Dragon Sim-13 (18 page)

After only five minutes of finning, they felt the lake bottom, quickly discovering that the shore was not solid but swampy. Unhooking their buddy lines and taking off their fins, Team 3 stood up and trudged through the swamp for two hundred meters until they hit a patch of firm ground. The buddy teams formed a circular perimeter, and as one man took off his dry suit, the other readied his weapon and provided security.

Each man's dry suit, weight belt, buddy and rucksack lines, dive knife and fins all came off and were stuffed into a sack. Captain Mitchell had decided that they would not cache this equipment, but carry it with them. The extra twenty pounds were a burden, but the captain didn't want to take the chance of a cache site being discovered. Also, the dry suits could become part of one of the variations of their escape and evasion plan if that became necessary.

Comsky peered at Lalli's leg in the dark. Using his fingers he probed the gash. Lalli's sharp intake of breath alerted him that he had found the edges. From his probing, Comsky thought it wasn't too bad. The biggest danger with the wound would be infection.

"Does it hurt?" Comsky solicited kindly, as he pressed the edges of the slash together.

"Yes."

"It ought to. It's going to hurt even more in about two seconds, as I take this armed suture and stick it here, and push it through to here."

Lalli gritted his teeth with the pain. Comsky could be downright nasty and ghoulish when he worked on a patient. Actually, his apparent lack of bedside manner was calculated; it served the purpose of getting the patient so mad at him that they tended to forget their own troubles for a little while—at least that was Comsky's theory.

Finished, Comsky reported to the captain and Riley. "Ape Man fix. No more bleed." Turning serious he added, "The wound itself isn't too bad. It'll start hurting him but he can walk on it if he ain't a wimp. The suture will pull out on the walk and he'll start bleeding again. I'll have to redo it at the base camp. I'm not going to give him any painkiller, considering the walk we have to make. Actually what worries me right now is that he's wet. As long as we keep moving he'll be all right, but if we stop too long he might start getting hypothermic."

Riley considered this. They hadn't brought any change of clothes with them. It wasn't that cold out. In the mid-fifties. But the combination of being wet and wounded could be dangerous. Riley consulted with Mitchell and they walked over to see Lalli.

Mitchell knelt down next to the wounded soldier. "Hey, wild man. How you doing?"

"All right, sir. Comsky did a good job. I think he enjoyed himself."

Riley and Mitchell smiled. Comsky and Devito divided the medical chores between them. Devito considered himself the internal medicine man because he preferred handing out pills to team members when they were sick. Comsky liked the more dramatic injuries. If a detachment member wasn't bleeding, he wasn't hurt, according to the Ape.

Mitchell decided to cut their rest halts down to only five minutes instead of the normal ten on the hour. That would give Lalli less of a chance to cool down. Carrying a ruck through the woods would keep all of them warm. The captain told Comsky to monitor the wounded man and inform him immediately if there were any problems.

With dry suits tied off on top of their rucks, weapons at the ready, and half the men wearing night-vision goggles, the team struck out on a 195-degree azimuth south-southwest. They had more than four kilometers to go before they reached the pipeline. Then they would cross under it, turn south, slide along the pipeline a few hundred meters, and move to their objective rally point.

Fort Meade, Maryland Tuesday, 6 June, 1630 Zulu Tuesday, 6 June, 11:30 a.m. Local

As far as Meng could tell, everything was proceeding smoothly. There had been no more messages from the FOB, so apparently the commander there was mollified about the earlier communication problem. Meng allowed himself to relax slightly. The next time they should hear anything would be the FOB forwarding the team's ANGLER report.

In the last five minutes, Meng had reprogrammed the computer to alert him whenever a real message from the FOB went to his office terminal. It would sound a tone on the computer in his office when he was in there. For the master console here, all Meng had to do was type in a code word at the start of his shift and the message would be forwarded here; he would be alerted by a special code word appearing on the terminal screen, and he could then access the message. That would hopefully prevent him from being slow in answering any future messages. He didn't want to have any more trouble with the FOB over communications.

He glanced up as he heard General Olson talking to his operations officer about something that concerned Meng also. "Is the ship for the refuel moving?"

Colonel Moore nodded. "Yes, sir."

The general's next words demonstrated that he still wasn't getting into the play of the problem.

"I mean is it really moving? I know you deployed those Blackhawk helicopters up to Misawa, but are we really going to have the navy move one of their guided missile frigates just for this exercise?"

