Gray Resurrection (14 page)

“Why?” Grant asked.  “He was told
that an attack was imminent and he ignored the warning.  Even if you don’t
think a threat is credible you prepare for it, you don’t order all of your
troops off base.”

“Yeah, it’s the Colonel’s problem now,”
Len said.

“It will soon be our problem,” Keane
said.  “Callinag wants to hit them at first light, which is why he wasn’t
happy with us disappearing like we did.”

“How long does that give us?” Sonny
asked, and was told they had a little over four hours.

“There must be about a hundred Abu
Sayyaf hightailing it back to their camp right now,” Harrison said.  “If
we can get on their tail we should be able to take a few out.”

“We could,” Len agreed, “but that might
alert them to our presence.  I say we let them get back, let the adrenalin
wear off and take them while they sleep.”

Jones asked what they would do if they
weren’t in a hurry to get back and a quick discussion on possible scenarios
took place.  Grant asked for a map of the area and wanted to know the likely
route Abu Sayyaf would take during their retreat.

“If we stay on this track, are we likely
to run into them?” he asked.

“Not for some time, if they take the
shortest way home,” Garcia told him, indicating the markings on his map. 
“There is a network of tracks throughout the area, and they are most likely to
follow this route.”

He traced a line from the airstrip to
the top of Hill 178, and then drew another from their current location to the
same destination point.

“We remain roughly seven hundred metres
from them until we get to this point.”  He indicated a spot a kilometre
from the terrorist camp, and Grant could see the two tracks converging. 

“I say we get a sprint on and get there
first.  The fewer people in the camp, the better our chances of securing
the hostages.”

With everyone in agreement they divided
up the ammunition, checked their pockets and pouches to make sure they didn’t
rattle as they ran, and then set off at a shade over jogging pace.  The
dirt track soon gave way to denser jungle and what was once a clear path became
nothing more than a narrow channel through the undergrowth.  The sound of
fixed-wing fighters could be heard overhead and Grant hoped they’d been
informed about the hostages plus the fact that friendly forces were in the
area.  If they hadn’t, it could turn very hot, very quickly.

The Americans, being familiar with the
route, each took a turn on point, remaining a hundred yards ahead of the
others.  They would stop at regular intervals to switch point man and
listen for any sign of the enemy, but the first leg of their journey went
without incident.

After an hour and a half they reached
the spot where they would begin to close on the enemy and Grant suggested a
two-man patrol take the NVGs and scout the area ahead.  While they did, he
and the others took the opportunity to catch their breath.  Although he’d
been fit for most of his life, a ninety minute run through the jungle in
oppressive heat was taxing enough for anyone, and he was glad to see he wasn’t
the only one suffering.

He brushed aside some dead leaves and
used a stick to draw in the soft earth. 

“As I remember it, the camp is circular,
roughly seventy yards across.  The perimeter is lined with trees and there
are more trees dotted throughout which they use to rig their hammocks. 
The hostages were being held over here but that may have changed.

“At the back of the camp the hill
continues on to the summit, so we should be able to approach from these three
sides.”  He used the stick to indicate possible entry routes.

Sonny and Shaw returned after twenty
minutes, and the news was both good and bad.

“There isn’t a lot of sound coming from
the area, which suggests they aren’t back yet, but those who stayed behind are
nicely dug in.  There’s a track leading up to the camp and we saw movement
from a couple of fox holes either side of it.  If we go in that way we’ll
be torn apart.”

“We could try skirting to the left or
right of the track and get to the camp that way,” Len said, but Sonny explained
that they had tried that and spotted another fox hole not far from the first.

“My bet is that they have a ring all the
way around the camp,” he said, although he admitted that they hadn’t had time
to verify it.

“Are they two up in each hole?”

“It looks like just one,” Shaw
said.  “I would have expected two, but maybe they sent the majority of
their people on the assault.”

Grant was acutely aware that time was
short, and they had to make a decision. 

