Larry Bond - Exit Plan

Phillips had finally spotted them, just before the cutoff time. The pair was hurrying as much as they could while doing their best to stay concealed. With Ramey in the lead, they were as careful about being seen returning as departing.

When the two finally reached the relative safety of the layup, even Ramey was breathing hard. Jerry was gasping. “We pushed it,” Ramey explained. “We were scouting their defenses.”

With the last word, everyone’s expression changed. Nobody said anything for half a moment, then Fazel said, “There weren’t supposed to be any ‘defenses. ‘“

“There are now,” the lieutenant answered unhappily. “We watched a company of infantry — mechanized infantry, actually — set up strongpoints all over the airfield. There were machine gun emplacements and armored personnel carriers with fields of fire covering every open area, troops inside buildings making firing positions, and snipers on the roofs.

“The XO and I spotted them setting up as soon as we got to the field. We spent the rest of the time studying their defenses, looking for holes, something we could exploit.” He took a gulp from a water bottle.

“And then the second company drove up, a little after noon,” Jerry added. “Although they were only in trucks, not APCs. They expanded the perimeter, and then the officers started walking the ground around the airfield.”

Ramey explained, “At that point, we just wanted to get away, but with so many eyes, we had to move carefully, and slowly. That’s what almost pushed us past the cutoff time.”

“There was nothing on the imagery,” Phillips insisted. “This must have all happened this morning.”

Ramey nodded emphatically. “Brand-new. We saw them making emplacements and filling out range cards. In a way, it was ideal. We watched them set up. We know exactly where everything is. If I had the whole platoon, we could take that place apart.” He smiled at the thought.

“It isn’t happening,” Jerry said finally. “We can’t steal a plane.” He hated to say the words. He felt more than frustration. After so many failed plans, being pursued and shot at…

“Well, that’s why we reconnoiter a target before we go in,” Phillips announced philosophically.

“We took out an entire squad,” Fazel said. “They’re pissed, and they’re scared. They won’t take any more chances. They’ll flood this area with troops. “

Shirin sat silently, the latest bad news simply impossible to absorb. She’d lost so much, so quickly — her uncle, her mother, and now her husband. She was still trying to understand that Yousef was gone. His child would grow up without a father, if the baby got the chance to grow up at all. A wave of fatigue washed across her, and she felt cold, the same kind of cold she’d felt holding Yousef’s hand.

“I think I should tell you all the encryption key,” she said quietly. “It’s a mathematical formula, a transform on each group of three numbers—”

“Wait a minute!” protested Jerry. “I agree we need to distribute the key, but I don’t like the reasoning behind it. You just can’t assume it’s hopeless and give up. We are going to get you out of here,” he affirmed. The others all agreed emphatically.

Fazel said, “You have to believe we’ll make it, that we can beat them. They haven’t found us yet, which means we are still in the game.”

“What else can we do?” she asked him, almost in tears.

“Something. We just need to think it through, that’s all,” the SEAL answered. “I’ve seen guys overcome terrible obstacles and still succeed because they were certain that they could. That’s not arrogance; it’s just the will to keep on slugging until you win. You’ve suffered, but we’re still with you, and we won’t let you down.”

Harry took her hand. “Come over and lie down. I’ll get you something to eat.” When she objected, he said, “Doctor’s orders. You need the calories.”

Keep on slugging. Fazel was right. Jerry tried to focus on what had to happen next. There was a prearranged comm window at 1630. Originally it had been intended to review their escape plan with Michigan, but now he’d have to report that another plan had fallen through. Which one was this? Plan F? Plan G? The PRC-117 radio was already set up, and at exactly 1630, he reluctantly pressed the transmit key. At this point, Jerry was so familiar with the equipment it was almost like using a phone.

Lieutenant Frederickson acknowledged the call, and as soon as Jerry heard his voice, he knew something was wrong. “What’s happened?” he asked.

“They found Vern,” Frederickson said. “They’ve got Higgs.” Even over the radio, Jerry could hear his grief and anger.

“Who’s got him?” Jerry demanded. “The Iranians? How?”

Frederickson sighed. “He washed up on a beach. They had a press conference this morning, with drawings and fingerprints. The Iranians are turning all the information over to the Red Cross. If we say he’s ours — tell them who he is, the Iranians say they’ll give him to us — after we explain how he got there.” The anger rose in his voice with the last sentence.

Frederickson’s voice leapt out of the handset. “Damn it, Matt! Can you hear me? This is your fault. This is a major screwup! You left him, and this is what happens.”

Jerry had been holding the handset so that Ramey and Fazel could listen in as well. Frederickson’s words shattered the lieutenant. Jerry saw his expression dissolve into anguish.

“That was my decision, Lieutenant,” Jerry spoke sharply, almost automatically. “I ordered him to leave Higgs in the ASDS. We had no choice.”

“I’m not talking to you, sir! This is SEAL business. We don’t leave our own behind, and this will be a lesson to future BUDS classes of why that rule has always been followed. Up until now.”

“That’s enough, Mister.” Jerry heard Captain Guthrie’s voice, first in the background, then more clearly as he took the handset from Frederickson. “Jerry, we watched a download of the press conference. The Iranians don’t say where the body washed ashore, but it was sometime yesterday morning. They’re playing the ‘concerned citizen’ act to the hilt.”

“I’m sorry, sir. This complicates everything.”

“Not for us. This is for the people in Washington to sort out. There’s nothing you or I can do, or could have done differently.” Guthrie said the last part with a hard edge. Jerry guessed the captain was looking at Frederickson while he said it.

“Sir, more bad news. The airfield plan is a total bust.” Jerry quickly summarized the situation at the airstrip.

“And we can assume that the roadblocks have been beefed up as well,” Guthrie concluded. “Moving is going to become more and more dangerous.

“I wouldn’t want to have another fight like that again, with two fewer guns,” Jerry said. Fazel, still listening, nodded emphatically.

“Do you have a new plan yet?” Guthrie asked.

“Sort of, sir, the backup was to look toward the harbor at Bandar Lengeh. We’ll call as soon as we have something worked out.”

“Understood,” Guthrie answered. “Good luck, XO.”

Jerry turned off the power and started to break down the radio for travel. Although they’d have to call Michigan again, and hopefully soon, SEAL practice, as Lapointe had taught him, was to keep it packed up, in case they had to move suddenly.

Ramey was nearby, just a step or two away from where he’d stood with Jerry while listening to the radio. Jerry studied his face. Lines of strain and fatigue lay under a layer of grime. Jerry was sure they all looked that way, but Frederickson’s words had hit dead center. Ramey’s features also showed pain, and Jerry could see tears streaking the dirt.