Five minutes later Senior Chief Sadler had the squad in a diamond formation and looked over at Murdock.
“Move them into a wide V formation so they don’t kill everyone in sight,” he said. “You and I will be at the center observing. Do a radio check.”
He listened as Sadler had each man chime in on the personal Motorola radios.
“All working, sir.”
“Move them out, Sadler. Keep five yards separation. No firing until my orders.”
The sun was out, tempering the five-thousand-foot altitude, as the SEALs worked up the first slope toward a pair of twin peaks about eight miles distant.
“Hit the dirt,” Murdock called in the radio. “Okay, we’re going to fire and move. I want the squad to move into a line of skirmishers on the senior chief. Ten yards apart. Move it now.” Murdock watched as the men at the end of the V ran back to line up with Saddler. Murdock moved up to the left end of the line.
“Teamwork is the key. I want you to count off by twos from the left. Count.” He barked out the first “one,” the next man called out “two,” the next called out “one,” and so on along the line.
“Number-one men, I want you to fire twelve rounds on my command, straight ahead. As you fire, number-two men will be charging ten yards straight ahead. Check your field of fire. When number-one man finishes firing, the number-two man will hit the dirt and cover for him as he runs up ten yards past where his cover man is firing. Check your fields of fire. We don’t want anyone getting killed out here. It would mess up the whole weekend. Each man will fire and move three times. Any questions?”
There were none. “Yes, I know, we’ve done this a hundred times, but this is a refresher. Time out your cover fire so you can shoot your last shot when your partner hits the dirt ahead of you. Number-two men charge forward first, number-ones support him with live fire. Ready. Start running and firing.”
Murdock hit the dirt and fired straight ahead. He timed his rounds, and quit when his number-two hit the dirt. Then he ran straight ahead past his support man ten yards, before he dropped into the dirt and rocks. The firing behind him stopped. He looked back and saw Jaybird lift up and run forward. He had twenty yards to go. Murdock timed his firing to last until Jaybird dropped down in a prone position ready to fire.
After Murdock had run forward three times, he stood and watched the rest of the men. Only one more man had to complete his run and get covering fire.
“All right,” Murdock said into the Motorola. “Anybody get killed?” He waited a moment. “Good, now let’s move up into a line of skirmishers and see what we can do about the nest of snipers up there in that old oak snag out about two hundred yards.”
Murdock took one end of the line of six men, and Senior Chief Sadler manned the far end.
“Walking fire, every ten seconds. No twenties. Keep the damn line straight. Let’s move.”
They worked ahead with assault fire, blasting the old snag. Twice Murdock had to yell to keep the line straight. When they were within fifty yards of the snag, Murdock called a cease-fire.
“Hold it right here. We’re going to work a new wrinkle. Been a while since we’ve played horse. Now and then we get into a situation where we have to carry out one of our men. Tough, and we can do some training on it.
“Right now I want you to pair up by weight. That’s Jaybird and Lam, Ching and Sadler, Bradford and Van Dyke. I’ve got the small one, Howard. We’ll be working downhill, so that may help. I want you to take the other man on your back and pack him for two hundred yards. Then we switch. We’re going to do that five times if our legs hold out. Let’s do it.”
Murdock motioned for Howard to get on his back. Howard weighed in at 250 to Murdock’s 210.
“You’re giving away forty pounds, Skipper,” Jaybird said.
“So, you want to take him?” Bradford snapped.
Murdock lifted the big man, gritted his teeth, and started downhill, holding on to Howard’s legs with Howard’s huge arms draped over Murdock’s shoulders. He took the steps deliberately, not sure how far he could go. He was in good shape, but this was a real test.
He worked well the first hundred yards. There were some yells and screeches from the other men. Murdock concentrated on getting his feet in front of each other and down the hill. By the time he made it to the last twenty yards, his legs were feeling rubbery, as if they might collapse.
Howard thumped him on the shoulder. “Far enough, Skipper,” he said, and Murdock let him down, then dropped to the ground rubbing his legs.
The others arrived, and the carriers looked spent. Murdock gave everyone a moment, then stood. “Let’s move out another two hundred. Change riders and carriers.”
Howard picked up Murdock as if he was an inflated toy and marched down the hill. He looked over his shoulder at Murdock. “Hey, sometimes I have trouble with distances. We might get closer to three hundred than two. Won’t hurt nothing. Know I’m a load. I’m gonna be damn sure not to get shot up bad.”
Howard did work down almost three hundred before they changed places and caught up with the other men. Murdock’s legs were hurting again, and when everyone was at the six-hundred-yard mark, Murdock called it off.
“Enough for this time. We’ll try to keep the weight class more even when we have Bravo with us. Now, take ten and let my legs get back to normal.”
“Hey, one thing,” Jaybird chirped. “I’m gonna write a law that says Howard can’t get bad shot up on a mission.”
“Yeah, and I’ll sign that bill into law,” Murdock said.
Murdock gave himself and the rest fifteen minutes to get their breath back and legs rested. Then he pointed to the tallest peak in the range. “See Bald Cap over there? How far do you think the top of it is from us?”
“Ten miles,” Bradford said.
“No way,” Lam said. “Look at those ridges in front of it. Got to be twenty-five at least.”
“That’s our target for tonight,” Murdock said.
“Twenty-five out and twenty-five back?” Ching asked.
“No, we fly back,” Jaybird said.
“Not going all the way,” Murdock said. “We’ll do ten miles due north and then turn around.”
“Only ten?” Van Dyke asked. “Hey, we’re getting a break.”
“Then back to the bus?” Jaybird asked.
“About the size of it,” Murdock said.
“Good,” Jaybird said. “That’s where the food has to be. Even an MRE will look good by the time we get back.”
Murdock put Howard in the lead with Bradford and Lam right behind him. They hiked in a column five yards apart. Murdock was behind Lam watching the two men who’d been wounded on the last mission. Any trouble and he’d drop them out for pickup on the return leg.
Everyone made the ten miles. Then Murdock turned them around at once and led out at a stronger pace for the bus.
“Oh, yes, big bad food-laden bus, here we come,” Jaybird sang out.
Bradford straggled a little on the return hike. Murdock gave the lead to Jaybird and hung back with Bradford. They were a quarter of a mile behind when the others hit the bus.
“Sorry, Skipper, just not as strong yet as I’m gonna be. Another two weeks and I’ll be shit-kicking guys all over the place.”
The men had a big cardboard box out of the bus when Murdock got there, but they hadn’t opened it.
Murdock slit the tape with his KA-BAR and handed out the box lunches he had conned out of the mess hall early that morning. They each had two two-slices-of-bread sandwiches, raw carrots, a big dill pickle, a candy bar, and a small can of mixed fruit with a snap top.
“Hey, anybody want to trade his mixed fruit for one of my sandwiches?” Vinnie Van Dyke asked. Nobody did.
After the meal, Murdock gave them fifteen minutes more to relax, then sent Jaybird and Lam out to the target range. He had them unfold the cardboard boxes they carried. They were two feet square, and the SEALs anchored them with a few rocks so they wouldn’t blow away. They put a box at four, five, and six hundred yards, then jogged back to the bus.