Joel Carver, a private with Phoenix Four, took shrapnel through one shoulder that left him too injured to fight or even get himself clear. Phoenix Four had to pull back to take care of their wounded.
Eddie Ybarra’s squad took out another T-55 with two grenades, leaving two plus the T-72. One of the surviving Jeeps wheeled and came toward Goose’s position, obviously tracking Cusack’s shot.
“Didn’t get the tank’s attention,” Jansen yelled, “but we’ve got people interested. Several Syrian soldiers turned in their direction as well.
Bullets peppered the rocks Goose and his squad used for cover. He kept his head down but watched as the enemy approached.
The Syrian soldier on the Jeep’s rear deck stood and fitted a long tube over his shoulder. Goose recognized the weapon immediately as a Soviet RPG-7, a rocket-propelled grenade launcher specially made for taking out tanks and personnel.
The RPG-7 had come out of World War II as an antitank weapon for the German Panzerfaust. The Soviet army had embraced the weapon in 1961 and made it their own, then made tons of factory-assembled copies of the weapon that rendered the rocket launcher relatively inexpensive. The Afghanistan rebels had broken the back of the Communist war machine in the 1980s with the weapon, taking out tanks, APCs, and helicopters with the rocket-propelled rounds.
“I’ve got the Jeep,” Cusack said, leveling the M-4A1.
“Leave the Jeep,” Goose said. “I need it intact. Take out the troops. Let them know we bite.”
Cusack shifted, then squeezed the trigger. The 40mm grenade landed just in front of the approaching line of men. Corpses left the ground and landed in crumpled, smoldering heaps when the HE round detonated.
Staggered but obviously knowing they were fighting for their lives, the Syrians continued their advance.
Goose leveled his weapon and fired, putting another grenade in their midst and only a few yards in front of the Jeep. A small crater opened up, and the concussion took down more Syrian soldiers.
“Fire at will,” Goose said, slipping his finger over the M-4A1’s trigger. “Stonewall.”
“Go, Phoenix Leader. You have Stonewall.” The Marine sniper sounded totally cool, utterly competent.
“Stonewall, do you have our position?” Goose peered around cover, dropped to one knee, and swung the assault rifle around. Two three-round bursts took out a pair of Syrian soldiers.
Another Syrian went to ground and skidded to a stand of rocks just before Goose’s next burst hammered the terrain in line with where he had been.
“I’ve got your position, Phoenix Leader,” Stonewall said.
“I’ve got a target for you.” Goose shifted, reading the positions of his team and moving to keep the four in a solid two-by-two block of overlapping fields of fire.
“Name it.”
“I need the Jeep intact. Then I need coverage till I get to it. The vehicle has ordnance I need to get the T-72 off your position.”
“Will do, Phoenix Leader. Stonewall has the ball.”
Goose held his position till the first Syrian soldier rounded the rocks. He fired into the center of the enemy, riding the M-4A1’s recoil up naturally.
The Syrian’s head snapped back, and he fell into a tangled heap with the man behind him.
“Incoming!” Cusack bellowed.
Goose hunkered down on one knee, reached under his jaw for his chin strap, and pulled his helmet down tight to protect him. An RPG-7 antipersonnel round detonated against the rocks and proved to be more lethal to the Syrian troops than to the four besieged Rangers.
“Move!” Goose ordered as he swapped out magazines. “On me!” He led the three Rangers on a charge, peripherally aware that Jansen had taken at least two rounds through his thighs just above his knees. Blood matted the Ranger’s pants legs.
Sitting behind the rocks, they’d been sitting ducks for the same kind of pincer movement he’d used against the Syrian armored cav units. The Ranger squads had gotten spread thin, but there’d been no other way to contain the unexpected action from the surviving soldiers.
A Syrian soldier fired at Goose from behind loose collection of boulders. Beyond the man, the Jeep was still in motion. The soldier on the rear deck had the rocket launcher over his shoulder again. Even as he swung around, he suddenly jerked sideways and fell from the moving vehicle.
Goose swept the assault rifle up and squeezed off two three-round bursts. The bullets missed the soldier but struck the rock beside him, driving stone splinters and steel-jacketed lead splinters into his face. The man fell back, slapping his hands over his bloody features and screaming.
Stretching his stride, knowing his team was following at his heels as they’d been trained to do, Goose raced for the RPG-7 that had fallen to ground. The dead Syrian soldier lay only a few feet away.
The Jeep came around in a tight turn.
As Goose watched the Jeep, watched the crew inside it turning frantically to face the Ranger squad, he saw that Ybarra’s team had accounted for the other two T-55s. One of the APCs sat in a smoking ruin along the skirmish line. The lead Jeep of the surviving two suddenly caught a 40mm grenade in the grill and became a flaming pyre that slammed into some of the morning’s wreckage. The man who survived the initial attack didn’t get ten steps from the vehicle before Ranger rifles cut him down.
Only the T-72 remained.
Goose stopped as the Jeep turned. He lifted his assault rifle and took aim. When he squeezed the trigger, the bullets ripped through the windshield and took out both men in the front seats.
Out of control, with no one manning the accelerator or the clutch, the Jeep jerked forward, sputtered, and died.
Recharging his weapon, Goose ran for the dropped RPG-7 and scooped it from the ground, praying to God that the weapon remained intact. “Good shooting, Stonewall,” he said.
“I aim to please, Phoenix Leader. Glad you’re happy with it. Eight
