The War of "Elmo"

In the hangar, everyone was adjusting their equipment and preparing to begin the operation. Each of the three squads stood in a row and secured themselves with ropes. The last in line attached themselves to the hangar wall to prevent the current generated by the moving ship from carrying the men outside.

After a few minutes, the captain's voice was heard in the hangar:

"This is the captain. We're starting to flood the hangar. Good luck!"

A sailor peered through the hatch and gave them a thumbs-up. Gregs confirmed with the same gesture that everything was fine and they could begin. The hatch closed and locked. Now they were on their own.

Gregs gestured for silence. From now on, they would communicate only by hand signals. He then ordered them to put on masks and activate their breathing apparatus. The water in the hangar was beginning to rise. When it reached their chests, the lights in the hangar went out to prevent any sentries on the enemy ship from spotting anything suspicious underwater.

A siren, distorted by the water, signaled that the doors to the outside were about to open. Another signal informed them they were ready to begin.

Gregs switched on his flashlight, shone it toward the troops on either side, and tapped the soldier in front of him to begin.

The column stretched, and the lines between the soldiers tightened. As a result, the commando at the very front moved a meter outside the hangar and, fighting the current, removed a large magnet attached to a rope and cable. The positively buoyant electromagnet began to rise toward the ship above, which they couldn't see but could hear perfectly.

After unwinding about thirteen meters of rope, Gregs ordered the electromagnets to be powered up, which ripped several more centimeters of rope from the soldiers' hands and gripped them firmly. They were now connected to the surface ship.

On Gregs's command, three columns of commandos disengaged from the submarine and began a slow ascent using electric winches.

It was a frantic ride. Nothing protected them from the current generated by the ship, which was moving at a speed of over ten knots. They had to position themselves relative to the current to prevent their masks from being ripped off their faces, as the saltwater and pressure at depth risked damaging their eyes. They rode upwards at a speed of about five meters per minute, and the last soldiers in the columns coiled a rope behind them to prevent it from getting caught in the propeller of the attacked ship and exposing them. The only connection to the submarine was through thin, insulated cables that supplied electricity to the magnets.

When they got close enough to the hull to see where they were caught, they discovered that the magnets had caught in the middle of the ship.

After three minutes, longer than ever before, they were finally able to touch its side. Each member of the squad pulled themselves up under their own power and, using smaller electromagnets, clung to the hull. Once everyone was secured to the ship, not to their comrades, Gregs ordered them above the water.

It was night. The sentries were sleepily circling the ship, not even considering looking overboard. No one could get there. Smaller patrol boats were floating nearby, but due to the proximity of other ships, they kept their searchlights off to avoid giving away their position.

Gregs's men, three full assault groups, totaling over thirty men, reached the stern unnoticed and, after breaching the railings, boarded the ship. For a moment, they stood motionless, listening for any suspicious sounds, but heard nothing.

It took them a few moments to unpack their weapons from their waterproof bags. This was the most dangerous moment of the operation, as they were easy and defenseless targets. They could have used long diving knives, but they didn't provide the same confidence and safety, especially when throwing. After about a minute, they were ready to act. Gregs gave the signal to march, and three columns moved along the ship's sides, one on port, two on starboard.

When they reached the door leading to the superstructure, which housed the bridge and crew quarters, Gregs ordered the second squad to enter. He radioed the third squad to move forward. About halfway across the ship, they spotted guards returning from the bow to the stern, only to return there again. The leader of the column knelt behind a nearby crate. He gestured for Gregs and the soldier behind him to quietly dispatch the guards who were just passing them.

Gregs stepped out from behind them like a cat. His companion kept pace with him, allowing them to attack simultaneously. For a moment, they crept behind the guards, but finally, Gregs broke down and attacked. With one hand, he placed a lever on his opponent's neck, the other covered his mouth, tripping him, and he fell to the ground, pressing him to the deck with his entire body. For a few seconds, he struggled with his enemy, trying to grab and twist his other arm, but finally, his opponent gave in, and Gregs was able to handcuff him with plastic handcuffs.

"Do you understand English?" he asked.

"Not much.

" "Then listen! We're the U.S. Navy, and you're under arrest. You say a word, and you'll get a bullet in the head!" Gregs showed him his squad, eight men with weapons aimed at the downed sentry.

"Okay," he whispered.

Gregs stood up and signaled for them to proceed. The column leader ordered one of the commandos to guard the arrested men and continued toward the bow, ahead of the rest.

On their way to the front of the ship, they encountered no more sentries.

At the bow was a small platform protruding above the deck. Gregs had stationed two snipers and machine gunners on it. He also left two men to guard the arrested. One of them tried to resist and call for help, but was quickly gagged.

