Lasser had beady eyes and an angular face. “Yes, ma’am. Please hang on. Percy has a need for speed.”
The sailor who was stationed at the controls was wearing a helmet, goggles, and a tac vest up top. The rest of his outfit consisted of board shorts and flip-flops. He grinned and threw Mac a Boy Scout salute. She nodded in return. Then they were off… And even though Mac was already hanging on, she had to reposition her feet in order to remain upright. The crew of the second SOC-R boat had orders to remain with the Mississippi , and they waved as the first boat roared past.
Because the special ops boat required only two feet of water, Percy was able to drive it under the bridge without hitting the wreckage hidden below. The SOC-R boat was fast, but the engines were noisy, which meant people would hear it coming. “How far do you want to go?” Lasser shouted.
“Assuming the rebs don’t drop any more bridges, the next clearing operation will take place in Vicksburg.”
“That’s more than two hundred miles downstream,” Lasser replied. “Fuel would be a problem, and we’d be sitting ducks for an Apache.”
“Understood,” Mac shouted. “We’ll go as far as Ferguson and turn around.”
The next fifteen minutes passed uneventfully, and Mac was eyeing the scenery, when Lasser shouted a command, and Percy pulled the throttles back. A wave surged away from the boat’s bow as it slowed, and Lasser brought a pair of binoculars up to her eyes. Mac could tell that the navy officer was examining a grungy-looking barge. It was made out of wood and at least a thousand yards away. “Here,” Lasser said, as she offered the glasses to Mac. “Take a look… Tell me what you see.”
Mac could hear the challenge in Lasser’s voice and knew she’d have to pay close attention. During the first pass, all Mac saw was the stack of old lumber on the barge’s deck, lots of white bird shit, and the old rowboat that lay bottom up on the stern.
But Mac knew there had to be something more. Something she’d missed. So she looked again. And that’s when she spotted the camera. It was attached to the short mast at the stern, and so small that it was barely visible at that distance. “The bastards are watching us!”
“Yes, they are,” Lasser agreed. “And any other boats that happen past. But if my guess is correct, there’s something more to worry about. Hey, Luther, light that sucker up!”
Luther had dreadlocks, was wearing a sleeveless Levi’s jacket, and standing behind an automatic grenade launcher. As it began to chug, a series of explosions marched across the barge. Then BOOM! The whole thing went up in a massive explosion. Thousands of ball bearings churned the surface of the river and, had the boat been closer, would have destroyed it.
Did the Confederates have the capacity to detonate the charge remotely? Of course they did. And that meant the rebs could have triggered the floating bomb as the Mississippi motored past it. Mac looked at Lasser with a new sense of respect. “You have a sharp eye, Lieutenant… Well done.”
Lasser shrugged. “I don’t deserve any credit. Most of what we know was learned the hard way… Which is to say after someone died.” And with that, Lasser signaled Percy, who pushed both throttles forward.
During the next hour, Lasser and her crew spotted a subsurface cable that was intended to rip the guts out of a ship like the Mississippi , two tethered mines of the sort normally used to defend harbors, and an explosive charge concealed underneath a railroad bridge. Was it supposed to bring the bridge down or damage any vessel passing below? Both perhaps.
Lasser’s crew took care of the mines by blowing them up, but had to leave the cable and the railroad charge for Russell’s engineers to deal with. After returning to the Mississippi , Mac reported to Colonel Russell, who made a face when she told him about the underwater cable and the bomb. “Please convey my thanks to Lieutenant Lasser. Her people may look like hell, but they certainly know what they’re doing. I’ll send a work party down to clear the obstacles.”
“I’ll ask Lasser to provide an escort,” Mac told him.
“Excellent,” Russell replied. “We’re about finished here, so I hope to depart early tomorrow morning.”
The boats left shortly after that, and Mac went up to visit the troops on the bridge. Quick was there, along with Overman, which meant Mac could brief them in person. “We’re pulling out in the morning. So get everyone off the bridge by 0230 and load Bravo Company onto the second barge, using the crane. Then I’ll have Foley move the barges to the east side of the river so that Alpha Company can board Barge 1 via the ramp. And please pass the word… Based on what I saw downstream, the enemy will be waiting for us. I expect everyone to be ready.”
Mac went back to the ship after that, took a shower, and went to dinner. Some of her troops were in the dining room, and Mac asked for permission to join them. Most had been in Leavenworth and clearly liked the fact that she’d been there, too, if only for a brief time. The conversation centered around how bad the food had been, which guards were the most overweight, and the nature of the journey ahead. “How ’bout it?” a private wanted to know. “Are we going to see action?”
“I’d put money on it,” Mac told him. “So get a good night’s sleep. Odds are that we’ll be up to our asses in it tomorrow.”
But it didn’t turn out that way. In spite of problems with the crane on Barge 2, and the difficulties associated with bringing Barge 1 in close enough, all of the Strykers were loaded by the time heavily filtered sunlight washed over the land. A single blast from the Mississippi ’s horn signaled the flotilla’s departure.
The special ops boats went first, followed by Barges 1 and 2, and the pusher boat. The Mississippi was last in line, and her engines were barely turning over as she ghosted through the low-lying mist.
As the day progressed, the gray clouds produced big drops of rain. And as Mac stood on Barge 1’s bow, she could see the thousands of interlocking circles that the droplets made as they hit the surface of the river.
But there wasn’t any gunfire… No rockets… Nothing. Just the steady thump of the Mississippi ’s engines, the sound of water gurgling away from the blunt bow, and an occasional burp of noise from her radio. The whole thing felt spooky.
After passing Friar’s Point and Ferguson, they anchored north of Rosedale. And that was a dangerous place to be. They were well within the reach of rebel aircraft.
Mac decided to sleep on Barge 1 just in case. And that’s where she was, snoozing in COWBOY’s cargo compartment, when the shit hit the fan. No one had to tell her. The steady rattle of gunfire said it all. Flotilla 4 was under attack. But by what ?
Mac was fully dressed. All she had to do was roll off the bench-style seat and grab her gear as she rushed outside. Atkins materialized out of the gloom. “We’re under attack from speedboats, ma’am. The Riverines have engaged them, but they need help.”
An explosion lit up the night as Mac put her vest on. One of the attackers? Mac hoped so. “Give me the handset.”
Atkins gave it over, and Mac thumbed the key. “This is Rocker-Six… Strykers will fire on enemy boats independently, but be careful! We have two friendlies out there… So make dammed sure you know who you’re aiming at.”
The battle was a sight to see. Tracers cut the darkness into abstract shapes as .50s opened up from both sides of both barges. Explosions marked hits as the 40mm grenade launchers fired, and the cacophony of sound was punctuated by an occasional boom as one of the battalion’s 105mm guns went off.
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