Reflexive Fire - 01 (12 page)

   Luckily, Deckard had a few tricks up his sleeve.  A Gettysburg charge at a well dug in and defended enemy was the last thing on his mind.

   Unfortunately, none of that brass at Bagram Airbase had seen fit to enlighten him as to what the strategic value in all this was.  MIK and his Islamic Jihad Faction sometimes trained and communicated with the Taliban and Al Qaeda but was really just a band of smugglers and bandits financed by drug money and extortion rackets. 

   More like Al Capone and less like Osama Bin Laden.

   Pushing negative thoughts aside, he used his time to study the surrounding terrain, rethinking and revising the plan of attack.   

   Deckard was still examining the microterrain features when a hand came down on his shoulder.

   “Eh, boss,” Piet whispered.  “Got Second and Third stacked up below.”  The former Recce held one of Samruk's Remington bolt action rifles and wore the web gear he had made for a job in Angola years ago.

   “Good.  Get the platoon sergeants and advisers up here.”

   The South African disappeared below.

   A minute later Kurt, Chuck, Frank, Adam, and Richie, along with sergeants Alibek and Kanat, followed Piet up the ladder.

   “Here is the deal,” Deckard began.  “Frank.  Richie.  You guys are with me.  We continue the assault with First Platoon as planned.  The rest of you look here.”  He leaned over the edge of the roof and lit up the terrain with the IZLID, so they could all see with their night vision goggles.

   “I want the rest of you to infiltrate, following this microterrain feature,” Deckard continued, highlighting a washout divot in the ground with the infrared laser.  “You should be able to get down in that small wadi and follow it to the mountainside.  Once you are in position, we have Mendez with the mortar section start hanging rounds.

   “When you get a splash, that is the signal to assault.  First Platoon from below, Second and Third apply fire and maneuver tactics as you see fit, walking mortar fire in front of you.  Piet, you take your boys and position them wherever you can best support the assault.”

   “Any comments?”

   “Limit of advance?” Chuck asked.

   “Line of exploitation,” Piet corrected.

   “Same thing,” Deckard said.  “The bunker entrance.  I'll mark it as soon as we arrive.  Try not to get baited any further, use indirect fire instead.”

   “Got it.”

   “A little luck and the enemy will be so confused trying to fight in two directions at once that the assault will be over by the time they figure out how to react.  How long do you need to get into position?”

   “Three quarters of an hour,” Alibek said through his heavy accent.

   “That's when we initiate.  See you on the other side.”

   Rounding up the security element on the roof, Deckard and Alexander linked up with the rest of the platoon in the tunnel.  He had one eye fixated on his watch.  With the numbers ticking down, he picked up the pace, striding down the tunnel alongside the platoon sergeant. 

   Another seven hundred meters by his pace count, and the tunnel began to slant upwards.  They were getting close.  Deckard slowed down, now more wary of pressure plates and trip wires laid out as an early warning device.

   The floor continued to ramp up at an angle as the two point men tiptoed forward.  By nine hundred meters deep, the night vision tube was able to amplify a light source somewhere farther ahead.  At first it was just a pin prick of light, but it began to glow brighter as they closed the distance.  The escape tunnel came to an end at a stone wall, rocks piled one on top of the other leaving gaps between where the light showed through.

   Flipping up his NVGs, Deckard squinted his eyes looking through the cracks.  On the other side of the wall, he caught the silhouette of someone as they passed into a doorway.  Beyond the wall was another corridor, this one lit up by a series of naked light bulbs wired along the ceiling.  Entrances branched off the main corridor to other portions of the bunker.

   The objective itself was a piece of cake.  The Samruk commandos had been drilled over and over again on urban combat drills.  Clearing hallways and rooms was nearly second nature to them at this point.  The real problem would be breaching the wall in front of them.

   Deckard did some calculations in his head.  Taking the wall down manually would attract attention.  The narrow confines of the tunnel would be turned into a shooting gallery.  An explosive breach in the same narrow passage would probably kill them with over pressure.

   The Samruk commander looked down at his watch.

   Fuck.

   Fuck, we're cutting this close.

  
Staying low, the entire platoon moved like ducks in a row through the sandy bottom of the wadi.  Afghanistan's notoriously deadly terrain did little to dissuade the Central Asian mercenaries.  The Kazakhs didn't mind it at all, especially after being soaking wet and freezing in an underground passage.

