Echo Six: Black Ops 6 - Battle for Beirut (18 page)

"Get... The... Fuck... Into... The... Vault!"

Jensen stared at him for a few moments, his face white with anger, and then he turned on his heel and headed for the staircase. He almost reached it when the firing started again. Encouraged by the strike on the heavy oak doors, the Hezbollah fighters had begun to pepper the woodwork with gunfire, hoping for a lucky shot or a ricochet.

"Return fire," Talley shouted to his men, "We need to hold them off until the airstrike comes in."

Four men were firing single shots at the besiegers, and another half dozen joined them, spraying the hostiles with bullets to keep them away. The incoming fire slackened, and then Drew called in.

"Echo One, this is Echo Four. Patching you through to Admiral Brooks."

Before he could acknowledge, he heard the familiar voice.

"Talley. I hope you're serious about the Super Hornets. I had to go out on a limb for you, and if I can't make a good after-action case, we'll both wind up on the beach."

For a fleeting moment, he thought they still hadn't launched.

But Brooks won't let us down, no matter what it costs.

"You can tell them it's either that, or they'll be looking for replacements for this unit, and the UN will want a new Commissioner. What's their ETA?"

"The Carrier Group Admiral ordered a combat take off, so they'll be with you in about five minutes. They'll need accurate targeting information."

He explained about Alpha Six in position outside Masnaa with their laser target designators. "I'm in contact with Captain Best. He's waiting for the call."

"Just make sure he gives those FAGs everything they need."

"Copy that. And thanks, Admiral."

He smiled to himself. FAGs was Navy slang for F/A 18 pilots. Unfortunately, the word 'fag' had a quite different connotation, and not all of the fighter jocks were impressed.

Tough, the name’s become current currency, and they’re stuck with it.

He went to the window, and across the square he could see Hezbollah massing for a new attack. They'd brought up two light machine guns and were handing out RPGs amongst their men. It was going to be touch and go. Another voice came into his earpiece, the Super Hornets.

"Echo One, this is Charlie One, Commander Emmett Hunter, Nimitz CAG. I'm leading in a VFA Squadron of F/A-18s loaded with laser-guided munitions, Paveways. They tell me you can light up the hostiles for us."

He clicked his mic. "It's good to hear from you, Commander. I have a NATFOR unit hunkered down outside Masnaa with the LTDs. My unit is trapped inside. We need some help with a bunch of Hezbollah fighters who've made up their minds to kill us."

"I guess we'll have to make them think again. ETA Masnaa in four minutes. Anything I should know about?"

He had a sudden image of the ZSU quad-barrel flak gun, and he passed it on to the CAG.

"We'll look out for it, and thanks, Echo One. Now would be a good time to light up the targets."

"Copy that."

Werner Best was listening in. "Commander Talley, I can see the hostiles gathering at the side of the square. They're preparing an attack on the building opposite. I assume that's you."

"That's where we're holed up, Captain."

He warned Best about Rovere's squad guarding the tunnel exit, and the two men keeping watch on the well outside the town.

"Copy that, I have clear sight of the friendly positions," he acknowledged, "Lighting up the targets now."

Almost at the same moment, Hunter’s voice came over to him.

“This is CAG. We have targets locked in. Confirm the fire order…Oh, yeah, I see them. Bunch of camel jockeys besieging a building. You’re inside?”

"We are. Commander, I confirm you are clear to fire on the designated targets.”

“Clear to fire, copy that.”

The air was filled with the roar of jet engines as Hunter’s squadron swooped down for their first run. There were two aircraft in the first attack. The rest circled around overhead, watching for enemy flak. As Talley watched through one of the windows, a smart bomb dropped off the pylons and began a long, graceful gliding descent to the target. He switched his gaze to the hostiles opposite. They were watching the fighters too, obviously expecting a strafing run. When they saw the bomb heading their way, the panic started, and they ran, too late.

