Jack Terral - Seals (2005)

"Not hardly, Senior Chief," Dave Leibowitz replied as he and Mike walked past. "To put it politely: we're in deep yogurt."

Dawkins watched them walk way, and took a swallow of the water. It was tepid, but delicious after the long dry days. The only thing that could improve it would be some Jack Daniel's for flavoring.

The Odd Couple continued down to the valley floor, crossed it, then went up to the spot where Lieutenant Bill Brannigan's CP had been set up. It was no more than a patch of open area between a couple of thick stands of thorn bushes. Brannigan's greeting was only a tired nod as the two scouts settled down beside hini.

Mike Assad shrugged almost apologetically. "Sir, we're ringed in tight here. They got us heavily outnumbered on all sides."

"Yes, sir," Dave agreed. "We couldn't make an exact count o' course, but I'd be willing to say they got us at about twenty or thirty to one."

"The ragheads have at least a battalion out there," Mike added.

Brannigan was silent for a moment before he spoke. "Okay, guys. Take a break. Try to get some sleep."

He watched the Odd Couple move off into the darkness, then turned his thoughts to the situation at hand: (1) There was no way in hell they would be able to fight their way through the enemy. Even if they broke through on one side, the mujahideen could quickly rally other fighters on their perimeter to go after them. (2) No doubt the enemy had brought along their mortars, and that meant they could leisurely bombard the platoon to pieces if an attempt was made to set up defense positions. (3) The SEALs were low on ammo after expending so much to kill the loonies who had made the suicide charge against them. (4) Surrendering would be as sure death as would be fighting to the end. The only alternative was to go through the open country in a wild attempt to break through. Chances of that succeeding were slim to none.

Brannigan reached in his vest and pulled out an energy bar. He bit into it and chewed slowly. He really regretted that he and Lisa had parted while angry with each other. It all seemed so trivial now in the light of what tomorrow would bring. He wished he could leave a note or some sort of last words to let her know he died thinking of her and loving her now more than he ever did.

Brannigan folded the wrapper over the remnants of the energy bar and shoved it back into his pocket. He touched the throat mike of the LASH headset and spoke in a whisper. "Two-I-C and chiefs report to me at the CP."

Chapter 19

THE WADI KHESTA VALLEY

31 AUGUST

0300 HOURS LOCAL

ALTHOUGH Brannigan's Brigands were a platoon in U. S. Navy terminology, the organizational charts of the U. S. Army and U. S. Marine Corps would have identified the group as a section or a reinforced squad. A normal platoon consists of forty-plus individuals broken down into four squads led by a platoon leader who is assisted by a platoon sergeant and four sergeants as squad leaders. Thus, when the Brigands moved out that morning to ascend the slopes of the valley and begin their escape attempt across the flatlands, the combat formation they assumed was called a squad diamond in military parlance.

The name of the configuration, used when all-around security is needed, signifies a point on all four sides. In the case of the Brigands, the front was led as usual by the Odd Couple Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz, while the rear was brought up by Bruno Puglisi. Chad Murchison was on the left flank and Joe Miskoski manned the right. Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan stayed in the center for command and control, while the other eight SEALs filled in between the points to balance out the firepower.

Now properly aligned, they moved through the darkness aided by their night vision goggles, taking slow, deliberate steps in an effort to maintain noise discipline. The morale of the platoon had sunk so low that a sort of emotional numbness dominated the collective mood of the men. The mission, originally laid on as a Simple link-up, had gone completely to hell, to the point that they now faced imminent death. Military life consisted of many upsets and setbacks, but this particular mission was so far down the tubes nobody could spot even the dimmest of lights at the end of the tunnel.

Things had reached such a state of hopelessness that the SEALs drank liberally from the canteens they had recovered from the dead mujahideen the day before. No one said it aloud, but all knew that there was no reason to conserve water when they would more than likely not be alive to see the noonday sun overhead.

Suddenly muzzle flashes blinked rapidly from the left flank and were immediately followed by the sound of numerous shots. Bullets split the air with wicked cracking noises as they whipped by. The SEALs on that side of the diamond immediately returned fire. Then a flare was shot upward from the mujahideen lines a short distance away. The illumination, hanging on the bottom of a small parachute, gave the scene an eerie daylight quality.

"Double time!" Brannigan commanded through the LASH.

The intensity of incoming rounds increased as the platoon rushed through what appeared to be a single-sided line-formation ambush. But this misconception was recognized when fresh salvos of incoming rounds came in from the opposite side, on the right. In less than a heartbeat, the Brigands began receiving more fire from the front and rear. Additional flares came up to add to the unwanted artificial glare over the scene. The platoon was surrounded, with nothing left to do but tough it out by continuing to charge straight ahead in a desperate attempt to break through the well-concealed enemy positions.

Dave Leibowitz's voice came over the LASH, broken by heavy panting from running. "There's a . . . depression in the . . . ground at one o'clock . . . not much cover . . . but better than open ground!"

"Take us there!" came back Brannigan's gruff voice.

The direction of movement took a slight turn to the right front, and they reached the terrain feature some ten seconds later, frantically throwing themselves into it. In spite of the calamitous confusion of the moment, they maintained fire team integrity as they manned all sides of the earthen indentation. The sunken area was only fifteen meters across, but that made it easier to defend.

Suddenly all firing stopped and the flares burned out one by one until darkness settled over the scene. Brannigan spat as he shoved a fresh magazine into his CAR-15. The mujahideen now knew they had the upper hand. The SEALs were pinned down, surrounded and trapped. If they fought, they would all die; if they surrendered, they would all die; and if they tried making a desperate breakthrough, they would all die. Bruno Puglisi on the perimeter spoke out in a hoarse whisper, summing up the mood.

"Shit happens."

.

DAWN

THE two old Soviet Mi-24 helicopters flew a circuitous route around the battle site. Warlord Hassan Khamami was in the lead aircraft, staring down through the gap of the open fuselage door. He could easily discern the enemy's defensive position, looking pitifully small in the midst of his surrounding forces. He grinned and rubbed his hands together. This victory would confirm his rule over an enlarged fiefdom. The next visit he received from the government in Kabul would be for negotiating a peace treaty with him. He would be able to realistically demand numerous concessions.

The choppers made a slight turn then went into a hover, slowly settling down in the vicinity of Major Karim Malari's CP. When the wheels touched the ground, Khamami leaped out, closely followed by his radio operator and a. small entourage of bodyguards. Major Malari was waiting, and snapped a salute as the warlord walked up.

"Amir!" Malari said happily. "We have the infidels surrounded. A reconnaissance patrol discovered them trying to skulk away in the darkness. But they quickly fired on them and shot flares into the air. My men were in position to immediately surround them. They cannot escape."