Two assault teams moved back aft to support the team searching the ship's superstructure. Suddenly, the voice of one of the snipers rang out in Gregs's earpiece:

"Sniper one here!" One... No. Two men with Kalashnikovs emerged on the superstructure's roof deck. They must be wearing night vision goggles..."

As if to confirm his words, someone shouted something from above in an incomprehensible language. From the tone of the voice, Gregs concluded that those above were calling to the guards below. The shouting repeated itself, this time more urgently. A moment later, a sharp, alarming shriek echoed across the entire deck.

"Sniper one here!" The guy leaned out and saw you. He seems to be sounding the alarm.

"Take out those two!"

The two snipers fired almost simultaneously. The alarm faded as if cut by a knife. Unfortunately, it was too late. Other, equally agitated voices responded from the smaller boats floating around. A moment later, the deck was illuminated by several very powerful searchlights. Everyone dropped to the ground and crawled as close as possible to the railing that ran along the entire side.

Gregs set the radio to transmit to all units on deck.

"Attention! This is Gregs! We've been detected! For now, let's be quiet; maybe they won't notice us. Spread out every few meters along the sides and wait. We only fire on my command!"

The column commanders were still confirming the order when he connected with the snipers:

"This is Gregs! Sniper one, can you hear me?

" "Yes, I hear you?

" "Do you see how armed their units are?"

"I see at least two heavy machine guns, one with a heavier caliber cannon, about 20 mm. The rest is hidden in darkness.

" "Good. First, take out the men at the guns and machine guns. Then fire as you please.

" "Yes, sir."

One of the boats, approaching from a greater distance, lit a searchlight, and its crew, looking at it from a narrow angle, saw the gunners on the ship's bow. A burst from the heavy machine gun immediately went in that direction. Gregs immediately ordered the snipers to return fire.

"How far away are they?" he asked them finally.

"About a hundred meters. They seem to be matching our course and heading. "

He changed the frequency so he could transmit to the two groups on board.

"Attention! Attention! We have enemy boats about a hundred meters away. First, eliminate the heavy machine guns and guns! Fire! Fire! Fire!"

The sudden attack from the entire length of the ship surprised the enemy, who was concentrating on shelling the bow. After a while the shooting subsided and Gregs took advantage of the situation and ordered:

"Groups, jump for the superstructure! Hide behind the railing!"

The commandos alternately ran a few meters forward and covered their colleagues, concentrating the enemy's mostly inaccurate fire on themselves. In this way, the groups approached the protective walls of the superstructure at the stern, meter by meter. When they finally managed to reach it, they faced another problem: how to cross the narrow, yet still heavily shelled, strip of deck between the railing and the door.

The leader of the column called Gregs over and, shouting over the gunfire, asked,

"Boss! Can't we silence them for a moment? Otherwise, we won't get through without casualties!

" "Okay. I'll try something."

He tuned the radio to the snipers' frequency and shouted into the microphone,

"This is Gregs! Sniper One. Can you hear me?

" "Yes, I can."

"Tell Jimmy to grab a flare gun and hit one of those hulls!

" "Sure.

" Gregs motioned for the leader to wait a moment. Suddenly, a plume of smoke shot from the bow and an anti-tank missile shot toward one of the boats. The explosion rocked the ship. The leader pointed to the door and shouted,

"We're in! But with gas!"

They rushed inside. As soon as they entered, they took cover behind the walls. Just as the last one was about to run through the rescue door, he suddenly collapsed and grabbed his leg.

"I've been hit!" he roared.

Two pairs of strong arms immediately reached out and pulled him inside. The wound didn't seem serious at first, but the entire squad lost a bit of confidence. After applying a dressing, the wounded man calmed down a bit and, quite matter-of-factly, declared,

"Okay! Shall we move on?

" "Don't you dare!" the medic interrupted sharply. "Your whole thigh is lacerated. You'll be damned after two meters.

" "What do you know...

" "Silence!" "Alex is the medic here, and if he says you're not going, you're not going. John! You stay with him, and we'll move on."

Meanwhile, Gregs managed to make contact with the team penetrating the superstructure. He learned that they had just taken the bridge and were moving up to the top deck.

"Did you get the captain?" he asked.

"Yes. He was in his cabin, sound asleep.

" "Did you manage to determine how many people are on board?"

"No. You can't communicate with him in any language. The guy can't even speak Russian.

" "And the ship's documents?

" "The documents are there, but the 'crew' section is blank, as is 'cargo.'"

"Too bad. I'll send a few men up there to help you right away, because we have a whole coverload of them.

