Battleline (2007) (10 page)

"Haul ass!"

The First Assault Section now began racing down the slope, able to hear the firing from the Brigands on the east side of the valley. The three M-60s under Chief Matt Gunnarson's command were sending well-directed swarms of bullets crisscrossing across the enemy site above where Cruiser and his men now continued their withdrawal. As soon as they were into the brush, the section split into a wider, more spaced-out formation. They zigzagged through the natural cover, being exposed for only brief instances to view from above.

UP in the Zaheya positions, Captain Naser Khadid personally directed the fire of his Imperial Lions Special Forces detachment. Their FA-MAS bullpups pumped out short automatic bursts in the direction of the fleeing attackers. They had no real targets other than quick glimpses of the scampering Americans, and tried to guess in which direction and how far the enemy was moving. Now the incoming fire swept over them along with some M-203 grenades that exploded just below the location, sending up shards of shrapnel and jagged hunks of rocks. The Iranians ducked under the roaring volleys of rifle and machine-gun bullets directed at them.

A few moments later, the fusillades lessened and the Iranians leaped to their feet to renew the fight. But the only thing they saw was the sight of the attackers entering the cover of their own positions after scrambling up the eastern slopes of the valley.

"Isteet shellik Kardaa!"
Khadid ordered. "Cease fire!" The first battle of the campaign was over, and one of their men had been killed.

CHAPTER
6

SEAL BASE CAMP

12 JUNE 0217 HOURS

PO2C Pech Pecheur checked his watch, noting he was two hours and seventeen minutes into the midwatch. The SEAL sighed inaudibly about having an hour and forty-three minutes to go until relieved. He stood in his fighting position, gazing out into no-man's-land, alert for possible attackers or infiltrators, his attention goaded by his impatience. The concealment in the area was pretty good, but didn't offer a lot of effective cover. Thorn bushes did nothing to stop flying bullets, though a few of the boulders were large enough to offer protection from artillery or mortar shells.

The Cajun grinned to himself, thinking it depended on which side of the big rock you were on, of course.

The flicker of movement was fleeting, but enough to snap him into a state of complete alertness.

"Watch it," he whispered over the LASH. "There's movement to the direct front of Two Sector." The assault teams were located by number from left to right, facing out in numerical order. Two Sector was the Second Team's position, and everyone else on watch knew exactly where to look.

"Roger," came back Jim Duncan's voice in Sector Three. "There's somebody out there."

Ensign Orlando Taylor was watch officer stationed just outside headquarters in a recently constructed OP. "Everybody keep your eyes open," he said, hoping something exciting would happen. Now and then fox and other animals scampered through the area, and a small deer had caused a general call to arms a couple of nights previously.

Suddenly a shot cracked from One Sector. "We got infiltrators!" Wally Halonen announced. He squeezed off a couple more rounds. "Two more of 'em!"

Now firing broke out from below the SEAL positions, the incoming slugs slapping into sandbags and zinging off rocks. The off-duty Brigands rushed from their section bunkers with M-16s and bandoliers. The firefight now built up into a crescendo of fusillades that raked across the entire defensive line from no-man's-land. The Brigands returned fire, with Chief Matt Gunnarson's three machine guns now joining in. Sparks flew off boulders, and the vegetation shuddered violently as hundreds of 5.56-and 7.62-millimeter rounds slapped rocks and buffeted the brush to the front of the Brigands.

ARSALAAN Sikes rose from a prone position and aimed his FA-MAS rifle upward at the American MLR. After kicking off a quick full-auto burst, he dropped back down. His Arab Storm Trooper detachment was spread out as skirmishers to his front, with Warrant Officer Shafaqat Hashiri in charge of the left flank, while the Brit commanded the right.

"Kammal hajam ala adi,"
he ordered over his LASH. "Continue the attack."

The Arabs used fire and maneuver as they advanced across the valley floor, one group covering each short rapid advance of another. Now that they had NVGs, they were able to carry on night operations as often as they wished. Most of the incoming fire from the American positions was proving harmless, but now and then the bullet strikes came close, bringing parts of the assault lines to a halt. Since it is in the nature of Arabs to babble excitedly in stressful and dangerous situations, Sikes Pasha had issued strict orders that squad leaders were the only ones allowed to use the LASH headsets. That way instructions could be easily given as the battle unfolded without being lost in vocal yammering. The conversation was mostly from Sikes Pasha as he directed the operation with the help of Hashiri.

LIEUTENANT Bill Brannigan crawled through the hole at the top of the headquarters bunker and positioned himself among the shrubs around the opening. He peered down at no-man's-land through his ATN night vision binoculars, moving from one spot to another as he visually scanned the area. The 5X magnification gave him a clear view of each part of terrain he wished to peruse.

Now and then the Skipper caught a brief glimpse of one of the enemy soldiers as he scampered from one position of cover to another. They were professional and skillful, their faces darkened and carrying only the French bullpup rifles and bandoliers of ammo. The Skipper also noted their night vision capability. It was obvious they were under close control, and all their movements were coordinated by a commander and/or subcommanders.

