Combat Alley (2007) (20 page)

Ensign Orlando Taylor, commander of the Second Assault Section to which the Delta Fire Team belonged, spoke up. Sir, they have MacTavish and his SAW with 'em.

There's one plus at least, Brannigan said. As soon as the horses are ready I want you to have every man cram all the ammo he can into his combat vest and grab his weapon. I'll see that Doc Bradley brings his medical kit. We have about an hour of hard riding to get there. Move out! He turned to Senior Chief Buford Dawkins and Frank Gomez, the RTO. Senior Chief, you stay back to take care of the home front. Have Gomez by the Shadowfire to relay any commo we might have for Shelor Field or General Leroux.

Dirk Wallenger, trailed by his faithful cameraman, Eddie Krafton, had heard the commotion and came running from where the newsmen had been taping some ongoing commentary for sound bites. Bill! he hollered out. What's going on? Is it alright if Eddie and I come along?

Sorry, no, Brannigan said, checking his combat vest. You'll have to stay here. No time to talk about it.

Wallenger knew better than to argue or try any cute tricks, and he remained quiet as he watched the organized commotion rattling on around them. In spite of the mixing of sections and fire teams, the detachment managed to maintain unit integrity as they rushed through the preparatory activities prior to the rescue attempt.

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BATTLESITE

AKALI and his men were forced to stay on the east side of the gully into which the SEALs had ridden. In order to deploy any men on the other side, the bandit chief would have had to delay his pursuit while they rode a couple of kilometers back to where it was possible to cross over to the west.

The Tajiks had no idea where the Americans might be in the ravine, and the only way to find out was to send a couple of men to draw fire. Akali was not about to risk any of his better men for the dangerous task, so he called out for two guys named Jugil and Imoxra. Jugil was a fully qualified village idiot while Imoxra's IQ would be sorely pressed to measure up to the mental capacity of a sand flea. The two came forward, halting next to their chief.

Gardonho! he said, getting their attention. We must find out where the Americans have stopped. Ride the length of the gully until you see them. Then come back and tell me where they are.

What if they see us first? Jugil asked in a rare moment of perception. They might shoot at us.

If they do, just duck your heads, Akali advised. Then ride back here and tell us where they are.

Jugil glanced over at his pal Imoxra. Do you understand? If the Americans shoot at us, we must duck our heads.

That is a good idea, Imoxra replied agreeably. Then a thought occurred to him. But what if their bullets strike us?

Do not worry about that, Akali said. If the Americans shoot you, we will hear them and know where they are. We will go there and kill them.

Yes, Chief, Jugil said. That is a fine plan. He gestured to Imoxra. Let us go quickly.

Akali shook his head in dismay as the two dimwits headed down the gully, breaking into a gallop.

CONNIE Concord and Arnie Bernardi had found an excellent firing position along the top of the ravine. They had good footholds on a small ledge and were both able to see clearly in the direction the attackers would be coming from.

The two SEALs discerned the sound of galloping hooves before a pair of riders came into view. The enemy rode directly toward them, about ten meters out from the gully. I'll take the one on the left, Connie spoke in a whisper. He and Arnie aimed carefully, and it was Arnie who fired the first round while Connie acted a split second later. The first man jerked backward in his saddle, caught his balance for a couple of seconds, then fell from his saddle. The second took a solid strike in the chest that hit so hard his hands flew up in the air as he tumbled backward over his horse's rump.

Those were recon! Connie said in the LASH. The others will be here real quick. Ever'body get ready!

AKALI, with Buxari staying beside him, responded to the sound of shooting by signaling the ten surviving bandits forward. They charged blindly toward the Americans, not knowing if they were in the gully or out in the open. Sudden fusillades of three-round semiautomatic fire plowed into the group, knocking three down. The others spun around and headed back where they had come from. But before they could get out of range, two more were hit, unhorsed by strikes of the bullets.

GUY Devereaux and Doug MacTavish could see plainly that there was no attack on the west side of the defensive position where they were located. They quickly scampered across to join Connie and Arnie.

How many of them do you think there are? Connie asked.

I couldn't tell, Arnie replied. Our view is too constrained from here. We'd have to climb out of here to see more. But there didn't seem to be a lot of 'em.

Maybe there's a bigger bunch coming up, Doug suggested, arranging his magazines around him within easy reach.

THE blasts of firing had ended abruptly, but Lieutenant Bill Brannigan was going to assume the worst-case scenario as he led the column of twos toward the fight. Because of the map coordinates Connie had transmitted, the Skipper knew the exact location where Delta Fire Team was holed up. He spoke into the LASH as they drew closer to the objective. Follow my orders. We're going to make an old-fashioned cavalry charge. I didn't hear any heavy machine guns or mortars, so I'm going to assume this is a small-arms battle. We'll go in with pistols, but be ready to dismount and go to rifle fire if we have to.

The SEALs loosened their M16s in the saddle scabbards, then pulled the Beretta automatics from their holsters, locked and loaded with one round in the chambers.

Column left, march! Brannigan said.

The formation made a left turn, following the leaders around in that direction. They were now parallel to the battle.

By the right flank, march!

Everyone swung directly to the right, forming into a single line of mounted skirmishers facing straight at the battlesite.

At a gallop, charge! Brannigan said, grinning slightly to himself as he thought that John Wayne would be proud of him. The SEALs instinctively cheered amid the thunder of hooves across the rigid ground.

The only thing lacking was a bugle call.

