Call to Duty (47 page)

“I can blow it,” Jim Isahata said. “Let me at it.”

“No,” Kamigami decided. “We need Baulck. If anyone can do it, he can. You take care of Courtland. Get her to Mackay. Now.” Isahata did as he was ordered while Kamigami spoke into his radio, calling for Andy Baulck to join them. Then he told the sergeant monitoring the withdrawal, “Move ’em out. Leave a truck for us at the rendezvous point with Mackay. We’ll join up with you at the LZ. But don’t wait for us.” Baulck came running up carrying his demo bag.

The three men ran back into the compound, now clearly visible in the growing light. Electricity to the pump driving
the waterfall had been cut and they had no trouble seeing the entrance to the grotto. Kamigami slid into the pool and waded through the opening. Baulck was right behind him, almost up to his chest but holding his bag of explosives above his head. At one point he slipped and disappeared below the surface with only his hands still holding the bag up, keeping it dry. Woodward pulled him back to his feet and pushed him through the narrow entrance.

Kamigami had found the hatch and was studying it when Baulck reached him. Baulck ran his fingers around the edge, studying it. “Recessed hinges,” he said. Then he swept the grotto with his flashlight. “This is going to be tricky,” he allowed, “blowing the hatch without bringing the roof down.” He set to work, carving small hunks off a block of C4 and positioning them on one side of the hatch. He motioned Kamigami and Woodward to withdraw, pulled the detonator and followed them out of the grotto.

“You back us up here while we go in,” Kamigami told Baulck. A dull explosion from inside the grotto served as punctuation. Woodward darted back through the entrance with Kamigami right behind him. “Fucking brilliant,” Woodward said as he pushed the hatch out of the way and dropped into a small chamber sealed with a heavy door. He gingerly inspected the door and threw the levers at the side to open it. “Decontamination chamber,” he told Kamigami. “It may have muffled the explosion.” The two men entered the bunker.

Silently, they moved down a darkened corridor as their eyes adjusted to the light. At one point, they saw a flicker of light coming toward them from around a corner. Woodward’s left hand shot out behind him at waist level telling Kamigami to stop. He bobbed his head around the corner and flashed the sign for “enemy.” Then he pointed into the shadows. They drew back and waited. A soldier came past them with a flashlight. Woodward’s hand reached out and snared his chin, jerking his head back while he cut the man’s throat. He dropped the body to the floor and they moved into the main corridor.

When they reached the main command room, Woodward motioned Kamigami to stop while he crouched at the doorway. Kamigami moved silently into position behind him and patted him on the top of his head. Woodward sprang across
the open doorway as Kamigami moved into his old position and fired into the room at an angle, his silenced MP5 making a soft popping sound as the roller action bolt clattered and spent cartridges fell to the floor. Woodward fired into the room from the opposite side of the door. Between them, they cleared the room. Kamigami darted inside while Woodward guarded the corridor. Within moments, Kamigami was back. “He’s not here,” the sergeant said.

Mackay heard the distinctive sound of the MH-53 as it approached the LZ to land. Compulsively, he rechecked his watch. They were withdrawing according to plan and right on schedule. The black, ungainly shape of Gillespie’s aircraft moved over them, barely clearing the jungle canopy as it came into view, and settled gracefully to the ground. The men ran toward the rear of the MH-53 as one of the helicopter’s gunners marshaled them on board and counted heads. His count would have to agree with Delta’s before they took off.

“One dead and three unaccounted for,” a sergeant told him, reconfirming what he already knew. “We’re almost loaded and ready to go.”

Again, Mackay checked his watch as the second hand continued its unrelenting countdown. “Damn,” he muttered to himself. Why had Kamigami and Woodward gone back in with the ISA agent? They of all people knew better. He calculated he could wait another three minutes before ordering the helicopter to lift off. “Have Captain Gillespie check in with Hammer to update our status,” he told the sergeant. “Also, have him confirm Bigboot is airborne and egressing.” The sergeant hurried over to the helicopter.

Two men carried the dead captain on board and gently laid the poncho-wrapped body on the ramp. A sour bitterness swept over Mackay as he ran the mental arithmetic peculiar to special operations: one dead, three unaccounted for, and no Chiang versus all the hostages safe. Is this par for the course? Do I cut my losses and run? A glance at his watch confirmed that it was almost time to go. The same sergeant returned. “Captain Gillespie has checked in with Hammer,” he said. “Bigboot is safely airborne and out of the area.” He paused. “Captain Gillespie wants to talk to you, Colonel. He’s got an idea.”

