"Got me another one lined up," Top Hat One called. Then he slanted down with his F-18 Hornet, checked his airspeed to be sure he was above the Mach.09 firing speed, and launched.
"Top Hat One, this is Calico Cat."
"Yeah, tomcatting around again. We're chomping up tanks."
"We have two MiGs approaching your position, Top Hat. ' Two of us are on the way to meet those visitors and give you some top cover. Stay low."
"That's a roger, Calico. Wham, we just erased another NK tank. Good hunting up there. Calico."
On the ground, Major Kitts watched two more enemy tanks get blasted into piles of junk by the aircraft. He didn't know what kind they were, but the stars on the wings were reassuring. He spotted no more tanks in his immediate area.
"All units, how many NK machines can we count that are not dead?" "I've got six," one radio voice said.
"I can see only five."
"Everyone still in his nest?" Kitts asked.
"So far as I can see," Lieutenant Olson said. "I'm back about a half mile. None of our guys is moving. Time to leave the nest?"
"Let's play bird dog a little longer. Maybe the planes will drive some more of them into the open for our guns. How many for damned sure kills do we have?"
The men reported in four for sure dead NK tanks from their guns. That, with Kitts', made five. The fly guys must have killed four or five. Maybe the NKs had lost ten tanks today. But five or six of the Russian tanks still made up a potent force.
"Let's go hunting," Major Kitts said.
The six U.S. tanks powered out from their hiding places and aimed north. At once one of the gunners on the east flank saw a T-62 doing a slow turn away from the river. After two rounds from the American tank, the NK machine pivoted on one track and went down the bank upside down into the river.
Two T-55's were caught in a hasty retreat. One was damaged, but ground out of sight over a small hill. The other one took a direct hit, and the 105 round blew off the top of the tank. Major Kitts came to a stop on the crest of a small hill and scanned the land to the north. There were no more North Korean tanks in sight except the dead and the burning.
He slid back down and tried his long-range tactical frequency.
"Ninety-first calling Second Regiment."
He made the call three times; then the speaker came to life.
"Ninety-first, you still out there? We lost track of you. What's your position and your strength? Good to hear from you. We've got a spot where we need your tanks. I'll want a complete report. How are you on fuel? Tell me. Now is a good time."
Major Donovan Kitts grinned and punched up the send button. He told his colonel exactly what had happened since early morning the day before. It was great to hear a friendly voice from headquarters on the radio.
The second day of the war dawned bright and clear on the carrier. Murdock slept in until 0700, had a quick breakfast, and beat Jaybird to the assembly room. He phoned the munitions man on board, and came up with a commander who knew every ounce of powder, ball, and missile on the carrier.
"Damn right we have TNAZ, all you can carry. You want timer/detonators too, I'd guess. You'll have to sign for it. How much?"
Murdock tried to decide. Smaller charges on individual hardware, or one big blast to bring down the ceiling and bury everything?
"Quarter-pound blocks?"
"Aye."
"Make it twenty-five pounds."
"Twenty-five? You planning on blowing up half the damned countryside?"
"Just about. Nice stuff to have around. Oh, some primer cord too, and we'll need more ammo. My chief will get back to you on that this morning. We'll pick it up all at once."
"Night trip?"
"Seems to be. Thanks."
The men came in on time, and settled down to cleaning and oiling equipment and weapons. They gave Jaybird a list of how much ammo they needed. They would go fifty percent over normal for the chopper run in and out.
"Wish to hell we had some RPGs," Bill Bradford said.
"Oh, hell, yes, you want to carry a dozen?" Lampedusa asked. Everyone laughed.
They had a quick lunch, then three hours of sack time before they assembled again to get ready for the 1730 flight.
"If we get there early, we'll set down in friendly territory and bum a few minutes until it gets dark," Murdock said.
"Take an interpreter?" DeWitt asked. "We still have those two on board we used yesterday." They decided to take one along.
Promptly at 1730 they stepped on board the Sea Knight and got ready to rumble.
7
The flight in from the carrier took thirty-six minutes, so it wasn't fully dark. They landed two miles below the MLR, the main line of resistance, where the fighting took place. They were still in friendly territory. They waited for fifteen minutes.
When the black Korean night settled over the peninsula, they lifted off and swept over the small town of Kangsori, then flew two miles to the left, where they found the designated target site by the small grove of trees with two antennas in them and a small wooden farmhouse. Murdock, riding in the small cabin, nodded at the pilot. "Put it down here before we have company."
The door gunners had their .50-caliber machine guns charged with rounds and waiting. No enemy troops appeared. The SEALs hadn't seen any signs of military once they'd passed the MLR. Strange.
As soon as the chopper touched down, the fifteen SEALs boiled out of it, half on each side, and stormed up to the farmhouse. Access to the underground was through the building, which had been gutted, with some security put in.
Ching, Quinley, and Bradford had the bulk of the TNAZ. Murdock waved them forward. By arrangement, Ed DeWitt put the rest of the platoon in a perimeter defense around the building. The front door of the small house stood open. Murdock went in first right after he threw a flashbang grenade inside. Once through the door, Murdock could see no soldiers through his NVGs. He called in the rest of the sapper squad, and they rushed to the second room, where they found the trapdoor under a small bed. They used flashlights going down the wooden steps. Ten feet underground, they found a concrete-box room. It had dozens of electronic boxes and computers and relays, all tied into cables going out through pipes in the overhead.
"Let's do ten charges with four timer/detonators set for thirty seconds," Murdock said.
"Sympathetic explosions will trigger the rest of the juice. Go, go, go."
The three men planted the high-explosives where they would do the most damage. There was a chance the ceiling wouldn't fall in if it were laced with rebar. They'd have to take the chance.
It took them a minute to locate the right spots, place the bombs, and insert the detonators. When they were done, each man held up a hand. When the third hand went up, Murdock nodded, they punched the timers to the on position, and all four men hurried up the steps and out the door.
"Move it," Murdock said to his lip mike on the Motorola. "Get out of there, Ed. At least fifty yards. Go."
By the time Murdock and his three men were out the farmhouse door, the other SEALs had vanished. Murdock took the left-hand side, and had led the way out forty yards when the explosion jolted the ground. It felt more like a small earthquake than an explosion. Smoke billowed from the farmhouse door, and part of the roof collapsed.
Murdock had hit the dirt when the blast came with its small r umble, and before he could get to his feet he heard small-arms fire from the right, where Ed DeWitt must be with the rest of the platoon.
Murdock's ear piece activated. "We've got company," DeWitt said. "Not sure how many, but they know we're here. Coming from the north, must be fifteen or twenty. So far only small arms fire, no MGs."