" "We're waiting. "

He called his squad leader and ordered him to the bridge and join the waiting squad. He ordered the wounded man and his companion to guard the stairwell leading belowdecks.

Suddenly, a door opened on the other side of the corridor. He instinctively raised his rifle to his eye and immediately exhaled. The second squad, who had been on deck with them, had reached the superstructure.

"It's good you're here. Go belowdecks and search all the rooms. The most important thing is that they don't damage the machines. Let me know when you're finished.

" "Yes, sir."

The squad disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

Gregs headed up toward the bridge. He had six decks to traverse. On each deck, he peered into the corridors and, hearing nothing, continued on. After a few minutes, he reached the bridge.

The windows in the long gallery, which allowed for forward observation, were shattered by bursts of machine gun fire, and in one corner, the aftermath of a grenade explosion was visible. Inside, he could hear gunfire outside, but no one was firing in their direction.

Inside, he found about ten crew members handcuffed and lying face down against the wall.

"Where's the commander?" he asked the soldier guarding them, who pointed toward the door behind him.

"Upstairs," he replied.

Climbing the steep stairs to the top deck, Gregs saw commandos lying on the ground, firing through the steel railing. Closer to him lay two wounded men, struggling to crawl toward the landing. He grabbed one by the harness, pulled him toward him, slung him over his shoulder, and descended back to the bridge.

"Take care of him!" he shouted to the soldier standing there. "I'll get another one right away."

After he managed to get the wounded out of the line of fire, he climbed up and crawled to the commander of the squad that had been assaulting the bridge.

"What's the situation?" he asked.

"It's quieted down a bit now that they've moved out of our weapons range. They'll probably regroup and attack again.

" "Okay. Don't expose yourselves too much. Now we just have to wait for backup. I'll get you a medic and a radio operator.

" "Sure."

Gregs crawled over to the two soldiers, tapped them on the shoulder, and pointed to the door.

"Come on. There's work to be done."

They could move more freely down below, but they had to avoid getting near the windows, or they'd risk being hit by one of the sharpshooters on the surrounding boats.

"You've got two wounded here." He indicated to the medic the men he'd brought down before climbing to the upper deck.

The radio operator understood immediately, so he set up his radio and waited for orders.

"Channel clearance..." Gregs paused, as the team searching the lower decks had just reported the search and securing the ship's machinery.

"Good. Go up on deck and start firing at their boats. "

Gregs turned to the radioman:

"Okay. One more time. Give me channel 057.

" "Yes, sir."

Gregs grabbed the receiver and began calling:

"This is 'Arch'! This is 'Arch'! 'Sword', can you hear me? Over!"

Silence answered him. He called again. Silence again. After three tries, he looked at the surprised radioman:

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Damn it. I'll put in some spare batteries now, because that's what usually fails."

The replacement took a while. Finally, Gregs was able to try again:

"This is 'Arch'! This is 'Arch'! 'Sword', can you hear me? Over!

" "This is 'Sword'! I can hear you! Over!"

That's better, he thought, and replied:

"Hammer!" I repeat: "Hammer"! Over!

" "I understand, "Sword." Hold still. The helicopters will be at your place in ten minutes. Do you have any wounded?

" "Yes. I have three seriously wounded. They need to be evacuated as soon as possible!

" "I understand. I'm sending a rescue team.

" "Okay. We're waiting!"

He handed the receiver to the radio operator and broadcast to everyone over his radio:

"Attention! Our helicopters will be here in ten minutes! Stay where you are until I tell you. John! Can you hear me?

" "Yes, boss.

" "Come with Mike to the bridge. We're setting up a makeshift first aid station here.

" "Okay. Send someone else here, he's about to lose consciousness.

" "I'm letting someone go now."

He waved to a nearby medic to come down and help.

For long minutes, the firefight continued. The commandos had to start conserving ammunition and sharpen their aim. Unfortunately, more casualties were inevitable. There were already five wounded men lying on the bridge, and the medics were running low on dressings. The onboard first aid kit hanging on the bridge wall was of little use. It contained nothing but a half-empty bottle of stinking moonshine.

"'Sword'! Where's the damn backup!" Gregs yelled into the radio.

"Hold still. They're five minutes away."

Sure enough, one of the medics went to the window and shouted,

"They're coming! We can hear them!"

Gregs ran to the window, listened for a moment, and then radioed everyone,

"Look out! They're coming! Watch the boat, don't let them launch any rockets!"

He pulled a flare gun from his pants pocket and fired three red flares into the air by the window.

A moment later, the first helicopters emerged from the darkness. They were two COBRAs with MARINES insignia emblazoned on their sides. They circled the ship, fired on several boats, and then flew off into the darkness. But a moment later, they returned, followed by a large group of BLACK HAHWK helicopters. Each hovered over the boat, opened its doors, and lowered two thick ropes onto the deck, which a group of eight Marines descended, quickly eliminating any resistance in a small boat.