1944
RAF Hunsdon, Hertfordshire, England

“I can’t believe this,” Ruffy groaned when he saw the propellers for Pickard’s Mossie,
F for Freddie
, start to turn. “It’s on.” The radio was mute since 140 Wing always maintained radio silence during a launch. They assumed that German monitoring posts, which were less than a hundred miles away across the English Channel, would hear them. “It’s an absolute swine of a day and they want us to go up and play.” Zack grunted and motioned to the ground crew that he was going to start engines. “My God!” Ruffy continued. “The ceiling can’t be more than a hundred feet, if that.” Sleet and snow was still dusting the nineteen Mosquitoes sitting in the dispersals at RAF Hunsdon and an occasional gust would obscure the aircraft at the end of the line.

“A bit hard to maintain formation,” Zack told him. Hunsdon came alive as ignition after ignition cracked and blue flames spat out the exhaust stubs. Engines hesitated and then coughed to life as whirling propellers cut into the snow. A wave of turbulent sound broke over the field as the Merlins snarled and sent gusts of snow across the base. Zack switched on the ignition and pressed the starter and booster-coil buttons for the port engine. Brian, the ground crew mechanic, stroked the priming pump with demonic fury. Since they were using high-volatility fuel, the engine roared to life on the sixth stroke. Brian gave it four more strokes to continue the priming until it picked up on the carburetor. With the engine smoothly on line, Zack started the starboard engine. Brian worked furiously to screw down the priming pump and button up the priming panels.

Then the mechanic stepped back and listened to the sound of the big Merlins and, satisfied that all was well, gave Zack a thumbs-up signal. “The Film Production Unit Mossie doesn’t look like it’s going to make it,” Zack said. The nineteenth Mosquito that was going along to film the raid had not started engines and a mechanic had the cowling on the right engine open.

“The death and glory boys,” Ruffy mumbled, “will not regret sitting this one out.” He was not happy with the way the mission was developing.

Zack ran the magneto drop check. “She’s purring like a kitten,” Zack consoled Ruffy. He gave Brian the chocks-out signal and the mechanic gave them a salute as they moved out of dispersal.

“Brian would be most unhappy if we brought his child back in,” Ruffy said, giving in to the inevitability of the mission. “He’d probably accuse you or me of buggering it up so we wouldn’t have to fly in this muck.” Zack joined the other five Mosquitoes of his squadron as they taxied down the track to the runway. Their squadron leader, Wing Commander “Black” Smith, taxied out onto the runway and they followed, lining up in pairs. The other two squadrons held on the taxipath in a long line. 140 Wing was ready to launch. Now with their engines fully warmed up and ready to go, they shut down and waited for the clock to run out. Ruffy popped the hatch and dropped the ladder. “My bladder is remarkably weak at times like this,” he said. Zack joined him at the side of the runway as they christened a bare spot of ground. They crawled back into the cramped cockpit and watched the minute hand on their watches move with maddening slowness toward the twelve. At exactly 1058, the propellers of their squadron leader’s Mosquito cranked over as he started engines. Zack followed suit.

With the last-minute checks complete, they watched the first two Mosquitoes run up and start their takeoff roll. Zack motioned to his wingman and they pushed their throttles up. When the first two aircraft were three hundred feet down the runway, they released brakes and followed in a formation takeoff.
K for King
responded like a thoroughbred and charged after the lead pair. Snow and sleet beat against the perspex windscreen, almost defeating the windscreen wiper. The tail wheel came up. “I’ve lost them in this muck,” Ruffy told Zack. Their squadron leader, Black Smith, had broken ground and disappeared immediately into the overcast with his wingman.

Zack felt the Mosquito start to fly but held it on the ground until the airspeed touched 130 miles-per-hour. He eased back on the stick and they came unglued from the ground. He snapped the undercarriage lever to the up position and held his altitude until the airspeed reached 170. Then he honked back on the stick and climbed briskly to fifteen hundred feet,
his wingman glued to his wing. Ruffy gave him the first heading to the southern coast of England for their rendezvous with the Typhoons over Littlehampton. A lone dark image materialized in front of and slightly below them. “That’s Black’s Mossie,” Ruffy said, identifying their leader. “He seems to have lost his number two.” Zack maintained radio silence and joined up on Black Smith’s right wing in a loose formation.

