Larry Bond - Exit Plan

“Lieutenant! I want you to fire on that boat at the earliest opportunity!” he ranted.

“Yes, Major,” responded Qorbani, shaken, but angry now as well. “We will be in range in a few minutes.”

Ramey and Lapointe watched the UAV feed as the Ashura patrol boat slowly closed the distance between them. They either missed the destruction of the RIB, which was very unlikely as they were well within visual range, or they were pressing on despite the dramatic loss of one of their more powerful patrol boats. Although the Boghammar was faster, it would take several minutes more before it would appear on the scene. For the moment, the odds were more even.

“Everybody back to their positions,” shouted Ramey. “Ammo check.”

Fazel had gone forward to check on Shirin. Physically she was unharmed; no bullets had come near her. Psychologically, it was a different story. Without Yousef, she had no one from which to draw strength and she was clearly running on empty. The corpsman stayed as long as he could, reassuring her that their situation would soon improve. She had to hang in there for just a little bit longer.

“Sorry for the delay, Boss,” he said. “Dr. Naseri is more or less okay. She hasn’t been hit, but if this doesn’t give her post-traumatic stress disorder, I’ll be surprised.”

“How are you set for ammo, Doc?” Ramey asked patiently.

“I’m good, sir. I have three full mags plus a partial in my weapon,” replied Fazel, still looking toward the bow into Shirin’s terrified eyes.

“Doc.” Ramey grabbed him by the shoulder and gave it a good shake. “I need you here. Focus on the fight, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” said Fazel, as he turned away and prepared for another battle.

A quick check of the rest of the team showed they had sufficient rifle ammunition, which included Jerry who only managed to get off a few shots. However, they were down to only three grenades for Lapointe’s launcher. Repositioned and ready, they waited silently for the next patrol boat to get in range.

The rate of their closure was maddeningly slow, and Rahim thought he would lose his mind as they clawed their way closer to their prey, one meter at a time. Qorbani explained that with only a seven-knot speed advantage, it would take them nearly eight minutes before they would be in effective range for their forward machine gun.

“Major, the Torough- class patrol boat is just coming into visual range.” Qorbani pointed off toward his left. “They will join us in the fight in approximately six minutes.”

“Are we in range yet?” growled Rahim.

“Just barely, sir.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Fire!”

“Shot warning!” Lapointe yelled. Phillips began his evasive maneuvering, while Ramey and Fazel tried to get a good setup to return fire. The first rounds from the Ashura’s 7.62mm machine gun were wide right. The gunner really didn’t try to correct for his fall of shot, but just punched out one short burst after another. None came near.

“You imbecile! What are you shooting at?!” a furious Rahim screamed. Pointing at the gunner he added, “Relieve that moron before I shoot him!”

Greatly embarrassed, Qorbani sent his sergeant out to take the gunner’s position. “Aim for the engine, Sergeant!” he instructed. Spinning the wheel, the lieutenant lined the boat up for another pass, a closer one.

“Here they come!” warned Lapointe. “They’re making a straight dash in.”

“Stand by!” Ramey ordered.

“Shot! Left hard.” Lapointe shouted. Phillips pulled a hard left turn causing the Ashura to pass quickly to their right. The machine gun bursts missed again, but they were much closer this time.

“Open fire! You, too, Pointy!” Ramey, Fazel, and Jerry started firing at the exposed machine gunner with their SCARs, while Lapointe placed one of his last grenades just to the right of the patrol boat. The explosion showered the enclosed bridge with water. The Ashura immediately peeled away.

“What are you doing?” seethed Rahim. “Close the enemy!”

“Major, they have a grenade launcher! I am taking evasive action!”

Rahim would hear nothing of it. His face red with rage, he unholstered his pistol and pointed it directly at the Pasdaran lieutenant. “Close the enemy now, Lieutenant Qorbani, or I will shoot you where you stand!”

Tight-lipped, Qorbani spun the wheel and pointed his bow back toward the small speedboat. He was sure the VEVAK agent would order him to ram if they didn’t start getting some hits.

“He’s starting another pass,” observed Fazel. “And he’s coming straight in.”

“Evasive maneuvering, Philly,” Ramey instructed. “Open fire!”

Lapointe fired another grenade. It also exploded near the patrol boat, but this time it roared right on through the plume. Phillips jinked left and then put the helm over into a hard right turn. The Ashura failed to follow in time, but for a split second the Pasdaran gunner had a clear shot at their outboard.

He didn’t waste the opportunity, and let loose with a long burst. He missed the outboard, but not Ramey and Lapointe. The platoon leader was hit twice in his left arm, while Lapointe took a second hit to his injured leg. Both men cried out in pain. Fazel also took advantage of the momentarily stable target and let go with several two-round bursts. The corpsman watched with satisfaction as the gunner on the Ashura patrol boat collapsed and several of the windows on the bridge shattered.

With rapt fascination, Rahim watched as the gunner clearly hit one of the men in the back of the boat — one less American devil to worry about now. He had only a second to gloat before three windows on the bridge exploded inward. A bullet whizzed by his head, so close he could feel the air as the projectile passed. He laughed aloud and bellowed toward the fleeing Americans, “I am blessed! You cannot win! Allah has judged you!”

Qorbani shattered Rahim’s reveling when he shouted, “Replacement gunner!” Looking down, Rahim saw the sergeant slumped over at his station.

“Sir,” yelled a corporal. “The Torough patrol boat is setting up to make an attack run.”

“It will be over soon,” mumbled Rahim.

Fazel watched as the Ashura backed off, probably to replace the gunner he had hit. Taking advantage of the temporary respite, he turned toward Ramey. The lieutenant’s arm had been badly hit. The bone was obviously broken. The corpsman quickly put on a tourniquet, cinching it tightly. There was no way Ramey could hold a weapon.

“Philly!” cried Fazel. “The Boss is down. I need your gun in the fight. Have the XO take over.”

Jerry jumped up and grabbed the wheel. “I have it!”

Phillips rolled out of the seat and picked up his weapon. He pushed Ramey to the side as gently as he could and took up his firing position. Lapointe waved Fazel off. The round had gone through his foot, and while incredibly painful, it was not life-threatening.

Fazel, being the next senior SEAL team member, assumed tactical control. Taking a quick look around, he saw the third patrol boat closing in from off the port quarter. They were being boxed in. “XO, patrol boat to port!”

Jerry nodded vigorously and drove the boat as well as he could away from both Iranian pursuers.

“Harry! The Ashura is making another run!” screamed Phillips. Grabbing Lapointe’s weapon, Fazel loaded the last grenade and fired it at the rapidly approaching boat. It missed, exploding to port, but the blast caused the patrol boat to swing to starboard.