Larry Bond - Exit Plan

He was putting in a fresh magazine when another grenade went off in front of them. Suddenly, he heard Shirin scream and saw Yousef falling. Calling “Harry!” as he leapt over her, Jerry rolled Yousef face up and felt something warm and wet on his hand.

Somebody grabbed the back of his vest and yanked him away from Yousef, and Fazel said, “I’ve got him. You keep firing.”

Jerry quickly turned and brought up his rifle, searching with the night-scope, but didn’t see any movement. The firing had stopped on the other side as well. Several bodies lay sprawled a dozen meters in front of them, but remembering his past experience, Jerry didn’t move forward.

“It’s an artery,” Harry said softly to Shirin, but Jerry was close enough to hear it as well. “Probably a grenade fragment.”

Ramey asked, “Is the Cormorant still up there?”

“We’ve got another fifteen or twenty minutes on station.”

“Can you use it to see if there are any stragglers?”

Jerry reluctantly turned away from Yousef, but knew he was in good hands with Harry. Finding the visor and controller, he took control of the orbiting UAV and had it fly straight overhead. “I see us, I see at least ten bodies, including three by the machine gun and two..

“Wait. I’ve got movement. One figure is running. I can see him heading for a vehicle — a truck.”

“You’ve got to take him out,” Ramey ordered.

“Doing it,” Jerry said. It was eerie. Jerry could see the front of the vehicle grow brighter as the motor started. Before it could start moving, he put the UAV in a shallow dive and fired. The last two laser-guided 2.75-inch rockets hit the truck, and when the display cleared, the vehicle was on its side, burning. Jerry couldn’t feel good about it.

“It’s near bingo fuel,” Jerry reported.

“Then send it home.” Ramey answered. “Can you give a UAV a medal?” he asked, smiling.

As Jerry was telling the autopilot to head for the rendezvous point, Phillips walked up and spoke softly. “Boss, Harry’s been working on Yousef, but it looks bad.”

Jerry’s heart sank. Ramey just said “Shit,” and went over to kneel down by Yousef.

Fazel explained, “I’ve stopped the arterial bleeding, but I think the fragment did more damage internally. He’s sinking, and I’ve run out of things I can do.”

He was so pale, and Shirin did her best to smile and hold his hand, which was cold as ice. “My brave soldier,” she repeated over and over again. She wasn’t sure he could hear her, but he finally smiled, and coughed. He looked at her, then Harry, and said weakly, “Now you will say the Janazah Salah for me.”

Shirin tried to speak, but tears stole her voice. “I promise,” Harry finally said. “If we did it for our enemies, how much more will I do for my own brother?”

“Take care of her, then, brother.” Yousef rasped. As he finished speaking, he exhaled — a long, slow, gurgling breath, and he was gone. Harry reached over and closed Yousef’s lifeless eyes. Shirin began to weep uncontrollably, saying over and over again, “No, Baba, no!”

“We’ve got to get moving,” Ramey ordered.

“I saw a truck, but one of my rocket strikes wrecked it,” Jerry reported.

“Then we walk,” Ramey answered. “Right now. Column formation. It will help hide our numbers.”

Ramey then turned to Fazel and handed him a dead tree branch. “Harry, do what you can to hide our footprints. I don’t want the Iranians to see us heading toward the beach.”

Phillips and Jerry, the designated stretcher-bearers, rigged a litter and carefully moved Lapointe onto it. Once Fazel had dosed the petty officer with much-needed painkillers, and was sure Lapointe was settled, he asked Jerry, “Can you take my pack, XO?”

After Jerry took the backpack, at least as heavy as the fifty pounds he was already carrying, Fazel took a blanket and tied it around Yousef’s body to hold it in place. Hoisting the limp form with Ramey’s help, he balanced Yousef on his shoulders. “I’m ready,” Harry announced. He saw the surprise in Jerry’s expression. “You didn’t think we were going to leave him, did you?”

“We could bury him here,” Jerry suggested. He didn’t say it, but he was a little worried about Harry’s load. He’d traded a fifty-pound pack for two hundred-plus pounds.

“I’m good,” insisted Fazel.

“We don’t have time,” Ramey said firmly. “And we don’t leave our people behind.”

Without another word, Ramey led off on point. Jerry and Phillips followed, carrying Lapointe, then Fazel with his solemn burden, and Shirin walking at his side.

6 April 2013

2300 Local Time/2000 Zulu

South of Highway 96

They’d been walking for about half an hour when Jerry saw what had to be a convoy. Even from three hundred meters south of the highway, he could hear the diesel engines, and instead of one or two sets of headlights, he counted at least four or five, traveling as a group, and heading west, toward where they’d fought the battle. “If those trucks are carrying troops, that’s at least a company,” Phillips observed softly.

They’d frozen, of course, taking a knee and waiting for the lights to pass. There was enough vegetation along this part of the coast so that they were usually able to find cover when they needed it. The gulf lay just a hundred meters to the right. Ramey kept them closer to the water, where the brush was thicker and would hide their tracks.

Jerry was grateful for the frequent stops, even if it meant having to stand up again after the traffic had passed. Sometimes, Ramey would let them rest for an extra minute, using the time to check Lapointe or adjust someone’s load.

They were all weighed down. Jerry carried Fazel’s pack, Philips carried Lapointe’s, in addition to both of them carrying the stretcher. Fazel of course carried Yousef, and now Shirin had a hand on his arm to help steady her. Even she did her part, carrying Harry’s rifle slung over her shoulder.

The SEALs were absolutely silent as they withdrew from the scene of the skirmish. Besides the occasional snap of brush, or the sound of tottering rock, the group made little noise. Ramey led the way, but also would scout ahead, or to the side, or fall back and watch for any pursuit. For every step Jerry and the others took, Ramey took three.

The platoon leader pushed them hard, not just because they had to clear the area of the battle, but because they had to reach a good layup position before dawn. Their best option, a grove of trees close to the airfield, lay on the far side of the small village of Mollu, a little over four miles from where they’d had the fight. It was hard to estimate their progress, and the pauses didn’t help. Jerry knew they were moving more slowly than they had two nights ago, but Ramey insisted they’d be there before dawn.

In another hour, they’d have to start angling south, toward the gulf, so they could cross behind the southern portion of Mollu along the beach. The nearest structure was over 150 meters away, but Ramey wanted them to traverse the one kilometer behind the village as fast and as quietly as possible.

7 April 2013

0000 (Midnight) Local Time/2100 Zulu on 6 April

Bandar Charak

They met at the town’s hospital, which was also a morgue. Sattari was still there, bleary-eyed, and waiting for the final autopsy report. Still numb after the death of his partner, he greeted Rahim with little more than a handshake.

Rahim did not pretend to be sad at Omid’s passing. The man was an ass, and by early accounts, had managed to engineer his own demise. But Rahim did honestly tell Sattari, “I’m sorry you’ve lost your partner. We will find out who did this and punish them for their crime.”