Tropical Terror sts-12 Read online

  A British lieutenant came up with his men and asked what was going on.

  “The training exercise is over,” Murdock told them. “It’s been good working with you SAS guys, but now it looks like we’ve got ourselves a real war going on down there. We’ve been attacked by missiles from someone. Seems like most of the communications are down. Time we get down there and see what’s going on. We’re about two miles from our base camp. Get your men down there fast and let’s pack up. The trucks are another hour’s hike out. Let’s move, people.”

  After an hour, they stopped and tried the SATCOM again. The second time they had a response from Don Stroh.

  “Yeah, Murdock. Good to know you’re okay. We don’t know what the hell is going on out there except that our reports show that someone has launched an attack against Oahu. Thinking here is it has to be China. Only one with any real problem with us in the Pacific who has the capability. When we can, we’ll put you on TAD with CINCPAC. Keep us informed.”

  Murdock called Ed DeWitt over.

  “Who was that commander who served as our liaison with CINCPAC the first day we arrived?”

  “Somebody Johnson. Commander Johnson,” Ed said. He watched his CO. “What the hell we going to do?”

  “Maybe this Commander Johnson can tell us. We reported in at Pearl, right? What department was that?”

  “He was from the Pearl Harbor Training Command, as I remember,” Will Dobler, Senior Chief Boatswain’s Mate, said. “He was grousing about it, wanting to get back to sea duty.”

  “Francis,” Murdock said. “Commander Francis Johnson.”

  “Right,” Ed said. “Only it was the CINCPAC Training Command.”

  “Try that on the radio,” Murdock said. “Stow these paint guns and get out our usual weapons. We have live ammo, right?”

  “Oh, yes,” Senior Chief Dobler said. “The Brits wanted to see just how much gear and ammo we carried when we went into a mission.”

  “Pearl must be a mess after the attack, but CINCPAC is up on the hill five miles away,” Murdock said, thinking out loud. “Why are they off the air? They told us to give them a call at CINCPAC whenever we needed anything.”

  “Hey, reminds me,” DeWitt said. “Johnson gave me a phone number in case we got cut off by the CINCPAC officialdom. Right here.” He handed a small notebook to Murdock.

  The commander looked at Holt, who made two settings on the SATCOM and looked up. “Ready for you to dial the cellular phone, Skipper.”

  Murdock hit the buttons and a few moments later the speaker came to life.

  “Yes, yes. What do you want? All hell is still on the loose here. Who is this?”

  “Commander Johnson, this is Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock, with the SEALs. We were on the Koolau Range when the missile hit. They were missiles, weren’t they?”

  “God, yes. But first, somehow they knocked out all of our radio communications. All we have are phones. Going mad. How fast can you get down here? The admiral wants you to do a small job for us. The faster the better. You have transport?”

  “Right, we do. I’d say about an hour from here, depending on the traffic. Have the civilians panicked yet?”

  “Not that we’ve heard about. All the damage is on-base. They were good, whoever the hell they were. Make it here in an hour and don’t worry about stop signs and traffic lights. Blow your horn all the way. We need you here damn fast. Instead of Pearl, go right up to the Marine Corps’ Camp Smith about five miles up the hill. The admiral has a job for you. A guide will be waiting for you at the gate. Move it, Commander.”

  Half the men were in the three trucks. Murdock bellowed that they were moving out. The rest loaded in less than two minutes. Murdock sat in the front seat of the lead six-by and told the driver the drill.

  “Yes, sir, I can get there the fastest way. All you SEALs in this rig?” Murdock nodded. “Good, tell them to hold on.”

  The usually crowded Pali Highway was jammed by the time they got there. Horns honking, people yelling. The SEALs wound through traffic, on the shoulder, anywhere they could find room.

  It wasn’t panic traffic, but thousands of cars were on the move that usually wouldn’t be. Some of the drivers were on the nervous edge, and there were six crashes that Murdock saw before they got to Highway 1 and Pearl City.

