The sun was beginning to rise behind the flight of aircraft, blinding anyone looking towards them until the last possible moment, just as they had planned it. The nimble aircraft, two MH-6 Little Birds along with a single AH-6 attack variant, cruised towards the Somali coast at 1,000 feet.
"Sixty seconds Captain, better grab ahold of something," the pilot of Talon-Six-One said through the com system of the Little Bird.
After hearing the announcement by the pilot, the four men seated on fold down platforms, reached for whatever they could find and grabbed on tight. This was more for reassurance; the men were securely fastened by D-clips attached to their tactical vests.
Seated on the left side of the helicopter, Declan could see the other Little Bird carrying six other members of TF-303, cruising a mere fifteen meters away. One of the operators on Talon-Six-Two flashed a thumbs up to Declan as the two helicopters jerked, beginning their descent towards Mogadishu Harbor.
The target ship was anchored at the end of the only pier in the New Port. Two large warehouses lay between where the ship was docked and the main port area, which was littered with hundreds of shacks, pick-ups, and other debris that had cluttered the city for years.
"Cujo-Three-One, clear the El-Zed," Parker shouted into the comset before pulling the headset off his head and stuffing it back into a bin attached to the side of the Little Bird.
Cujo-Three-One, the AH-6 attack helicopter, darted to the front of the flight and swept in low from the north. Making an arc around the harbor, the AH-6 swept across the ship, sending a dozen men diving to the deck. The helicopter continued across the pier at five meters, creating a dust storm filled with debris strewn around the area. Several hundred men, women, and children were sent scattering away back towards the city as the helicopter herded people away from the targeted ship.
Moments later, Talon Flight appeared from the ocean and touched down on their designated landing zones. Six-Two landed on the pier and six operators deployed, who then quickly rushed off towards cover, before they began locking the area down. Six-One, which carried Declan, Parker, Mac and a sergeant from 3 Para named Corbin, landed on the ship itself. Cargo containers on the deck created an elevated, level area for the Little Bird to sweep in and drop off its precious cargo.
As the helicopter made its approach, Declan saw several men holding AK-47 rifles appear from the stows of the ship. Declan raised his C8 carbine and quickly sighted three men moving towards them. He fired a quick burst of five rounds that struck the men, dropping them dead. The Little Bird hovered less than a meter off of the containers as the four men jumped off the seating platforms. With the operators clear, the helicopter cleared the deck as rounds began striking the metal frame.
With their cargo dropped off, and running low on fuel, the three aircraft checked with the men on the ground before announcing their departure back towards the sea. The ten men were now stuck in an unfriendly city hundreds of kilometers from any support.
"Targets left side," Parker shouted as he stood up from behind the cover of a container and fired a volley of rounds towards the pilot house.
Declan was crouched in front of Parker behind the container. He could hear the ping of bullets ricocheting off becoming a consistent noise. As Parker ducked down, a volley was returned at them striking the containers sending sparks in all directions. Several seconds later, Declan peaked out from the cover, still crouched, and lined up two tangos as they tried to rush forward towards the operators.
The rounds from his C8 tore into the first target, blood splattering his shirt. The second was hit in the torso and fell to the deck limp. His cries echoing over the gunfire that was erupting around him sank into Declan.
Upon hearing the cries, Declan poked his head out just enough to see the tango inching his way for ward, one hand grasping his wound while the other gripped his Kalashnikov. Declan leaned out and fired the final two rounds of his magazine into the man, killing him and ending the shrieks of pain.
The team had been on the ship for maybe just over a minute, but what seemed like an eternity to the four men. Already a dozen targets lay on the deck dead but more kept appearing from the pilot house.
Parker cursed as more rounds streaked near his head by mere inches. He reached to his throat and held the transmit button on his mic, "Dagger-Two, this is One, copy?"
"Roger One, send it."
"Two can you suppress the bridge from your location, over."
The response came several moments later, "Uh roger we'll try, give us a second to get into position."
As the firefight raged on the ship, two men from Dagger-Two broke away from their position at the first warehouse, and rushed back towards the ship, nearly three hundred meters behind them. The two operators took position behind a derelict technical that had been left when the helicopters first appeared.
"One we're in position."
From his crouched position, Declan looked back at Parker as he said, "Do it."
Upon hearing the command, two Mk 46 light machine guns opened up onto the bridge and pilot house. Hundreds of rounds tore into the metal structure destroying equipment, machinery and human tissue. While the bridge was suppressed, Parker shouted for his team to advance up out of the open area and towards the bridge.
They moved quickly, Declan and Parker on the starboard side of the ship while Mac and Corbin advanced on the port. They quickly covered the distance, converging at a point underneath the bridge as the suppressing fire from the Mk 46s ceased. A single target was caught between the middle of the two converging parties and was hit by at least a dozen rounds from the rifles of both Declan and Mac.
