“Captain, the best estimate of range based on the last maneuver is two-two-thousand yards. Looks like he is headed for the island and in a real hurry.” Sam Stuart reported as Hunter stepped into control.
“Very well, we haven’t got time to waste watching him. Come to course zero-two-seven and Ahead Full. We need to be at this point in two hours,” Hunter said, pointing to a position 100 nautical miles to the Northwest of Nusa Funata and 50 nautical miles from their present position.
The OOD ordered, "Helm, right ten degrees rudder, steady course zero-two-seven. Ahead Full." The sub raced for the launch basket.
23 Jun 2000, 0048LT (22 Jun, 1648Z)
LT Roland’s squad pointed their two RHIBs toward the shore. Making thirty knots, the ride was short but rough and wet. At full throttle, they literally skipped from wave top to wave top.
As they neared the black beach, Roland yelled above the wind, "I see the signal, off to the left. Come left twenty degrees." He pointed toward a large log that had washed up on the beach. "Aim for that log."
Boats had scouted the best landing place for them and placed the IR Chem-lite signal on the log. Roland removed the IR goggles as the two RHIBs roared up onto the black sand. Boats met them at the tree line as they pulled the RHIBs under cover.
They quickly unloaded the contents of the two boats and silently followed the Chief into the mangrove swamp, leaving the RHIBs where they lay. No need to waste time hiding them. By the time any casual patrol stumbled across the RHIBs and raised the alarm, the whole island would know they were there anyway.
Slogging through the mud and slime, they arrived at a small raised hummock where two more members of the first assault squad waited. Boats explained, “We’ve found a good, quick route to the factory. Jankowski, Cooke and Meyer are watching it now. We'd better get humping. The TLAMs are due in an hour and it'll take us almost that long to get there.”
This time the SEALs didn’t bother with concealment or staying in the swamp. They didn’t have the time. They ran down the sides of the road right up to the point where it turned into the compound. Here they split up and moved around the perimeter from both sides.
LT Roland placed his two Squad Assault Weapon (SAWs) marksmen so that each overlooked one of the anti-aircraft emplacements. He placed his two M-60 machine guns so that they could rake the entrance to the cave and the path leading down to the compound. Two of his team were busy planting a series of Claymore mines, detonated by trip wires, along the path down to the compound to make life just that much more interesting for anyone rushing to reinforce the factory’s defenders.
22 Jun 2000, 0610LT (1710Z)
Peg Hunter slowly clawed her way through the mist back to consciousness. The fear slammed back. "Where were the girls? Are they all right? What happened?"
She opened her eyes to find the morning sun pouring through the window, filling the unfamiliar room with a warm golden glow. Moving her head to take in her surroundings brought on waves of nausea. She lay back.
"Take it slow, Peg," the familiar growl of Admiral O'Flanagan came from somewhere off to her left, out of her field of view. "That gas can knock your socks off."
"The girls?" She asked querulously.
"They're okay," O'Flanagan assured her. "Molly spent the night at the Johnson's and Megan is in the next room."
He came into view as he walked over to the bed. The inevitable stub of an unlit, well chewed cigar firmly projecting from the side of his mouth.
"Megan woke up a few minutes ago. She is busy attacking breakfast. Molly had a bad night. We are scheduling counseling for all of you."
O'Flanagan turned and pulled a chair over to sit beside Peg's bed. He sat down and squirmed into the hard-backed hospital chair in a vain attempt to get comfortable. Peg figured that he was buying time, delaying the discussion of something that was more uncomfortable than a hospital chair.
"Peg, there's something that we need to discuss," he began. "You've probably already figured out that Jon is not on exercises up in the Aleutians."
Peg started to speak, but Admiral O'Flanagan raised his hand. "Peg, let me continue. Jon is in Indonesia doing something that is very important and very dangerous. I'm not going to tell you what it is exactly, but it is one of those missions that no one will ever know about. You'll have to trust me on that."
The anger rose quickly. Peg exploded, "You expect me to trust you! You almost got my family killed. Don't talk to me about trust."
"Peg, calm down." O'Flanagan raised both hands, palms out in supplication. "I know you're angry, but it won't help you, Jon or us. Just hear me out, please."
He went on to explain the terrorist plot that had been uncovered. As the sordid plot unfolded, Peg began to grasp the implications of any part of it becoming known.
Admiral O'Flanagan concluded, "So you see, we have to make everything look like business as usual. We have already told the press that all the activity on base yesterday was a scheduled exercise. We were testing our new hostage response team tactics with a full-scale dress rehearsal. I need you to support that story. Can I count on you?"
He paused for a second and then threw in the low blow that she couldn't counter.
