swerved hard, with Ramey and Fazel taking aimed shots. Suddenly, Fazel saw something fly off one of the outboards. “I got a hit!” he yelled.
Jerry and the three SEALs all watched for some indication that the RIB’s speed had been reduced, but it seemed unaffected as it continued to close. Another burst of.50 caliber fire came perilously close to the boat’s stern — off by a mere foot. Water from the splashes sprayed on Ramey.
Phillips instantly zigged to the right, but the Iranian gunner had finally caught on to the American’s strategy and immediately let loose another volley. Several rounds hit the gunwale between Jerry and the corpsman, tearing away chunks of the hull as they passed through.
“Son of a bitch!” yelped Fazel, as the bullets zipped over his head. Unfazed, he took several more shots. He scored some hits, but they were on the hull and thus totally ineffective. The RIB was only a couple of hundred yards away.
Lapointe shifted his body as best he could to put more weight on his good leg. This allowed him to lean a little to the left and brace himself up against the control console. He lined up his sights, well in front of the RIB, and placed his finger on the trigger. He then patiently waited for Phillips to finish executing a weave turn, checked his aim point, and fired.
The grenade hit the water several yards in front of the boat and exploded directly under the RIB’s hull. The plume from the blast lifted the bow higher into the air, causing the racing boat to plane at an unsafe angle. The aerodynamic forces on the hull at such high speed pulled the bow even higher, and in the wink of an eye, the RIB went airborne, rotating end over end as it flew through the air. Pieces of the boat were ripped away and thrown skyward as it hit the surface, cartwheeling to a stop.
Jerry’s jaw dropped as he watched the RIB sail into the air. Dumbfounded, he looked at Lapointe; and he wasn’t alone. Ramey, Fazel, and Phillips were equally astounded. No one was quite ready to believe what they had just seen. Lapointe, too, was awestruck. Everyone repeatedly looked back and forth between Lapointe’s grenade launcher and the capsized Pasdaran RIB.
It was Jerry who broke the silence as he patted Lapointe on the back. “Bravo Zulu, Pointy! That was one hell of a golden BB!”
“Awesome shot, Nate!” congratulated Fazel.
Ramey just shook his head, a big grin on his face. “No one back at the SEAL team will
Lapointe acknowledged the accolades from the XO and his teammates with a simple, “Thanks.” Then looking toward Jerry he added with a wink, “That was a bit sloppy, but I’ll take it.”
Jerry and the others laughed, relieved that the most dangerous threat had been eliminated. But it wasn’t the only threat they faced, a fact Ramey reminded them of when he pointed toward a new contact on the port quarter. “Enough celebrating, everyone, the second boat is inbound and the third isn’t far behind.”
Rahim and Qorbani were both watching through binoculars as the ten-meter RIB appeared to be closing in for the kill. The VEVAK agent was silently urging the RIB’s crew on, encouraging them to quickly finish the threat to his and Moradi’s plan. Moments later, they stared in horror as the Pasdaran boat flew into the air and tumbled back down on to the sea. It didn’t take a genius to realize that the chances of surviving such a violent crash were nil. Anger filled Rahim. The Americans had once again outmaneuvered him. It was incomprehensible how they always somehow found a way to snatch victory from his grasp. He swore that the long chase would end here and now.
“Lieutenant! I want you to fire on that boat at the earliest opportunity!” he ranted.
“Yes, Major,” responded Qorbani, shaken, but angry now as well. “We will be in range in a few minutes.”
Ramey and Lapointe watched the UAV feed as the Ashura patrol boat slowly closed the distance between them. They either missed the destruction of the RIB, which was very unlikely as they were well within visual range, or they were pressing on despite the dramatic loss of one of their more powerful patrol boats. Although the Boghammar was faster, it would take several minutes more before it would appear on the scene. For the moment, the odds were more even.
“Everybody back to their positions,” shouted Ramey. “Ammo check.”
Fazel had gone forward to check on Shirin. Physically she was unharmed; no bullets had come near her. Psychologically, it was a different story. Without Yousef, she had no one from which to draw strength and she was clearly running on empty. The corpsman stayed as long as he could, reassuring her that their situation would soon improve. She had to hang in there for just a little bit longer.
“Sorry for the delay, Boss,” he said. “Dr. Naseri is more or less okay. She hasn’t been hit, but if this doesn’t give her post-traumatic stress disorder, I’ll be surprised.”
“How are you set for ammo, Doc?” Ramey asked patiently.
“I’m good, sir. I have three full mags plus a partial in my weapon,” replied Fazel, still looking toward the bow into Shirin’s terrified eyes.
“Doc.” Ramey grabbed him by the shoulder and gave it a good shake. “I need you here. Focus on the fight, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” said Fazel, as he turned away and prepared for another battle.
A quick check of the rest of the team showed they had sufficient rifle ammunition, which included Jerry who only managed to get off a few shots. However, they were down to only three grenades for Lapointe’s launcher. Repositioned and ready, they waited silently for the next patrol boat to get in range.
The rate of their closure was maddeningly slow, and Rahim thought he would lose his mind as they clawed their way closer to their prey, one meter at a time. Qorbani explained that with only a seven-knot speed advantage, it would take them nearly eight minutes before they would be in effective range for their forward machine gun.
“Major, the
“Are we in range yet?” growled Rahim.
“Just barely, sir.”
“Then what are you waiting for? Fire!”
“Shot warning!” Lapointe yelled. Phillips began his evasive maneuvering, while Ramey and Fazel tried to get a good setup to return fire. The first rounds from the Ashura’s 7.62mm machine gun were wide right. The gunner really didn’t try to correct for his fall of shot, but just punched out one short burst after another. None came near.
“You imbecile! What are you shooting at?!” a furious Rahim screamed. Pointing at the gunner he added, “Relieve that moron before I shoot him!”
Greatly embarrassed, Qorbani sent his sergeant out to take the gunner’s position. “Aim for the engine, Sergeant!” he instructed. Spinning the wheel, the lieutenant lined the boat up for another pass, a closer one.
“Here they come!” warned Lapointe. “They’re making a straight dash in.”
“Stand by!” Ramey ordered.
“Shot! Left hard.” Lapointe shouted. Phillips pulled a hard left turn causing the Ashura to pass quickly to their right. The machine gun bursts missed again, but they were much closer this time.
“Open fire! You, too, Pointy!” Ramey, Fazel, and Jerry started firing at the exposed machine gunner with their SCARs, while Lapointe placed one of his last grenades just to the right of the patrol boat. The explosion showered the enclosed bridge with water. The Ashura immediately peeled away.
“What are you doing?” seethed Rahim. “Close the enemy!”
“Major, they have a grenade launcher! I am taking evasive action!”
Rahim would hear nothing of it. His face red with rage, he unholstered his pistol and pointed it directly at the Pasdaran lieutenant. “Close the enemy now, Lieutenant Qorbani, or
