to take a look and see if we can spot something interesting. Be sure and make a note of personnel and the strengths of their defenses. That's the main reason we're out here.'
'I'll go,' Garth volunteered.
'Okay,' Connie agreed. 'Matty needs a break after being on point for so long. We'll both follow you and keep about ten meters to the rear. We'll spread out a little so we can cover both the right and left flanks.'
'I'm ready,' Garth said.
He was of Kiowa-Comanche Indian ancestry, making him a mixture of two of the fiercest fighting tribes of the Southern Plains. He carried a traditional medicine bag for good luck and spiritual guidance. It was a rawhide sack of two by six inches in which he had placed his issue SEAL trident qualification badge, a piece of wood from a tree struck by lightning in his native Oklahoma, and a pebble taken from an enemy mortar position in the Selva Verde Mountains of South America. He had gone on a one-man combat patrol into enemy territory, sneaked into a mortar bivouac, and dropped thermite grenades down the tubes of the weapons to disable them. His instincts told him his medicine was strong at that particular spot in the world, and he had taken the pebble to carry some of that power with him when he exfiltrated safely from the area. This was the same highly classified operation in which the new Ensign Taylor's cousin Lamar had been KIA.
This scion of great warriors such as Lone Wolf, Medicine Feather, Wild Horse, and Hears-the-Sunrise wore the camouflage paint on his face in the lightning streak patterns of the Southern Plains tribes. And with the traditional warmaking skills of his people, Garth Redhawk moved in fluid silence up toward the enemy fighting positions.
.
0300 HOURS
ON the opposite end of no-man's-land, Dave Leibowitz had discovered a natural path that was some five meters below the ridge where the Zaheya were dug in. A section of the cliff had given way under a primeval earthquake of long past aeons, leaving a narrow ledge just wide enough to walk on. The cloudy night allowed no moonlight to illuminate the shadows that hid the place where the Odd Couple trod softly in a southerly direction.
Dave moved no more than ten paces before stopping to look upward. Mike kept his attention on his best buddy, making occasional glances behind to make sure no Zaheya soldiers were following them along the protrusion. After ten minutes had passed, Dave stopped and signaled Mike forward. Both donned their LASH sets. 'Look up there,' Dave said. 'That rock formation has some good foot-and handholds.'
'Yeah,' Mike agreed.
'I'm gonna climb up and see if there's anything interesting,' Dave said.
'Be careful.'
Dave showed a crooked grin. 'Hey! Y'know! That's a good idea. I never thought of that. Any more suggestions?'
'Yeah,' Mike said, 'but you'd have a tough time keeping quiet while you shoved that M-sixteen up your keister.'
'Wiseass,' Dave said.
He handed his rifle to Mike, then carefully placed his foot on a rock and tested it. He did the same with another he had grasped to pull himself up. When he was satisfied they would hold his weight, he began the ascent. Dave repeated the procedure slowly until he had reached the top. He looked around, happy to note that there was nobody there. He could see a well-constructed trench that had obviously been scooped out of the mountain by machine. It would have taken a jackhammer to break up the rock that was hauled away. The floor of the thing was even and level, while the sides were reinforced with sandbags.
Mike watched him descend back to the path to his location. 'Anything special up there?'
'Yeah,' Dave replied, taking his M-16 back. 'We got a big job ahead of us if we're gonna take this fucking mountain.'
'And the powers-that-be expect us to take it without sophisticated help like airplanes and heavy artillery,' Mike said. 'Shit! Let's keep rolling. Don't forget we got to be back at the ERP in'--he looked at the luminous dial of his watch--'a little less than an hour and a half.'
.
0330 HOURS
GARTH Redhawk had found a partly natural, partly man-made bastion at the apex of the slope. It was on the Zaheya defensive line where he could nestle in the available concealment and enjoy an undisturbed view of the enemy positions. One guard was on duty, and the guy wasn't sleeping or goofing off. He stood his watch like a professional soldier, his short assault rifle slung across his chest as he stood alertly and well balanced on both feet.
The sight of the facilities caused Redhawk to take a silent but sharp intake of breath. The fighting positions built along the wall were reinforced with logs. These had obviously been brought into the treeless area from somewhere else. Additional cover was provided by sandbags, and locations of support weapons had roofs made of layers of timber covered by more sandbags and packed earth.
Redhawk turned to look down the other way. It was more of the same, and now he noticed the camouflaged bunker entrances offering ingress into what would no doubt be shelters, living quarters, and/or storage for ammo and supplies. He also could make out the figures of more men standing-to. These guys were disciplined, well armed, and would be doing their fighting behind extremely strong defenses.
The SEAL slowly and stealthily began a descent of the slope to rejoin Connie Concord and Matty Matsuno.
.
SEAL BASE CAMP
0445 HOURS
CHAD Murchison stood his watch with his M-16 locked and loaded as he gazed through his NVG at the figures moving upward toward his position. After a few moments he could recognize Mike Assad on the point as they drew nearer. Even though the recognition of his fellow SEAL was unmistakable, Chad followed the SOP.
'Grin,' he said softly, issuing the challenge.
'Grapple,' Mike replied with the password. 'Four guys behind me.'
'Roger,' Chad said. The procedure of the first man giving the sentry the number of men following him was to keep enemy infiltrators from joining the rear of returning patrols in the darkness. If Chad counted more than four, then the unexpected guests would be dealt with in an extremely prejudicial manner.
When Matty Matsuno came across the fighting position, he whispered that he was the last man. At that point, Chad gave the frontal slope a meticulous surveillance to make sure that no bad guys were lurking in the vicinity.
.
SEAL HEADQUARTERS
0515 HOURS
'SHIT!'
That was the sixth time Lieutenant Bill Brannigan had uttered the expletive during Connie Concord's vocal report on the results of the recon patrol. Ensign Orlando Taylor, the detachment's acting N-2, was taking notes with the anxious concentration typical of an eager young officer.
The other four members of the Sneaky Petes were sitting in a semicircle on the bunker floor around the two officers. Garth Redhawk scratched his chin. 'The damn thing looked like a fucking underground castle, sir.'
'Same from where I got a look, sir,' Dave Leibowitz said. 'That place wasn't constructed in a couple of weeks. Somebody took months to put that facility into the side of the mountain.'
'And they had plenty of up-to-snuff equipment to do it,' Redhawk added. 'It sure as hell ain't like this place.' He gestured around him. 'This is just natural shit with a few additions.'
'That's right,' Mike Assad said. 'All we got here is some caves and fighting holes.'
'I know what we got here, Assad,' Brannigan snarled. 'You don't have to tell me.'
'Another thing,' Redhawk said. 'I got a good look at some of their people. These guys are real soldiers, not a bunch of crazy-ass mujahideen. And they're armed with them little French rifles. What do they call 'em? Bullpups, I think.'