“We can’t hang around forever. 
Their wounded might be slowing them up but that doesn’t mean we have all
night.  I say we clear those two holes, go straight up the middle and
surprise the hell out of anyone still in the camp.”

He waited for dissenters but there were
none.

“Okay.  Sonny, how close do you
think you can get to them?”

“We can get to within fifty yards
easily.  Any closer and we risk detection.”

Grant asked who was comfortable with a
head shot from that distance and two of the Americans declared it an easy take
down.

“Ever use the MP5 before?” he asked
them.  They had in fact used the naval variant, so they were given the
task of clearing the way. 

“Once the track is open I need you to
get as close to the camp as possible and report numbers and locations. 
We’ll be right behind you and when we know where the x-rays are we split into
two-man teams.”

He paired everyone up, with Len and
Sonny working together while he would accompany Evans.

“We need to keep this as quiet as
possible, otherwise we’ll have them crawling out of their holes and they’ll be
coming at us from all sides.  Once it goes noisy get those NVGs off
straight away because I’ll be popping flares.  Hopefully it won’t come to
that: I’d much rather cure their SBA while they’re sleeping.”

“SBA?” Harrison asked, puzzled.

Sonny smiled.  “Still Being Alive.”

Shaw and Garcia took the NVGs and
silenced weapons and made their way to their positions.  The area ahead of
them was bathed in a sea of light-green twilight as the optical core of the
NVGs magnified the light from the barely-visible quarter moon and allowed them
to see distinct shapes impossible to distinguish with the naked eye.

“When you get into position and have a
target, send me two clicks,” Garcia whispered.  “I’ll respond with the same
when I’m eyes-on.”

They split up, one either side of the
dirt track leading up to the plateau.  On their bellies they crawled
towards their targets, ever mindful to clear away any fallen twigs or dry
leaves that could create noise and give their location away.  This
cautious approach meant it was six minutes before they were on target.

 Shaw brought up his weapon and
trained it on the figure beneath the canopy and sent the signal to his
sergeant, getting two clicks in reply.  There wasn’t a lot to aim at through
the eight-inch gap, especially as he could only see the top half of the head,
but as a former marine he knew how to shoot.  All marines needed to attain
the rank of marksman, the lowest grade required to exit initial training. 
Shaw had not only beaten the minimum required score but also exceeded that
needed to earn the sharpshooter badge, his skills giving him the honour of
being called an expert.  He saw the current shot, a four-inch target from
fifty metres, about as difficult as hitting a buffalo’s ass with a banjo,
especially as the fool thought it a brilliant idea to smoke while on
lookout.  He was lit up like a Christmas tree, just inviting a bullet.

Shaw was happy to oblige.

Five seconds later his night sights
showed a puff of green exit the back of the head and he signalled the kill to
Garcia, who responded in kind a few seconds later.  They waited to see if
the alarm had been raised but they heard nothing to suggest they had given the
game away.

“Clear,” Garcia said into his comms
unit, and the others moved up cautiously to join them.  By the time Grant
arrived Shaw was already approaching the camp.  Keeping his head just
below the edge of the plateau he manoeuvred towards a tree and used it to hide
half of his profile as he slowly rose to view the scene. He took six seconds to
take in the details before slowly drawing back, making no sudden movements
likely to draw him to anyone’s attention.

Garcia watched as Shaw relayed the
details and as he had the only other pair of NVGs he translated the signals for
the others.  With the camp being circular, Shaw represented positions
analogous to a clock face.

“Hostages are at the four o’clock, ten
metres in, two guards on them.  Five more in the centre of the camp,
talking around a fire.  Between eight and ten o’clock there are seven or
eight sleeping.  Three sleeping at one o’clock, and four more sleeping at
three o’clock.

“There’s a mini-gun fifteen metres in,
and it’s pointing towards the track, two up.”

“Any sign of Mansour?” Grant
asked.  Garcia relayed the question over the net but the response from
Shaw was a shrug of the shoulders.

