This is Red Three. Same on our left. Out.
This is Command One, Brannigan said. Section leaders spread your vehicles out to avoid letting the enemy outflank us. Out. Then he turned his attention to the DPVs out on watch. Hey! You goddamn three blind mice, what're you doing out there? Sitting around with your heads up your asses?
The first reply came from Mike Assad. Command One, nobody's slipped through this position. Command Three and Green Two gave the same reports, the dismay evident in their voices even over the radios.
Alright, Brannigan said. Get your asses in here and come in shooting! There's more than six times the number we anticipated. Out.
.
THE BATTLE
THE fighting opened up as Sikes Bey sent his command into an enveloping maneuver. The SEAL DPVs responded by extending their formation, keeping the armored cars constantly moving in an outward direction.
COMMAND One! Our bullets is bouncing off the bastards! Dawkins reported.
Brannigan silently damned the Station Bravo S-4 for not providing them with armor-piercing rounds. He instantly reached the conclusion they were going to have to cut and run. There was no way that patrol vehicles with a single machine gun loaded with ball ammo were going to be able to knock out armored cars. But he couldn't order a retreat until the three watch DPVs had rejoined them. All units! Fire at their tires!
That's what we been doing, sir, Milly Mills said. But they keep coming.
Brannigan knew that meant the enemy had run-flat tires. But they're slowed down, aren't they? Over.
I don't know. Wait, Milly said. A moment passed, then he came back. By God! They sure as hell are! I don't think they're as fast as we are anyhow. And it looks like they have a tough time steering when the tires on one side are hit.
All vehicles! Brannigan said. Dodge, dart, and shoot! We gotta take advantage of our superior speed. Out.
OVER in his vehicle, Sikes Bey bounced and swung in his seat with each movement of the EE-3. He had now determined his command was impervious to the enemy's fire as he viewed the fight through his periscope. But he also noticed his foes were faster and more nimble, making quick, short turns that the armored cars could not match. And the fact that several tires had been shot up slowed down his vehicles' speed and maneuverability even more.
JIM Cruiser whipped the steering wheel to the left, bringing Green One alongside an armored car some twenty meters away. The guy quickly spotted them and swung his turret and machine gun in their direction, firing long bursts. Bullets cracked and whined around Bruno Puglisi as he lowered the muzzle of his M-2 .50-caliber and made quick pulls on the trigger. Both tires on that side of the enemy vehicle were hit, causing it to lunge violently to the right. That spoiled the bad guy's aim, and Jim went back the other way, breaking clear as Puglisi cut loose with a couple more fire bursts.
Over on the other side of the fight, Red Three, with Milly Mills and Andy Malachenko, managed to come in on the rear of one enemy vehicle. Unfortunately, the ground was uneven in the area, causing the DPV to bounce. This spoiled Andy's aim and his bullets whipped off into empty air. Neither he nor Milly noticed the armored car driving obliquely toward them on the port side. A burst of four heavy rounds slammed into Milly's torso, twisting him violently in the seat belt as he collapsed across the steering wheel. The DPV rolled, tossing Andy out onto the hard-packed desert ground.
Now Command Two and Three arrived on the scene and joined the fight. They had monitored all the transmissions, and the drivers Dave Leibowitz and Doc Bradley moved smoothly into the rolling, circling maneuvering of the battle. It had evolved to the point that the situation was like fighter planes battling it out in dogfights as they sought to gain the advantage over each other. But in this case, there was not the added dimension of height.
The two tardy DPVs immediately opened fire at the exact time.
ONE of the armored car platoon leaders reported that additional fire was suddenly coming in. Sikes Bey's mind raced as he made a quick decision. That could mean reinforcements were arriving. He had already determined these were Americans, so there was a very good chance that air strikes had already been called in. It was time for a strategic withdrawal. He reached for his microphone. Dauwir retreat!
The fighting broke off with the same abruptness it had begun.
.
1235 HOURS
BRANNIGAN decided a pursuit was useless. It would only result in a battle of attrition the Brigands would eventually lose even if they were faster than the bad guys. The ammo loaded into the M-2 .50s was not going to penetrate into the armored car interiors. The Skipper also vetoed following after them to see which direction they headed. That could lead to an ambush by a stronger force joining the original attackers. This was one of those maddening situations where a guy was damned if he did and damned if he didn't.
The sad thing was that Milly Mills was dead. He had been one of the original members of the old platoon from which the detachment had evolved in three bloody operations. His vehicle, Red Three, lay on its side as the other SEALs drove up to the site. They quickly unassed their vehicles and rolled the shot-up DPV back upright. Senior Chief Dawkins and Gutsy Olson gently removed Milly's body from the restraints of the seat belt. The corpse was placed in the back of the vehicle under the machine gun. Andy Malachenko, sprawled out on the ground, was badly bruised and dazed, but Doc Bradley said he would be okay within a short time. He was unable to drive, so he would ride shotgun with Dawkins on the trip back to Shelor Field. Pete Dawson would drive Red Three in the convoy.
Now, with the afternoon desert winds picking up, Brannigan and Cruiser stood looking out over the UN camp. All the tents were down and tire tracks had torn up the ground. Valuable medical equipment was smashed, torn up, and scattered across the area. This would bring the camp's humanitarian mission to a sad finish. Cruiser glanced toward the Pashtun village. They're not even out of their houses.
All they want is for everybody to leave them alone, Brannigan said He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. It's shitty as hell about Milly, huh?
Everybody's really down, Cruiser commented.
Yeah, Brannigan said. Well, c'est la guerre, as the French say, though that doesn't offer much comfort.
We stymied the bad guys pretty good by hitting their tires, Cruiser said. I wonder why they didn't shoot ours up. We don't have run-flats on the DPVs.
The muzzles on the turret-mounted machine guns don't lower fast enough, Brannigan said. They had to concentrate on shooting at the guys in the vehicles. He took one more look at the battlefield. Well, let's mount up and head back to Shelor Field. Everything's about as fucked up around here as it's gonna get.
The two officers walked toward the detachment to get things moving.
.
SHELOR FIELD
1435 HOURS
THE mood in the hangar was grim. Randy Tooley and his new DPV were present. The enterprising airman had quickly painted the purloined vehicle Air Force blue and stenciled on phony registration and unit numbers to make it appear legal. He had already made arrangements to have Petty Officer First Class Michael Mills flown to Kuwait, where the mortuary center would prepare him for his final trip home. Randy had done this sad duty on numerous occasions as part of his job. He was an emotional little guy, and had seen that the corpse was treated with utmost respect as it was prepared for transport.
This is an American serviceman, he told the C-130 loadmaster, not a piece of equipment.
Now, in the partitioned office in the back of the hangar, the Skipper, Jim Cruiser, and Senior Chief Buford Dawkins sat around a battered desk drinking cold beers. A refrigerator, furnished by Randy as an extra gesture of gratitude for the DPV, sat in the corner of the room. Dawkins lit a cigar, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. That UN doctor was fit to be tied, wasn't he?