While the commandos silenced the other boats, two large CH-53s with Red Cross insignia emblazoned on their sides flew over Gregs' ship. One of them descended and stopped just above the deck. A rope was lowered from the open side door, and three men descended down it. Each of them carried a large backpack. Gregs exhaled. These were the rescuers. Single bursts of fire were still flying over the deck, so when the helicopter crew reached the bridge, they were thoroughly exhausted.

"Corporal Heinz. Navy Search and Rescue," one of the newcomers introduced himself. "It's hot in here. Where are the wounded?

" "Nice to meet you. Master Sergeant Gregs, SEAL Team. They're here on the bridge."

Heinz nodded to his men, and they immediately got to work. Within moments, the bridge had transformed into a small hospital. IV poles hung from the ceiling, and paramedics bustled about, preparing to evacuate the wounded.

Meanwhile, another helicopter descended over the ship, and a moment later, a squad of Marines entered the bridge.

"Lieutenant Spears, Marine Team. I'm in command of this whole gang." He gestured to the commando-infested boats surrounding the ship.

"Master Sergeant Gregs, SEAL Team. You arrived just in time. How are the boats?

" "My men just finished searching them." We're completely safe.

" "Very well. Radio operator! Give me the receiver and channel 057.

" "Yes, sir," the radio operator replied, handing Gregs the receiver.

Gregs efficiently called command and gave the code word: "Anvil." In response, he heard:

"Understood, 'Arc.' Wait for the arrival of the special search party. They will descend into the hold to search for the object. Steer the ship southwest and slow to a slight ahead. Further orders soon.

" "Yes, sir. Wait for the search party, assume a southwest course and slow to a slight ahead. Further orders soon."

He passed the order to change course to one of his men, a specialist in guiding large ships, while he checked on the medics.

"How are they?" he asked, pointing to the wounded.

"One's in bad shape," Heinz said, pointing to Mike. "The guy has a severed artery in his thigh and lost a lot of blood. It's a miracle he's even alive. If he survives the transport, he should survive.

" "And the rest?

" "They're better." They have minor injuries. They're currently being given painkillers to help them hold out until they reach the hospital.

"When are you taking them?

" "We're bringing in a special helicopter with blood on board for the one with the busted leg, and we'll take the rest in a moment.

" "Okay. Thanks for everything.

" "No problem."

Heinz turned and leaned over one of the wounded men.

Gregs's men were still at their posts. They weren't needed anymore, as a strong Marine force was controlling the situation.

"Attention! This is Gregs!" I'm breaking the silence. We'll meet mid-deck," he ordered over the radio.

More voices confirmed the order with sighs of relief. He left the medics and went downstairs. Five minutes later, the entire squad had gathered.

"Okay, guys! We've taken this damn ship! A team will be here soon to search the cargo holds. I hope we haven't been wasting our time. That's all for the current situation. Now for other things: Is everyone okay?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Are you sure? If someone's been hit and thinks they're okay, if I find them, I'll personally kick their ass!" I'm responsible for you here!

"Okay! Okay, boss. I took a hit. She grazed me, that's all." One of the snipers showed his arm, bandaged with a makeshift bandage.

"Go to the bridge and show this to the medics!"

"But boss! I'm fine. I can move my arm, I can shoot, it just hurts a little. When we get back to the medic,

I'll show myself to the medic." "I don't care! You're going to the bridge and show that medic your hand! If the medic tells you later at the unit that you're no longer good for anything because you showed up too late, you'll be mad at me. You're gone! "

The sniper, unwillingly, walked in the indicated direction.

"Anyone else?" Gregs looked pointedly at the assembled group.

Silence responded.

"Okay. We don't have specific orders right now. The medical team will be evacuating our people in a moment, and I'd like you to help them; then you'll have some free time." Just make sure everyone has their radio on.

It was beginning to dawn. In the first rays of the sun, still hidden below the horizon, the commandos were carrying five of their wounded colleagues to the bow of the ship. Behind them, like a sniper who had been shot in action, his arm in a sling, walked like a disgrace. A moment later, a rescue helicopter bearing, in addition to the Red Cross insignia, a bloodstain flew over the ship's midsection. Using a winch, a stretcher was lowered onto the deck, onto which they loaded the most seriously injured man. One of the rescuers also attached himself to the winch hook so that the helicopter crew wouldn't have to reassess the wounded man's injuries on the way to the hospital. As soon as the stretcher disappeared through the cavernous doorway, the helicopter turned and flew away at high speed. A few minutes later, another helicopter arrived, carrying the remaining wounded.