  The driver knew where the Marine Camp was above Pearl City, and he drove right to the gate. It was blocked by two huge bulldozers.

  Two Marines in helmets, combat gear, and weapons came forward and checked the truck.

  “We’ve got orders to report to Commander Johnson at CINCPAC Training as fast as possible,” Murdock told the SP.

  The SP frowned. “You them SEAL guys? Told us you was coming.”

  “That’s right, now move the machinery.” They did.

  The truck driver stopped just inside the gate. A guide waved him down. A major looked at the driver.

  “You have the SEALs here, sailor?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is a Lieutenant Commander Murdock on board?”

  “That’s me, Major,” Murdock said.

  “Follow my rig.” The major stepped into a Humvee and it roared away with the six-by right behind it.

  Both vehicles stopped at an imposing building a short ways later. The major led Murdock, Lam, Senior Chief Dobler, and Ed DeWitt to a guarded door. The Marine guard saluted the major and opened the door. The SEALs wore their combat vests, cammies, and carried their weapons.

  A commander just inside the door stared at them a moment. “Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock?”

  “Yes, sir. In response to Commander Johnson’s message.”

  “Right. Glad you’re here. You’re going to talk to Admiral Birchard D. Bennington, and he’s getting impatient waiting for you. This way.”

  “Can you tell us what happened to Pearl?”

  “Half blown off the map. Missiles, but we’re not sure who fired them. So far the brass thinks it’s a Chinese attack.”

  The men went to an elevator and down two levels, through a concrete tunnel, and into a war room with huge maps on the wall, a dozen large video monitors, and a table in front with six men clustered around it. All were Navy captains and admirals.

  A four-star admiral stood and stared at the four SEALs.

  “Are you Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “About time. The CNO sends his regards. He has given me an assignment for you and your platoon.”

  The four SEALs had come stiffly to attention.

  “At ease, men,” the admiral said. “This is a rush job. You know we’ve been hit, Chinese we think. We also have lost most of our radio network. The key is the master communications center, Building Forty-two on Pearl. It was not damaged in the missile attack. Now it’s locked down from the inside. Our best explanation is that some terrorists captured the facility at the exact time that the missiles hit. At any rate, they have complete control. They haven’t sent us any messages, but right now they are seriously handicapping our situation. In short, we have only paste-up communications with the entire South Pacific. We’ve heard by phone that there has been an invasion on the windward coast at Kaneohe Bay. But we’re not even sure of that.”

  The admiral looked at the four SEALs critically. “I see you have some of your combat gear. What you don’t have we can supply here in quick time. Your assignment, straight from a man called Don Stroh and the President, sent through the CNO, is to capture the communications building and drive out the enemy there with as little damage to the equipment as possible. Do you have any questions?”

  2

  Pearl Harbor, Hawaii

  Murdock looked at the four-star admiral, his face showing surprise.

  “Sir, the communications building is like a fortress. I have fifteen men.”

  “And good ones, from what I’m told. The Chief of Naval Operations says you’re the man for the job. Get it done as quickly as you can. We have a full-scale Chinese am
phibious invasion in progress. We need our commo and we need it now.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll need equipment and arms.”

  “We don’t want you simply blasting into the place and leaving it in rubble. We could do that. We want it to be on the air ten minutes after you liberate it. I understand you have a sound weapon that isn’t destructive.”

  “We brought only four of the EAR weapons, sir, mostly for demonstration.”

  “Good, use them. Anything you want, Commander. And I mean anything: tanks, flamethowers, a company of Marine Rangers. Just ask. Commander Johnson is your liaison. Good luck.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Murdock said. The four did about-faces and walked out of the room. Commander Johnson was just outside.

  “What’s first, Commander?” Johnson asked.

  “Recon and intel. I want a floor plan of the building. Base engineering should have it. Get about six men to help you run down things for us.”

  They walked down the tunnel to the elevator, then went up.

  “Get one man to take my Senior Chief Dobler to ordnance with a truck to bring back ammo and weapons. We left some gear here two days ago. Find it and get it to our assembly area about two blocks from the target.”

