Trial By Fire (17 page)

“The colonel is busy right now. Give me your report.”

Looking over at Guajardo, the lieutenant wondered what the colonel could possibly be doing with his eyes closed. It looked as if he were asleep. Since he was a senior officer, and the lieutenant still did not understand the ways of senior officers, he ignored the colonel and rendered his report to Caso.

“Towers one, five, and six are secured. We lost one sergeant dead as well as an officer and a sapper wounded in taking them. Team Z-2 was wiped out to a man when the helicopter crashed into tower two. I have myself, one other officer, two sergeants, and eight sappers left.” The lieutenant’s voice was slightly hoarse but controlled.

Caso nodded his approval, noticing that, as he spoke, the lieutenant could not help himself as he glanced back at the body in the center of the floor. “This is your first action, Lieutenant. You will soon grow used to such sights.”

The lieutenant of engineers looked at the body, then back at Caso.

Closing his eyes as he nodded, the lieutenant indicated that he was all right, wondering if he, or anyone, could really become accustomed to such sights. Opening his eyes, he probed the major’s, trying to see if Caso himself believed what he said. Caso’s stare, however, betrayed nothing. “Yes, sir. I, I’ve never really seen anything like that.” He looked back one more time at the body in white behind them. “It seems a shame, such a beautiful woman should die like that.”

Case restrained his laughter. “Wastage, yes, but unavoidable. Our task was to clear the building quickly and completely. ‘She,’ unfortunately, simply found herself in the line of fire. It could not be helped.” He paused, looked from the body back to the engineer lieutenant, and then shot back: “Status of demolitions?”

“Excellent. We used only one satchel charge in each tower to gain access. All doors and gates in the towers were open. The guards had not had time to close them.”

Suddenly Guajardo, without opening his eyes, called out. “Did you capture any machine guns in the towers?”

Turning from Caso to the colonel, the lieutenant responded that they had. There had been two American 7.62mm machine guns in each tower.

All were still operational.

“Do you think your men could work them, Lieutenant?” Guajardo asked, his eyes still closed.

With the confidence of a young officer who believes in himself and his men, the engineer lieutenant responded to Guajardo’s inquiry in a manner that bordered on being boastful. “Yes, we can. The sergeants took them right off and checked that out. They are really quite simple weapons to . . .”

Guajardo, his eyes flying open, turned to the lieutenant, firing orders to him as he did so. “Have the team from tower one drop down from that tower, with both M-60 machine guns, outside the wall and move toward the north gate. The team from tower six will also drop down outside the wall, take their machine guns, and move to the south gate.”

Looking to Caso, Guajardo continued to issue orders. “Leave Captain Castro and half of his Group M in the house to keep the mercenaries busy.

You, my friend, will take the rest of Group M, move through the garden, go over the north wall, join the engineers at the north gate, move to the base of tower three, and set up your machine guns to cover the footbridge and airfield from the north. The engineers, if they can, will blow a hole into tower three to gain access. Take the tower if you can.” Guajardo paused, then emphasized his intent. “Regardless of what happens, set up the machine guns and keep anyone from escaping.”

Caso thought for a minute. “What about the rollers on the walls?”

“They roll only one way, out. They were meant to keep people out, not in. Your landing may be hard, but you can do it. Any other questions?”

“I

assume, Colonel, you will do the same in the south.”

In his excitement, Guajardo had not told his men his complete plan.

“Yes. That is correct. I will send half of Group D with their commander over the south wall to join the engineers from tower six and set up their machine guns at the base of tower four. That should trap Alaman’s men.

With the rest of Group D and the engineers in tower five, I shall begin the process of clearing the garage, stable, and barracks, as planned.” Finished, Guajardo looked at Caso, then the lieutenant. “Do you have any questions?”

Both men shook their heads. “Good. Now hurry. Time is against us.”