As the roar of the engines subsided above, Gregs' men dispersed. Almost everyone, after a few steps, settled into the rising sun and fell asleep. Two hours of working at top speed was starting to take its toll. Gregs, however, was certain they were capable of much more.

For about half an hour, they sailed calmly on a course away from the coast, but the pilot who arrived with the search party steered the ship back toward shore. They were to sail to the port of Al-Mukalla, where unloading could take place.

Along with the search party came another order for Gregs and his men.

<i>

SEAL Unit Commander

Battle Order No. 3:

If an object is found on the ship, enter the port of Al-Mukalla and hand it over to a special transport unit for immediate transport home.

During port entry and unloading, Master Sergeant Gregs's unit is to ensure the safety of the object and the prisoners. In the event of any attack, return fire immediately. If necessary, use the prisoners as shields.

After unloading, transport the prisoners to base.

Upon receipt of this order, the USS Shark returns to U.S. Navy command.

Burn

after the radio announcement of the end of the operation.

It was almost noon when the commander of the search party emerged from the main entrance to the cargo hold. He was wearing overalls and was mercilessly dirty.

"We've got him!" he shouted to Gregs, who was passing by.

"Who do you mean?" Gregs didn't understand at first.

"Who do you mean? We found that damned satellite!

" "So we didn't work for nothing. Now the guys are asleep, but if I wake them up, I'll definitely tell them."

On the bridge, he learned that they still had at least a day until they entered the harbor. He managed to arrange for one of the helicopters that occasionally appeared over the ship to bring them some food. He himself took the containers lowered on a line and carried them to the mess hall. When he had everything ready, he went out onto the bridge deck and radioed his men:

"Attention! This is Gregs! All groups are on alert!"

Below, people were jumping up, gathering their weapons, and, waking up their comrades, forming into squads.

Gregs, barely containing his laughter, sent another message:

"Attention! Everyone! We're meeting in the mess hall!"

He quickly ran downstairs and sat down in the executive seat behind the long table. He tried to strike the most casual pose possible. A moment later, the door swung open with a sharp jerk, and two commandos burst in, weapons at the ready.

"Hey, boys!" he greeted them. "Will you join us?"

Silence fell for a few seconds. Finally, Gregs couldn't contain himself and burst into convulsive laughter.

"I've got you covered! Come on, sit down!" he said through his tears.

Slowly, laughter spread throughout the group, and the feast began. Command sent them two thermoses of coffee, two packages of warm toast, and a host of other delicacies.

The next day, around seven in the morning, one of the Marines on guard duty woke Gregs and informed him they were entering port in three hours. On the bridge, he learned all the details and called a briefing for his squad.

"Hello everyone. I hope you got a good night's sleep."

He was answered by a murmur of agreement.

"We've been given another task. Since the enemy may have learned of our satellite capture, we must secure the ship during port entry and unloading. We must ensure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands again. Jack! Don't doze off!

" "I'm sorry," replied the soldier, startled out of his lethargy.

"Here's my proposal for the operation: we operate in threes. Two of them will stay at the facility at all times, keeping a close eye on it. The others will spread out along the quayside and secure the area according to the orders they receive at short notice. Snipers and machine gunners will remain on deck and from its heights will cover the unloading and the others. What do you think?

" "It's actually a good idea, I just have one question. What will this group of Marines be doing during this time?" the question was asked.

"From what I've heard, some will be handling the unloading, and the rest will join us in protecting it. But they will limit themselves to setting up a tunnel from the ship to the truck.

" "I understand.

" "Are there any other questions?" Gregs was met with silence. "Very well. We'll meet on deck in an hour and start preparing. For now, you have the day off."

After everyone had dispersed, Gregs headed for the mess hall, where he had left most of his equipment. He spent several minutes tightening all the buckles on his harness so it fit properly and carefully securing all the equipment: ammunition pouch, pistol, knife, night vision goggles, and a few other bits and pieces. Once everything was in place, he did a few jumps and, satisfied that everything was secure, headed for the bridge.

Along the way, he saw that the Marines had set up an armory in one of the rooms. Several open crates and a weapons rack lay against the walls. Entering the room, he encountered the Marine group leader, Lieutenant Spears.

"Hi! Did you get enough sleep?" Spears asked

. "Roughly. I see you've set up a storage unit just in case," Gregs replied, pointing to the crates.

"Yes. We've been ordered to do so by the operation's management. They want us prepared for a longer engagement."

"There are some tricky tricks in this command... Will my men be able to rearm? We've done a lot of that before you arrived.

" "Sure! We have ammunition for everything.