General Sanders fielded that question. "Yes, we are. This is a test of command and control. The Rathburne is not a unit that normally falls under USSOCOM authority. Actually getting the ship to move to the point where it would do the mission is a test of how well the tasking authority of this headquarters works. You have authorization from the chairman of the Joint Chiefs to task any element of the armed services to support this operation. The problem is that you also have to keep this whole operation secure."

Colonel Moore nodded. "I had a hell of a time getting the navy to release the ship to conduct the mission. It's moving now, but there's probably going to be a stink about it. The navy is real big on chain of command, and this mission requires that we short-circuit that as much as possible. I have several recommendations I'll put in the afteraction report that would help improve the system for interservice taskings in the future."

Sanders nodded his approval. "That's part of the reason we run this. To learn before we do the real thing."

Meng was relieved. The SFOB staff was doing the majority of the work for him. All he had to do was push the units one step further to actually do the tasks they were assigned. In every case all that consisted of was using the authorization code words listed in the oplans.

"To be certain to take what you attack is to attack a

place the enemy does not protect."

Sun Tzu: The Art of War

FOB, Osan Air Force Base, Korea Tuesday, 6 June, 1700 Zulu Wednesday, 7 June, 2:00 a.m. Local

Hossey was tired. It would be another two hours before the first scheduled broadcast from the team, their ANGLER report, should come in. Hossey was still angry over the SATCOM communications screwup by the SFOB, but he was smart enough to know there wasn't anything he could do about it. USSOCOM was on the other end at the SFOB, and they had more rank there than he cared to shake a stick at. Besides, Hossey reasoned, they had apologized.

What concerned him more was his own attempt to abort the mission based solely on the lack of communication with the SFOB. Upon reflection, Hossey realized he had acted presumptuously. No commo with the SFOB was not sufficient reason to have made that abort decision. He could account for his actions with only two possible explanations. The first was that he was tired and had reacted poorly under stress. The second, and more ominous, was his gut feeling that something was rotten about this whole mission. He wanted to start dissecting that feeling to see if he could come up with something tangible, but he was too tired to think that hard.

After leaving instructions with the commo man on duty to wake him when the ANGLER came in, Hossey went to the small office he had been using and threw himself onto the cot for a short nap.

Operational Area Dustey, China Tuesday, 6 June, 1700-1900 Zulu Wednesday, 7 June, 1:00-3:00 a.m. Local

Trudging through the swampy forest, the team found the going much harder than they had anticipated. The ground was spongy moss that sucked in the foot almost to the top of the boot. Each step was an effort. It took them an exhausting forty-five minutes to cover the first kilometer, even though the terrain was relatively flat. Mitchell halted the team for a five-minute break after the first hour and moved up next to Riley.

"If it stays like this, we could have a problem. We'll make it to the objective rally point in time, but it's going to be tight for Olinski and his guys to make it to the pickup zone before first light. When we get to the pipeline, I'm going to cut them loose there and have them go straight to the pickup zone instead of coming to the objective rally point. We can use the team linkup SOP if they need to come back to the objective rally point for any reason."

Riley considered this. "With Lalli being hurt we probably ought to keep him with the main body so the medics can look after him. How about switching him and O'Shaugnesy? That way we still have a communications man with each cell. They're carrying the same weapons, too, so Lalli can pull O'Shaugnesy's job at the target site."

Mitchell nodded in concurrence. In isolation they had considered the option of letting Olinski head off early, and agreed to use that plan if necessary. The second change with Lalli and O'Shaugnesy made sense.

Mitchell went to check on Lalli's condition and inform him of the change. When he returned, he gave Riley the night-vision goggles he'd been wearing. For the second hour, the buddy teams switched goggles. The team continued their march.

After three hours, Team 3 had covered an estimated three and a half kilometers, making better time as the men got used to walking in the muck. Riley figured another thirty minutes until they reached the pipeline. The lack of any sign of civilization was comforting, since they stood little chance of walking into anyone in the middle of this vast forest at night, but it was also unnerving to Americans unused to such vast uninhabited spaces.

At 1840Z they halted to allow O'Shaugnesy to send the initial entry message. While O'Shaugnesy set up the antenna dish and oriented it, Captain Mitchell pulled out his message format pad and started writing the ANGLER report.

Translated, using the message format, his report read:

01: (First message the team was sending.)

ANGLER: (Name of the format used.)

AAA: (Infiltration location) DUSTER.

BBB: (Infiltration time) 2355Z 6 June.

