Direct Action (19 page)

“Let’s get the hard stuff out of the way first,” said Razor. “We have to leave Kos here.”

Murdock started. He knew it would eventually come down to that, but it would have taken him a while to bring the subject up.

“He’s too big,” said Razor, “and we’ve got too many people
hurt and sick to carry him, move fast, and still keep good security. If he was alive we’d take him, no matter what. But you don’t die for the dead. Kos would understand.” He paused again. “I’ll handle the boys.”

“All right,” said Murdock. The fact that you got paid to make the tough decisions didn’t make them any easier.

DeWitt closed his eyes and nodded.

“Okay,” said Razor. “Now, which way do we go? Right now we got our backs up against the mountain range to our west. Not a damn piece of cover on the whole mountain range. We’re coming from the east, the bad guys are following us from that direction. So east is out. I guess we can go either north or south.”

“South is Israel,” said DeWitt.

“It’s not the U.S.-Canada border,” Razor said dubiously. “There’s minefields, fences, and a shitload of people with guns. Just to get to their security zone in south Lebanon we’d have to go through a lot of Hezbollah country. Plus it’s a long goddamned walk.”

“Let’s not get off the track here,” said Murdock. “We just have to hide out for twelve hours or so.”

“So they say,” Razor retorted.

“Looking on the bright side,” said DeWitt, “they Syrians are going to think that anyone slick enough to pull off what we did would be long gone by now.”

“If we were Israelis, we would be,” said Razor. “Good thing they don’t know what a stupid bunch of dicks we really are.”

“A few klicks south the forest disappears and we’re back in open country,” said Murdock. “I vote we head north, stay in the woods. And we get moving right now, make as much distance as we can before daylight.”

“This is a vote?” Razor inquired.

“It’s a vote,” Murdock confirmed.

“Then I vote we go north.”

“Don’t look at me to disagree,” said DeWitt, grinning in the red glow of the flashlight. “I’m just the j.g.”

“We love you all the same, sir,” said Razor, trying to lighten the mood like a good chief.

0520 hours

North central Lebanon

The SEALs found a small depression in the ground and scraped out a shallow hole with their knives, piling the dirt onto a poncho. They laid Chief Boatswain’s Mate Benjamin “Kos” Kosciuszko into the hole, covering him with earth, then pine needles and branches. They sprinkled CS crystals around to keep the animals off. The rest of the dirt was carried away and scattered.

Murdock took several GPS readings at the grave site, and everyone recorded the coordinates on their maps in case there was ever an opportunity to recover the body.

In the meantime, another SEAL family would be told that there had been a diving accident and the body lost at sea. An empty casket would be buried with full military honors.

They left him and patrolled away. That was the way it was. No beating of breasts, no inability to function. The SEALs just got a little tighter, a little colder. Kos Kosciuszko would be mourned when it was all over. Violent death was not an unanticipated event among SEALs. A great many earmarked money in their wills for a final party that they would not attend.

They headed northeast. Although still within the cover of the woods, this meant they had to cross numerous ridgelines that steadily increased in elevation. These all ran east-west, and the constant up-and-down climbing was both exhausting and time-consuming. It was known as going cross-compartment. Murdock wanted to spend as little time in the ridge valleys as possible. The low areas were where people walked, and eventually trampled paths. And the SEALs wouldn’t walk anywhere they expected to meet anyone else. The same was true for the tops of hills or ridgelines. Whenever you passed over them you were completely exposed. It was better to walk halfway up and then traverse around, no matter how long that took.

Running parallel to the ridgelines were a whole series of dirt roads that connected the mountain and highland villages to the Bekaa Valley highway. One of them was the cross-mountain paved road they had originally taken such pains to avoid.

Crossing that road was a particular problem. It forked into two separate directions, and crossing the nearest and most heavily wooded portion would require crossing both forks, which was tactically unwise. The SEALs had to patrol far out of their way to find a section where there wasn’t too much open area on both sides of the road. Another consideration was that the crossing site couldn’t be within view of anyone driving further up or down the road. This usually meant crossing at a curve or bend.

