Worst of all, the radar antennas had been destroyed.
A lookout told Sam that new rockets were being put into the tubes by the men in the cave.
“Byron, start firing when I give the word!” Sam said.
The exec relayed the order to sight in on the opening. The boat was now eight hundred yards from the base of the cliff. Sam told Detweiller to spin it, presenting its starboard side. He should then let the current carry it away until the starboard cannon batteries had fired. These were one 88-millimeter cannon, much more accurate than the rockets, and the compressed air cannon.
At Sam’s relayed order, the 88-millimeter belched fire, smoke, and thunder, and the other whooshed. One shell struck just above the opening; the other struck just below. No second round was necessary. The rockets in the cave must have been set off by the lower explosion. They went up in a cloud from which spewed fragments that could have been bodies.
When the smoke cleared, only some twisted metal could be seen.
“I think we can take it for granted they’re wiped out,” Sam said. He felt gratified. The enemy were not human beings. They were things that could kill him and had to be killed before they could do so.
“Take her back to the center about a quarter-mile from the pass,” Sam said. “Byron, order the helicopter brought up.”
“King John is using his, too,” Byron said. He pointed at the opening. Sam saw it, hanging about two thousand feet up, a tiny machine framed in the dark gate of the strait.
“I don’t want John to see what we’re doing,” he said. “Tell Petroski to get rid of it.”
Sam called in de Marbot. The instructions took two minutes. De Marbot saluted and went off to carry out the plan.
Petroski, the copter pilot, warmed up the motor, and took off with his two machine-gunners. The fuselage was fitted with ten small heat-seeking missiles, some of which, it was hoped, would down the enemy machine while others would strike the Rex.
Sam watched it as it climbed slowly, burdened with its deadly load. It took a while to climb up above the altitude of the craft in the mouth of the pass. Sam asked the Frenchman how he was coming. De Marbot, in the stern, replied that both launches were almost filled with rockets. He could leave in a few minutes.
“I’ll give the word when the coast is clear,” Sam said.
Petroski’s machine finally quit climbing. The other copter was still in its original position. Vftien its pilot saw the big all-white chopper moving to get above it, he spun his machine around and fled.
The radar operator, now posted as lookout, said, “Enemy aircraft is moving at an estimated eighty-five miles per hour.”
“Then it’s faster than ours,” Sam said. “It’s not carrying near as much weight. Byron, tell de Marbot he can go ahead.”
The huge hatch had been open for some time. The larger of the launches, Post No Bills, slid out of the water-filled compartment, kicking up a white wake. It turned and headed toward the shore. Close behind it came the After You, Gascon. Both were loaded with rockets, dismantled launching apparatus, and marines.
Petroski’s voice came from the set. “The enemy has gone around the bend. I’m going up another two thousand feet before I go around.”
While Sam waited for another report, he watched the launches. Their noses were against the low bank now, and men were jumping out of them into the water. They quickly waded ashore and began off-loading the weapons and equipment. Each man would then carry a forty-pound missile or part of a disassembled launcher.
“John must have sent men up first with tackles and ropes,” Sam said. “Then he must have winched those heavy rockets from the deck of the Rex. It would’ve been at night, of course, so the Virolanders wouldn’t see them. It must’ve been a hell of a job. Too bad we don’t have time to place heavy rockets. But those light rockets can do plenty of damage if they hit the right places on the Rex.”
He rubbed his hands and blew out a cloud of smoke from his cigar.