CCC: (Wounded) none. Mitchell had thought about this one for a few minutes. Lalli's cut wasn't that serious, and he didn't want to give the FOB the mistaken idea that they had made contact with the enemy.

DDD: (Killed in action) none.

EEE: (Mission status) go.

FFF: (Present location) grid 361487.

DOUBLE: (Detachment's code word.) Lack of this code word in a message would indicate that the message was being sent under duress.

Mitchell then placed the message into final form, eliminating any excess, and writing in segments. He hated this part: writing in six-letter blocks. It made for mistakes and was a pain to read. He double-checked his unencrypted message:

ZEROON EANGLE RAAADU STERBB BTWOTH

REEFIV EFIVEZ ULUSIX JUNECC CDDDEE

EGOXXX GOFFFT HREESI XONEFO UREIGH

TSEVEN XXDOUB LEXXXX

With this done, Mitchell used his onetime pad to encrypt the message. He first wrote the message letters on top of the six-block groups on the page of the onetime pad; then, using a trigraph, which linked all the letters in the alphabet in three-letter combinations, he matched the original message letter with the onetime pad letter to come up with a third letter. The final message he handed to Lalli was unintelligible:

MWKERR WLSORN

ELWPMD WHRZAQ

KTHRUE WOSLRJ

MERTTS EKDWIW

QNDPTM RHEMWL THRNWL

MAEOTY PALTMR ZXDSTY

WQARWP THRMWL POIWER WHTISM

Lalli sat down at the keyboard of his digital message data group device and typed in the coded message. The DMDG took the coded message and, transcribing it into Morse code, placed it on a spool of tape.

Lalli then hooked up the DMDG to the SATCOM radio with a cable. O'Shaugnesy had gotten a successful bounce-back from the satellite they were to use. He'd aimed the antenna at the proper angle and elevation and sent out a brief squelch. He'd received the same squelch bounced back to him from the satellite, which confirmed that the antenna was properly aligned. Now they waited.

When it was time to send the message, the tape would be run at many times normal speed, transmitting the message in a short burst. The purpose of the burst was to reduce transmit time, which correspondingly minimized the possibility of being intercepted and RDF'd. The base station would receive the burst and copy it on tape. The tape would be slowed down and run across the small screen of the FOB's DMDG. The message would then be broken out by reversing the process Mitchell had used. A duplicate of the onetime pad that Mitchell carried was in Colonel Hossey's hands. Even if someone else intercepted the message and slowed it down, there was no way it could be read without that matching onetime pad. Olinski carried the team's backup onetime pad and would use it to monitor the radio traffic from his position at the pickup zone.

At exactly 1900Z O'Shaugnesy pushed the send on the DMDG and the encoded message was burst-transmitted in less than one second. O'Shaugnesy then broke down the equipment and repacked it.

Acknowledgment of the message would come at the team's first scheduled receive in three hours. The whole communication setup between the team and the FOB was a series of scheduled receives and sends. There was no such thing as getting on the radio and carrying on a conversation, or bursting messages back and forth. The necessity to encode and burst made that impossible. This built-in delay in acknowledgment of information could cause problems. For those not used to the delays of Special Forces long-range communication, Mitchell knew that the process was frustrating.

FOB, Osan Air Force Base, Korea Tuesday, 6 June, 1900 Zulu Wednesday, 7 June, 4:00 a.m. Local

Hossey quickly wrote out the letters as the encoded message worked its way across the display on the DMDG. When it got to the end, he

took out his onetime pad and copied the groups onto the first page. Using the trigraph, he broke the message out. He sighed with relief as he saw the legible words. Everything was good to go so far.

Hossey then transcribed the ANGLER into the terminal for transmission to the SFOB.

Operational Area Dustey, China Tuesday, 6 June, 1900-2200 Zulu Wednesday, 7 June, 3:00-6:00 a.m. Local

It was just an hour and a half prior to first light when Chong stepped out of the woods and saw the pipeline ten feet in front of him. The long silver pipe stretched as far as he could see in either direction. He halted the team and went back to consult with the captain and Riley.

The first glimpse of the pipeline was impressive. The team had studied pictures and knew the dimensions, but the shiny four-foot-diameter pipe, standing three feet above the ground, was much more striking when actually faced. This large pipe stretching for miles on end, from the oil fields in the north down to Beijing, indicated the price the Chinese placed on their black gold. Every thirty feet, the pipe was held up by two stanchions that had conductors on them to prevent the pipe from freezing in the harsh winter. The forest was cut back ten feet on either side of the pipe.