The GBU-16, Guided Bomb Unit, consisted of a 1,000-pound Mk 83 bomb, modified with a common Paveway II laser guidance kit. The twelve-foot long missile arced down through the clear, blue desert sky, heading straight for the mass of fighters who were starting to run. He smiled as he saw the Hezbollah commander, Habeeb, dive beneath a flight of stone steps that led up to a large building. The long, cylindrical munition grew larger as it hurtled down toward them. He turned to the men in the banking hall.

"Incoming, down!"

It struck the ground and detonated with a thunderous roar, and several of the houses on the opposite side of the square collapsed into rubble. Another explosion rocked the town as the second Navy fighter found a target. The aircraft banked and swooped almost straight up, as shoulder-launched RPG7 rockets, and then a burst of 12.7mm flak reached out toward them. He heard the CAG shouting orders to deal with the threat.

"Someone hit that flak gun, or it could ruin our day."

He heard Werner Best's voice.

"This is Alpha One. I have the flak gun in sight. Target is illuminated."

"Roger that, Alpha One."

"Charlie Three, I'm going in."

"Roger that, Charlie Three. Echo One, we see hostiles scattered through the town. You want us to stir them up some?"

"Appreciated, Charlie One. Go for it."

The rest of the squadron zoomed down over Masnaa. Now it was time for the pilots to have some fun and show off their skills with the M61 Vulcan cannon mounted in the nose of their aircraft. One by one, they roared in low, peeled off, and made their strafing run. The town was enveloped in smoke, flames, and flying debris, as the Vulcans tore into the Hezbollah fighters. He looked around for Guy.

"I doubt they'll drop any more munitions on the town. They've hit the big targets. They're shooting up targets of opportunity. When they've gone, the enemy will come crawling out of the woodwork, so we need to be ready to leave before they recover. Get everyone up into the banking hall, and as soon as the CAG calls in clear, we're leaving."

"Copy that. Maybe now would be a good time to call in the helos?"

"I'll get on it."

He was kicking himself; he'd clean forgotten the most vital part of the operation. The exfil. He needed to get a grip. He was so overcome by the problems that had beset him inside Lebanon. The building was still shaking from the roar of jet engines, and the impact of heavy caliber bullets spraying the enemy positions, but he called Brooks, who confirmed a pickup in thirty minutes. It should be long enough for Hunter's F/A 18s to finish their work, and then for Echo Six to get the hostages to the LZ. There was a last call from Werner Best. A new target had presented itself, and they heard a massive explosion as a final smart bomb destroyed it. Hunter called him for the last time.

"We're done here, Echo One. I guess we'll see you on board the Nimitz. Good luck getting out."

"We owe you a few when we meet up ashore."

He chuckled. "The boys will hold you to that, Echo One. Hunter out."

Talley turned to Guy. He was herding the last of the freed hostages out of the basement.

"It's now or never. Let's take a look."

They unbolted the doors and ran out into the square. Little remained of what had been one of the least damaged areas of Masnaa. Now it was a smoking, rubble-strewn junkyard. Dead bodies littered the ground, and there was no sign of any enemy activity from the survivors. It meant they had a narrow window before they recovered.

"Let's go. Buchmann, guard our six. Run!"

He still clutched his MP7 in his left hand as he raced toward the edge of the square, with the civilians bunched up close behind, protected by his men. He didn't trust his right arm, not yet. He was certain there was feeling returning, but he'd worry about that when he got his people to safety. As he ran, he keyed his mic.

"Echo Three, this is Echo One. We're heading toward your position. Be ready to get out of Dodge the moment we link up with you. Pass the word to the guys outside guarding the well."

"Copy that. Boss, we don't need to go out through the tunnel. The Navy left a huge hole where Hezbollah was dug in, so we can just walk out."

"That's good news. Most of these people aren't fit enough to squeeze through that tunnel. We’ll be with you in a few minutes."

He clicked off as Buchmann shouted across to him.

"Boss, I found a survivor. It looks like their head guy, Habeeb."

