“Vince Yamamoto, is that you, you son of a bitch?”
“Oh, yeah, Karl, I’m coming out. Tell your friends not to shoot me.”
Vince and Tucker talked a minute, and then Vince fired the pistol three times.
“We’re going down and help them come up,” Karl called to the SEALs. Then they rushed down the slope.
A half hour later, the governor and his staff were all back in the tents, trying to unwind. The first Sea Knight had landed and taken Murdock and half the SEALs and the twelve Chinese prisoners off the mountain, heading for Hickam air base on Oahu.
The governor said he wanted to be the last one off the mountain. He had gone to look at the nuns, and he’d wept as he saw what had happened to them.
“I’d been afraid of that. They never appeared after the Chinese came in their helicopters. How can we notify the Maui authorities?”
DeWitt did it on the SATCOM. CINCPAC said they would put through a radio call to the civilian lawmen in the area.
DeWitt ushered the last of the SEALs and the governor and his staff into the second Sea Knight.
“It’s not the first-class flights you’re used to, but at least no one is going to be shooting at you,” Dewitt said.
The governor smiled. “We’re overjoyed to be going home, even if it is one day early. We thank the Navy SEALs for rescuing us.”
DeWitt shook his head. “We only helped, Governor. Whoever had the key that let you get free of those chains is the person who should be thanked for your rescue. If you had been in those tents when we attacked, it would have been much harder for us. You have a hero in your midst. I hope that person gets the proper recognition.”
The governor nodded. “She will, at least a medal of some kind. Yes, I guarantee to you all that she will be recognized and honored.”
26
The Sea Knight settled down in a restricted area of Hickam Field. There a limousine met the governor and his party and hurried them toward the nearest hospital where the governor’s leg would be treated. The news conference would come later. Ed held his squad on the bird until the limo was well away. Then they walked off and headed the other way. An Air Force bus hurried up and a first lieutenant stepped out.
“Sorry we missed you at the chopper. We’re to take you where you want to go.”
When Ed DeWitt stepped out, the two saluted. “We need to get to our quarters over on Pearl. Possible?”
“Absolutely.” The Air Force officer stared at the EAR rifle and shook his head. “That’s the strangest-looking weapon I’ve ever seen. What does it do?”
“Strange things, Lieutenant, that we can’t talk about.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
Twenty minutes later the SEALs unloaded in front of their temporary quarters at Pearl Harbor. DeWitt called the base hospital and found out that Murdock was there and at the moment in surgery. He had kept the bus waiting while he made the call, and the driver took him and Mahanani to the hospital. The doctors treated both sides of the bullet wound in the corpsman’s left arm, and told him to come back in three days for a change of the dressing.
They were still working on Murdock in surgery. DeWitt tried to find out how bad the hit was, but nobody from the ER had come out and the other doctors in that area didn’t know.
He and Mahanani sat and waited for the surgeons to finish their work. A really serious wound could knock Murdock right out of the SEALs’ field work. That wasn’t the way any SEAL wanted to end his career. Ed got up and paced, then sat down and tried to read a magazine. It was a year-old Time.
After another hour a doctor came out of the OR and pulled down his mask. He looked at the two men with dirty uniforms.
“You the SEALs waiting for the commander?”
“Yes, sir,” DeWitt said, jumping up. Mahanani was right beside him.
“The commander has taken a serious wound to the shoulder. The bullet cut a notch out of the tendon that goes over the top of the shoulder and controls your ability to lift your arm over your head.
“We did an MRI on it, then went in and stitched the tendon back together again. Similar to a rotator cuff surgery, but not so extreme or serious.
“With proper physical therapy, the commander should be back to ninety-five percent within two months. That means a serious, planned program of physical therapy and lots of rest.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s good news, Doctor,” Mahanani said. “We appreciate your help.”
“He should be in recovery and out of the general anesthesia in about a half hour. We also cleaned the bullet wound in his left leg and rebandaged it. I’ll have a corpsman show you where he’ll be.”
Murdock looked angry when they saw him in recovery. He had an IV in his left arm, a bandage on his right shoulder, and he was clean.
“They almost gave me a fu…” He looked around. There were two other patients in the large recovery area. “Tried to give me a bath. I told them I didn’t hurt there.”
He sobered. “They didn’t tell me a damn thing. How is the wing? Is it as bad as they said in the chopper?”
“Doubt it,” DeWitt said. “One doctor told us you should get back ninety-five percent of your strength in the arm. That’s not bad.”
Murdock looked over at his SIC. “Ninety-five? Hell, I can whip all of you guys together one-handed if I get back ninety-five. Now, where is the platoon? What’s going on? You guys just get back? What’s happening?”
“Impatience, thy resounding name is Murdock,” DeWitt said. Mahanani looked up at him with a frown.
Murdock snorted.
“You can’t even quote it right. So? So? What’s up?”
“Nothing. Just dropped off the men at the quarters and came over here. Expect to do an after-action on this one if I have time. Expect a call from CINCPAC and get our part here wrapped up. We have twenty-five-percent casualties. I’m requesting we get pulled off the front lines. At least no more missions.”
“Heard before I went into the OR that the war was about over. Just a little bit of mop-up. Casualty rate around here has gone way down lately.”
A nurse came in and waved them outside.
“Looks like the boss is ejecting us, little buddy. We’ll see you as soon as they turn you loose. Probably tomorrow. Get some sleep. About what I’m going to do.”
When they returned to the SEALs’ quarters there was a message. It said DeWitt should see the CINCPAC as soon as possible. Not even time to shower. DeWitt took Senior Chief Dobler with him. A Navy sedan had been standing by to transport them up the hill to see the admiral.
The four-star wasn’t smiling when the two SEALs walked into his office and froze at attention.
“All right, relax, sit down,” the admiral said. “It isn’t your fault. But you’re going to have to help us dig out of this new mess.”
“What mess?” DeWitt wanted to ask, but he didn’t.
Admiral Bennington pushed up from his chair and walked around the office. He stared out a window for a moment, then came back and sat down. “That used to help. Not this time. All of my Marines are tied up on the other side of the island chasing down stray Chinese soldiers.
“We don’t have any Delta Forces here, and so I’m going to have to ask you SEALs to do one more small favor for Uncle Sam.”
“That’s what we’re here for, Admiral,” DeWitt said.
“Yes, well. Let’s hope you feel that way when you hear what we want you to do.” The admiral pointed to a captain, who lowered a large-scale map. DeWitt saw that it was a section of Honolulu.
“The problem, SEALs, is that there is a group of fanatic Chinese who have taken over the Bishop Museum and are threatening to burn and tear and slash everything inside if we do not allow them safe passage out of the city and to one of their remaining Naval vessels.