First Salvo (6 page)
The depleted squadron was attacked two more times as it retreated downriver. The final firefight sank Nelson’s boat. The five men, injured now, were the only ones to survive. Somehow each helped the other through a week in the jungle. When Pratt could go no farther, Cobb and Nelson continued ahead and located a friendly village. Two days later they were rescued.
There was only one other event, a tragic one, that had united them even more. Henry Cobb had fallen in love with a Vietnamese girl. Unfortunately, they would later learn, she had once worked for the Viet Cong. She tried to escape them when she married Cobb. When the VC tortured her to death for falling in love with an American, they took turns caring for Cobb until he got hold of himself. Then, when they were sure he was once again himself, Ryng had gone with Cobb to where the girl’s VC cell was located. The Saigon police counted twenty-two bodies the next day. After that, those in the group never mentioned her again, and Cobb never again, to their knowledge, became involved with a woman. It was his way.
At two p.m. the tray of sandwiches Pratt had ordered beforehand appeared. Half an hour later, Admiral Pratt called for his car to take four of them out to Andrews to catch their flight to Europe. Ryng would travel separately with his own team.
They shook hands on the steps near the front entrance of the hotel, knowing it might be years before they found themselves in the same town again. Admiral Pratt’s car arrived, then went to wait discreetly at the corner, a hundred feet from the hotel’s front door. The driver, a young sailor immaculate in fresh whites, stood patiently beside the vehicle.
Ryng was the only one who saw a delivery truck change lanes too quickly. It was then hit from the rear and knocked toward Pratt’s car. The best Ryng could tell, the driver of the delivery truck probably stepped on the gas rather than the brake. It hit the Navy vehicle with tremendous force.
The explosion that followed was incredible, the thunderclap literally knocking the wind out of Ryng as he sprawled backward. Carleton landed heavily on top of him. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryng saw the automobile burst upward in sections. The bomb must have been directly underneath it. The gas tanks on both vehicles blew, spewing flames in all directions.
The carnage spread across K Street. Bodies and parts of bodies littered the street and sidewalks, some cloaked in burning gasoline. For a hundred feet in every direction people had been knocked off their feet. The glass was blown out of every building within his sight. And as Ryng knew would happen, the deathly silence that follows such a blast was pierced by the hysterical screams of the injured and the pitter-patter of small, gruesome objects falling around them like raindrops.
In a moment, Ryng and Carleton were on their feet, ahead of Pratt and the other two. None had been close enough to be hurt by the blast.
As Hank Cobb approached the scene, he simply nodded, never looking to either side as he strolled nearer. The bomb was a big, sloppy one. The word must have gotten out that Admiral Pratt was the boss. More than likely it was set for a time when Pratt would be well on his way to Andrews. Instead, it reacted to the impact of the delivery van. Cobb looked at the bodies sprawled all over K Street.
Time to get on with my own work
, he thought.
I’d better get my ass out of here before anyone else gets hurt
.
D MINUS 3
W
hile Pratt was en route to Naples, the Turkish offensive reached a stalemate. Counterattacks by the Greek air force in the western half of Turkey offset further strikes against Greek military bases. The sinking of two Turkish troop transports off Cape Sounion countered an invasion force assumed to be headed for Piraeus.
While the public was distracted by the Greco-Turkish war, the activation of twenty-two reserve divisions in the western sector of the Soviet Union neared completion, with fourteen of those already in transit to the west. Though these reserves remained approximately fifty percent short of combat supplies, control of truck and rail systems was assumed by the military, confirming an earlier CIA release that most, if not all, of the Warsaw Pact nations had been placed under martial law.
The movement of shock divisions toward the west continued, following a north-south orientation directed primarily for the Federal Republic of Germany via Poland, East Germany, and Czechoslovakia. In concert, there was also a push south from Hungary, Rumania, and Bulgaria toward the Mediterranean. Moscow confirmed major exercises in these areas, claiming they were previously announced, ostensibly to test her satellite countries under such an emergency. The UN Security Council requested permission to send observers, but were answered with silence from Moscow.