" "For the tank too?" Gregs asked sarcastically.

"That'll be a bit more difficult, but it can be arranged."

With that, Spears waved Gregs off and went his way.

He learned nothing new on the bridge. So he headed back down, swapping out his spent magazines for new ones along the way, and went out on deck. The sea was calm, and a light breeze blew in his face. If it weren't for the navy helicopters circling overhead, the landscape would have been perfectly idyllic. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice how quickly time had flown by. Only when he nearly ran into one of his men did he come to his senses and glance at his watch. He still had five minutes until muster. He found almost everyone at the rendezvous point. They were all there at the appointed time.

"Hello again." "Ready for another adventure?!

" "Yes!" he asked, his battle cry echoing.

"Let's get to it. Assault groups, in line, facing me, assemble!"

There was a moment of bustle, but less than a minute later, three assault groups were lined up in front of Gregs.

"Snipers, machine gunners, and communications officers, step forward! "

Three men stepped forward from each of the three lines.

"The snipers and machine gunners will remain on deck and cover us from above. The radio operators will be assigned to the squads that will go to the most vulnerable areas. We're communicating via personal radios. "

He gestured for them to return to their ranks.

"Now, the rest of you. We're working in threes. I don't think we need to count down?

" "Of course, boss!" the voices said.

"Very well. Unfortunately, I haven't been provided with the port plans, so we won't be able to plan everything precisely." This is a completely new situation for both you and me, but we'll try to manage it," Gregs said, sitting down on the deck planks.

When everyone had settled into a circle, uneven due to the shape of the deck, he continued:

"Let's try to anticipate all possible threats. Does anyone have any suggestions?"

There was a focused silence for over a minute. Finally, however, the first answer came:

"Sabotage during unloading.

" "Yes. That should be handled by the Marines and two, or perhaps better, one of the three. Who's willing?"

Several hands went up in the circle, but Gregs chose only one:

"Brian. You three will supervise the facility. You will guard it until it is taken over by the designated services.

" "Yes," came the reply.

"Well, that's one thing taken care of. What's next?"

"An attack from the harbor basin or underwater," someone in the circle said.

"Hmm... I hadn't thought of that... I think we'll need to send two divers to cover us from below after we dock. As for the basin, one machine gun and a sniper should provide ample cover. Who will dive?"

Only one hand went up.

"Okay, John. Get someone to help you. Who do you usually dive with? Ed? Okay. The radio operators will take your place in the three-person groups.

" "Sure," came the quick reply.

"Now that we've taken care of the attack from the water, it's time to focus on the attack from the land side of the harbor. That's the most dangerous, in my opinion," Gregs continued. "The remaining three three-person groups and the ship's cover will handle that. Since we don't have any plans of the harbor or know where we'll dock, we'll decide on your position once we get there. Okay?

" "Of course.

" "Well, that should be all." Unless you have any other suggestions or questions."

Hands went up in the circle. Gregs pointed to the first commando from shore.

"How do we get ashore?

" "Good question. There's definitely a gangway here, like on any decent ship. We just need to figure out how to assemble it. I'll take care of it and let you know the results." Anyone else have any questions?

There were a few more requests, and the soldier Gregs pointed to asked,

"Is there any way to replenish our equipment? I don't know about you, but I only have one and a half magazines left for my M-16 and two for my Beretta, not to mention I'm out of grenades.

" "You're right. We all have some leftover ammo. I meant to tell you at the beginning, but I was so caught up in the sky that I forgot. The Marines set up a small arsenal here last night. You'll find everything you need on the floor below the bridge. They say if we need anything, they'll even get us some tank shells."

The entire group, including Gregs, burst into childish laughter.

"Anything else?" Gregs asked again.

After a moment's silence, he decided the questions were over and stood up, saying,

"Well, let's get to work. We still have 45 minutes to port. Go get new magazines and return to the deck. Keep your eyes open from now on. There's no telling when or what might happen. We're maintaining communication on channel one."

Everyone stood up and went back to their duties. Gregs was the only one left on deck. He went to the bow. From the bow platform, land could already be seen. He took out his binoculars and began scanning the horizon. They were still too far away to make out any details, but he managed to make out the tall minarets of Al-Mukalla and what looked like harbor heads. He also recognized a row of buoys marking the approach to the harbor. The ship was now passing the first pair of such buoys.

The rest of the squad slowly returned to the deck. They checked their weapons, adjusted their universal harnesses, and chatted about everything and nothing. Gregs put away his binoculars and headed back to his men.

"Ready?

" "Yes," replied a chorus of voices.

"Okay... Is everyone here?"

They looked around for a moment and realized that only John and Ed, who were supposed to be diving and were still getting ready, were missing.