“Christ,” Ruffy groused. “We’ll never make the rendezvous with the Tiffies.” Then: “We’ve got company.” Another Mosquito from their squadron joined up on their squadron leader’s left wing and, miraculously, eight of the twelve scheduled Typhoons appeared above them. “The chaps are doing well today,” Ruffy allowed. “Time to start our descent.” Zack held a constant 270 as the four Mosquitoes descended, the Typhoons following. Sweat streaked their faces as they ground down through the weather, bouncing and twisting through the muck. It was a hard, jolting ride that would quickly wear a pilot down. His leader would disappear into the weather and then pop back out. Zack kept his eyes riveted on Smith as Ruffy read the gauges off to him. They hit an open patch and, for a brief moment, he could see the entire formation. “Descending through one hundred feet,” Ruffy called. “Seventy-five feet.”

“Brave soul,” Zack muttered. They had to get below fifty feet if they were to avoid being picked up on German radar.

Finally, they were flying straight and level, still in the weather. The hard ride continued to pound the aircraft and throw them against their lap and shoulder harnesses. “Twenty feet,” Ruffy said as a patch of iron-gray water flashed below them.

“I can’t believe this,” Zack said. He had to keep jockeying the throttles to avoid outrunning the other aircraft. “Brian’s magic has improved,” he said. Suddenly his inner alarm clanged furiously and he eased back on the stick, gaining another twenty feet of altitude. The gray and green shape of a Mosquito flashed under him, right into the space he would have been had he not pulled up. His natural reactions took over and he firewalled the throttles and pulled up as the airframe shuddered and the engines howled. “Who…I barely saw the bugger…. My God! that’s
F for Freddie!” F for
Freddie
was Packard’s aircraft. Only that strange sixth sense and the fine tune of
K for King
had saved them from a midair collision.

The weather continued to pound them as they flew across the channel and the clouds and sea merged into a gray blanket. A series of violent jolts shook them and
K for King
shuddered as if a giant hand were batting them about, testing the sturdy aircraft. Their harnesses cut into them as Zack fought for control. He tasted a heavy bile at the back of his throat and, for a fraction of a second, he was certain they would slam into the sea. Then, as if the weather gods were done with them and satisfied that they had proved themselves worthy, the hand released them. The turbulent air smoothed and visibility improved. He caught a glimpse of the sun and considered that a good omen. “I do believe Met was right for once,” Zack allowed. He could clearly see the three other aircraft in their formation.

“And here’s
B for Beer
,” Ruffy told him as the fifth Mosquito from their squadron joined on them. They were still short one aircraft. “I hope the Tiffies are still with us.” Zack strained to see into the weather that was definitely improving, wanting to see the Typhoons. They would be needed if the “boys from Abbeville” put in an appearance while they were on the bomb run. Nothing. Their leader maintained radio silence, certain that the Germans could now monitor any radio transmission. “Coasting in now,” Ruffy announced as they flew low over white-capped breakers that were rolling against the French coastline. He studied the land for some recognizable feature to fix their position. The five aircraft screamed over the low dunes and a concrete lookout bunker. “Jerry knows we’re here now,” Ruffy said as Zack pushed up the throttles. Their airspeed hovered on 295 and their altimeters held them at a scant fifty feet above the ground.

The weather had improved and a strong winter sun gave sharp definition to features on the ground. Zack could see their shadows streaking over the snow-covered landscape, making him think of a golden eagle’s shadow he had once seen as it swooped down on a hapless rabbit. “The boys from Abbeville will be up and about,” he said.

Ruffy grunted an answer. Then: “Right, I’ve got our position. We’re about a mile south of course.” On cue, the lead
Mosquito altered course to the north and the formation climbed to five thousand feet. They wanted the Germans to see them and think they were on a deep-penetration mission before they turned toward Amiens. They raced over a series of easily identifiable checkpoints. “Maitland did his job well,” Ruffy said. “Expect a descent in thirty seconds.” They would be pointed away from Amiens while they descended and dropped from radar coverage. “We don’t want the penny to drop yet for Jerry.”