SEAL Team Bravo: Black Ops IV (23 page)

Nolan nodded. “Yeah, they seem to prescribe the death penalty pretty freely for anyone who disagrees with them. It must play hell with their democracy.”

Then he grimaced to himself as he realized how absurd that thought was.

What democracy?

He looked around fast as someone came into the room, but it was Boswell. He smiled with relief when he saw Danial.

“Mr. Masih, they didn’t hurt you too badly?”

“Thanks to the timely intervention of you Americans, no, they didn’t.”

“Good. Chief, we’ve got a situation developing here. Bring Danial out and put him in the Stryker. We need to get out of here fast. There’s a crowd gathering, and they look as angry as a swarm of hornets.”

“We’ll be right there. Are they armed?”

He started helping Danial toward the door.

“They’re Muslims, and they’re men.”

He nodded. “Okay, they’re armed. What’s the plan?”

“Same tactic as when we came in. Shock and awe. Hit them hard when we come out, and they’ll get out of the way.”

They reached the Stryker, and Nolan pushed Danial inside, making certain he was secure. Then he went to take a peep out of the door. Their two Humvees were still parked in the street outside the workshop. He could see both .50 cal gunners were alert, their guns manned, and the barrels constantly revolved as they hunted for threats. They were staring down a crowd that must have swelled to more than a couple of hundred people. Boswell came up behind him.

“How’s it looking?”

“Lt, if we go out of here fast, those people won’t be able to get out of the way. Even though most of ‘em are insurgents, we don’t need to risk running down the innocents. You know what they’ll do afterwards, the old shoe trick.”

Boswell nodded. They’d all seen it in the different Islamic conflicts they’d been involved with. After a successful attack, the beaten defenders protested it had been an ‘innocent’ target. And there was always one children’s shoe left as a poignant signpost to the apparent ‘slaughter of the innocents’. Always one shoe, always a child’s shoe, and never two. Boswell looked at him.
 

“What do you suggest?”

“We need a diversion. Some of them may not have realized we have the Stryker in here if they didn’t see it come in. And some of them that did may think it was wrecked when it drove through the wall. I know it’s a tall order, but these people don’t always think straight. If the two Humvees hightail it out of here with every gun firing, and making enough noise to wake the dead, they’ll concentrate on them. As soon as they’re away from here, the Stryker moves out in the opposite direction.”

“I don’t know,” Boswell mused. “They get their thoughts in order mighty fast when they need to,” he warned. “They’ve even been known to take out one of these Strykers.”

“It’s the best I can come up with, Lt.”

Finally, Boswell sighed and nodded. “We’ll try it your way, but with a slight variation. I want you and Vince up on the roof of this building to cover us. Find a good firing stand, and use the sound suppressors. If they don’t know where the shots are coming from, they’ll be as confused as hell. Do your best with the MP7. It’s not a sniper rifle, but you’re a sniper, so make it work. When the Humvees run into trouble, which they will forcing through that crowd, you can help them out from here. Hit them from behind. That’ll make ‘em think again. I’ll redistribute the men. When I leave in the Stryker, you two can come with us. Get the men to their positions, Chief. We need to get this moving before they bring up any more hostiles.”

“Copy that.”

Nolan called Will inside and explained Boswell’s plan and gave the orders. “You’ll lead with your Humvee. Make plenty of noise, and try and clear the street. We don’t want those civilians out there under the wheels.”

“And if they’re not civilians, Chief? You know as well as I do, these men all carry guns, hostile or not. What are the ROEs?”

Nolan thought hard how best to advise him.

Many of that mean crowd out there are armed with AK47s. How can we distinguish friend from foe? And yet, if they're out there, carrying a weapon, and a threat to an American military patrol, they're hostile. Why else are they there? What would we do if it was happening in the US? We’d shoot.

He explained his thinking to Will.

“So if they’re carrying a weapon and look like they may be a threat, we’re cleared to fire.”

“You got it. We can’t play it any other way. I’ll be up on the roof with Vince, and if we see anything we’re unhappy with, we’ll take care of as much as we can from there.”

They both heard the shouting from outside become screams of pain. They couldn’t hear the shooting; the gun was suppressed, which could only mean one thing.

“It looks like Vince has made an early start,” Will grinned.

“Yeah. Get moving. We’ll cover you as best we can. Just do your best to get out of here any way you can. And remember, the objective of this mission is to get Danial Masih out so that we can take care of the other business. That’s the big one, nothing else matters. You have to draw off that crowd, Will, so we can get him out safely. Clear? I’ll call you when I want you to move out.”

The big, black PO1 nodded. “We’ll pull their sting, don’t worry about it. I’ll see you back at Bagram.”

He went back outside to prepare his vehicles, and Nolan started up to the roof. He first called the other sniper on the commo.

“This is Bravo Two, coming up.”

“Copy that.”

Like many rooftops in Afghanistan, this one was a flat terrace with a low and narrow wall running all the way around. Vince was at the corner, overlooking the street. He had made a stand by lying prone, pushing the barrel of his rifle through an ornamental slot in the parapet. He’d also covered himself with his lightweight camo net and sprinkled it with dust and debris. From a distance, he would have looked like a mound of rubble on the rooftop. Nolan crawled over to the edge and started preparing his own stand. Boswell’s plan to make the crowd flee in chaos and panic would only work as long as they were unaware of who was shooting at them, and where the shots were coming from.

“How’s it looking down there, Vince?”

“Much the same. I popped a couple of guys. They had AKs and looked like they were trying to get the crowd all riled up. But earlier, I saw at least one guy down there with an RPG.”

