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"Deal," Murdock said. "Captain, you sure you don't sell cars on the side?" They laughed. "If I could be excused, I have some work to do before tonight. I hope your armament people have lots of C-5 and TNAZ on board."

By the time Murdock found his way back to the SEALs' assembly room, only Jaybird was left there.

"I sent the rest of them to their sacks," Jaybird said. "We almost had another ruckus between Douglas and Fernandez. What's the story there?"

"Not sure, but if it keeps up, we'll leave one of them behind on the next mission."

"I'd say Douglas is the least effective of the two, but that's up to you and the JG. It wasn't anything violent, but there's a strong undercurrent there I don't like to see in the platoon, let alone with two guys in the same squad."

"We're watching it. We've got a go for tonight. We chopper over friendly country for about eighty, then jump in the fucking frying pan for five miles to find our target."

"Sounds like fun. After dark?" "Right. The CAG is giving us a Cobra gunship for company and putting .50-caliber MGs in the Sea Knight's doors."

"Good. Have the CAG send along the gunners. Then the helo will have protection when we can't man the MGs."

"Good idea. I'm about ready to find my bunk. Catch you in the morning here. When did you tell the squads to be back?"

"Back at 0900, Cap. Figured some work, then some sack time after noon chow."

"See you then. Don't stay up all night."

91st Tank Battalion

A half-hour before dawn, Major Donovan Kitts had his tankers in their shielded firing positions seven miles below the former DMZ. They were ready to rumble. Solid Korean embankments hid everything on the tanks from the top of the treads down. The long guns and turrets were masked by tree limbs and branches.

They waited.

"I hear something coming, Major," the radio crackled in Kitt's ear.

"Make sure," the tank battalion commander said. "I don't see anything. Which direction?"

"Due north."

They all listened. Major Kitts was closest to the enemy, less than fifty yards behind the rushing river. The water was still much too high for the North Korean tanks to swim across. They would have to stand and fight.

Kitts looked across the roiling water. He could die right there today. The idea had never occurred to him before. He was twenty-eight years old, single, had his West Point ring, and the gold leaves of an Army major… and he could die there today.

Not by damn if he could help it.

He heard the tanks coming then, not one, but three or four heading directly at him. Three or four!

He slid down in the hatch of his tank until he could just see over the rim.

"Company," he said. "Got them, Major," Broadhurst, his gunner, said. "I've got two of their Russian-built T-55's at about six hundred yards. Should we take a shot or let them get closer?"

"Closer, Broad. I want them bastards to die hard and fast. Yeah, I see them. Just two." He flipped the radio switch. "All units, all units. I have two NK fifty-five crawlers straight north at about six hundred. Hold your fire as long as you can. If they spot you, shoot. I'm buttoning up. Good hunting."

He clapped the top down on the tank and took his position.

"Yeah, let's rock and roll," he added. "Broad, what's the range?"

"Five hundred. No change in direction. They probably don't know the bridge is out and the river is too high to cross."

"Yeah, when they see that they'll turn to the side, east or west, giving us a good broadside shot. Let's see how it plays out."

The edges of dawn faded away and it was fully light. Kitts watched the smaller of the two Russian-made tanks the North Koreans used roll forward. Their course hadn't varied a degree since they'd come over the slight rise a mile away.

"You've got the left one?" Kitts asked.

"Roger that, Major," Broadhurst said. "Zeroed in and computer laid, ready to shoot. Continual update."

Kitts watched the rolling tanks again. In a moment he saw the gun barrel of the T-55 swing to the left, then back again until it centered on his tank.

"Fire," Kitts barked. The 105mm round went off with the familiar roar. Some smoke and powder fumes tainted the inside of the steel box, but none of the four men noticed it.

Kitts watched through his AN/W2 ruby laser range finder as their round hit the North Korean tank just below the long gun and penetrated the armor. A moment later the T-55 lifted a foot off the ground, then careened to the left and tipped on its side.

"Sighting in on number two," Broadhurst said.

"Go, Broad. Nice shooting. One more round and we get out of sight. Keep the engine running." The second round only grazed the NK tank as it jolted into a quick left turn. The round exploded behind the T-55.

"Hope they had some infantry back there," Kitts said. "Now, Anderson, get us behind the other bank. We'll hide for a few minutes and see what that other gent out there does."

He wanted to get out of the tank and check the rest of his teams. He used the radio instead.

"All units, pick out targets when you can see them. Let's fire and hide. Wait for the last minute before you fire. You know the routine. We're six against eleven. We clobbered one."

"Major, I had one bogie in my sights," Broadhurst said. "It was one of the bigger T-62's, and he suddenly vanished. Something blew him all to hell. Couldn't have b een one of our rounds. We have any air support out there?"

Kitts frowned. "Damned if I know." He used the radio again. "Anybody who can, unbutton and take a look upstairs. See if we have any air support. Anybody else see that T-62 get blown up?"

Two of the tanks had seen the T-62 disintegrate.

Kitts opened the turret and looked at the sky. At first he saw nothing, only heard the rumble of tanks from across the river. Then another sound came, a high whining kind of sound.

Jets. Fighter-bombers? He hoped. He edged higher on the tank, then stood up. He could just see over the ledge of dirt they were parked behind.

To his right he saw a North Korean T-62 slanting to the left a hundred yards across the river. He never saw the plane, but he heard it, a roaring, whistling sound as the jet slashed through the air overhead. At the same time something long and dark jolted into the moving tank and exploded. All Kitts could see a moment later were refrigerator-sized parts.

"Yes!" he shouted. Kitts slid back in his tank, closed up, and moved it to where he could see across the river again. A T-55 turned at the water and presented him a side view two hundred yards away.

"Broad, nail him," Kitts said.

"Take a second," the gunner said. "Now, oh, yeah."

The tank lurched as the 105mm rifle fired off, a messenger of instant death. The computer-guided round jolted into the side of the rushing T-55 and exploded, blowing off the near-side track, tearing off the turret, and causing a dozen secondary explosions as some of the rounds inside detonated.

"Yes, scratch one more NK machine," Kitts yelled. "The fucking odds are getting better. Let's get back in our hideyhole and look out the other side."

High overhead, two F-18 Hornets from the Monroe circled for another run at the rumbling North Korean tanks below.

"Hey, Top Hat One, I nailed that bastard. Did you see that? Secondary all over the place. Good old shaped charge. Does the job."

"Roger that, Top Hat Two. Just keep that three thousand feet of altitude and hang tough. Lots more targets down there."

The Hornets came in for another run with their television guided 460-pound missiles ready. Each plane carried four of the Maverick missiles especially designed for use against tanks. The U 5-pound high-explosive charge was aimed at the top of the tank where the armor that could deflect certain kinds of rounds was weaker.