The team quickly crossed underneath the metal snake. Trapp, as last man across, checked to make sure they hadn't left a noticeable trail. As soon as the entire team was in the woods on the far side, Mitchell gave a last briefing to Olinski.

"Monitor all our broadcasts from the forward operating base so you know as much as we do. Every hour turn on your FM radio for any messages we might send. We'll be monitoring for any you might have. If you need to come back and link up with us at the objective rally point, we'll use our link-up SOP along the pipe here, to the south, on the west side. Any questions?"

Olinski didn't mind being reminded of things he already knew. It never hurt to be sure. "No, sir. Good luck."

"Good luck to you, Ski." Olinski, Reese, and O'Shaugnesy faded into the dark woods as they headed west.

Chong led the remaining members of the team on a course paralleling the pipeline forty meters in the forest. The absence of a service road on this side of the pipe told him that they had run into the pipe south of the point where the service road zigged off to the west, heading toward its bridge over the Sungari. Team 3 followed the pipe for four hundred meters, then turned farther west into the woods. They went less than half a kilometer into the dark forest and halted. Mitchell signaled for the men to drop their rucksacks. Team 3 had arrived at the objective rally point. This was to be their home for the next couple of days, until the actual target hit.

Mitchell, Riley, Chong, and Hoffman, after noting the location of the ORP, moved off to take a look at the target. Chong and Hoffman carried their rucksacks, since they would be staying at the target to do surveillance. The five members of the team remaining at the ORP broke out their bivy sacks, and, with two men providing security, the rest tried to get some sleep.

Chong led the three men cautiously along the tree line paralleling the pipe. The first indication that they were close to the target came from the glow of lights ahead. Riley remembered Hoffman briefing that the compound most likely had high-power lights on top of the pylon to enable the surveillance cameras to see at night. The tree line drew back and they had their first glimpse of the target.

Fort Meade, Maryland Tuesday, 6 June, 2045 Zulu Tuesday, 6 June, 3:45 p.m. Local

Meng knew that Wilson would be here soon to take over. So far everything was going well on both sides of Meng's computer operation. The staff in the SFOB was caught up in the simulation they were playing; the ANGLER from the real FOB had told Meng that in the Far East the mission was proceeding without a hitch.

Meng shifted the FOB communications to his office and locked out the master console from his FOB program. He had just finished when Wilson strode up the center aisle of Tunnel 3.

"Everything going all right?"

Meng nodded. 'The team has infiltrated. The refuel ship is on course and on time. The exfil helicopters are ready." 

Wilson took Meng's place. "Anything I need to know about?" Meng shook his head. "No. I'll be in my office resting if you need me.

ORP, Operational Area Dustey, China Tuesday, 6 June, 2300 Zulu Wednesday, 7 June, 7:00 a.m. Local

Riley and Mitchell returned to the ORP, having left Chong and Hoffman at Dagger pulling surveillance. Their initial daylight look at the compound had confirmed everything the satellite imagery had told them: three cameras, an eight-foot fence topped with barbwire, and an inner T-field fence. It didn't appear to Riley that the compound was mined, but unless the surveillance could confirm that, they must assume that it was.

Chong and Hoffman would remain hidden near the target, switching on and off—one resting, the other pulling surveillance. Tomorrow morning, at 0600 local, Mitchell would send Smith and Riley up to confer with Hoffman to see if the plan had to be modified in any way, and to pick up the surveillance team's notes on security patrols and any other pertinent information.

Riley checked in with Lalli to see if he'd copied the transmission that should have been received an hour ago.

"Copied it five-by-five, Top. No problem. Here's the message, hot off the DMDG."

Riley took it over and handed it to Mitchell. While the captain decoded the message, Riley brewed up a cup of coffee for them, using his canteen cup and a heat tab.

Although they were only five hundred meters from the pipeline and six hundred meters from the service road, Riley felt they might as well have been miles from both. The vegetation was so thick they could hardly see twenty-five meters. The team's biggest concern was to prevent any loud noises. The odds were miniscule, in Riley's opinion, that someone would come wandering through the swamp and find the objective rally point. He had yet to see any sign of man, other than the pipe, in the immediate area.

The surveillance teams at the pipeline and pickup zone were in greater danger of being spotted. Both surveillance teams were emplaced well back in tree lines, and both had a small camouflage net they would string up and peer through to further conceal their positions.