  “I’ve got two Humvees and six men topside, Commander. We’ll get in motion. Also, I’ve got a man who works in the commo building who can fill you in on some of the problems and the defenses.”

  At the six-by, Murdock told the men the assignment. He sent Senior Chief Dobler to ordnance. “Get all the exploding twenties they have, and regular 20mm rounds. Also we need TNAZ or C-5, whichever they have. Load up on 5.56 ammo. Anything else you think we might need. Some flashbangs would be good, a couple of dozen. Go. The Chinese are invading the other side of the island right now.”

  Murdock turned to meet a chief who came up with Johnson.

  “Commander, this is Chief Natterby, a commo specialist who works in the center. He knows the layout.”

  “Welcome aboard, Chief. We’ve got work to do. You stay with me. We’ll recon the place soon.” He looked back at the liaison officer. “Johnson, if they have any Marine Recon or Rangers on-base, get me twenty of them combat-ready. I want them here as backup. Chief Natterby, we need a command post two blocks from the commo center. Tell Johnson where it should be so he can get the Marines there.”

  Murdock scowled for a moment, thinking. “Recon time. DeWitt, Jaybird, Natterby. On me in that first Humvee. Let’s see what we have here to work against.”

  The Humvee had a driver. Natterby told him where to go. They edged up to the side of a building a few blocks later, and all climbed out.

  Natterby had talked all the way over. The place was a fortress, but it had weak spots.

  “What about a central air-conditioning system?” Jaybird asked. “Any way we could get to it?”

  “The central air-conditioning has its only air intake on the rear of the building at ground level. There is no room-by-room control. Tough to shut off the air-con.”

  “Perfect spot for some tear-gas drills,” Jaybird said.

  Chief Natterby took a small cell phone from his pocket. “Sir, I can call ordnance and have them include tear-gas canisters with the other material your chief is picking up.”

  Murdock nodded.

  “How many, sir?” asked Natterby.

  “Fifty. No, make it eighty.”

  Now the men peered around the building at the communications center. It was a concrete block building, three stories high, with a l50-foot frontage on the street. Windows showed on the first two floors, but none on the third floor. The roof was a pincushion of antennas.

  “Two doors in the rear,” Natterby said. “One truck ramp. One door in front. It’s electronic with a guard post outside. You need a thumbprint and retina check to get in normally. Right now the security post is empty. No easy access.”

  “What about the roof?” DeWitt asked.

  “Never been up there. Must be access to service the antennas. Probably a weak spot.”

  “Any windowless area that extends all the way to the roof-line?” Murdock asked.

  “Yes, sir. On the rear, our near side. Rope climb?”

  Murdock nodded. “Okay, let’s pick out our command post. Where should it be, Natterby? No more than two blocks from the target.”

  They picked out a vacant parking lot behind another big building. The six-by came moments later, and then the other Humvee. The platoon began working over gear. Natterby made four phone calls, then went to Murdock.

  “I found the rest of your gear. I’ve arranged to have it brought here. Should arrive within a half hour.”

  “Good, check with ordnance and see if our truck there has left yet. We can’t do much until we get those canisters. That’s going to be our opening move.”

  Joe Lampedusa came up and Murdock grabbed him. “Two blocks over is a three-storied building,” Murdock said. “The commo center. I want you to do a recon all the way around it. Stay out of sight if possible. Look for any weak spots. Should be a rope-climb area back there without windows. Check it out. You have forty minutes. Leave your weapon here and your vest. Move it.”

  Ed DeWitt stood nearby, listening. Murdock waved him over. “Ed, take one man and check out the air-conditioning intake on the back of the place. See if we can get four men in there without being seen. We’ll go with a hot firefight if we need to, to get to the intake. That will be a big factor here.”

  “Agree. I’ll check it out now.”