Nolan groaned. “They should ban those fucking things.”

“Tell me about it.”

He looked down into the street. There were as many as five hundred demonstrators, many waving their AKs. Many others would be armed, but they’d keep their weapons out of sight until they needed them. The Humvees were in for a rough ride. He called down to Boswell.

“Lt, it’s looking hot out there. We could do with something heavier up here, something that packs more punch. A SAW would be useful. Otherwise, I’m not sure we can hold them off for our guys to make it out.”

The Platoon carried two of the SAWs, squad automatic weapons, M249 5.56 caliber Minimis. Vince turned his head aside to look at him as he spoke. “A gunship with a chain gun would be even better.”

Nolan grinned. “Yeah, but that may be hard to explain away in a downtown Kabul street.”

“Bravo One to Two.” It was Boswell.

“Go ahead, Bravo One.”

“I’m sending Jack Whitman up with an M249. The other one is going out with the Humvees.”

“Copy that.”

“I’ll give the order for the Humvees to move out as soon as Jack’s in position.”

“Copy that, I’ll call when we’re set.”

They heard, “Coming up,” over the commo.

“Understood.”

Jack Whitman appeared, clutching the M249 Minimi in one hand, and a pack containing ammunition belts in the other, his HK416 slung across his chest. Nolan signaled for him to drop down low out of sight. The Seal inched awkwardly toward the edge, laden with weapons and ammunition belts.

“What gives, Chief?”

“It’s pretty simple. Vince and I are ready to take out targets of opportunity, as soon as the Humvees start to roll. We’d like for them to get out of here without any bloodshed, that’s optimum. But I’m not too hopeful. It’ll be chaos down there once they start rolling. Those guys are sure to press around them and start shooting the place up to try and force them to a stop. If that happens, they’ll be dead meat. The .50 cals will open up if they get into trouble. If they have to resort to that, I want you to pour it on, so they’re caught in a crossfire between us and the heavy weapons on the Humvees. One way or the other, we need to clear that street so the Stryker can drive out of here with Danial Masih. He’s too important to lose. Stay back from the edge of the roof, and only come forward when you hear the .50 cals open up. Then you’re free to open fire. Remember, the objective is to clear a path for those vehicles. Anyone looks like they’re trying to get in their way, take ‘em down.”

Whitman nodded and moved back away from the edge. When Nolan looked around, the man was searching in his pack, apparently looking for some of his gear. Nolan ignored him, looked at the street, and called in to Boswell that they were ready. He looked back down at the crowd, as the shouting got louder, reaching a crescendo. The Humvees had started to roll.

“Any sign of the RPG?”

“Nothing,” Vince grunted, as he loosed off the first half-dozen shots. Nolan saw three men slump to the ground, red blood beginning to stain their dirty white robes. Then he sighted the MP7. It was fitted with a modern Zeiss RSA reflex red dot sight, and as the first shooter loomed up, he aligned the dot on the guy’s chest and fired. Two shots smacked into the guy, and he went straight down; it was no time for fancy shooting. The crowd was moving now, surging like a squirming, organic body; a mass of screaming, shouting, and threatening humanity. He killed another guy with an AK and then several more. He snatched out a clip to reload as he emptied the first twenty rounds. The Humvees were having a hard time of it, men pressing around the vehicles, and only his armored vest saved Brad Rose from serious hurt as he was struck on his ballistic plates twice by the incoming fire. Nolan continued to watch as things unfolded the way they’d planned. When men opened fire on a bunch of Seals, there was only one response, a whole new world of pain. Brad opened fire, and the awesome roar of the Browning .50 caliber drowned out the noise of the crowd. It was time for Whitman’s machine gun to join in.
 

“Jack, get to it, and hit them hard. We have to clear a path for those vehicles.”

“Copy that.”

He squinted to the side and saw Jack putting the M249 into position. The bipod legs were unfolded ready, and the two hundred round box magazine containing the belt was in position. He nodded at Nolan.

“Do it!”

The Minimi began firing on full auto, adding the buzz of its higher speed, lighter 5.56 mm rounds to the heavy punch of the .50 caliber Browning that was roaring its awesome message of destruction and death. The crowd scattered, running for cover, and already the street was littered with bodies and dropped weapons.

“Those changed ROEs make a difference,” Vince shouted as he fired, and another insurgent went down. “I guess we all thought it’d be more of the same. We’d be afraid to open fire on so called ‘innocent’ Afghans carrying AK47s and taking potshots at us.”
 
He snapped in a new clip and was already seeking the next target.

“I guess not, but this time Danial is too important to let these people stop us from getting him back to safety. Jesus Christ, all this because they thought he was converting from Islam to Christianity! Bunch of insane bastards. But I guess we’ll have to take the heat for it later.”

He began looking for the next target, but the north end of the street was almost clear of hostiles. Whitman snapped in another belt and started firing again, but Nolan stopped him, and the noise died away.

“There’s nothing threatening left down there now. Let’s get the Stryker on its way while the way is still clear.”

He keyed his mic. “Lt, the street is open. Do you want us to come down? We ought to get going now.”

“Sure thing, well done, Chief.
 
I’ll…”

Vince’s shout chopped him off mid-sentence. “RPG, shooter coming in from the south end of the street. I say again, the south end of the street.”

Nolan swiveled his gaze around in time to see a robed Afghan duck out of sight into a narrow alleyway. He looked to the north. The Humvees were making slow progress, picking their way through the debris of the running battle. There was no way out for the Stryker, no way other than past the missileer. And the APC would be an easy target.