Jaybird found the right spot just as the first halo of dawn began to light up the horizon. The SEALs followed their danger-area SOP. Great care was necessary because it was exactly the sort of place
they
would pick to set up an ambush. As they approached, Murdock designated near- and far-side rally points where the unit would re-gather if split up in either the crossing or a firefight.

Higgins and Doc secured the right and left flanks of the
crossing point. Jaybird sprinted across first, followed by Murdock to secure the far side.

DeWitt had just bolted from the tree line when a glow came through the trees and headlights began to emerge from around the bend. DeWitt dropped flat. Murdock cursed. If anything happened now he was separated from the bulk of his men by the open road.

The lights flashed past and headed down the road. DeWitt got up and scrambled across. Murdock gave silent thanks for Lebanese drivers. They went so fast they’d miss an elephant grazing by the side of the road.

DeWitt slid into the trees and found Murdock.

“How’s your arm?” Murdock whispered, worried that DeWitt had damaged it even more when he’d hit the deck.

“Hurts,” DeWitt replied bluntly.

Ask a stupid question, thought Murdock. When Doc came across, he sent him over to DeWitt.

Doc checked him out and came back over to report. “He landed right on the arm, but the fracture still didn’t go compound. I gave him another shot. Don’t know how he kept from yelling when he hit the ground. Tough little bastard.” Having dispensed his highest praise, Doc slipped back into formation.

No more cars showed up, and the rest of the SEALs crossed without any difficulty. They pushed on. It was getting alarmingly bright. Murdock called a halt for another conference.

“If we stop here,” he said, “we’re right in the middle of a box of roads, with another road cutting across the box. I don’t like it, but to get out of the box we’ve got to patrol in daylight and cross another dirt road.”

“The roads all form boxes,” Razor replied. “One after the other.” He pointed to the map. “But the box after the next, a little over ten klicks away, is a hell of a lot bigger. The ground is higher, and at least there aren’t any villages nearby if we keep going.”

“So what you’re trying to say is that you want to go?” Murdock asked.

Razor nodded.

“Staying here doesn’t feel right,” said DeWitt.

“Okay,” said Murdock. “Then we go nice and easy. I want to take two hours to move the ten klicks. If we take three, I won’t be pissed. Right?” he asked Jaybird, who had been brought into the circle.

“You got it, sir.”

Murdock pointed his pencil at a spot on the map. “I want to establish a patrol base near this high ground, and an observation post on the high ground. Any problems with that?”

There were none. In a perfect world Murdock would have preferred to establish the patrol base while it was still dark. It was a shame the world wasn’t perfect.

Jaybird set a careful pace. Take a step, carefully scan your assigned sector of observation, then take another step. The SEALs were spread so far apart that it would take an ambush the size of two full platoons, around sixty men, to catch them all in a single killing zone.

They refilled their canteens in a stream and crossed another dirt road. As Razor had said, at least it was a bigger box, about six miles east-west by three miles north-south. Five ridges ran east to west across it.

It took a little time to find the right spot for a patrol base, a secure area where they could hide out. The rules were that a patrol base had to have good cover and concealment and be away from human habitation. It ought not to be ground that a military unit could easily move through, or would even choose to move through. All roads, trails, or natural lines of movement had to be avoided.

They found it in a large thicket of brush and brambles in low ground that probably held water during the spring rains. The SEALs didn’t head right in, instead patrolling past the thicket.
Then they circled back onto their own trail and set up an ambush to snare anyone who might be following them.

They sat motionless for an hour and a half. No one showed up.

Doc Ellsworth went into the thicket first, on his hands and knees. He didn’t trample and break down the bushes, instead parting the branches and working his way through carefully. The rest of the SEALs followed, in his exact path. Razor Roselli went in last, smoothing out the marks in the earth and bending the branches back into place. When he finished there was no trail, and no open spots in the thicket. Anyone following would have to pass along the original trail that led past the thicket, thereby alerting them.

