Inch by inch, foot by foot, they fought their way forward through the corn. Never had fifty meters taken so long but eventually, sweat streaming down their faces, they reached the edge of the sunken lane, slid under the hedge and into the bottom. How they had not all been killed was still a complete puzzle to Morland; they had been little more than stationary targets out there in the corn. Moreover, the compound guards were bound to have sophisticated night sights in those watchtowers—which was probably why the lights had been switched off—and that Korda could have hosed them down in seconds. The more he thought about what had just happened, the less sense it made.

Morland took a quick pull on his water bottle. His throat was raw with all the shouting and he needed all the energy he could muster. Leaving Krauja to continue to administer first aid to Lukša, Morland and Webb crawled up the other side. The heavy machine gun from the watchtower had given up trying to hit the GPMG team and now switched back to them. Tracer was smacking into the barley fire fifty yards behind them, where they’d originally been contacted. However, the rounds coming from their rear left had suddenly stopped; Archer and Watson must have knocked out that light machine gun, although fire was still coming from the machine gun to their right. They might be safe for the moment, but they were not going anywhere. They were trapped.

“I’ve given the reserve group the grid of the enemy gun group on the edge of the forest line to our rear right!” yelled Webb in Morland’s ear. “They’ve got plenty of fire power so they should be able to suppress them.”

“What about air?” asked Morland, marveling at how laid-back he was now feeling after the initial terror of the ambush. “There’s no way we’re going anywhere until that heavy machine gun is knocked out. And the air assault is due in any minute.” The luminous dials on his army issue G1098 watch told him it was 0315.

“Don’t worry about that. My guys at the LZ can guide them forward. And I don’t think the air assault will need much guiding in. They’re getting the full light show after all . . .” Webb gave him a grin. “We’ll stay put and help look after you guys. Anyway, I’ve got to guide the air onto the compound, and for that I need eyes on.”

Webb stopped and listened to his earpiece. He then turned back to Morland. “F-16 with Maverick inbound. Time on target, five minutes. Time to paint the target.”