Exhausted from the sudden and unaccustomed exertion, Alaman sat in the corner of a barracks room, forgotten for the moment. Overwhelmed by shock and pain from his rough handling by Childress, El Dueno watched with detached interest the scene before him. It all seemed so unreal, like a nightmare. The sudden and brutal death of his associates before his eyes paled in comparison to the destruction of his beloved Chinampas. Everything that had ever mattered to him was being destroyed, piece by piece, as he sat there, and there was nothing that he could do, nothing.

Across from where Alaman sat, several of the mercenaries, who served as the garrison, took turns firing out into the courtyard and in the direction of the house. The fumes from the firing of their weapons, mixed with the smoke from the burning tower and helicopter, filled the room with a stench that seared Alamn’s lungs as he gasped to catch his breath. A few feet away from him, Delapos, his chief of security, and Childress were conferring in English. Though he could only understand half of what they said, with much of the rest drowned out by gunfire, Alaman gathered that they were in agreement that their situation was hopeless and that they needed to escape.

Though he wanted to protest, demanding that they fight for Chinampas, Alaman had neither the physical strength, nor the moral courage, to make such a demand on the armed mercenaries. Although he was confused and stunned, he still had enough common sense to realize that his paid garrison did not possess the same love for Chinampas that he did. Nothing he could say at that moment, not even the promise of more money, could motivate them to do anything to save the place. Survival, the desire to live and collect that which was due to them, was all that mattered to the mercenaries.

As a businessman who had made his fortune dealing with such men, Alaman understood this. Still, the thought of losing Chinampas, and all that it stood for, brought him to the verge of tears.

While their boss struggled to control his emotions, Delapos and Childress quickly reviewed their options. Neither man could understand why the raiders, who appeared to be so well organized and led, had neglected to seize the airfield. Not that it mattered. What did matter was that this error provided them an avenue of escape. That it would soon be closed was without question. The only thing that needed to be decided was how to get Alaman, the man who paid them, and as many of the men as possible, out of the trap they were in before escape became impossible.

Despite the fact that Delapos was in charge, Childress’s training as a Green Beret in the U.S. Army equaled and in some ways surpassed the skills and experience of his boss. At times Delapos treated Childress as an equal, even deferring to his judgment. So it was not surprising that, at that moment, Childress took the lead. After all, both men were professionals, and results, not formality, mattered. “Are the pilots still at the airfield?”

Delapos shook his head. “I do not know. Someone said they took off in that direction as soon as the firing started. I assume that they are still there. But even if they are not, we still need to go through there anyhow.”

Childress

nodded in agreement. “That’s true. Now, who takes Senior Alaman and who covers the rear?”

Before answering, Delapos looked over at the men firing in the courtyard.

At times like this, it was hard to predict how they would react. As much as he wanted to leave with Alaman, he knew he had to stay since he could best control the mercenary force he had built. Looking back at Childress, he ordered him to pick three men, get Alaman to the airfield, and get him away as best he could. He, Delapos, would give Childress two minutes, then follow with as many men as possible.

Stirred from his stupor when he heard that his men were going to I

abandon his beloved Chinampas, Alaman yelled from across the room,

“And how, my friend, will you do that? There are not enough aircraft at the field to get everyone out.”

Surprised by Alamdn’s sudden outburst, Delapos stood up, put his hands on his hips, and looked at his employer. “That is not your concern.

If necessary, we will evade the Federales on foot and work our way f

north.” Turning back, he looked into Childress’s eyes, lowering his voice so that Alaman could not hear, as he continued to issue his orders.

“Now, my gringo friend, get our fearless leader out of here. If he doesn’t get out, none of us will get paid.”

Childress laughed. “Ah, a true mercenary to the last.” His face serious again, he asked Delapos where they planned to rally.

“Meet us at the old training grounds, the one with the airfield, in five days. If we are not there by then, enjoy your bonus. Now go.”