   Adam looked up from his watch.

   They emptied out into a draw, leading right into the mountainside where the two platoons halted, looking a little confused at first.  The two platoon sergeants got to work getting squad leaders to rally the men and lead them up the military crest of the draw, preventing them from silhouetting themselves against the night sky.

   The former spy moved at the rear of the formation with Piet and his two snipers.  The South African scanned his surroundings until he found what he was looking for.  Tapping Adam on the shoulder, he pointed out a rocky outcropping to their flank that provided a field of fire over most of the mountainside.

   Adam nodded and Piet separated from the formation with his two snipers.  They would occupy the terrain feature to provide overwatch and precision fire when the time came.

   The Kazakhs suddenly stopped in their tracks, causing Adam to refocus his NVGs to see what was going on up front.  Now he saw what the problem was.  Kurt Jager had halted the formation.  Alibek was about to take them over the crest in a single file.

   The fact that Kurt spoke adequate Russian was nothing short of a miracle on this mission.  Adam could converse with Afghans fairly well but was completely lost with Kazakhs.

  
Scheisse.

  
Kurt looked up from his Omega watch and began giving orders under his breath.  If Alibek had led the troops forward in a single file, they could easily have been mowed down by a single machine gunner.  Having the entire formation execute a left face meant they would creep forward in a skirmish line to their assault positions.

   If they were compromised and made contact, they would now be much better situated to return fire and maneuver a flanking element, if need be.  Now on line and facing the objective, Kurt led the way as they crested over the ridge.  The Kazakh sergeants were talented, but the truth was that the entire unit was out of their element on an operation such as this.

   The former GSG-9 Counter-Terrorist stalked forward, attempting to keep a low profile against the moonlit sky.  Struggling not to kick loose any more rocks and debris then absolutely necessary, he still couldn't help but think they sounded like a herd of elephants.  Cresting a second spur that ran down off the side of the mountain, the enemy fighting positions were now in view, and within range of small arms fire.

   Giving the hand and arm signal to halt the troops, Kurt stopped the formation and brought Alibek up alongside him, pointing out enemy bunkers and mud huts sure to be occupied by guards.  A few words of Russian passed between the two soldiers before Alibek moved back among his men, positioning them behind proper cover and pointing out priority targets.

   Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned to see Kanat and Chuck moving both Weapons Squads with their PKM machine guns to the high ground in order to provide suppressive fire when things went hot.  Apparently Piet had already broken off from the main element to scout out his options.  Whatever the case Kurt trusted the judgment of a man who had been soldiering practically since he was born.

   Watching the machine gun teams get into the prone position behind their guns with assistant gunners alongside, Kurt knew they had to get set in place fast.  They were all running out of time.         

   Time and darkness.

   “I just want you to know that there is fuck all I can do about it,” Richie said, pointing a finger in his chest.  “I told you, you bloody Yank, this is shit det cord from India.”

   “It was all that was available on short notice,” Deckard hissed, trying not to raise his voice.  “You've improvised with worse in the past.”

   “I just want you to know whose fault this is when it all goes pear shaped.”

   “Hurry the fuck up and get it set.”

   Turning away from the breach point, Deckard walked down the line of Kazakhs stacked in the tunnel.  Three squads now broken down into six assault teams to clear rooms, weapons squad would secure the halls.  Simple, or so it seemed.

   “Frank?”

   “Yeah?”

   “Where is that field telephone?  I need to talk to Mendez.”

   Frank hooked a thumb back in the opposite direction down the tunnel.  “Back that way five hundred meters or so, I think,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

   “What the fuck?”

   “Shit, man, that spool only has so much wire.  We ran out, hooked up the phone, and left it there as the next best thing.”

   “Holy shit, you didn't feel it was pertinent to tell me that?”  This is like dealing with SEALs, Deckard thought.

   “Well, it is now.”

   “Alright, whatever, run down there and tell Mendez to fire on the target reference points in exactly seven minutes.”

   “Yes, Massa,” Frank answered, setting the timer on his watch.  “I'll stand by until he hangs the rounds then catch up with you.”

   “See you then.”

   Deckard walked away shaking his head.  This is the price you pay when SATCOM and FM radios are hopelessly back-ordered and you have to resort to World War Two era communications.