AKALI, with his best friend, Buxari, at his side, had turned the five surviving bandits around and ordered them forward into the attack once again. The chief and subchief were at the rear of the formation, as the charge gained speed. After going fifteen meters, Akali and Buxari made an abrupt turn to the rear to gallop for their lives, leaving their men to fend for themselves.

THE Skipper was the first to fire into the five horsemen coming toward them. In an instant the other eighteen SEALs joined in, the sounds of the pistols barely audible in the noise of the galloping horses. It was impossible to aim effectively while bouncing in the saddle, but the volume of bullets was concentrated at a small compact group of the enemy. Two fell to the side as they twisted from their saddles, a single man pitched over his horse's head. In only a moment last two took hits and hit the ground bouncing and rolling.

Off in the distance, too far away to catch now, two other riders could be seen making a successful escape. Brannigan ordered a halt, bringing the charge to a close next to where Delta Fire Team had crawled up out of the ravine. Connie Concord yelled, We've got a wounded man. Chad is down there in the bottom of the gully!

Doc Bradley leaped from the saddle, grabbing his medical kit as he ran over to the edge of the high ground. He slid down to Chad, who was now moaning softly with pain. The hospital corpsman went to work, taking off the field dressing to inspect the wound. The Skipper scrambled down the earthen wall and joined him. How's it look, Doc?

Soft tissue wound, sir, Doc answered as he prepared a shot of morphine. Not too serious except it appears to involve leakage from intestines into the stomach cavity. That could cause toxic shock. We need a medevac, and we need it right here right now! We can't chance taking him back. He'd have to be moved too slowly. By the time we reached the bivouac, he'd be dead.

Damn! the Skipper said. He spoke into his LASH. Gomez, this is the Skipper! Get on the Shadowfire radio and call in a chopper to pick up Murchison immediately if not sooner. You know the coordinates. Out!

A few minutes later Connie Concord's face appeared over the top of the gully. The aircraft is on the way, sir.

Chapter 15

LOGOVISHCHYEH

ANDY Malachenko had been worried about not knowing the latest and trendiest slang expressions and colloquialisms of modern Russia. This seemingly minor detail could easily blow his cover, resulting in some very uncomfortable and fatal consequences. However, after the days he spent with his Russian companions, the SEAL discovered he was more up-to-date than they. Their long years of incarceration in Tajikistan had cut them off from the Motherland, and Andy had been more or less kept up-to-date from letters sent to his parents by relatives still living in Russia. His cover story was reinforced every time one of them asked what he meant by a remark or word he had employed in conversation. He was even able to tell some trendy jokes he had picked up in the correspondence from the old country.

However, Andy was becoming more and more impatient and frustrated with the passing of the days since he really didn't know what he was supposed to be looking for. In truth, his orders for the mission were ambiguous, leaving him to nose around until he found something relevant. The only information he had gleaned so far was that all these guys were former military convicts which was pretty well known already and they were in cahoots with a crime syndicate operation out of Khorugh. This was also information in the current files. The big boss's name was Aleksander Akloschenko, whose main man was Pavel Marvesky. Maybe the headquarters weenies didn't know about them, but their names didn't seem important to Andy. The Russians wanted to take over the opium harvests in Afghanistan, but who really cared? The word was to leave the farmers alone and let them grow their crops in peace. What difference could it possibly make if the poppy gum was smuggled out by Russian gangsters, the Sicilian Mafia, or any other crime cartel?

Andy figured the best thing he could do was to continue to play it by ear until he came across something that would seem important to SPECWARCOM or some other staff entity in the perplexing and convoluted world of command headquarters.

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THE KANGAL MOUNTAINS

9 NOVEMBER

0915 HOURS

THE sun was up just above the eastern mountain peaks, but was too weak to radiate any warmth into the chilly air. Andy Malachenko, mounted on one of the horses from the communal stables, huddled in his parka as the animal's hooves clacked over the icy glaze of the rocky path he was following.

If he wasn't gathering much intelligence, the SEAL figured the next best thing would be to plan ahead in case he would have to make a sudden exit from the present scene. Whether it be to get back with some timely information or to haul ass to safety, it would be a good idea to pick out the best route before it was really needed.

The main road out of Logovishchyeh led down to the town of Dolirod, and from there out to the highway. Obviously if he had a hundred or so pissed-off Russian gangsters after him that would not be a prudent route to follow. His self-appointed mission that day was to find a quick way out of the Kangal Mountains, down to the Pranistay Steppes while avoiding built-up areas. He rode slowly along, scanning the ground and the surrounding hillsides to see if there was a hidden pass or ravine that would allow access to the lowlands.

The chill seeped through his clothing and he had to wiggle his toes in the stirrups to keep them from growing numb during the ride. A couple of times, when his feet had begun to feel like dead lumps, he had gotten off and walked to get the circulation in his lower extremities back to normal. He knew he was descended from ancestors who had endured eons of murderous cold, but sometimes it got the best of him. The one thing he liked about Southern California was that he didn't have to wear a lot of clothing. Even in the winter months of January and February, a light sweater would suffice to keep a guy comfortable, and there never was any use for gloves.

The trail he spotted was not exactly that. Instead of being a path, it was no more than an elongated rock formation that led downward from a stand of boulders. Andy urged the horse over to the spot, then pulled the reins to get the animal moving downward with the natural slope of the terrain. As he progressed toward the lower altitudes, the SEAL grew more confident even though the trail narrowed into a ledge in a couple of places that was barely wide enough for the horse. Finally he reined in when he reached a spot where he could gaze out at the steppes through a cut in the mountains. From that point on, the slope gentled out enough that he could gallop all the way down at top speed if he had to.