"Then all we have to do is get to work. One machine gun will be positioned at the bow, the other two on the sides about halfway along the ship.

" "Yes, sir!" the gunners replied, and moved off to their designated positions.

"Snipers to the upper deck and spread out so you can cover all directions.

" "Sure!

" "Now, threes... One will go aft, the other will investigate the gangplank with me, and the third will stand at the bow. Once we solve the gangplank, you and the machine guns will be on the sides. Let's go!

" "Yes, sir!"

The gangplank issue wasn't simple. After a short search, they found it, but getting it out of storage and onto the deck proved no easy feat. After a dozen or so minutes of acrobatics, they managed to rig a gangplank and attach it to a rope so it could be lowered to the ground at any moment. For now, it hung in midair along the ship's side.

The shore was already visible to the naked eye. From the bridge, Gregs received word that they would be entering port in half an hour. After about ten minutes, a small motorboat approached the ship, and the pilot climbed aboard using a lowered rope ladder. The sight of American soldiers instead of the regular crew surprised him somewhat. At first, he reached behind his back, but he must have quickly changed his mind, because he followed Gregs and the Marine commander to the bridge and took command.

"I don't like this guy," Gregs said, calling the Marine commander aside.

"He's fine by me..." came the surprised reply.

"Didn't you see what he did right after he came in?

" "No...

" He tried to reach for the weapon from his belt. Fortunately, he changed his mind.

"I'll look into it. I'll leave two men with him to watch over him.

" "Okay. If there's any trouble, we'll listen on channel one.

" "Sure."

There was nothing left to do but return to the main deck and join the rest of the squad, who had already taken up their assigned positions: machine guns on the bow and both sides, three-man teams on the stern and sides, and Gregs and one radio operator stationed themselves on the bow along with a machine gunner. A team of three snipers on the top deck completed the whole thing.

As soon as Gregs reached his station, the radio operator handed him an earpiece with the terse message:

"Boss."

Gregs expertly grabbed the phone and announced:

"This is Gregs.

" "Hi. This is Commander Matino. How are you doing?

" "We'll be entering port shortly and docking.

" "Very well. The remaining units are securing the transport route to the base, and some are standing by. In the air, you have one HERCULES with an artillery array on board. Communications on channel 005.

" "I understand. I understand command is listening on all frequencies?

" "Of course.

" "I understand. No reception."

The ship was just passing the harbor head. Everything was quiet.

After a few minutes, they began to slow down. Finally, the machines stopped. They were heading straight for the quay. More and more soldiers on board were realizing something was wrong. They should have been slowing down constantly, or at least changing course. But for two minutes, nothing happened. Greg's radio was silent as if spellbound.

"I'm going to the bridge. I don't like this," he told the radio operator and ran toward the superstructure.

He found the bridge door locked. It should normally be open, he thought.

"This is Gregs. I'm at the bridge entrance. Something's wrong. Sniper, are you on the bridge?

" "Yes," he heard in his earpiece.

"Is the door open?

" "No, it's locked.

" "We have to get in there. Two of you, the third one is still guarding the harbor. We're going in on three. Ready?"

There was a moment of silence. The snipers were preparing for action. He also released the safety and reloaded his M4.

"Ready.

" "You're only shooting at the legs. The pilot's there, and we can't dock without him. Attention... three... two... one... Forward."

He kicked the door. It was locked, so he quickly turned the outer locking wheel. He kicked again. The door sprang open. He rushed inside. The pilot stood in the corner, his pistol aimed at the two Marines standing before him. He fired two shots. A sniper darted past him and, with a deft move, threw the Arab to the ground.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gregs asked the pilot.

"Foreign troops are prohibited from entering a demilitarized port.

" "We have permission from the authorities.

" "I don't know about it.

" "How much did they pay you?

" "Who?

" "The ones responsible for the cargo on this ship." Gregs was growing increasingly angry. "Stop the ship!"

The pilot reluctantly stood up and gave instructions to the aircraft.

Gregs' radio came alive:

"Sniper one here. The quayside is full of men with guns. They're everywhere. "

"Are you sure they're not ours?"

"No. They have Kalashnikovs and RPG-7s.

" He gestured the snipers on the bridge back up.

"Keep an eye on him. The ship needs to be docked, it's up to you," he ordered one of the Marines and headed back up to the deck.

When he got downstairs, gunfire had already erupted outside. He leaped to the side and cautiously peered out. Every so often, camouflaged gunners peeked out from behind the containers and cargo pallets stacked on the quayside and fired several shots at the ship. The commandos responded with single shots and short bursts from their machine guns, but they were having trouble aiming at the hidden enemy.