Though subject to UN censure as a result of the previous day’s Security Council ruling, Soviet vessels in the Sea of Japan continued to harass U.S. naval units, and at least one Japanese destroyer reported damage under similar circumstances.
While it was rare that the Soviet Navy would have more than one-third of their offensive units at sea at a given time, more than sixty percent of their Pacific Fleet conducted exercises in the Sea of Japan, extending the length of the Japanese islands. Similar exercises were also conducted by their Baltic Fleet within the confines of that sea. In the Northern Fleet, satellite reconnaissance showed that all but two submarines were under way. Since eighty to ninety percent of Soviet submarines were normally in port at any given time, this confirmed that not only did the Russians plan to reinforce the Fifth Escadra in the Mediterranean, but they likely were massing to cut off the vital supply routes to Europe.
Based on U.S. satellite recon the previous day, the Norwegian government now officially requested assistance from the United States to investigate the silence from their territory of Svalbard. Timing on the part of American intelligence had been critical, for if Norway had remained silent, the U.S. would have had to request permission to insert its SEAL team. Satellite photos revealed 1) little normal activity around the Norwegian settlement of Longyearbyen; 2) increased activity by Aeroflot at the Longyearbyen airport; 3) the supply ship with unknown deck cargo tracked from Murmansk was photographed anchored off Barentsburg, the major Soviet settlement on Spitzbergen.
A major resurgence of terrorist activities, coupled with leftist antiwar-antinuclear demonstrations, began to occur as predicted. Rioting broke out toward the end of the workday on D minus 5 in Tokyo, creating massive transportation jams. One of the consequences was that Japanese industry was brought to a standstill on ensuing days. Leftist organizations limited or halted all international transportation to and from Japan. Assessments at that time indicated that successful confrontation by these leftist groups could have brought down the government within three days. CIA contacts in most countries indicated that terrorist schools in Havana, Moscow, Libya, Pajkow in East Germany, Ostrava in Czechoslovakia, and Simferopol in the Crimea had apparently exported their student bodies by D minus 6. Reports of these terrorists surfacing in various underground cells in West Germany, France, Belgium, Italy, the Netherlands, the Scandinavian countries, and Japan were confirmed by D minus 4. A concentration of females from these schools in critical capital cities indicated an effort to subvert high-government officials.
Insertion of terrorists on a major scale was a tactic that had concerned European defense chiefs during a meeting in Brussels the previous year. It was projected that about five days before launching an attack against the West, the Soviet Union might utilize this method to create civilian dissension, weaken government authority to call up reserve military units, and instill anti-American feelings in both the NATO countries and Japan. Combined with KGB disinformation campaigns, the tactic was highly successful. To counter this, the following units were alerted: British SAS, West Germany’s GSG-9, Israel’s GIRU 269, France’s Gigene, Italy’s SAST, Spain’s GEO, and all of the Netherlands’ marine corps spec units.
Six new satellites were also launched in the preceding forty-eight hours from remote bases in the Soviet Union. Four were identified as ASAT (antisatellite) units, each one settling in close proximity to U.S. reconnaissance satellite orbits.
WITH THE SEAL TEAM
“W
ouldn’t be without him.” There was one man Bernie Ryng trusted over all others when he was sent out—Lieutenant Harry Winters. Harry was Ryng’s protégé, if such a thing could be said to exist in their murky world. He was a mustang, a former enlisted man who had finally accepted a commission, and the only reason Winters ever accepted it was so that he could stick with Bernie Ryng. Ashore, they went their own way, but on any kind of mission, they were inseparable. They worked perfectly as a twosome, and when a larger group was needed, Winters always took charge of the other half of the SEAL team. Ryng could have had any executive officer he wanted. The volunteers were waiting in line. But Harry Winters was always there to lead men and deliver when the going got rough. Bernie wouldn’t go without him.
The initial leg of Ryng’s flight was to Gander, Newfoundland, to join up with Winters, who had brought the team there the day before with all the gear Ryng had requisitioned. Forty-five minutes later, they were airborne, this time for Reykjavik. After refueling, they headed up north, hugging the coast of Greenland.
