'The First Assault Section will move down the right side of the enemy's line of march and prepare to launch the ambush,' Brannigan said. He nodded to Dawkins. 'You guys will start the proceedings. No one is to take any action until you open fire.'
'Understood, sir,' the senior chief said.
'I'll take the Command Element farther down to close up the rear,' Brannigan said. 'Delta Fire Team?'
'Yes, sir,' team leader Gutsy Olson replied.
'You'll close in that left area where you'll be located.' 'Any questions?' Brannigan asked. 'Get into position. We've got about forty-five minutes.'
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THE FIREFIGHT
1040 HOURS
SENIOR Chief Buford Dawkins had positioned himself the farthest down in his First Assault Echelon. This gave him the responsibility of firing the first burst into the enemy column.
When the point man came into view, the senior chief began counting the Falangists as they walked past his place of concealment in the grass. One--two--three--. Moments later the eighth man appeared; and Dawkins squeezed off an automatic three-round burst. The unfortunate tail-end Charlie staggered sideways and crumpled to the grass.
Now the entire detachment opened up. Joe Miskoski and Bruno Puglisi worked their SAWs, sweeping salvos up and down the column. Brannigan led his four men of the Command Element to lock in the rear of the ambush. They kicked out a fusillade that prevented any escape in that direction.
Delta Fire Team, with the responsibility of holding in the left side of the fight, quickly came under heavy fire. Bullets whipped and whined among the trio of SEALs as the Falangists put pressure on that part of the line. Guy Devereaux grunted aloud as he took a hit in the shoulder. He rolled over onto his back, fumbling for his field dressing as he cursed his bad luck.
Then the shooting abruptly stopped.
Andy Malachenko now noticed Guy's predicament. 'Corpsman! Delta Team!'
James Bradley rushed from the Command Element to sprint across the battlefield as the rest of the SEALs moved in to inspect the Falangists now sprawled on the ground. Guy sat up, wincing, as James knelt down beside him. After ripping the sleeve open, the corpsman was relieved. 'You must've caught a ricochet, Guy. You got a friction burn from the bullet and a little skin was taken off.'
'It don't hurt,' Guy said. 'It's numb. I don't think I'm gonna need any morphine.'
'This baby is going to be plenty painful, buddy,' James said as he began treating the wound. 'It's going to hurt a lot worse than a direct hit. Let me know when it's really stinging, and I'll give you some relief.'
'Shit!'
The rest of the detachment now stood among the fallen Falangists. Four were dead, and three dazed, wounded men looked up in numb dismay at the SEALs. Lamar Taylor was puzzled. 'I thought there was eight of 'em. I only count seven.'
'Hey! You're right,' Wes Ferguson said after making his own count.
'Second Assault Section!' Brannigan yelled. 'There's a missing bad guy. Search the area for him. Be careful! He may have some fight in him.'
Matt Gunnarson formed his men for a careful search. With Guy Devereaux taken care of, James Bradley now came over to look after the wounded Falangists. None of them said anything as he began his examinations.
Ten minutes later, Matt brought his men back. 'We couldn't find nothing, sir. If one of 'em is missing, he's got away.'
'Damn it,' Brannigan said, glancing out over the wide-open landscape. 'The son of a bitch must be as slippery as an eel:'
.
1130 HOURS
FRANK Gomez used hand signals to guide the Petroleo Colmo helicopters in to land at the ambush site. The three wounded Falangists were taken to the Dauphin for transport out of the area. Two could walk, but the third needed the help of his buddies to get aboard the aircraft. The EPWs would go on back with Alfredo for intense interrogation and further medical treatment.
Guy Devereaux seemed to be all right as he climbed aboard with his two Delta teammates. As soon as Dawkins crammed his section into the Gazelle, the rotors were revved for the flight back to the base camp.
.
WHEN the helicopters were only dots above the far horizon, Sargento Antonio Muller kicked off his camouflage cape and stood up. He spat in anger as he reached for his RMAM radio to contact Fuerte Franco.
Chapter 12
SANTIAGO, CHILE
28 DECEMBER
AS soon as the journalist Miguel Hennicke returned from Bolivia to Chile, he rushed to the offices of his newspaper, El Conquistador. His story of the massacre in the Gran Chaco was immediately put into production. His managing editor was almost giddy with delight when he saw the photos of the bloodied innocents. This situation would be a big score for all the anti-American movements in South America, whether they be rightists or leftists.
The images were prepared to be featured on a special page while a team of rewrite men were put to work scribbling provoking captions. Both the editorial department and pressroom worked late to print this special issue.
As soon as the edition hit the streets, they were bought up by the eager readership, and a second printing for local consumption had to be run off immediately. When that one was finished and headed for the streets, yet a third issue was printed that went to Valparaiso, Talcahuano, Valdiva, Osorno and other urban centers of the Chilean Republic. From that point on the presses rolled for thirty-six straight hours as other issues were dispatched to all points of South America. By New Year's Day, the article and photographs had been widely read and circulated, enraging the entire Latin American public, no matter what their political views.
.
Crimen de 'Green Berets'
!MATANZA HORROROSA DE PUEBLERINOS
BRASILENOS EN EL GRAN CHACO!
.
Bolivian Federal Police officers have uncovered an unspeakable atrocity in which an entire village of people was massacred by members of the notorious American Green Berets. The crime was discovered during routine patrol duties in the Gran Chaco in the southeastern part of the nation. The investigation confirmed that more than a hundred Brazilian immigrants had been herded together and machine gunned in droves. Men, women and children died in the outrage. Nothing as horrible as this has been seen since the Stalinist era in the USSR.
One survivor was discovered hiding in a nearby gulley. His name was MaurIcio Castanho, a thirty-five-year-old cattleman who had lived in the village with his wife and five children. His entire family perished under the hails of bullets fired at them.
Senor Castanho stated that the killers wore United States Army uniforms and green berets. They came in a half-dozen helicopters and landed just at dawn while everyone was still asleep.
'They woke us all up and made everybody come outside,' Castanho said. 'They made us all stand with our hands over our heads. Even the women and children. Then they began taking some of the prettier girls aside, making them go back into the huts. We could hear their cries of pain and fear as the norteamericanos repeatedly raped them.'
When the lecherous Green Berets had finished their sport, they dragged the shamed young women out naked and weeping, forcing them to join the others. Then the norteamericanos herded the entire population of the small community to a spot in an open field. At that point they began firing their submachine guns into the cringing crowd of innocents.
'Everyone was falling down,' Castanho said. 'I dove to the ground and two fellows fell on top of me. I lay still,
