For the first time, Murdock looked at the fire. It seemed that half the gasoline drums had blown up, splattering burning gasoline over the rest of the stored goods.
Murdock got to the Fifty, loaded in a belt of ammo from a box, and charged in a round. He leveled the weapon at the rear of the complex, and jolted off five rounds.
He was surprised at the force the rounds going off made on the gun itself and the mount.
Murdock touched his mike. “Ed, that’s me on the Fifty. Get your men the hell out of there.”
“Pleased to oblige there, good buddy. We’re on our way. Leapfrog it is.”
“We’re moving out too. We’ll keep their heads down for a while.”
As he spoke, they took machine-gun fire from near the front of the building. The other rig with the .50-caliber whammer had changed targets. Murdock swung his weapon around, and sent two bursts of six rounds at the flashes he could see. The other gun didn’t return fire.
He put six more rounds into the same area, then hit the back of the building again.
“Murdock,” Dewitt said. “I sent Douglas out to get the truck and bring it in to meet us. We should have a hookup in about five.”
“We’ll move north to find you. If you see a half-track coming, it’s probably us. Don’t fire.”
“That’s a Roger. We’ve got one wounded, not serious, but will take some looking at.”
“First we’ve got to figure out how the hell to get away from here without a bunch of El Raza’s men tailing us. Our chopper guys don’t like to get shot at. This bunch could even have some Stinger ground-to-air missiles.”
“Those shoulder-fired kind?” Ed asked.
“Yeah, the kind the terrs use sometimes. We’re coming to find you.”
3
Murdock settled back in the half-track and watched behind him.
Within three minutes he saw lights coming toward him. They must be some of the other half-tracks of El Raza. He had a choice: try to outshoot them, and give away his position, or continue to roll along without lights, and stay lost in the desert.
“Ed, no lights on your rig. I’ve got lights behind me, but no return fire so they don’t know where we are.”
“That’s a Roger. We’ve met the truck. I’ve got six men inside, and eight hanging on the outside. Where to?”
“We’ve been heading east — that should put us far enough away from the town so now we can cut due south. The border is closest to the south.”
“Will the chopper care?”
“Less Iraq airspace they have to cover, the better they’ll like it.
Can’t tell what good old Saddam might have sitting around here with wings on it, and air-to-ground missiles on the wings.”
“Due south it is. How do we join up?”
“I’ll stop our rig and listen,” Murdock said. “Should be able to hear that grinder of yours out here.”
“That’s a Roger. We’re turning south.”
In the half-track, Salwa had heard the transmission from Murdock.
He looked at the American. “Shut it down now?”
Murdock nodded. The rig stopped and Murdock stepped away as the engine died. He turned slowly trying to pick up some sound. Quinley was beside him.
He touched Murdock’s shoulder and pointed. Murdock turned that way.
“There are four half-tracks chasing us,” Quinley said. “Sounds like more than one engine.”
Murdock thought he heard it, but it faded. It was to the left.
Salwa started the engine, and they moved over the dark desert at ten miles an hour.
“Sometimes there are little wadis out here fifteen feet deep from the runoff,” Salwa said. Murdock nodded. They drove south for ten minutes; then Murdock had the engine turned off and they listened again.
Nothing.
Far off they saw headlights.
“Looks like they’re still going east,” Murdock said. “Let’s hope we lost them.”
Then he saw more lights, two pair that were heading in much the same direction as he was. He hit the mike.
“Ed, you have two rigs chasing you? Headlights to the rear?”
“Yeah. Figured something was back there — they just turned on their lights.”
“Keep on the same bearing. We’ll see if we can come up to the side of those two half-tracks and give them a good SEAL hot-lead welcome.”
They drove faster then. A half-moon gave some help. Salwa had grown up in the desert, and knew even with the lights off how to tell a shadow from a gully, at least now that it was vital. The rigs with lights on were going faster, but Murdock had the angle on them. He figured in another two miles he’d have them at a two-hundred-yard range.
All he had to do was blow their tracks off or kill the engine with the half-track’s mounted Fifty.
Ten minutes later, Murdock could see the lights, and the faint shadows of the rigs themselves. He was at four hundred yards. He closed to two hundred, and used the rig’s mounted machine gun to shoot at the first half-track.
The fifty-caliber spoke loudly in the desert silence. He missed with the first rounds, corrected, and slammed six, then twelve rounds into the side and front of the moving rig. It sputtered and died. The headlights went out.
He saw the second rig stop and turn to bring its gun to bear on Murdock’s muzzle flashes. Murdock got off a ten-round burst, then two more five-round bursts before the other gunner could get in action. He saw the front of the rig dissolve in steam; then the fuel tank blew in a gushing explosion fed by the diesel fuel, and the fight was over.
“Oh, yeah, beautiful,” Ed Dewitt said on the Motorola. “I’d say the two are about a half mile behind us, and they were gaining on us like crazy. Can we use lights now?”
“Hell, no. There are still three or four half-tracks out here hunting us. We join up, get another five miles south, then call for our chopper pickup, and in an hour or two a big dinner. What time is it?”
“Just past twenty-three hundred,” Dewitt said. “Come and find us.
I can loan you about six men.”
“Turn off your engine. Let us know when you can hear us, then guide us in. We can’t be more than a mile or two apart.”
Murdock found the rest of his platoon ten minutes later. They overshot them, and had to come back.
“Got you,” Dewitt said on the radio.
Then Murdock saw the truck with men hanging all over it. Salwa pulled the half-track up beside it, and they redistributed the men for better mobility.
“Let’s have a casualty report,” Murdock said to the men.
Holt came up and showed Murdock his arm. “The slug went on through, no big deal. Doc put some gunk on it and wrapped it up proper-like. I’m fit for duty.”
“But no hundred-foot rope climbs, right?”
“Yeah, that would be tough.”
The second squad wound was only a bullet graze. Doc wrapped it and they moved.
“Let’s keep it quiet now, and listen for engines. Somebody get on top of the truck and look for headlights. Be nice if we had a thousand-foot hill to use for a lookout.”
They watched and listened for ten minutes. Murdock was satisfied they didn’t have any of the hunter half-tracks close to them.
“We’ll motor another twenty minutes due south, then put in our call for the chopper. Everyone watch for headlights out here.”
Twenty minutes later, they had covered several miles to the south, and hadn’t run into any sign of the Iraqi hunters. Murdock called a halt, and they listened again. Then he waved at Ron Holt.
“Fire up the SATCOM. Let’s get out of here.”
Holt took the fifteen-pound radio off his back, and opened the flap with the antenna. He set up the small dish, and aimed it somewhere near where the Milstar satellite should be in a synchronous orbit 23,300 miles over the equator. The radio gave instant communications by the satellite with anyone, anywhere in the world. They could call the President, or their families back in Coronado.