The German was dragging a body from beneath a partially collapsed flight of concrete steps. The man was still wearing a black turban, and Talley recognized him immediately. Sure enough, it was Jihad Habeeb.

"Is he badly hurt?"

"Not yet," Buchmann growled.

"Bring him along, Heinrich, and look after him. He could be useful."

He heard the German complaining under his breath.

No doubt he'd been looking forward to beating the shit out of Sheikh Jihad Habeeb, and who could blame him?

The Arab sadist had been prepared to slaughter the hostages, along with as many of Talley's men as he could capture. But it just wasn't that simple. Politics was the name of the game.

The Hezbollah commander could prove to be a treasure trove of information about the activities of the secretive Muslim cult, Hezbollah, which ruled most of Lebanon. One way or the other, he determined to get the prized captive on the deck of the USS Nimitz and hand him over to the Navy intel guys. Who knew, one day the Arab murderer could wind up wearing one of the iconic orange jumpsuits while he enjoyed an expenses paid vacation in the Caribbean resort island of Cuba. Known as Guantánamo Bay.

They raced toward Rovere's position, and every sign suggested the Masnaa defenders were still awestruck by the airstrike. Twice, dazed Arabs popped out from behind the rubble with AK-47s, but the Echo Six troopers didn't even pause. It took only a split second to spot the movement, aim and fire, and both times the hostiles were flung back into the rubble; their bodies almost torn apart by a fusillade of fire from the men. They were going home, and not a single raghead was going to stop them.

They reached Rovere, who fell in with his two men and joined Buchmann, who still clutched the prisoner, and the group streamed out of Masnaa. They stopped to pick up the men guarding the well, and Talley broke into a run, still heading toward the LZ.

He looked around to check on his party. The civilians were struggling to keep up, but so far they'd been lucky. Any second, the Arab fighters would come to their senses, and they'd come pouring out of the woodwork, determined to take revenge on the infidels who'd dared to challenge them, and beat them. They ran on, and some of the troopers had to help the civilians who were in a bad way.

Sheikh Jihad Habeeb tried to struggle when he understood they were taking him out, but each time he tried, Buchmann tapped him on the head with a fist that was bigger and heavier than a sledgehammer, and the man went quiet. Finally, they reached the LZ, and there was no sign of any pursuit. Talley ordered Guy to set up a defensive position while he checked on the rescue helos.

"This is Echo One. We're assembled ready at the LZ. No sign of hostile activity."

He waited a few seconds, and then the reply came back.

"This is Sierra Romeo One. We are inbound your position. Confirm no hostile activity."

He took a good long look around, but so far it was still clear.

"Confirmed, LZ is clear."

"Roger that. Appreciated, Echo One. ETA your position twenty minutes."

"Copy that."

Twenty minutes wasn't long, but if the Islamists inside Masnaa recovered in time, it would still be possible for them to mount a counterattack that could do a deal of damage. He knew the Sea Hawks would have protection, door gunners at the very least. But a suicidal charge from a crowd of crazed Muslims would be enough to inflict heavy casualties on the rescued hostages.

He looked toward the town, and although he could see movement, there was no sign of hostile action. He turned as Buchmann called to him.

"Boss, this gomer, he's starting to get on my nerves."

Talley chuckled. Getting on Heinrich Buchmann's nerves was not a healthy activity.

"What's he up to, Heinrich?"

"He just keeps going on and on about how they're going to win, no matter what we do. They'll keep fighting until every infidel is destroyed."

"Take no notice. It's only hot air."

The Hezbollah commander overheard him and turned with an angry scowl.

"You think so, American? One day, your country will be turned into ashes, and we will stand victorious on top of the rubble and wreckage."

He afforded the turbaned man a grin. "I guess your people are pretty used to standing on rubble and wreckage, my friend. The bad news is you won't be there to see it. They'll lock you away somewhere the sun never shines, and hell will freeze over before you ever see daylight again."