The Scorpion's Gate (10 page)
“. . . assume Force Protection Condition Threatcon Delta, repeat, Threatcon Delta . . .” a voice of God said from seemingly everywhere on base. Marines poured out of the security barracks, throwing on flak jackets and carrying M16s. Humvees with blue lights blinking moved down the middle of the street toward the main gate.
At the SEAL dock, Lieutenant Shane Buford was on the red Alert Phone to the COMNAVCENT Operations Center on the other side of the base. “It will be hard to coordinate with the Marines’ helos, Commander, if we move this fast....Aye, aye, sir.” Bufordlooked at his chief, a seasoned, gnarled enlisted man with twice as many years in as Buford. “Chief, launch all three boats. We are to marry up with the duty boat and move toward the channel and...get this... board the LNG tanker
Jamal
near the R-12 buoy.
Jamal
near the R-12 buoy.
“We are to presume the LNG may have been seized by heavily armed men who may have explosives. The Marine FAST, if it can get going, may rappel from Black Hawks onto the deck, simultaneously with our assault if possible. And”—the young SEAL shook his head—“this is no drill.”
Eighteen SEALs ran down the dock into the Zodiacs. Each boat was rigged with three heavy machine guns. The lines were untied and the boats away in seconds. Moving abreast, the Zodiacs cut through the water off the Navy base into the channel. Buford looked
back at the gray hulls tied up in the main dock area. He saw the tower of an Aegis-class destroyer, the masts of two minesweepers, the big mass of a munitions resupply and under-way replenishment ship. Three littoral patrol craft were tied up to one another at the end of one pier.
It was dinnertime and many of the base personnel who lived “on the economy” were in private apartments nearby, but at least four thousand Americans were in the ASU at the moment. Another two thousand were probably within a few kilometers, within the blast radius if the LNG tanker went up.
The Zodiacs were speeding through the main shipping channel now, and Buford was monitoring several frequencies on his headset. His call sign was Alpha Three One.
“Alpha Three One, be advised harbormaster reports suspicious responses to his hails to LNG
Jamal.
Bahraini navy patrol craft is getting under way from Juffair East.”
Jamal.
Bahraini navy patrol craft is getting under way from Juffair East.”
And another voice: “ASU Ops, this is Coast Guard D342. We are about three klicks from R-12, have subject vessel in sight. She is proceeding east at eight knots.” Years ago the Coast Guard had sent a maritime safety and security team to help the Navy patrol Bahrain harbor. They were still there and drove 25-foot Defender-class boats designed for harbor-security missions.
In each of the three Zodiacs, the chiefs were going over the rules of engagement with the teams: “Possibly heavily armed men, possibly explosives, but we are not sure, so do not pop some Japanese merchant marine guy without identifying him hostile.”
The fourth SEAL Zodiac, the duty boat, had been patrolling to the west of the ASU and could now be seen speeding to rendezvous with the three alert boats. Buford hailed it on a tactical frequency: “Alpha Three Four, you will team with Alpha Three Three and move down the port side of the target vessel.” As he said that, he realized that they would have none of the tactical surprise that they normally counted on when storming a ship. The sun had just set, but there was still enough ambient light from the city and the refinery that they were not exactly operating in the dark that they normally used to protect them. Buford’s laptop, which he had strapped to the deck, beeped, and he looked down to see a new PDF file with the deck plans of the LNG
Jamal.
They had just been sent to him from the N-2 at the base.
Jamal.
They had just been sent to him from the N-2 at the base.
“ASU Ops, this is Coast Guard Delta 342, subject vessel is turning toward the Juffair Channel and making wake. We will close in three mikes. What are our orders?”
There was a pause before the ASU Operations Center answered the Coast Guard Defender boat. Then, “Roger, 342, you are to hail the target ship on radio, with lights, flares, and loudspeakers. Advise them they are entering into a restricted area and must reverse at full speed. After they clear the zone, tell them that you want to board. Do you have a Bahraini officer for boarding?”
The Defender, like all the Coast Guard boats and ships in the region, typically carried a host country rider, who had the legal authority of the sovereign state in whose waters they sailed. With him on board, they could enforce local laws and come aboard any vessel without permission from the ship’s master.
Buford could now see the orange Coast Guard Defender boat two kilometers out ahead, but the tanker had to be running with few lights. He could not make out the huge ship with his binoculars, so he raised the night-vision glasses from his belt. In the green light of the glasses, at the distant setting, the big LNG tanker, with its spherical containers, was clear. It was now heading straight up the Juffair Channel toward the ASU. A bright light erupting in the nightvision glasses forced him to pull them quickly away from his eyes.
