"We shoot hell out of them, get back to the coast, and take a swim out to our RIBs and we're home free."
"How many rounds will we each have?" Bradford asked.
"How many can you carry?" Murdock asked. "I'm thinking forty rounds per man is about right." Bradford shrugged. "They weigh nine pounds per dozen. Make it forty-eight per man; that's only thirty-six pounds for ammo."
Somebody groaned.
"Can we get ammo vests, those front and back pouches we've used to carry mortar rounds in?" Ronson asked.
"Jaybird, see what you can find out from the ammo guys on board. You subgun guys will take double ammo, and hope we don't need it. You'll be our close support."
Jaybird finished using the phone and came back to the group. "We've got vests for ammo. Somebody is bringing up ten of them for us. All the ammo we need will be here in an hour."
"Chow time in two hours," Murdock said. "Then some sack time and we'll be ready to get on the RIB at 0200. Any questions?" There weren't any. "We've got some daylight pictures of the target. Can't see much, but we know we'll have good fields of fire at the antennas from the south end of the field. Come up and look at them if you want to."
Half the men moved up to check out the photo faxes that had come from the Air Force. Six sailors showed up at the door with boxes of ammunition.
"You guys starting a war?" one of the sailors asked.
"No, we're ending one," Jaybird told the man as they stacked the crates of .50-caliber rounds inside the room. Murdock was the first one there to try a load of forty-eight rounds. He put twenty-four in the front of the vest and the other half in the back with it in place over his head. He stood up and winced.
"We'll cut the load to forty rounds," he said. "Thirty-five in the vest and five in the magazine. Let's get it done."
"Move it," Jaybird called. "We've got less than an hour and a half to our special chow call."
16
The RIBs, Rigid Inflatable Boats, moved smartly through the water, covering the seven miles from the destroyer Cole toward the shore. There was no nighttime fog, no onshore flow, just a bright night with light from a half-crescent moon.
Murdock, in the lead boat, asked the coxswain to pull up at what he figured was a half mile from North Korea. The last mile had been done at four knots so they wouldn't le ave a wake or make so much noise that they could be heard over the surf ahead.
DeWitt brought his RIB alongside.
"How's the time?" Murdock asked.
DeWitt checked his waterproof watch. "Oh-three-ten," DeWitt said. "Close enough. Time to get wet?"
"Right. Make sure the two Motorolas and the SATCOM are watertight. No backup on this one."
"Done," DeWitt said.
"Over the side," Murdock said, and the thirteen SEALs eased off the RIBs, entering the water without a splash. The SEALs wore full wet suits to guard against hypothermia, with cammies over them, full cap, and goggles. They went in without their heavy Draeger rebreathers, so they would be on top of the water.
Murdock powered up out of the water for a look. He spotted a building near the shore that showed one light, and aimed for that. The SEALs stroked noiselessly through the Yellow Sea swells, moving quickly toward shore. The heavy .50-caliber rifles were slung over their backs, and they had to work harder than usual to stay on top of the water with the additional load of thirty-five pounds of ammunition most of the men carried.
Murdock hit the breaker line and body-surfed partway in until he could get his feet on the sandy bottom. He paused and surveyed the beach. No obvious defensive fortifications. He saw no lights or troops. The house with the light he had aimed for was now dark. It was the only building he could see.
He motioned to Holt, and the two moved forward with the next wave, stretching out so they could hand-crawl the last surge of the wave, and lay on the beach like pieces of driftwood.
They were swept in another three feet by the next wave. Holt looked over and shook his head. He found no opposition. He lifted his submachine gun and drained the water out of the barrel.
Murdock gave a hand signal, and the rest of the platoon moved into the beach with the aid of the breakers. Murdock and Holt got to their feet and ran forty feet across wet and then dry sand to a scattering of shrubs and small brush just in back of the beach line.
They scouted the area, both gave thumbs-up signs, and Holt waved the rest of the SEALs to come ashore.
All the men drained their weapons' barrels, checked the loads, and were ready to fire.
Murdock put two of the subguns at the head of the platoon, and the other two men with submachine guns at the end. They moved forward cautiously. Thirty yards inland they came to a dirt road, which did not appear to be highly traveled. The men were spread ten yards apart, and went over the path all at once in a rush.
Murdock checked the map he had memorized and the aerial shots of the airfield. He could see some lights to the left making a blush in the sky.
That was the direction to the airfield.
They turned north and moved like ghosts in the night. The subguns all had suppressors on them.
There would be no un-silenced shots fired until the big guns began working over the hardware on the air base.
A jet aircraft took off, passing almost directly overhead of them at no more than two hundred feet.
"Must be the right part of town," Jaybird said.
They moved faster then, bypassed a pair of houses, and detoured across some rice paddies to avoid a small collection of buildings that might be a village.
They lay in the grass near a small stream. Nothing moved ahead of them. The locals were all sleeping by that time. At 0330, Murdock motioned the men ahead. They waded ankle deep through the tiny stream and angled more toward the bright lights. They heard a plane evidently land somewhere ahead of them on the large air base.
The two lead scouts with their MP subguns had just come to their feet and ran toward a small shack directly in their path when two men came out of it, stretched, and walked toward the platoon. Sterling and DeWitt dropped to a crouch and let the men come to them. Both the North Koreans wore uniforms.
Sterling and DeWitt pulled out their KA-BAR knives and waited. The North Koreans were chattering and not watching where they were going. One almost stumbled on Jaybird Sterling, who lifted up and rammed his knife hilt deep upward in the man's belly just under his rib cage. The blade sliced through three vital organs, then lanced into the heart, killing the soldier instantly.
DeWitt clubbed his man with the subgun, then drove his KA-BAR into his chest, killing the North Korean soldier with one stroke.
Murdock moved up quickly.
"Are there any more?" Murdock whispered. DeWitt and Jaybird took off at once, running silently to the shack and checking it out. Jaybird went around to the front, where he found a door. There were no lights on inside. The structure was about eight feet square. A guard shack?
Jaybird unlatched the door and swung it outward. No reaction came from inside. DeWitt edged around the door and from ground level, aimed his penlight into the darkness. He saw only two bunks, a small table, and two packs and rifles. No more guards.
"Clear shack," DeWitt said into his Motorola, and the platoon moved past the shack toward what looked to be the edge of the airfield ahead.
A fighter swept down the runway from their left to right and screamed into the air. Murdock lifted up and took a better look. They had come to the side of the runway about in the middle. They could see muted lights across the runways and what appeared to be a cluster of buildings. He also spotted two dimly lit antennas.