And then he saw Bobby Allensworth, lying in the water, faceup, blood streaming down his face where two bullets had almost gone right through. And Rick just had time to lift him up and into the boat, before he broke away, momentarily burying his head in the blank rubber side of the hull. No one had ever seen Rick Hunter that close to breaking before.
Lieutenant MacPherson saw what had happened and now he too went over the side, manhandling the craft into the deeper water. “Those fucking little creeps,” he said. “But at least we know where we stand. We gotta float and we gotta fight. Get those fucking M-60s ready right now, and start the engine.”
They drove along to Commander Hunter, while Chief Mike Hook laid out the ammunition belts for the M-60s. And none too soon. All three Chinese helicopters were making a long turn, plainly to return to the inlet.
“Sir, I’m sorry,” said Dallas. “Really sorry. But I got the machine gun ready in our boat. You all set here? Get under the grass again. We’ll let ’em have it as they come in, sustained fire on the leader, right? Everything we got, to down one of ’em. Discourage the others, right?”
“Right, Dallas. Let’s go.”
But the Chinese pilots were not certain they had done any damage at all so far. And they fanned out, with just the leader flying back down the bloodstained little water way. He came in low, and as he did so the SEALs opened fire with everything they had from the little boats behind the grasses. Dallas blew 30 rounds straight into the rear door of the chopper killing the gunner and, somehow, the navigator.
Mike Hook blasted away at the engines, set topside left and right below the rotors. And Commander Hunter, firing with a venom he had never experienced before, emptied an entire belt of 100 rounds into the cockpit area of the rocket-firing Helix-B. It might have been the engine, it might have been the bullets smashing through the side windows, it might have been anything. But whatever it was, the helicopter was suddenly belching flames, and it spun right over and slammed into the water at 130 miles an hour.
“Fuck me,” said one of the rookies.
At which point they could all see the lights of the two remaining Helix choppers wheeling around to the north, running up the narrow island where the downstream channel parts, before slowly turning east, back toward the blazing Naval base.
Both pilots were confused. They had just seen 33 percent of their attack force destroyed. The ships upon which they normally served were gone. There was no fuel. No electricity. Hundreds were dead. The entire base was engulfed in fire. At the epicenter of the inferno was a roaring white phenomenon, directly from Hell. They had no one, formally, to whom they must report, and they had just seen, firsthand, the firepower of their adversaries. No two Chinese warriors had ever had so little stomach for the fight. And they headed once more for that rough ground opposite the power station, to land once more and inform the remaining group of officers what had befallen them.
The SEALs, of course, did not know all this. But Commander Hunter again rallied his battered team.
“Guys, we have to break out of here sometime…it might as well be now…. How many ammunition belts do we have?”
Seaman Ward, a tough-looking Irishman from Cleveland, said, “We brought six. You guys had one left, which you used, sir. So we got four unused, and half of two others.”
“Okay, divide ’em up. We’ll take one gun in the lead boat, which I’ll handle. Lieutenant MacPherson and Chief Mike Hook will operate the other two. Get the paddles and shove out. Soon as the water’s deep enough, drop the engines and go. Someone fire up the radio, and I’ll get the signal into the satellite.”
The two boats paddled out through the shallows and into the wide channel. It was definitely getting light now, not sufficiently to see Shawn Pearson’s map clearly, but the tiny point of the flashlight showed three feet of water. They dropped their engines at 0520, and under deserted skies, still lit up to the east by the burning Naval base, they accelerated the engines mildly, making eight knots, course two-six-zero, straight for the uncertain waters of the Haing Gyi Shoal.
Lieutenant Commander Headley read the new signal with absolute horror:
“
The CO was again not in the control room. And Dan Headley now summoned the senior executives in the submarine. Master Chief Drew Fisher was already in there, and the Officer of the Deck, Lt. Matt Singer, had the conn. Lieutenant Pearson came in, accompanied by the Combat Systems Officer, Lt. Commander Jack Cressend. The Sonar Officer, Lt. Commander Josh Gandy, came in last.
“Gentlemen, I am going to read out to you two signals we have received in the last two hours from the SEAL team we inserted last night into Burma.”
From their faces, it was not difficult to discern the personal pain each man felt from the death of the two SEALs and the wounding of another.
“As you can see from the signal, they are essentially making a run for it,” said the XO. “A high-speed run back to this ship. They have around eighteen miles to travel, which puts them in open waters for around forty-five to fifty minutes.
“The Helix will make 130 knots, no sweat. He could get here in about eight minutes. Which makes the SEAL team sitting ducks. Those damn Russian choppers, either the ASWs or the assault versions, carry a lot of hardware. And they plainly have heavy machine guns. The guys might shoot one of ’em down, but they might not. The odds have to favor the helos. Which means that Rick and the rest of the guys will all be dead sometime in the next hour.”
Dan Headley paused, and he could see the unease written on their faces. “It is my view,” he said, “that we comply with their request and head on in to save them. As you know, we’re just about on the fifty-meter line and we have about eighty feet below the keel. We can probably move in at fifteen knots PD for four miles, but we can make twenty-plus on the surface, so I’m proposing we surface right now and go straight for it. There is no serious Chinese Naval presence left in the area, thanks to them. But we may have to take the Helix out with Stingers; the sooner we get the inflatables under Stinger cover the better chance they’ll have.
“Gentlemen, I am proposing we make all speed inshore to rescue them. Is anyone not in favor of that action?”
Lieutenant Pearson and Lt. Commanders Cressend and Gandy said, almost in unison, “In favor, sir.”
Chief Fisher said, “Why are you asking, sir? Sure we’re in favor. We have the gear to save ’em. Jesus Christ, let’s GO.”
“
“Aye, sir…” said Lieutenant Singer, with equal emphasis. Like the XO, and like Chief Fisher, he understood that this was tantamount to a total confrontation. He had, after all, heard their Commanding Officer insist that such a decision was going to be made only by him. Commander Reid had also left little doubt that his decision was likely to be negative. His own words had betrayed his own worst fears…“
USS
“
The submarine had been virtually stationary for 12 hours, and the sudden dramatic change in speed was obvious to everyone. But to the XO, Lt. Singer and Chief Fisher there was something far more dramatic waiting in the wings. And there was not long to wait.
Commander Reid came through the door with a face like an ocean storm. But he spoke quietly. “Lieutenant Commander Headley,” he said, “where, precisely, do you think you are taking my ship entirely without my permission? And, I suspect, entirely contrary to opinions I have already expressed?”
“Sir, I am taking the ship inshore on a rescue mission to save a team of United States Navy SEALs from what I consider to be imminent death. I am certain this course of action is approved by every man serving on this ship,