Murdock and Jaybird had remained outside. By necessity, the patrol base had to be located in an area where visibility was restricted. Murdock intended to find an observation point where he could get a good look at what was happening in the surrounding countryside.

There was a dominating hill nearby, within MX-300 walkie-talkie range. And if by some chance they couldn’t return to the others, Jaybird was carrying the second, backup PRC-117.

When the two of them reached the hill, Murdock carefully circled around the entire base, looking for trails, or any sign of human presence. They found none, so they worked their way up.

They avoided the top. While observation might be best there, it would be equally easy for someone else to observe them. It had to be a place they could move out from under cover if they detected the enemy observing them.

They found an out-thrust corner of the hill that afforded a good view in three directions. Murdock removed his MSG-90 sniper rifle from the drag bag and set the rifle up on its bipod legs. The Hensoldt 10-power telescopic sight would be his observation device. Jaybird cut some brush to camouflage their position.

The sun had risen far enough to use the telescopic sight without fear of a reflection off the glass. SEALs used the sniper’s trick of fitting lens hoods to the ends of their scopes; just a piece of plastic tubing that extended out from the objective end of the sight. With the hood in place, there would be no lens reflection unless the sun was directly in the scope’s field of view. It took a lot of effort to be that careless.

Perfectly concealed, Murdock scanned the area through the scope. It took some time, because the telescope had a very narrow field of view.

They were around six thousand feet up, and the surrounding hills and ridges were in the four-to-five-thousand-foot range. Murdock could even see Baalbek. He couldn’t make out the warehouse, but a pall of smoke still hung over the town from the fire, or fires.

Vehicles were racing around the town, and up and down the Bekaa highway.

Then Murdock was alarmed to see a long line of military trucks, armored personnel carriers, and even a few tanks speeding up the same route they’d taken in the Mercedes. They were heading straight for the village of Btedaï.

0945 hours

North central Lebanon

The Syrians were responding a hell of a lot faster than Murdock had expected them to. He’d been counting on it taking at least a day to get their shit together. Perhaps the firefight with the smugglers had attracted even more attention than he’d thought.

Murdock couldn’t see what the trucks did when they reached Btedaï; a ridgeline was in his way. Several light observation helicopters that looked like the French Gazelles flown by the Syrians were buzzing up and down the valley. Confident of the SEALs’ camouflage, Murdock wasn’t worried about the helicopters.

Finally, the strain on his eyes from the scope was too much. Sitting still made him aware of the twenty-four hours worth of stress and fatigue he’d been fighting. He turned the rifle over to Jaybird and dug in his pockets for the mocha energy bar he knew was there somewhere.

The sun was warming up the ground wonderfully. Murdock was even enjoying the smell of the brush Jaybird had cut to cover them. It was like rosemary.

Then he was in the midst of a dream about being chased; he ran and ran and couldn’t make any progress no matter how hard he tried. Then he shot awake. Jaybird was shaking him.

“Sorry to wake you up, sir.”

“Why did you let me sleep?” Murdock grumbled, furious with himself for giving in to it. Doubly furious for sleeping while one of his men had to stay awake.

“Thought you ought to see this,” said Jaybird, scooting out from behind the rifle.

Murdock locked the stock against his shoulder and followed where Jaybird’s finger was pointing. It was the secondary road Ed DeWitt had had so much trouble crossing. A long line of troops was crossing the road, along what seemed like its entire length.

“Looked to me like at least a battalion, maybe two,” said Jaybird. “And check this out.”

All the villages within view and most of the road intersections were occupied by at least a couple of military vehicles and milling troops. They were on every road that came off the Bekaa highway, every road that led into the mountains, from Btedaï all the way up to a secondary road that passed far north of their hill. The box of roads, Murdock thought. How fitting he’d called it that. Because they were in the damn box.

Jaybird gestured around. “There’s the cordon, to hold us in,” he said. Then he pointed back to the troops, who had by now crossed the road and disappeared into the trees. “And there’s the sweep.”