"They're not going to leave the wounded behind," Garrett said quietly. "You know that, right?"
"I know," Berkowitz replied.
Of course he knew. Berkowitz was a SEAL himself.
"So how are we going to get them out of there?"
"We're open to suggestions, sir."
For most of his naval career Tom Garrett had been a sub driver. He'd skippered the Pittsburgh ten years ago. After that, he'd been captain of the SSN Seawolf, and later of the newly commissioned SSN Virginia, the two most recent and magically high-tech additions to America's submarine fleet.
Six months ago, when he'd rotated ashore after his deployment with the Virginia, his experience had dropped him here in the Pentagon, as advisory staff for the newly formed NAVLITWARCOM — Naval Littoral Warfare Command.
It was, he knew, a choice assignment, one offering him the fast track to flag rank. "Littoral Warfare" was the hot new catch phrase for the Navy. With the demise of the Soviet Union, there'd been much less emphasis on deep-water naval deployments. The wars of the foreseeable future would be fought against enemies who lacked anything like America's sophisticated and high-tech fleet, and they would be fought close inshore, along hostile coasts within the world's littoral regions.
Operation Black Stallion had been his idea, originally, though the plan that eventually emerged bore few similarities to his original proposal. Two months ago images from a high-orbiting spy satellite had revealed some major construction going on among the rugged coastal foothills of the Shib Kuh mountain range within Iran's Darya-ye region, at the mouth of a valley in a mountain called Kuh-e Gab. Analyses suggested that the Darya-ye complex might include a battery of intermediate-range ballistic missiles, as well as structures that might be related to NBC warfare — manufacturing nuclear, biological, or chemical weapons.
Ever since the intelligence debacle of Iraq's presumed weapons of mass destruction, and the resulting public and media fallout, Washington was playing it very cautious when it came to identifying WMDs elsewhere in the world. Garrett had advanced the idea of Black Stallion in a proposal forwarded to the Joint Chiefs — a SEAL four-man recon detachment inserted by submarine along the Darya-ye coast, slipping undetected close to the suspected weapons site five miles inland, and getting close-up photographs, radiation readings, and eyeball observations from inside the complex itself.
It was a reasonable idea, and one eminently suitable to the SEAL Teams and their mission capabilities. Based on his career experience, Garrett had suggested that the deployment be made off of the USS Texas, the second of the four Virginia-class submarines now in service.
That had been two months ago. Plans unfolded remarkably quickly after that, with concept approval and mission training beginning almost at once. Unfortunately, the dreaded "committee effect" had descended almost at once. A full, sixteen-man SEAL platoon would deploy, not a four-man recon team.
And, perhaps most important, it wouldn't be the Texas delivering them.
The SSN Virginia had been sold as the submarine that would command the world's littorals for the U.S. Navy, an ultraquiet and high-tech vessel that could creep undetected into enemy harbors, or covertly put commandos ashore anywhere in the world.
Unfortunately, the Virginia and her sister boats were fouled in budgetary draw-downs, bureaucratic turf wars, and departmental politics, just as the Seawolf had been. The Virginias did what they did well, but they were also seen as the replacement for the Navy's aging fleet of Los Angeles-class attack boats. Thirty were planned; only four were in service so far, and the others now rested uncertainly beneath the budgetary ax. There simply weren't enough either in the water or planned to do everything expected of them, from battle group deployments to coastal reconnaissance missions, from special ops to escort duty, from showing the flag in foreign ports to electronic signals intelligence to ASW patrols to fulfilling the swiftly growing demands of Homeland Security.
Someone higher up the mission planning totem pole had decided that the SEALs should deploy from a pair of Cyclones instead.
PC-6, the USS Sirocco, and PC-10, the USS Firebolt, were two of thirteen coastal patrol craft designed originally to operate as deployment platforms for the U.S. Navy SEALs. Measuring 170 feet in length, with a beam of twenty-five feet and a displacement of 328.5 tons, the Cyclone-class PCs were the first genuine oceangoing ships in the Navy's Special Warfare community. Although their primary mission was coastal patrol work, SEAL support remained an important, dedicated assignment.
They'd also been controversial from the very first, from the moment in 1990 the contract had been awarded to the Bollinger Machine Shop and Shipyard. Big enough to venture into blue water and endure up to sea state five, their range was still limited — about three thousand nautical miles. That meant they had to be based in their operational region, along with full maintenance, repair, and supply facilities, and support personnel. They carried a crew of four officers and twenty-four enlisted men— conventional black-shoe sailors, not SPECWAR personnel, and that decision had caused an interdepartmental firestorm all by itself.
Worse, they only had space aboard for nine SPEC-WAR operators — a single SEAL squad and one or two tech specialists, plus their equipment. True, few SEAL ops required or were best served by large contingents, but the small payload limited the craft's mission scope.
And, worst of all, the PBCs weren't really covert. Too small to carry a sizable SEAL force, they were too large to sneak in under an enemy's radar for the sort of sneak-and-peak op at which the Teams traditionally excelled.
The Special Boat Squadrons operating the PBCs— Patrol Boat, Coastal — had been repeatedly encouraged from further up the chain of command to find a mission for the expensive craft. PC-6 and PC-10 were currently stationed in Oman, escorting tankers and patrolling the sensitive Straits of Hormuz.
It had seemed logical — to someone, at any rate — to use them to deploy Det Echo. ECM aircraft off the Kitty Hawk could jam local Iranian radar, and strike fighters from the Carrier Battle Group and out of U.S. bases in Iraq could fly combat support, if that proved necessary.
What no one had anticipated was that the enemy would have such a heavy presence in the AO… or that he would react this quickly and this decisively.
And Garrett was feeling a strong sense of responsibility for those boys out there.
"One-one, this is One-four!" TM2 Dole called over the Motorola. "We're on the beach! Our guys are in RIB-2 and we're moving out!"
"Copy that, One-four." Wolfe laser-targeted another Pasdaran trooper and fired, a single shot only. He'd switched to single-shot from burst fire when he'd reached his last magazine. He saw the soldier pitch backward and collapse. "Okay, Echoes," he called. "Time to get the hell out of Dodge!"
An instant later, however, a savage explosion rocked the hillside, throwing Wolfe against the ground.
"Mortar fire!" Echo Two's Chief Hadley yelled. "Incoming!"
And then the machine gun opened up.
Just fucking great! Wolfe thought as another blast from a mortar round hammered at his senses, showering him with gravel and sand, and an Iranian machine gun sent a stream of bright green tracers snapping overhead.