  Ten minutes later the six-by came with the rest of the gear the SEALs had bought from the mainland, including the four EAR weapons. These are Enhanced Acoustical Rifles, and are non-lethal. They pump out a blast of sound waves that hit a target or go inside a room and bounce all around. A hit or near miss can put the target man down and unconscious for two to four hours. When the target wakes up, he is not damaged physically. The SEALs first used the weapon in the mission to Northern Japan.

  Being non-lethal and non-destructive, the EARs would be important elements here.

  Murdock assigned the EARs, two weapons to each squad. He had a mix of the H & K MP-5SD4 9mm submachine guns with suppressors, and the Bull Pups with the exploding rounds. When he was happy with the mix he called over Chief Natterby.

  “Where are the sensitive areas, the transmitters, receivers, all the electronics equipment in the commo center?”

  “Almost all of it is on the third floor. It’s sealed up separately from the rest of the building for security and protection from an attack that would produce explosive fragments, shrapnel, accidental damage.”

  “First two floors administrative?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How many friendlies do we have in the building? How many would normally be there on a working day like today?”

  “Between a hundred ten to a hundred thirty. Usually there’s a commander and a captain aboard.”

  “Now, how many terrorists would it take to capture and neutralize the communications center?”

  “My guess would be at least ten, maybe fifteen. There are six separate master control centers. They would have to be shut down and locked down.”

  “Are there weapons in the building?”

  “Not that I know of. Nobody wears weapons during working hours. The guards at night have side arms. Interior guards.”

  “There must be a weapons locker somewhere. You’ve never seen one or heard about one?”

  “No, sir.”

  “So there’s little chance for any armed resistance from inside. Let’s hope that the tear gas and the EARs do their job and we don’t have to use any of the 20mm.”

  Ed Dewitt came back with his report.

  “The air intake is plainly marked, and we’ve got clear passage to it out of sight of anyone at the rear windows. No need to wait for darkness.”

  Five minutes later the two Humvees boiled into the parking lot with the weapons and ammo. DeWitt’s squad grabbed the cases of tear-gas canisters. They came twenty to a car
ton and there were four cartons.

  DeWitt talked to the Humvee driver, and took from his toolbox a heavy pair of side cutter pliers, a three-foot pry bar, a heavy hammer, and three screwdrivers.

  Murdock looked at the tools.

  “All we have to do is lift off a screen over the input pipe and we’re in business,” DeWitt said.

  Murdock had scouted the area fronting the communications building. It was an administration office of some kind, with a two-foot-high rock wall in front of it next to the sidewalk. Plenty of cover for his riflemen.

  “This is a radio net check,” Murdock said on his lip mike. “Alpha Squad report.”

  He listened as six of his seven men reported. Kenneth Ching had not logged on.

  “Jaybird, find Ching and get him wired,” Murdock said.

  Ed DeWitt checked his squad and counted all of them.

  “Ed, it’s your lead. Dump in at least forty of those canisters as fast as you can pop them. We’ve got another twenty rounds up here we can lob into the windows if we need to. We’ll give it five minutes after you tell me the gas is on the way. Then if we have to, we’ll use the EAR.”

  He looked around. All of the SEALs were there except Lam. “Bravo Squad men with the EAR, give them to Alpha. Your play, DeWitt.”

  DeWitt had parceled out the canisters to four of his squad. Each man had fifteen in a box. They moved out just as Lam came in from his recon.

  “Place is wrapped up tight as a fourteen-year-old wannabe. Saw the section for climbing. Looks reasonable with no visual from the windows. Parking lot behind the building shows some activity. Like the rear door could be open from time to time. Might be good to watch it with three men for possible entry. That’s about it, Cap.”

  “Lam, pick two men and cover the door. Take flashbangs and grenades, but use the fraggers judiciously. Could be over a hundred friendlies inside. Let us know on the Motorola if you get inside. Go.”

  Murdock looked at the rest of his squad. He carried his Bull Pup and an MP-5 over his back. He gave a case of twenty tear-gas canisters to Ronson and they moved out. They had no machine guns or long-range sniper rifles.