Twenty four targets didn’t represent a
massive force, but with almost half of them awake it was going to get noisy a
lot earlier than Grant wanted.  The obvious first targets were the guards
on the hostages and the two manning the Dillon, a thought he shared with the
others.

“Agreed,” Garcia said.  He hit the
throat mike so that Shaw could hear his instructions.  “I’ll take the two
on the hostages and Shaw can take out the mini-gun.  After that we both go
for the five in the middle.  If we can take them down without waking the
others we’ll clear the rest.  If at any time the alert goes out, the rest
of you pick your targets.

“Grant and Evans, you go right. 
Baines and Smart go left.  I’ll take Harrison down the centre along with
Keane and Shaw.

“Any questions?”

There were none, just two clicks from
Shaw to acknowledge the instructions.

“Good luck, gentlemen.”

Chapter 13

Friday 20th
April 2012

The overriding principle behind any plan
is KISS: Keep It Simple, Stupid!  That was what Grant had always been
taught, and what they were about to attempt was as simple as they could make
it, under the circumstances.  As with any plan, there was always the
unexpected that simply couldn’t be factored in, and that was why the ability to
adapt instantly often meant the difference between death and survival.

Grant was less than ten seconds into his
latest mission when it all went to shit, and that ability kicked in.

Just as they entered the camp, a guard
left his defensive position and tracked along the side of the hill in search of
a cigarette from his friend in the adjacent hole.  Finding him with a
bullet in the forehead, he shouted a warning that brought everyone to their
feet.

With their cover blown, Shaw kicked off
the assault, taking out the two men who were readying the mini-gun.  As he
did so, Garcia dispatched one of the men guarding the hostages, but the other was
quicker to the danger and managed to duck down behind the prisoners.  He
raised his weapon and fired over the heads of the children in the direction of
the attackers, spraying bullets in a sweeping arc.

Grant shouted his own warning to those
wearing the NVGs and popped one of the flares, bathing the scene in an
artificial light which cast deep shadows and gave the camp an eerie
feeling.  With one eye closed to protect his own night vision he ran to
the right, firing as he went.  He managed one hit but the element of
surprise was lost and their targets had gone to ground.

He got to the tree line and popped a
smoke grenade, lobbing it beyond the group of hostages, then continued his run
to get round the back of them.  The remaining guard was lying on his back
and switching out magazines when Grant got to him, and he smashed the butt of
his rifle into his face, knocking the fight out of him.  Grant drew his
pistol, held it to the man’s forehead and grabbed him around the throat.

“Where is Mansour?” He screamed into the
bloodied face.  The reply was muted but he understood the single word: “
Wala
”

Mansour was gone.

Grant put a round between the man’s
eyes.

“Tom!”

Vick was on her feet and picking her way
through the crowd of children who were cowering on the ground, and the sight of
her made Grant hesitate for a second.  Despite her being his main reason
for taking part in the assault he was caught off guard and forgot himself for a
brief moment.  It was only the sensation of a bullet whizzing past his
head that shook him out of his reverie. 

“Get down!” he shouted, spinning towards
the trees.  Before the flare gave up the last of its light he saw figures
climbing the hill towards the camp, firing as they advanced.  Evans was
already engaging them and Grant joined in, pinning them down.  He grabbed
a fragmentation grenade and lobbed it towards them but instead of landing and
exploding it ricocheted off a rock and detonated harmlessly beyond them. 
Evans had more luck with his M203.  He aimed at the ground to the right of
a tree and the resulting blast dismembered the man standing behind it.

“We need to clear a path and get these
kids out of here,” Grant said into his mike.  It wasn’t quite a shout but
it conveyed the urgency of the moment.  He turned and sent another flare
rocketing towards the leafy canopy and as he did he saw a figure approaching
through the bank of smoke.  The Dillon, still on its tripod, was cradled
in his right arm, and he was dragging the belt-fed magazine behind him. 
Grant brought up his rifle and was a millisecond away from dropping him when
the smoke parted and he made out Harrison’s features.