Guajardo had no sooner sent Caso and the engineer lieutenant off than he regretted not giving himself a more active role in the plan to finish Alaman and his men. Though it made sense in that it nearly conformed to the original plan, Guajardo didn’t feel comfortable delegating such important and dangerous tasks to his subordinates while he stayed safe, secure, and worse, unable to personally expedite their execution. With everyone gone, alb he could do was wait and watch. After a few more seconds of thinking and looking around the room, now empty except for himself, one soldier firing from another window, and the body in the center of the floor, Guajardo decided to vent his nervous energy through action.

Leaving the main house through the back patio doors, Guajardo circled around to tower 5. The part of Group D that had been ordered over the wall was preparing to move out when he reached the tower. The other men of Group D, who would go with him into the garage, were already waiting at the base of the tower. Telling the sergeant in charge of that group to stand by, Guajardo entered the tower in search of the engineers.

His climb up the stairs of the tower was hindered by the bodies of three dead mercenaries, left where they had been shot by the engineers who had seized the tower. For the first time, he realized that he had yet to come across a live mercenary or member of Alaman’s staff. This should not have surprised him: the same rage that had driven him minutes before to kill two unarmed mercenaries had infected all of his soldiers. That morning, in the heat of intense and close combat, no one was taking any chances. Dead men, after all, were not a threat.

Just as he reached the firing platform of the tower, a burst of automatic fire from the barracks across the courtyard hit the protective wall and roof, showering chips of concrete all over Guajardo and the engineers in the tower. Lunging forward for the safety of the wall, Guajardo plowed into the back of the engineer sergeant in charge of the team in tower 5.

The sergeant cursed, then apologized when he saw it was Guajardo.

Twisting themselves about so that their backs were against the wall facing the enemy fire, Guajardo assured the sergeant that it was all right, then asked him for a report. “They have increased their rates of fire.

They’re not hitting anything, just firing very fast and all over.”

Concerned, Guajardo turned around, got to his knees, and began slowly to raise his head up to the edge of the protective wall in order to see what was going on. A volley of bullets, some smacking the other side of the wall while others streamed overhead, convinced Guajardo that this was neither the time nor the place to expose himself. Dropping back down, he thought for a moment. They were probably getting ready to break and run. The increased rate of fire by some of the mercenaries was to cover the escape of the rest. Time was running out.

“Have any helicopters landed at the airfield, Sergeant?”

“No, sir, not that we have seen or heard. Of course, they could have driven a train through the gate below us and we wouldn’t have heard it, or seen it. Here, we are pinned and useless.”

Guajardo looked around at the four engineers in the tower, all crouched and seeking cover as best they could. In their faces he could see what he took to be anger at being ordered to such a position, with their lives so endangered, and unable to do anything. The sergeant was right. They were useless there. Turning back to the sergeant, Guajardo issued his orders, ignoring the steady hammering of bullets on the other side of the wall that offered both of them protection. “Yes, there is nothing you can do here. Take your men, go to the base of the tower, and blow a hole big enough for a man to crawl through into the space between the tower and the garage. When you have done that, and before you blow a hole into the garage, open the south gate. Do you understand?”

“Yes, we will do that.” Happy to be ordered away from the tower’s firing platform, and to have something to do, the sergeant smiled, got the attention of his engineers, and ordered them down to the base of the tower. As soon as the last one was gone, Guajardo stuck his head up quickly, looked about, then ran down the stairs behind the sergeant.

Without looking back, Childress led the small party out through the river gate and ran for the footbridge. Two men on either side of Alaman, holding him up as well as dragging him along, followed Childress.

A third man, taking up the rear, waited a few seconds, then ran after them, twisting about every few steps to check for danger from behind.

As he ran, Childress expected to be fired on at any moment. But nothing happened. Once they were clear of the gate, Childress noted that the smoke that obscured everything within the walls of Chinampas was absent. This both pleased him—for he could finally catch a deep breath without coughing—and worried him, for there was no smoke to cover their flight. Still, as he reached the bridge without taking any fire, Childress began to believe they would make it. He waited until he reached the other side before he stopped and looked behind.