"Thanks for the assist Two," Parker said, "We're beginning the search now, tell us if things get hot topside."
Crouching besides the other three men, Declan was in the middle of reloading his rifle when a sound caught his attention. He looked up, across the small harbor, towards Mogadishu. Smoke columns filled the air at the entrance to the port, with horns and loudspeakers blaring but inaudible from the distance.
"We better hurry this along Parker, sounds like we're gonna have visitors soon."
"Too right mate," Mac chimed in as he looked out towards the city.
"Right, Dec, Mac, secure the bridge, gather anything you can find," he looked at Corbin, "We're heading downstairs."
The two pairs split at the stairwell, Parker and Corbin took a left and proceeded down the stairs while Declan and Mac continued straight through the corridor into the room laden, two story bridge structure.
After checking several rooms that were empty, Declan heard a noise from inside a room they were about to pass.
"Door," Declan whispered as he held up his fist signaling for Mac to stop.
Declan grabbed a grenade from his tactical vest and whispered, "Flash out."
A cylindrical grenade left Declan's hand as it bounced off of the opened door and into the room. A shout was heard as the grenade went off. Declan stormed into the room, rifle at the ready followed close behind by Mac. Cowering in the corner was a middle aged man, hunched over holding his face with his left hand.
"Hands, lemme see em!"
The man was still hunched over clutching his head with his left hand but his right was blocked from view by his body.
"Hands," Declan shouted once more, "Let me see your hands!"
He was three meters from Declan, who was about to approach the man and give his a good taste of his rifle butt to the back, when Mac shouted a warning, "Gun."
Instinctively, Declan fired two rounds into the man's torso, followed by a single round to his head. The body slammed against the wall of the room, blood splattering the corner. The body fell in a sort of sitting position, and Declan noticed the barrel of a pistol protruding from underneath the body.
"Good eyes Mac," Declan said as he lowered his rifle and turned his back on the body.
"Someone's gotta look after you," Mac said with a grin before turning towards the door and checking the corridor once more.
Declan began searching a desk that was stuffed against the far side of the room. Dozens of loose papers cluttered the top of it.
"Ah not much here," Declan said with despair.
"Just grab it all, someone will use it."
Declan grabbed the papers off of the desk and stuffed them into a small bag he carried on his back. He pulled out every drawer and retrieved all the contents. When he had all the documents carefully secured in his bag, he returned to Mac, who had been positioned at the door waiting for targets to wander in front of him.
"We oscar-mike?" Mac asked as Declan smacked his left shoulder, stacking up behind the red haired operator.
Before Declan could answer, a burst of rifle fire echoed through the corridors of the ship. Both Declan and Mac thought the same thing. Declan quickly keyed his mic.
"Parker, you alright?"
A response came after several seconds, "Yeah we're fine Dec, just had a little run in with a knife wielding cook. We're clear down here, returning top side."
"Roger that, found some papers and charts, but that's it. Meet ya at the stairwell, out."
A minute later, the four men were together once more. Even though they had secured the ship, guns were still raised and facing outwards towards any possible threats that could appear. Parker triggered his mic once more.
"Viper Command this is Dagger-One, target is secure, green-light on Bravo, over."
Three hundred kilometers out at sea, the USS New York, a San Antonio-class amphibious transport dock, lay waiting. Upon receiving the transmission from Parker, a single V-22 Osprey that had been idling on the deck was launched from the ship. On board the Osprey was a ten man team composed of EOD members and other specialists from TF-303 that would tear the now captured ship apart.
"Dagger-One, Viper Command, ETA on Bravo is two-seven mikes, over."
"Roger that Viper Command, be advised, secondary target was not, repeat not found, Dagger-One out."
The four men let out a collective sigh of relief after hearing that their extraction bird was in the air and coming for them. Parker reached into his breast pocket and retrieved a cylindrical object. It took Declan a moment to realize what it was.
"That from the stash we found in Cuba," Declan asked as Parker flicked his lighter and lit a Cuban cigar.
"Only a dozen more after this one, I always save 'em for the special occasions."
"You call this a special occasion?"
"But of course, your first op in the big leagues Dec," Parker said as he exhaled a large cloud of smoke.
Declan let out a chuckle at the comment, for years he had thought he had been in the big leagues running ops with the SAS; apparently his instructor at Hereford had been wrong for all these years.
"Don't think this is normal," Mac said as he turned his head away from his sector and towards the group, "Usually this shit is pretty hairy."
As Parker took another drag on his cigar, his ear-piece, along with everyone else's, came alive, "One, this is Two, over?"
"Two, One, send it mate."
"We got a crowd of foot-mobiles approaching the pier, looks like trouble."
Declan, Mac, and Corbin all glanced towards Parker as they awaited his reply.
"How much trouble are you talking Jester?"
"Remember Shanghai?"
The reply was enough to cause Parker to flick his cigar overboard into the water and ready his C8 carbine.