With a huge grin that said: ‘I always
wanted one of these,’ he stopped at the top of the slope and let rip into the
jungle.  Smaller trees disintegrated as he swept the muzzle of the weapon
from side to side, and the incoming fire stopped abruptly as the attackers were
cut down.

“We have the kids and an exit,” Grant
said over the net.  “Everyone, on me!”

He screamed for the adults and children
to get down the hill, he and Evans urging them along with helpful shoves; in
the heat of battle, there just wasn’t time for niceties.

On the other side of the camp Len and
Sonny were being pinned down by fire from in front and from their left. 
Keane eased the pressure with a couple of well-aimed M203 rounds and was
readying a third when a bullet caught him in the chest and he fell backwards,
his gun slipping from his dead hands.

“Keane is down!” Shaw shouted, pouring
more fire onto the enemy.  A couple of grenades followed and the response
from the Filipinos dwindled, allowing them all the opportunity to crab their
way over to Grant.  More smoke grenades were thrown to mask their retreat
and soon the only gunfire came from the few remaining Abu Sayyaf, shooting blindly
into the haze in the futile hope of hitting targets long since out of their
line of sight.

Vick had assumed the lead and was
guiding the other hostages down the hill when Grant screamed for her to
stop.  He had come across one of the defensive positions and the plastic
triggers for the Claymore mines were all too familiar.  He called Sonny
over.

“Trace this to the mine and watch out
for trip wires.  We’ll take them with us, just in case.”

They slowly gathered the wire in as they
walked down the hill, keeping a keen eye out for signs that they were rigged to
explode automatically.

Shaw and Garcia had remained near the
top of the hill and as a couple of faces peered over the edge they did nothing,
in the hope of sucking more targets into their sights.  Unfortunately one
of the terrorists raised his weapon with the aim of hitting a fleeing figure
and both men were forced to open up, cutting him down.  They got a barrage
of incoming fire in return.  The shooters were lying flat inside the camp while
extending their arms over the edge and spraying lead indiscriminately. 
Fortunately their aim was too high to endanger life and Shaw sent a
fragmentation grenade arcing into their midst in order to silence them. 

The explosion brought an end to the
immediate battle.

 Grant and Sonny reached their
mines without killing themselves or anyone else and they deactivated their
respective devices.

“Take point,” Grant said to Garcia as he
joined up with them.  “We need to get these kids out of here before the
others turn up.”  He took a moment to get his bearings. “They’ll be coming
from the north, so we need to head west.  Are there any towns that way?”

“No, there’s nothing.  We’ll have
to track west and head north after a couple of clicks.  That’ll bring us
out near the airport and we should be able to avoid any contact.”

“Okay, you lead the way.”  Grant
called the men together and allocated their positions.  “Shaw, you stay on
our right flank and keep your eyes peeled.  Harrison, Evans, take the rear
and cover our retreat with the mini-gun.  The rest of us will help keep
the kids quiet.”

The adult hostages were having trouble
with this as most of them were as frightened as the children, but with Grant,
Sonny and Len there were now almost enough adults to take care of one child
each.  The men were assigned to the larger children, leaving the smaller
ones for the women just in case they had to carry them at any point.

One more adult would have been perfect,
but it took at least two people to carry the Dillon along with its magazine and
power unit.  Even with a quarter of its rounds expended, the entire unit
still weighed close to two hundred pounds.  

Grant gathered them all together and
explained the situation, choosing words he hoped the young ones would
understand.

“We’re taking you home to your parents
now, but there are some bad men looking for us, so we have to be very quiet.”

He was sure the pained expressions on
their faces were due to having this ugly foreigner address them, but Vick
leaned over and whispered in his ear. 

“They’re orphans.”

Grant let loose a quiet expletive. 
“Okay, then we’ll take you back to the orphanage.”

This didn’t go down well, either.

“It was run by one woman, Sister
Evangelina.  She was hacked to death in front of them.”