Brannigan started to give some fire direction orders over the LASH when he noted that the enemy was now withdrawing. He waited a moment before sighting a couple heading rearward, toward their own position. "The attackers are pulling back," he said. "Adjust your fire accordingly."

The SEALs responded by moving their volleys farther out, in an effort to catch the unseen foe during their retrograde movement.

SIKES was pleased with his men. No casualties had been reported, and the retirement maneuver was working well. It was obvious the Americans had detected the withdrawal because the incoming rounds were now hitting closer to the slopes beneath the Zaheya positions. But they weren't able to spot any clear targets to zero in on.

"La ajal,"
Sikes ordered.
"Ala malak!"
The Storm Troopers obeyed his instructions by slowing down and adopting a calculated deliberation in their maneuvering.

As the Arabs continued heading back, they were slowed a few times when sweeping gunfire came close to them, but they were able to pick up the pace when the heavy impacts of bullets danced away. Finally Sikes was satisfied he was close enough to the Zaheya defensive positions to call in the support fire from the machine guns and grenade launchers. This part of the attack had been planned carefully, with much discussion among him, Brigadier Khohollah, Captain Naser Khadid, and Captain Jamshid Komard.

"This is Sikes Pasha," he said in stumbling Farsi over the LASH.
"Shuru kardeed shellikee.
Open fire!"

Immediately the rapid "pow-pow-pow" of the trio of MG-3 machine guns at a collective 3,300 rounds per minute and the "chunk-a-chunk" of the 645 rounds per minute from the three LAG-40 grenade launchers sent sweeping salvos across the American positions. It was a combined barrage of 55 bullets and 11 grenades a second.

OVER in the SEALs' Third Section, the incoming machine-gun rounds pounded hell out of the sandbags, while three rapid grenade detonations tore others apart. Chad Murchison and J. T. Snooker were stunned by the concussion of the explosions, but quickly reacted. They bailed out of their fighting positions and sprinted toward the bunker, diving over the sandbags into the interior. They quickly whipped around to cover their area of fire responsibility from this position, although their angle of fire was drastically cut. But with their cover blown away, they had no choice.

More pounding from the enemy worked its way from both north to south and south to north along the entire American front. The rapidity of the grenade strikes was a nasty surprise, as was the fact that three more fighting positions had been blown to hell in a very short time. Once again several SEALs had to abandon their posts and head for the safety of the bunkers.

The Skipper, still on top of the mountain observing the battle, watched in dismay as the attackers scurried up the slopes to their fortress and disappeared over the defenses to the protection of their trenches. The enemy's heavy covering fire had prevented the Brigands from turning the salvos onto the enemy as they clambered to safety.

The incoming enemy fire suddenly ceased, leaving an eerie silence over the scene.

Brannigan crawled back to the hole and slid in, quickly going down the ladder into the Headquarters bunker. He went outside to check the condition of the detachment personnel and defenses. He gazed around through his NVGs, noting where several fighting positions had been completely destroyed. The sandbags were split and scattered around the immediate area, and the stone walls had been blown apart or had collapsed.

Then Jim Cruiser's voice came over the LASH. "Skipper, we have a KIA here in the First Section. It's Halonen."

"And I have a WIA in the Second, sir," said Orlando Taylor, joining in. "MacTavish has taken some hits in the face with shrapnel. He's pretty dazed. I dispatched Bernardi to help him over to the corpsman."

"Okay," Brannigan said. "MacTavish is your SAW gunner, isn't he?"

"Affirmative, sir."

Doc Bradley came over the air. "I'm on my way back to headquarters to look after MacTavish."

"He and Bernardi are here now," the Skipper said. "They're just walking up." He turned to the two SEALs. "Go on to Doc Bradley's place. How're you feeling, MacTavish?"

"I'm alright, sir," he replied in his North Carolina accent. "I just got some scratches, so I'll be fine directly."

"I'm sure you will," Brannigan said with an encouraging grin. But he noted MacTavish was pretty unsteady on his feet, even with Bernardi's help.

Doc Bradley and Frank Gomez came in together from their shared fighting position. Brannigan nodded to Doc. "Bernardi took MacTavish into that clinic of yours."

"On my way, sir," the hospital corpsman said.

Frank Gomez said, "We had some direct hits on several of the fighting positions, sir.

It looks like we'll be doing some rebuilding."

"That goes without saying," Brannigan said. "You might as well go back to your position until daylight. I want a hundred percent alert until the sun comes up. Then get back here--I'll have some transmissions ready for you. We'll have Halonen flown out. And we might have a medevac for MacTavish."

Bernardi reappeared from Doc Bradley's clinic, hurrying as he left the bunker to rejoin the Second Assault Section. Brannigan looked out over no-man's-land at the enemy positions. They seemed abandoned in the weird view provided by his NVGs. He took the binocular and made a slow sweep of the place. The Iranians and their Arab buddies were staying under cover. He replaced the device in its case, speaking into the LASH. "Section commanders, report!"

"First Section one man KIA, sir."