It wasn’t even up for discussion. Fordyce showed Johnson where the next location was and they headed for it.
Site two was better, but not by much. If anyone popped up on the ridgeline behind them, the team risked being exposed. It wasn’t worth it. Fordyce checked his watch. If site three was a bust, they were going to have to scramble. Showing Johnson the final location on the map, they headed out. Fordyce had to remind himself not to rush and to choose his steps carefully.
The third site was a major improvement over the other two, but halfway downhill and a little to their left was something that looked ideal.
Getting Johnson’s attention, Fordyce pointed it out to him. It would give them an even better vantage point for observing the valley and, surrounded with more trees, it would give them more cover. Johnson nodded and led them to it.
Although there was no such thing as a perfect hide, this was the closest to one Fordyce had ever seen. As was his style, once they were installed, he took first watch. It had been a rough climb and everyone was tired.
While the other team members pulled food from their bags and ate or tried to nod off, Jimi Fordyce looked down into the valley through his magnified Aimpoint Comp M4 sight. Nothing was moving and it was still pitch black.
Laying his weapon across his chest, he checked his camera equipment. The Pentagon wanted as many pictures as possible. He had extra memory cards, an additional antireflective telephoto lens, fully charged batteries, and pieces of earth-colored burlap he’d use to camouflage the camera further. There were very few objects that created reflections in nature. If any of their gear bounced even a quick flash of sunlight, it’d be game over.
Restowing his camera equipment, Fordyce was quietly zipping up the case when he thought he heard a noise just downhill. Instantly, his hands went to his weapon. Bringing it up, he seated the stock in his right shoulder and tried to identify the source.
He swept his rifle slowly back and forth. For a moment, he wondered if his ears had played a trick on him. Then he heard the sound again. Something was definitely out there, and it was headed uphill, in their direction. Very quietly, he alerted his teammates.
Each one of them slowly raised his weapon, got into firing position, and powered up his night vision device. But while the SEALs went to their rifles, Billy Tang pulled out his suppressed SIG. For close work, he preferred a pistol, and with the 147-grain Special K rounds he had loaded, his SIG Sauer would make a lot less noise.
The sound was getting closer. They could all hear it now. It would move, then stop, and then move and stop again. It was erratic, going off in one direction for a moment before coming back and heading closer to them. It wasn’t an animal. It sounded like a person, and whoever it was, he was looking for something. Was he looking for them?
Time stood still as the person out in the darkness got closer and closer. The team kept their heart rates and their breathing under control. Weapons were hot. Fingers were on triggers.
Inside their heads, they were all saying the same thing—Don’t stop. Keep walking. Just pass us by.
When the figure finally came into view, that sentiment dramatically increased.
Fordyce signaled for his team not to fire. Johnson couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The kid looked like he was maybe eight years old. What the hell was a kid doing in this valley, and in the middle of the night, no less? Tang quietly prayed that the boy would just walk past. Eric Tucker, the team’s corpsman, was ready to do whatever needed to be done.
This wasn’t a war zone like Iraq or Afghanistan. The rules about combatants versus noncombatants didn’t apply here. But even if they did, most SEALs, Tucker included, had already decided what they would do in a situation like this. The topic had been discussed ad nauseam throughout the teams.
In 2005, a four-man SEAL recon team, under the codename Operation Red Wings, had been inserted into Afghanistan’s Kunar Province to surveil and gather intelligence on a high-value Taliban target. During the surveillance, three goat herders—an old man, a teen, and a young boy—had discovered the SEAL team.
The SEALs apprehended them, but once they determined that the goat herders were civilians and not combatants, the rules of engagement dictated that