“Coasties are shooting up flares at her,” the chief said. “She has stopped talking to the harbormaster, ignoring his hails.”
Buford switched to the Coast Guard frequency and heard in English, “LNG
Jamal,
LNG
Jamal,
this is the United States Coast Guard. You are entering a restricted area. Switch to reverse full power. Repeat...”
Jamal,
LNG
Jamal,
this is the United States Coast Guard. You are entering a restricted area. Switch to reverse full power. Repeat...”
He saw it come from the bow of the tanker, a flash there and then a line of light shooting forward in front of the tanker, then... a ball of fire where the Coast Guard Defender had been and a thud and a crackling sound moving across the water. Someone on the
Jamal
had fired a heavy, man-portable antitank weapon at the Defender, which had exploded, sending flaming pieces up into the sky and sideways to the right and left.
Jamal
had fired a heavy, man-portable antitank weapon at the Defender, which had exploded, sending flaming pieces up into the sky and sideways to the right and left.
“Alpha Three One to all Alpha patrol boats, target is hostile, repeat, target is hostile,” Buford called into his headset. “Change of plans. Implement Redskins Blue Two, repeat Redskins Blue Two. Alpha Three, join me at point; Two and Four, play stopper.” Buford called out a prearranged maneuver from the SEALs’ playbook, just as he had called plays as the Springfield High quarterback seven years earlier.
The Zodiacs were running full out, without lights, changing their patterns repeatedly to avoid being targeted the way the Coasties had been, by a gunner with night-vision devices on the bow of the
Jamal.
Jamal.
Buford heard the Marines’ Fleet Anti-Terrorism Security team commander on another frequency. “Where the fuck are the Black Hawks? My team is ready for pickup.” Probably as many as thirty-six Marines were suited up in body armor and waiting at the ASU landing zone for the ride that would take them to points above the deck of the target ship. The plan was that, as the helicopters hovered in the dark, the Marines would rope down onto the ship. It was only slightly more crazy than what Buford planned to do with the SEALs at some point tonight, which was to launch rope rockets onto the ship and then climb up special ladders onto the deck, 200 feet above the sea.
Another voice on the headset: “This is Bahraini Navy patrol craft to LNG
Jamal.
We are proceeding to your location. Come to full stop. Prepare to be boarded.” Buford checked the tactical plot on his secure wireless laptop. The Bahrainis were about twelve minutes away. Buford was now about two minutes from executing his play.
Jamal.
We are proceeding to your location. Come to full stop. Prepare to be boarded.” Buford checked the tactical plot on his secure wireless laptop. The Bahrainis were about twelve minutes away. Buford was now about two minutes from executing his play.
“Brrrt.... Brrrt....”
Buford could hear arms fire and he saw flashes from the
Jamal
’s bow and port side, but not another antitank missile. Whoever was on board the
Jamal,
they were firing automatic weapons, trying to keep away frogmen who they assumed would be there. If there had been time, the SEALs would have, in fact, approached the target ship on diver sleds. The shooters seemed to know that.
Buford could hear arms fire and he saw flashes from the
Jamal
’s bow and port side, but not another antitank missile. Whoever was on board the
Jamal,
they were firing automatic weapons, trying to keep away frogmen who they assumed would be there. If there had been time, the SEALs would have, in fact, approached the target ship on diver sleds. The shooters seemed to know that.
A starburst flare overhead lit up the night sky, followed by another off the starboard side. The Zodiacs would be clearly seen now, without night-vision devices. Another missile could be coming from the
Jamal
any moment. The ship seemed huge now as she plowed up the channel toward the Zodiacs at full speed.
Jamal
any moment. The ship seemed huge now as she plowed up the channel toward the Zodiacs at full speed.
“Alpha Three Three, fire at will, repeat, fire at will,” Buford said, and he gave the go sign to his chief. A second later there was a crack, a whoosh of air, a shock of light. The Zodiac bucked like a horse hearing a cherry bomb go off. Then, half a kilometer away, another Zodiac also let loose with a Javelin antitank missile. As soon as they fired, the two Zodiacs began evasive action before anyone on the bow could fire at them. Buford’s Javelin hit the tower of the ship and it lit up like a dry Christmas tree. Then the second Javelin hit and the flames on the conning tower shot higher. If anyone was steering the ship and controlling the speed from the tower, they were now toast. If the SEALs had missed and hit one of the five round gas tanks protruding from the deck, the entire harbor would have been on fire. If the fire on the tower spread, that might still happen. But the book said it wouldn’t spread.
The
Jamal
continued to move closer and farther up the channel toward the base at high speed. Buford saw the Black Hawk in his peripheral vision and switched to the FAST frequency. “FAST one moving into position for stern assault. Where are my other three birds?”
