Уильям Дитц - Seek and Destroy

Mac was amazed. Stratton had warned Crowley about spies, the colonel had ignored the scout’s warning, and more than thirty soldiers had been killed. Yet here he was… talking about the need for security as if it were a new issue!

“Suffice it to say,” Crowley continued, “that I’m consulting with a new scout. And I expect to finalize a strategy within the next forty-eight hours. In the meantime, I want you to prepare your units for battle without tipping them off to what’s about to take place. And that shouldn’t be too difficult since we’re expected to maintain a high state of readiness at all times. Okay… That’s it for now. Dismissed.”

Mac waited for the others to leave. “Can I have a couple of minutes, sir?”

Crowley waved her toward a chair. “Of course… I’m sorry about leaving you out of the loop… But I’m sure you understand.”

Mac thought Crowley had veered from sharing too much to sharing too little. But what was, was. “Yes, sir. The other company commanders and I came up with a plan to rebalance the battalion… And I’d like to share it with you.”

“That’s a good idea,” Crowley replied. “Especially in light of what we’re about to do. I’ll read it and get back to you later today.”

As Mac left, she could tell that Crowley didn’t have the foggiest idea of how bad morale was, his role in making it that way, or the fact that the “rebalancing” was part of a plan to prevent a mutiny. But he’d been receptive, and that was good.

Mac went back to the command shack and all of the administrative work that waited there. A runner brought Crowley’s response two hours later. There was some markup, but not much. And the words, “Approved with changes,” were scrawled above his signature.

That was good news. But now it was necessary to contact her peers, hold meetings to let the troops know what was coming, and enter the necessary changes into a dozen different databases. Those efforts consumed what remained of the day.

By the time Mac hit the sack, she was exhausted and immediately fell into a deep sleep. And she was still out when the car bomb detonated at 0512 hours. The blast was so powerful that it shook the ground, rattled the room’s single window, and woke her.

Mac sat up in bed. What the? Had she been dreaming? Hell, no. The emergency Klaxon had started to bleat—and she could hear machine-gun fire. The fort was under attack!

Mac rolled off the cot, hurried to pull a pair of pants on, and grabbed her boots. Once the laces were tied, Mac stuck her head up through the hole in her tac vest and felt the familiar weight settle onto her shoulders. The carbine was leaning next to the door, and she grabbed it on the way out.

It was like stepping into hell. A cloud of black smoke was billowing up from the main gate. And as Mac looked in that direction, she saw that men with skull masks were flooding into the fort. Not without opposition, however… The soldiers on top of the walls were firing down on the invaders as people on the ground tried to push them back. Mac fumbled her radio on. “This is Bravo-Six actual… Be careful up on the wall! There are friendlies in the compound, too! Over.”

Shit! Shit! Shit! Where was Crowley? Was he in command? Or was everything up to her? The question went unanswered as three Black Hawk helicopters swept over the fort. Reinforcements! And just in time, too… Then the door gunners opened fire! Bullets chased a private, caught up, and took him down.

Mac’s mind raced. What the hell was going on? Were the helo pilots confused? Did they think that the enemy was in control of Fort Carney? No, that wasn’t likely. Then it hit her… The Confederates! They were helping the horde!

Mac’s radio-telephone operator was a fuzz-faced kid named Worsky. His place was with her, and to his everlasting credit, he appeared at her side. “Holy shit, ma’am… What the hell is going on?”

Mac threw him to the ground as gouts of slush marched across the ground and passed within inches of them. “Get on the horn!” Mac shouted. “Tell fire control that those helos belong to the Confederacy… and to shoot them down!”

Worsky was still talking as the Black Hawks hovered, and bandits jumped to the ground. Once they were clear, the helicopters began to rise. Their mission was complete—and the pilots were eager to haul ass. But the fort’s surface-to-air missile launchers had swiveled around by then. Two helos exploded in quick succession. The third managed to clear the wall, and was a mile away, when a missile caught up with it. The result was a flash of light, a boom, and a shower of flaming debris.

The bandits split up. Some ran toward the vehicle sheds, but six made a dash for the underground command post. Two guards were stationed out front. They fired but were cut down. Mac was up on one knee by then. She raised her carbine and triggered a three-round burst. The bullets hit the last bandit between the shoulder blades. He threw his arms out, took a nosedive, and slid through the slush. “Warn the people in the command post,” Mac said, as she fired again. “Tell them to lock the door!”

But before Worsky could obey, Lieutenant Casey made his way up the ramp and onto the surface. He was armed with a light machine gun, which he fired John Wayne style. The bandits seemed to dance like puppets and collapsed in a heap. “Good morning, ma’am,” the PA officer said as he passed Mac. “They need help on the gate… I thought I’d lend a hand.” Then he was gone.

Mac still hadn’t heard anything from Crowley. Maybe he’d been hit. But, whatever the reason, her place was in the CP unless the CO showed up to relieve her.

Mac ordered Worsky to stand guard outside, went down the ramp, and entered the underground com cave. She could hear garbled radio traffic and lots of it. A tech sergeant named Tully was in charge and hurried over. There was a look of relief on her face. “Thank God… We could use some help, ma’am.”

“Give me a sitrep,” Mac said, as her eyes flitted from screen to screen. “But keep it short.”

“They blew the main gate,” the noncom answered. “It’s secure now, but at least a hundred bandits got inside.” Mac went to work. It soon became apparent that without any centralized control, the battle had devolved to the company and platoon levels, as small contingents of troops battled to keep the invaders away from the com towers, the Strykers, and the ammo dump.

Bit by bit, Mac worked to reintegrate the battalion. And by 0623 hours, Fort Carney was secure again. But how had things gone so wrong? And where was Crowley?

Mac ordered Captain Lightfoot to take temporary command as she sought answers to both questions. She pulled Tully aside. “Okay… Give it to me straight… What happened? Give me the longer version this time.”

Tully looked scared, and that was understandable. Was Mac going to blame her for the debacle? “At about 0500, a Humvee flying the stars and bars rolled up on the outer perimeter,” Tully said. “The guards attempted to wave it down, but the driver kept going. That’s when Corporal Inthy called in and asked me what to do.”

Tully swallowed nervously and looked down at her boots. “I wasn’t sure. So I was going to escalate the decision when the Humvee ran over a guard stationed on the inner perimeter. Our people opened fire. But the Humvee’s armor held, the driver made it through the concrete obstacles, and slammed into the door. Then it blew up. The door gave way. That’s when three truckloads of bandits rolled in. They charged the gate.”

Mac wrapped her arm around the other woman’s narrow shoulders. “Write it down before you go off duty… while it’s still fresh in your mind. And one more thing… You kept things going. I won’t forget that. Now, what about the helicopters?”