Of all the battles he’d taken part in,
Grant had a feeling this was one he was not going to win.

“You tell them,” he whispered
back.  “Just make sure they know to keep quiet.”

Vick had obviously gained their trust
during the short time they’d been together.  The children nodded, a few
smiling, when she explained that they were going to take them somewhere safe
and give them some hot food and a soft, comfortable bed.

“But you all have to stay close to your grown-up
and do as they say,” she emphasised, “and be very, very quiet.”

More nods, and she declared them ready
to go.  Grant sent Garcia on ahead and gave him a two minute start before
leading his charges into the darkness.  Daylight was still another two
hours away and their progress was slow to begin with.  The moon was
struggling to penetrate the treetops and what little light got through cast
shadows across their path, so they didn’t know if their feet were about to fall
on shade or a hole in the ground.

Garcia reported in every two minutes,
letting everyone know that he was still alive as well as reporting any hazards
or obstacles the kids might have trouble with.  For their part the
children behaved as well as Grant could have hoped, but their first challenge
lay just yards ahead.

He heard the river before he saw
it.  When he reached the bank he saw that it was at least twenty feet
across, and although the surface water wasn’t racing there was always the
undercurrent to consider.  Garcia was waiting for him.

“Should be fine for us to cross, but the
kids might find it more difficult.”

Grant agreed, and offered a
solution.  “Form a chain and help them across?”

“That works for me.  I’ll send
Harrison ten yards downstream, just in case one of them gets away from us.”

They explained the plan to the others,
who were much happier to have the help of the soldiers rather than make the
crossing by themselves.

Harrison set the mini-gun on its tripod
and walked a few yards down the bank, where he eased himself gingerly into the
river before wading out towards the centre.  By the time he reached the
halfway point it was lapping above his navel, which equated to neck-high for
the adult Filipino hostages, never mind the children.

Shaw remained in the trees, keeping an
eye out, while the other five men entered the water and formed a line from one
bank to the other.  Grant could feel the undercurrent constantly tugging
at his calves and knew it wouldn’t be long before they started to cramp up, so
he beckoned to the first person.

The Chinese male was the first across,
followed by his wife a minute later.  One by one they crossed the river
until there was just Vick and two of the children remaining. 

Shaw’s voice came over the radio. 
“We’ve got company.”

“Where and how close?”

“This side of the river, a hundred
metres and closing.  I see eight…no, make that twelve.”

Grant knew there wasn’t much time before
they were spotted, and he had to get the remaining people across.  He
urged Vick to send the next child over quickly, but his actions told her
something was wrong.  In a panic, she was a little too forceful with the
young girl and rather than guide her into the hands of Grant she virtually
pushed her into the river.  The girl lost her footing immediately and her
head went under the water, reappearing a few feet further downstream. 

“Help her!” Vick pleaded to
Harrison.  Everyone else held their breath, as if doing so might prevent
her cry from carrying to the enemy, but Shaw confirmed the worst.

“They heard us,” he said.  “Get
them across, I’ll cover you.”

He immediately began picking off the
targets one by one using the silenced weapon, but as each went down another two
seemed to appear from nowhere.  With their numbers swelling and their
advance quickening, they began returning fire in all directions, still not sure
where the attack was coming from.  They soon got an idea when Shaw
switched to the mini-gun and sent a six second burst in their direction. 
Over a dozen were killed and the rest hit the jungle floor seeking whatever
cover they could find.  A few had the nerve to return fire but their
vision was limited to a few feet and their bullets flew wildly.  Shaw
picked up on their muzzle flashes and began picking them off with the Dillon,
firing a short burst before shifting his aim and hitting them again, until
finally they got the message and held their fire.

Harrison had plucked the girl from the
current and carried her over to the far bank where she was reunited with the
others.  Vick, meanwhile, was shaken by the incident and Grant had to
climb out of the river to get the remaining child.  After passing her over
to Sonny he went back for Vick.