Jamal
continued to move closer and farther up the channel toward the base at high speed. Buford saw the Black Hawk in his peripheral vision and switched to the FAST frequency. “FAST one moving into position for stern assault. Where are my other three birds?”
“Oh Christ,” Buford mouthed over the roar of the Zodiac. His chief signaled back, “What’s wrong?”
Buford yelled into the chief ’s ear above the din of the motors. “The Marine FAST Commander seems to have gotten frustrated waiting for his rides and launched only one squad with the first chopper he could get. Worse yet, he’s going to do a stern rappel just when Alpha Three Two and Three Four are about to shoot out the props on the tanker.”
Buford was only a Navy lieutenant, and the FAST commander was a Marine major, but Buford was going to have to tell his superior officer up there in the Black Hawk that the SEALs, on the Zodiacs coming around behind the tanker, were about to fire rockets at its propellers. If done properly, there was no danger of the ship’s fuel igniting, but there might be a problem for Marines roping down onto the deck above the props.
“FAST-One, this is Alpha Three...” Buford began, when he saw the light jump up from the ship’s deck. Then the Black Hawk exploded into an orange-yellow burst and he could see the fuselage buckle in the middle while the rotors still turned. The men on the
Jamal
had fired a Stinger missile or Russian SA-14 at the Marines, twelve of whom were now aflame as the Black Hawk fell to the sea.
Jamal
had fired a Stinger missile or Russian SA-14 at the Marines, twelve of whom were now aflame as the Black Hawk fell to the sea.
Buford now heard the thuds from his two Zodiacs attacking the propellers. If they had succeeded in hitting the large propellers, the ship would slow, but its forward momentum would continue to push it up-channel toward the Navy base. He yelled to the chief, “If they are going to blow the LNG, now’s the time they will try to do it. We got to get on board now and stop them.”
“Boarding party, aye, sir,” the chief screamed back.
Buford coordinated with the other Zodiacs so that all four would launch their climbers up different parts of the ship, then pull back to give the climbers covering fire from the machine guns.
As his boat pulled up next to the tanker, that 200 feet to the deck seemed like a mile of steel looming above them, and moving ahead. Buford yelled to three SEALs in his Zodiac, “Pull out the beanstalk.” They brought out a titanium device that looked only 6 feet high, but its two thick poles contained extensions. Buford pressed the launch button, and the poles shot 75 feet into the air. Between the poles, thin, narrow steps made a ladder. Suction cups and magnets on the sides of the poles attached themselves to the tanker. They moved their Jack and the Beanstalk tower so that it hooked onto a scupper on the side of the tanker, then started to ascend, Buford first.
The Zodiac pulled back out, to get an angle where they could take any people on the deck under fire. Normally, the SEALs would have had their own helicopters, Little Birds, with SEALs sitting outside on the landing gear, providing covering fire. Unfortunately, the Little Birds were training on barges out in the Gulf with most of the SEAL team. Buford was left at home to guard the fort, literally.
As the Zodiac moved off from the tanker, Buford was startled by a noise and a motion above. He looked up from the water to see flames from the tales of two Bahraini F-16s as they shot by 500 feet above the sea. He hoped they knew they should do nothing but look good. Then he heard another, more familiar sound: Black Hawks. The rest of the FAST had arrived on three or four more birds, and so far they were not being targeted with Stingers.
Buford quickly switched to the FAST frequency. “FAST Commander, this is Alpha Three One, I have a dozen men climbing up the sides at positions one, two, and six. I need covering fire from your helos. Suggest we put all men on board on one tactical freq. Over.”
“Roger, Alpha, we will rope down into positions three, four, and five. We will fire at the deck near your positions until you get topside,” the Marine in the lead chopper responded, using the numbers that the SEALs and Marines both employed to designate locations on a ship being assaulted from the air or from the sea’s surface. “Alpha, have your men switch to tac freq 198.22, over.”
Buford and his team had climbed the beanstalk, hooked onto the side, and pulled the ladder up behind them. They then fired it up another 75 feet and hooked on. After the second climb of the tower, they shot ropes onto the deck. When the ropes seemed to be securely caught on something on the deck, the SEALs began climbing the last stretch of the steel behemoth.
Other books
Revengeful Deceptions by Dukes, Ursula
Shades of Sexy by Wynter Daniels
When Dead in Greece by L.T. Ryan
His To Take: Night One by Whisper, Kera
Blood of the Maple by Dana Marie Bell
Exile by Rebecca Lim
Someone I Wanted to Be by Aurelia Wills
Twelve Rooms with a View by Theresa Rebeck
Tears of a Dragon by Bryan Davis
The Winner Stands Alone by Paulo Coelho