He pressed the left button, and a bright “L,” for laser, appeared in one corner. Then he pressed the right button twice. The image shook for just a second, and two streaks of light leapt from the foreground toward the two figures and what was hopefully the mortar.
He heard the double explosion at the same time as the screen flared. It was much louder than the mortar shells, and Jerry could see the figures were no longer together, and lay sprawled and unmoving. The laser-guided Hydra rockets had found their target.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, XO! Now get that machine gun off our backs.”
Lieutenant Sistani lay with his men along the highway, trying to gauge the enemy’s status. They were pinned down by fire, had at least one casualty if Alizadeh was to be believed, and were virtually surrounded. He had men to the north and east, the ocean was at their adversaries’ backs to the south, and if they tried to break out to the west, he’d cut them down.
He’d been willing to wait and let the mortar work on them when he heard an explosion from behind him. It had come from the direction of the mortar crew. Had there been some sort of accident? He’d almost gotten up to go find out before remembering the enemy in front of him.
He was still low, crawling to a place where he could get up safely when another pair of explosions ripped the landscape near — No, it was at the PKM’s position. It didn’t fire again. He hadn’t seen anything but rifle fire from the enemy. The range was too great and the explosions too large for a grenade launcher. He thought of a helicopter gunship, but there was no noise. Was it a stealth bomber?
Would there be more explosions? He was losing men, and the battle. His only hope was to close with them so that they couldn’t drop any more bombs.
“By opposite numbers, advance!” Sistani’s only thought now was to finish this quickly.
Jerry heard Ramey’s shout just as he was lining up for a shot on the soldiers on the highway. In the display, he saw them moving, and pressed the right button twice, quickly, even though he hadn’t marked their position. He kept the crosshairs centered on the middle of the line and watched explosions knock three men off their feet.
But they were coming now. Lapointe helped him find the autopilot key that would send the Cormorant into a circular orbit at a safe altitude.
“Help me up,” Lapointe asked, and pushing up with his good leg, Jerry got the petty officer faced forward, then handed him his rifle.
Jerry grabbed his own weapon and looked for a place. Ramey motioned for him to go to the far end of the line, near the Iranians, and staying low, Jerry joined Fazel and Yousef, both firing.
The Pasdaran soldiers were advancing in pairs, taking turns firing while the other ran forward for the next bit of cover. Fazel was having the best luck sniping at the shooters, who were stationary at least, even if they were under cover. Kneeling next to Shirin, Yousef used his rifle to give Harry covering fire.
Jerry concentrated on the advancing soldiers, trying to guess when they’d spring up and run forward. He might actually hit one, or at least make him stop sooner than he’d planned. The trick was keeping them from getting too close.
Fazel dropped another one. As Jerry tried to count how many were still out there, he saw the soldiers nearest them raise their arms. He shouted, “Grenades!”
They ducked as the grenades fell short, but Jerry felt the blast on the back of his neck. Knowing the explosions would signal a general charge, Jerry came up firing, holding the trigger on full automatic and emptying the magazine.
Yousef was doing the same. Only the SEALs took the time to squeeze off aimed shots. Three soldiers had charged their position, firing as they came, but they all died. Jerry didn’t know who had hit whom, and he didn’t cared.
He was putting in a fresh magazine when another grenade went off in front of them. Suddenly, he heard Shirin scream and saw Yousef falling. Calling “Harry!” as he leapt over her, Jerry rolled Yousef face up and felt something warm and wet on his hand.
Somebody grabbed the back of his vest and yanked him away from Yousef, and Fazel said, “I’ve got him. You keep firing.”
Jerry quickly turned and brought up his rifle, searching with the night-scope, but didn’t see any movement. The firing had stopped on the other side as well. Several bodies lay sprawled a dozen meters in front of them, but remembering his past experience, Jerry didn’t move forward.
“It’s an artery,” Harry said softly to Shirin, but Jerry was close enough to hear it as well. “Probably a grenade fragment.”
Ramey asked, “Is the Cormorant still up there?”
“We’ve got another fifteen or twenty minutes on station.”
“Can you use it to see if there are any stragglers?”
Jerry reluctantly turned away from Yousef, but knew he was in good hands with Harry. Finding the visor and controller, he took control of the orbiting UAV and had it fly straight overhead. “I see us, I see at least ten bodies, including three by the machine gun and two..
“Wait. I’ve got movement. One figure is running. I can see him heading for a vehicle — a truck.”
“You’ve got to take him out,” Ramey ordered.
“Doing it,” Jerry said. It was eerie. Jerry could see the front of the vehicle grow brighter as the motor started. Before it could start moving, he put the UAV in a shallow dive and fired. The last two laser-guided 2.75-inch rockets hit the truck, and when the display cleared, the vehicle was on its side, burning. Jerry couldn’t feel good about it.
“It’s near bingo fuel,” Jerry reported.
“Then send it home.” Ramey answered. “Can you give a UAV a medal?” he asked, smiling.
As Jerry was telling the autopilot to head for the rendezvous point, Phillips walked up and spoke softly. “Boss, Harry’s been working on Yousef, but it looks bad.”
Jerry’s heart sank. Ramey just said “Shit,” and went over to kneel down by Yousef.
Fazel explained, “I’ve stopped the arterial bleeding, but I think the fragment did more damage internally. He’s sinking, and I’ve run out of things I can do.”
He was so pale, and Shirin did her best to smile and hold his hand, which was cold as ice. “My brave soldier,” she repeated over and over again. She wasn’t sure he could hear her, but he finally smiled, and coughed. He looked at her, then Harry, and said weakly, “Now you will say the
Shirin tried to speak, but tears stole her voice. “I promise,” Harry finally said. “If we did it for our enemies, how much more will I do for my own brother?”
“Take care of her, then, brother.” Yousef rasped. As he finished speaking, he exhaled — a long, slow, gurgling breath, and he was gone. Harry reached over and closed Yousef’s lifeless eyes. Shirin began to weep uncontrollably, saying over and over again, “No, Baba, no!”
“We’ve got to get moving,” Ramey ordered.
“I saw a truck, but one of my rocket strikes wrecked it,” Jerry reported.
“Then we walk,” Ramey answered. “Right now. Column formation. It will help hide our numbers.”
Ramey then turned to Fazel and handed him a dead tree branch. “Harry, do what you can to hide our footprints. I don’t want the Iranians to see us heading toward the beach.”
Phillips and Jerry, the designated stretcher-bearers, rigged a litter and carefully moved Lapointe onto it. Once Fazel had dosed the petty officer with much-needed painkillers, and was sure Lapointe was settled, he asked Jerry, “Can you take my pack, XO?”
After Jerry took the backpack, at least as heavy as the fifty pounds he was already carrying, Fazel took a blanket and tied it around Yousef’s body to hold it in place. Hoisting the limp form with Ramey’s help, he balanced Yousef on his shoulders. “I’m ready,” Harry announced. He saw the surprise in Jerry’s expression. “You didn’t think we were going to leave him, did you?”
“We could bury him here,” Jerry suggested. He didn’t say it, but he was a little worried about Harry’s load. He’d traded a fifty-pound pack for two hundred-plus pounds.
“I’m good,” insisted Fazel.