When Svalbard was a thousand miles off the starboard wing, they turned due east. Leveling off below radar-acquisition level, they tracked on a homing signal from a trawler fifty miles off the island’s west coast. It not only looked like a fishing boat, it was even experiencing a successful catch. Manned by the Norwegian navy, she was one of the small fleet maintained in that area for just such an emergency.
Ryng could sleep anywhere. Lieutenant Winters woke him an hour before arrival. There was just enough time to pull on wet suits. Watertight equipment packs were pushed out the cargo door, parachutes opening automatically as each cleared the craft.
With the deafening howl of engines and wind rushing by outside, there was never a reason for the eight men to communicate verbally. Anything important could be expressed by a tap on the shoulder, a soft jab in the ribs, a hand touching either side of the head—the silent language of men who trusted and depended on each other.
The green light above the door flicked on. Now it was their turn! Harry Winters, always the first out, stepped to the hatch, flashed his customary V sign, and was gone. Tradition was vital on this team; many in special operations become superstitious the longer they survive and Winters had given the victory sign in that same manner since the first day they had jumped as a team.
Martin Gable was next. He considered it his duty to give Winters, his underwater demolitions partner, a slap on the butt as the lead man jumped. Harry would always claim that Gable’s “love pat,” as he called it, reminded him to start breathing after his parachute opened. Gable flashed his usual smile at Mel Harper, his white teeth setting off his black face, and he was gone. Harper and Gable were demolitions experts whom Ryng had selected years before when he was instructing. Mel was short, Gable tall, and they became Mutt and Jeff to the team. Louie Chamas, radioman, corpsman, and language expert, followed after doing his version of the two-step, for luck, before he exited.
The team chief, Denny Bush, waved his arms to catch Ryng’s attention. On the ground he was the team clown, able to imitate with precision every admiral they had ever come in contact with. Now, as Bernie Ryng watched with amusement, Denny pointed outside, then back to his chest, as if to inquire if he was next. Ryng had seen this before and nodded his head, pointing to the hatch. Denny looked out, shook his head, and backed away slightly; then he went through the same exercise again, this time with a smile, ending by pinching his nose as he went through the hatch like a kid jumping off a log into the water. His partner, Wally, followed without hesitation. Always the perfectionist, Wally did everything automatically. A former Marine, he’d transferred to the SEALs because he knew they were involved in covert operations and he couldn’t imagine a military career without action. When he asked Ryng if he could join the team, he explained that he was not the type who could wait for someone to declare war. During his entire career, he had never been wounded, not even cut or bruised during training. He was the iron man.
Ryng’s technical specialist and small arms expert, Rick Carpenter, was second to last. Once again, tradition took over as he turned to Bernie Ryng and saluted with his left hand. Denny Bush had decided that the last man to see their leader alive before they rejoined on the ground should always proffer the left-handed salute, “to let Bernie know we care,” he had explained with a laugh.
Bernie Ryng never looked about the fuselage for anything left behind. None of these men had ever made a mistake since the team was formed. He moved up to the position Rick had just vacated, grinning inwardly as he always did at the left-handed salute, and jumped after a silent, automatic count.
The fishing boat they made contact with took them around the north tip of Prince Charles Island, a long, narrow strip of land just off the main island of Spitzbergen. The little island served as a good decoy. They ran south down the narrow channel toward the main harbor. There was little chance of running into any humans along that deserted coast, nor was there any radar.
The two main settlements on Spitzbergen bordered the harbor that cut well into the mountains, which rose fjord-like on the southwest side of the island. Four months of the year, they were snow free because of the warm current that passed within a couple of hundred miles. The nearby current also thawed the tundra enough to make it almost impassably boggy.
The Russians lived in the first community, Barentsburg, situated at the widest part of the harbor near the entrance. The supply ship that had left Murmansk the week before was anchored off the town. About twenty miles farther into the harbor was the Norwegian settlement of Longyearbyen, which included the airport used by both groups.