"Easy, guys. First, figure out the guy's rhythm when he jumps out of cover, then fire," he shouted into the microphone. "Conserve ammo. Sniper, look for the commanders!"

The ship began to turn to a stop at the quay perpendicular to its course. After a few minutes, it was broadside to it and activated its thrusters, which began to push it towards the shore. The commandos spread out along the sides and returned fire sparsely but accurately.

"Wireman, here!" Gregs shouted.

"I'm here.

" "Call command on channel five."

The radioman handed him the receiver after a moment.

"This is Gregs! I need immediate support in the port. They're currently attacking me with small arms fire, but I don't know what they have hidden in the port. In the current situation, I'm not going to unload.

" "Understood," the operations officer replied. "I'm sending support. Helicopters and infantry will be with you in a moment."

He hadn't yet managed to relay the information to his unit when a powerful HERCULES flew over the port and peppered the foreground with missiles with several rapid-fire cannons. The firefight died down.

"Sniper two here. They're pulling out their rocket launchers!"

"Don't let them launch! How many do they have?"

The response was preceded by several sniper rifle shots:

"I see three grenade launchers and several crates of missiles. We might have to get rid of them.

" "Everyone. Watch out for the grenade launchers! They have several of them."

They had no way to get the mooring lines ashore, so the ship crashed into the concrete quay and stopped. At that very moment, a white plume of smoke shot from one of the containers, and an anti-tank missile flew toward the deck.

"Take cover!" Gregs managed to shout before the explosion.

...

Since the announcement of the capture of the Nefris ship with the sought-after satellite on board, the atmosphere at the Al-Mukalla base had reached a fever pitch. Moreover, just as the ship was about to enter port, a combat alert was declared. The entire base crew was on tenterhooks. The intervention unit was sweltering in its Bradley transporters, the medical teams were dozing in the shadow of the large helicopters, and the rest, who were not on duty, were sitting near the communications center, waiting for any news.

Corporal Heinz, commander of the first medical team, was sitting in the doorway of his helicopter when the radio clipped to his belt suddenly burst into life:

"First medical. Launch on alert!"

As if struck by lightning, he jumped out and roared at the pilots and rescuers playing cards:

"First medic. Take off on alert! Get your asses moving!"

Three minutes later, the helicopter taxied toward the takeoff point. The intervention team was alerted simultaneously.

"This is medic one. We're taxiing for takeoff. Requesting mission objective.

" "This is the tower. Fly to the port of Al-Mukalla. A ship previously captured by our special forces was attacked there. There are wounded. The area of ​​operation may still be hot.

" "I understand. I already know these commandos. Take off!" The last command was intended for both the pilot and the tower controller.

They were over the port in five minutes.

"Attention, crew! There may still be fighting in the port. Watch for a distress call.

" The pilot circled the port. A puff of red smoke rose above the Nefris. About a kilometer from the port, a BRADLEYE was seen rushing to the rescue.

"Pilot, we're descending over the ship. Gunners, be careful and, if necessary, fire freely."

A moment later, a plume of smoke shot towards the helicopter. The pilot immediately fired flares and took evasive action. The missile missed the tail by mere meters. Fortunately, it was a relatively primitive design and didn't turn back mid-flight.

The VULCAN gunners began firing murderously at the enemy positions. The pilot approached the ship's deck again.

The intervention group was just entering the harbor, and the transporters were hurrying the landing party.

As soon as the aircraft descended enough for a safe jump, Heinz signaled the two rescuers on his sides and was the first to descend onto the Nefris's deck. He had barely regained his momentum from the jump when enemy bullets whistled overhead.

"Watch your asses!" he shouted to his men and clung to the side.

One of the commandos was crawling toward them.

"Hi. Good to have you. We have a big problem here." We have a very large number of wounded. Practically everyone on board was hit. We were hit by an armor-piercing shell.

"I understand. It seems we can't handle this alone," he gestured to two rescuers to check the situation. "For now, we have to wait until things calm down a bit, and then we'll bring in reinforcements."

...

<i>

Commander of the U.S. Navy SEAL Unit, Commander Reg Matino,

Special Order No. 2.

I am lifting the alert status for all units. I am ordering a return to home bases and to normal operations.

I am reporting the success of Operation Elmo. The search target has been found and turned over to the United States authorities.

I am posthumously awarding the Purple Heart and promoting Master Sergeant Anthony Gregs to a higher rank.

Antony Gregs fell on the field of honor during Operation Elmo. He demonstrated the utmost dedication and skill. In his honor, I recommend that the flags be lowered to half-mast and a salute fired at 5:00 PM Zulu time.

Signed

Reg Matino

</i>