“Do we wait until they get close?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” Pavel replied. He touched his throat mike. “Braon, take him,” he called to the team sniper.
There was a crack from Dafyd’s right and the Chechen dropped.
“Team,” Pavel continued. “Fire as you bear. Snipers, try to find the commanders.”
Bukara paused, panting, as fire broke out to the front.
“We have them,” Sayeed said.
“Maybe,” Bukara replied. “We have to move forward.”
“Dafyd, Pavel.”
“Go Kildar,” Dafyd said, firing to his left. He could see some of the Chechens moving down on the side of the hill, trying to flank their position.
“Get ready to leave,” the Kildar said. “Pull straight south. Oleg is to your southwest. Skirt the edge of his hill then check your pads. They have your positions. Move as soon as you are sure you’re ready.”
“Yes, Kildar,” Dafyd said. He quickly switched to the team frequency. “Antoniya, status?”
“All here,” Antoniya replied. “No casualties.”
“We’re good, too,” Pavel said. “You go first.”
“Right. Team, retreat to the streambed and form on me. We are leaving.”
“Can I shoot, now?” Shota asked as the first Chechen crested the hill where Pavel and Dafyd’s people had been. Pavel had almost passed their position but Dafyd’s team, Padrek’s really, was still at the base of the hill.
“One round,” Oleg replied. “The new one.”
“Yes!” Shota said, happily. He already had one loaded and the range to the hilltop. “Clear!”
“They’re retreating under fire,” Bukara said. “Doing it well so far.”
They were in the streambed on the back side of the hill, just starting to ascend. It was clear that the Keldara had abandoned it.
“Perhaps Haza Khan will stop them,” Sayeed said as the hilltop was enveloped with fire. “What in Allah’s name?!”
“Fuck their mothers!” Bukara shouted, shaking his head to clear the ringing. The back of the hill was suddenly pelted by rock, dirt, twigs and wet things. “Thermobaric round! Send the rest of the men around the hill.”
“Oooo! Pretty!” Shota said, pulling another round out of the rack on his side and sliding it into the rocket launcher. “Can I do that again?”
“No,” Oleg said. “Not yet, anyway. Stay under cover. If they see that thing you’ll be fired at by every Chechen. I’ll tell you if we need it.” He touched his throat mike. “Where are they?”
“Coming around both sides of the hill,” Jitka replied. “They don’t seem to like the top anymore.”
“Fire as you bear,” Oleg said, spotting one of the Chechen fighters on the east side of the hill. “Snipers, look for leaders.”
Sveryan Shaynav was normally a spotter for Juris. But Juris had been hit by the fucking Russian sniper at the raid so now he was the boss man. He’d grabbed Gregor Makanee, one of the regular riflemen, and given him a very brief class in using a spotter scope. But it was the first time the kid had spotted for a sniper so Sveryan wasn’t hoping for much.
“Left side of the hill,” Gregor whispered. “Range… five hundred thirty-two meters. Guy waving his arms.”
Sveryan swung the scope back and forth and finally spotted the guy he was talking about. Sure enough, he looked as if he was in charge of the group. He adjusted the scope for the indicated distance, took a breath, let it out, stroked the trigger.
“Target down,” Gregor whispered. “Thirty meters uphill. Guy carrying a big gun of some sort.”
“PKM,” Sveryan said, stroking the trigger.
“Whatever… He’s hit but not dead. You wanna finish… Okay. Right side of the hill, think it’s one of their snipers. There’s two rocks near the top of the hill. Just down from them. Range… four seventy.”
“I’ve got to give you a class on spotting,” Sveryan sighed…
“Oleg, got your little pad thingy working?” Mike asked.
“Go, Kildar.”
“Next position,” Mike said. “How you doing?”
“Whisky, one,” Oleg replied, indicating one casualty. “Mobile. Ready on your command.”
“As soon as you’re ready,” Mike said. “Pavel is to your southeast. Head due south. Your next position is on the chart.”
“Roger, Kildar,” Oleg said, switching to the team net. “Team, prepare to pull out. Everyone mobile?”
“Yes,” Dmitri replied. “Mikhail took a round through the arm, but he’s good otherwise.”
“Can I fire now?” Shota asked.
“No,” Oleg said. “Save your rounds. I think we’re going to need them. Team, pull out… Now!”
The temperature was dropping again, the rain had turned to snow, but that was fine. It meant the fucking Chechens had to dig to stay warm.
Haza knew how to put in a defensive position. He had fought the Northern Alliance, off and on, for years. That had been a war of attrition and no-man’s-lands towards the end, trenchlines that stretched sometimes for miles. Occasionally one side or the other, usually the Taliban, would get an advantage and the lines would shift. Then it would be time to put in another defense. He had done it over and over again.
He, therefore, wasn’t just letting the Chechens dig shallow scrapes and be done with it. That seemed to be the way around here. But that wasn’t good enough for Haza. He had had them build a zig-zagging trench across the brow of the hill, with fields of fire in boht directions and to the sides. Machine gun teams had finally straggled in, nearly exhausted, and he already had positions dug for them with sweeing fire covering the front and sides of the hill. If the Keldara tried to pass to either side they’d be taken under a whithering fire. And assaulting straight at the position would be suicide.
Haza could hear the guns, now. The Keldara were retreating under fire, that was pretty clear. And it was also clear they were heading right towards the pass.
Let them come. Then it would be much warmer.
“Thank you for coming to the White House,” the president said, smiling at the president of Burundi and shaking his hand. The two men were turned slightly sideways so that the White House photographer could get a good picture of them.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” the man said. “It has been my pleasure to meet you.”
“And I you,” the president said, ushering him out of the Oval Office. “I wish you well on your return trip.”
“And many wishes to you, Mr. President,” the Burundan said. He was quite pleased with the visit. His country had picked up a bundle in aid, which would please his cousins no end since most of it would go in their pockets. Well, that which he didn’t skim. He could probably buy that chalet in Switzerland he’d had his eye on.
The POTUS walked back to the Resolute Desk and slumped into his chair. He looked at the documents on his desk, pulled one over and picked up the phone at the same time, hitting a button with his pinkie finger.
“Keldara?”
“They’re retreating under fire, Mr. President. Weather is breaking and the Predators are starting to get some observation. They’re about fifteen kilometers from the Chechen side of the pass. However, their intercepts, and ours, indicate that somewhat more than four thousand Chechen fighters are closing on their position, many of them carrying heavy weapons such as mortars and heavy machine-guns. If they are slowed much more, the main force will catch them. In that case, sir… ”