, Six,” Base replied.
“What we gonna do, boss?” Russell asked.
“We’re gonna kill ’em all and fuck their old ladies,” Mike said.
“Six this is Five, over,” Nielson called over the radio in thirty minutes.
“Five, what is the status of Team Vil?” Mike said. As he recalled, Vil and Oleg’s group were both through initial training.
“Deployed south near point 625,” Nielson said.
“Redeploy mounted to 738,” Mike said, moving the team to a point north of Alerrso near the opening to the valley. “Redeploy Team Oleg to point 618, offset five hundred meters south for ambush tomorrow. Bunker up. Will lead Echo element to ambush point. Upon ambush, Vil to redeploy to near point 274 to catch leakers. Clear?”
There was a pause as Nielson obviously considered the map and the plan.
“Clear,” Nielson said after a moment.
“Will send guide to Team Oleg, leave team in place to guide in Vil,” Mike continued. “Prepare to implement by NLT 0900 tomorrow. Six out.”
“Russell, Otar,” Mike said. “Pack up. Head for the defile we passed through. Make contact with Adams and have him lay in an ambush for the defile. Have him dig in deep; they’re probably going to try to fight through. Leave the back door open, though and make damned sure that nobody kills us when we come a running. Clear?”
“Clear,” Russell said, grinning.
“Killjoy, Vanim, move down the trail to near the base of the ridge. Find a good hide point. After we initiate the ambush, Vil will move up with his team in vehicles. Bring the vehicles to the west trail, then put them in position to engage the enemy as they retreat. Clear?”
“Clear,” Killjoy replied, smiling. “Fuck their old ladies, huh?”
“We’ll see,” Mike said. “Take most of the spare ammo and gear with you; we’re going to be moving light. Get going.”
Mike snuggled the stock of the Mannlicher into his shoulder and took a light breath, then let it out. He and Praz had carefully measured the distance to the camp, which was starting to unhurriedly break down in the morning light, and designated targets. The mortars had been unloaded at one point and they’d managed to designate the mortarmen and, most importantly, their leaders. He definitely wanted the trained mortarmen out of the equation; the mortars would be hell on the ambush no matter what.
He’d also figured out who Breslav probably was but he was leaving him for last. He wanted the Chechens to pursue aggressively and he figured they’d need leadership to do that. The snipers intended to take out the mortarmen, especially the team leaders, and as many of the mules as they could before moving out.
“Lasko, keep an eye on the targets and call,” Mike said. “If either one of us goes down, you take over.”
“Got it,” the Keldara said, quietly.
Mike lined up one of the mortar team leaders and carefully stroked the trigger.
The 7mm round took about a second and a half to cover the distance, by which time Mike had switched targets to the mule the team was loading and Praz had engaged the other team leader.
“Kildar left and up,” Lasko murmured. “Mortarman in cover behind a log. Praz, left, down, bucking mule. Kill, for Kildar, right and down, mule. Kill for Praz, left and up, mortarman.”
The two snipers steadily worked the camp as it exploded in activity.
“Kildar, Praz, down and right, team trying to get mortar up,” Lasko said. “Track right, team attempting to get mortar up.”
“What’s the rest of the group doing?” Mike asked.
“One group, about twenty, is working over to the left,” Lasko said. “Track left, machine-gunner setting up.”
Mike tracked left and spotted the team with the assistant gunner just closing the top on the machine gun. The gunner was tracking back and forth, looking for the snipers that were engaging from the hilltop but clearly unable to find them. Mike lined up on his prone body and watched through the scope as the gunner’s head exploded. The assistant gunner tried to get the machine gun in action but Praz took him out with a shot to the body.
“Track right,” Lasko said. “They’re still trying to get the mortars in action.”
Mike looked at the mortar team, which was surrounded by dead bodies, and shook his head.
“Stupid brave,” he said. They should have moved the mortars out of the open area. He ignored the crew that was slewing the mortar their way and shot the sight away, killing the gunner in the process. Then he hit the AG just as he was lifting one of the rounds into the tube. The round dropped and headed downrange, but it landed well to their right and short, far enough away that the explosion of the round was muffled by the trees.
“Fuck this,” Praz muttered. Shortly afterwards the ready box of ammunition by “his” mortar exploded, sending shrapnel all over the camp, knocking the mortar over and killing most of the crew.
“Good point,” Mike said, lining up the box that the crew had set out by the mortar. There was another box under it for good measure and both were laid far too close to the weapon itself. He put two rounds into the boxes, as the shaken crew was just getting to its feet, before the box finally went up at the third hit.
“Time to boogie,” Mike said, sliding backwards out of the hide.
They’d sent most of their gear with Killjoy and Otar so the packs were light. They tossed them on and headed down the cut trail towards the valley.
Mike paused at one point and took up a position by a rock, well in sight of the Chechens. They were starting to get their act together and he wanted none of that. He doffed the ghillie suit and leaned against a boulder, in full view of the group in the distance. He knew he wasn’t much of a figure to pick out but it was possible.