heavily armed troops with anti-aircraft capabilities, they would do fine against the Falangists.
At a signal from the operations officer, the choppers' rotors were engaged, and they took off, turning in a westward direction for the fifty-kilometer flight to the Selva Verde Mountains of Bolivia.
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THE SEAL POSITION
SELVA VERDE MOUNTAINS
BRANNIGAN had received specific orders via the CIA communications station Matrix. He pulled in his perimeter so tight that all sides were in visible contact with each other. They were to hunker down and keep low because of a helicopter assault that would be coming in from the east. Although the nationality of the aircraft were not identified over the net, the SEALs were told they were on his side and would not be fired on under any circumstances. If friendly fire had to be inadvertently endured, then endure it. When the aerial attack was over, Brannigan would then contact Matrix for further instructions.
The Skipper used the pause in operations to take stock of his casualties; sadly, he had two KIA and four WIA on that godamned mountaintop. He hoped like hell the attacking choppers wouldn't add to that count.
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FALANGIST FORCE
EASTERN SIDE
0520 HOURS LOCAL
COMANDANTE Gustavo Cappuzzo knelt down just behind the third skirmish line of his attack force. He had turned them out early to be ready when the order came from the generalisimo to once again storm the enemy positions above them.
Capitan Roberto Argent() walked up after relieving himself behind a stand of razor palms. He joined the comandante, standing beside him to wait for the orders to renew combat. The battle had drained everyone's energy, badly sapping their morale and determination to carry on the fight. The norteamericanos showed no signs of crumbling under the numerous attacks.
'Que es eso--what is that?' Argento asked. 'Listen, mi comandante.'
Cappuzzo stood up, then heard the sound of several aircraft engines gradually approaching. 'Ah!' he exclaimed happily. 'Reinforcements!'
Argento looked around. 'Too bad they can't land near here. There are no suitable spots to set down.'
'They will land down by the generalisimo's field headquarters,' Cappuzzo said. 'The new men will be sent up; don't worry. Perhaps the generalisimo will delay the battle to reorganize our lines.'
Now a quartet of helicopters suddenly appeared, coming in low and fast. Immediately small, deadly detonations sprang up in rows along the ground to their front, working their way through the ranks of the Falangist troops. A half dozen were ripped apart in the explosives, while shrapnel slapped through the trees, cutting down vegetation and blowing holes into more men who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
.
SOUTHERN SIDE
0525 HOURS LOCAL
THE Falangist machine gun crews had heard what sounded like an aerial attack, rejoicing that they now had support from helicopter gunships. This would make their job of providing covering fire much easier. But when the aircraft appeared, they were not headed toward the enemy positions up on the hill. Instead they came straight down on them.
Knee-high explosions swept through the area, blowing the machine guns over while pummeling the gunners and ammo bearers into hunks of meat.
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FALANGIST FIELD HEADQUARTERS
0530 HOURS LOCAL
GENERALISIMO Castillo responded to the call from Comandante Cappuzzo. Cappuzzo's voice was wild with fear and shock. 'We are under aerial attack, mi generalisimo! Helicopters have strafed us with small air-toground missiles! I have sixty-five percent casualties. We have been rendered incapable of continuing the attack!'
Castillo flipped to another frequency and raised Comandante Diego Tippelskirch, who was in the Centro de Inteligencia bunker back at Fuerte Franco. 'Tippelskirch!' Castillo yelled. 'We are under helicopter attack! Who the hell is it?'
'I know nothing of about enemy aerial potential,' Tippelskirch replied, the panic in his voice evident over the handset. 'I have received no warning of such a possibility from my contacts.'
'This is not a possibility!' Castillo bellowed in rage. 'It is a reality that is inflicting heavy casualties on us. Check this out immediately.' He switched back to the tactical frequency in time to receive a call from Co me Javier Toledo on the north side. He reported 50 percent casualties. Castillo had to calm himself as the truth of the catastrophe swept over him. There was nothing left to do but request their own helicopters to come to the Selva Verde Mountains and evacuate them back to Fuerte Franco. But first he would give the word to his combat elements to make their way back to field headquarters as best they could.
.
WESTERN SIDE
0550 HOURS LOCAL
GORDO Pullini and his convict gang had drawn off deep into the jungle to remain out of sight of any Falangists who might come hunting them down. Now they had submachine guns and could reasonably expect to put up a spirited defense in case they were attacked by vengeful men of the hated generalisimo.
The strain of what they had been through after being forced to attack an enemy who possessed modern automatic weapons while they lugged along antiquated bolt-action rifles had finally caught up with them. The full realization of their situation now pulled their emotions into a tumble, leaving them confused, with a feeling of spiritual exhaustion.
'What the hell is that, Chief?' someone asked as the noise of heavy firing and aircraft reached them.
'Ay Dios de me vida!' one man moaned. 'They are sending airplanes to bomb us now.'
Nimble Pancho DiPietro suddenly leaped up and scampered to a tree. He worked his way up to the top branches, then peered in the direction of the noise. 'Helicopters!' he shouted down to his buddies. 'And they are diving down on the Falangists!'
Everyone cheered and laughed, but Pullini was in no mood to celebrate. 'Let's move farther away, guys! They may come this way:'
Now thoroughly frightened about this new potential danger, the convicts obeyed their chief and began hurriedly trekking through the jungle in a northeast direction.
.
FALANGIST FIELD HEADQUARTERS
0610 HOURS LOCAL
THE generalisimo and the headquarters guards looked up in alarm at the sudden rustling of brush to the north. Coronel Jeronimo Busch, Suboficial Adolfo Punzarron, along with Chaubere and Muller, came into view, hurrying into the clearing. Busch wasted no time in reporting in to the commander-in-chief.
'Mi generalisimo, four helicopters have strafed our entire force,' the coronel said grimly. 'Casualties are high. We were lucky to be able to move southeast out of harm's way. We found Gonzales and his men shot up along with some of those cursed convicts. But there were only a dozen or so corpses of the miserable criminals. We could not find the others.'
'A new, unexpected development has been thrown at us by the enemy,' Castillo said. 'Perhaps we were drawn into a trap from the outset. I don't know. I wanted to order the machine guns brought down here, but I could not raise Platas.'
'They are all dead, mi generalisimo,' Busch said. 'And the machine guns destroyed.'
'What about Ignacio Perez?' Castillo asked.
Busch shrugged. 'We saw nothing of him up there. The miserable little bastard was probably hiding in the woods like a trembling rabbit.'
Punzarron, Chaubere and Muller went over to the ammunition dump to refill their magazines.
