Barracuda 945 Read Online Free PDF Page B

Kerman saw three Israelis priming handheld rocket launchers similar to the ones that had blown up their colleagues. When the first one fired, the damage was terrible, knocking down three houses, and causing certain “civilian” casualties.
    For the first time in his life, Ray Kerman was close to a feeling of shock. This had to be stopped. It was already out of hand, but it could still get a whole lot worse. And there was always the danger of another Arab nation joining the Palestinians, who would undoubtedly claim the Israeli Army had swooped on them in the small hours of an innocent Friday morning, and attacked innocent, law-abiding Arab citizens.
    Ray could see the Paratroopers’ forward Commander tucked into a doorway beyond the wasteland. Twenty feet away therewere two of his men ripping out pins and flinging the hand grenades into the Arab street beyond the wall. No one was doing anything to stop this battle, and Ray assessed two glaring problems:
This was not winnable. Nothing good could come out of it for either side, only world headlines, more blood, sorrow, and tears.
The Israeli troops were now too widely scattered, and too full of fury to give up their hot pursuit of the Arabs who had blasted their colleagues to pieces.
    As for the narrow street beyond the wall, it would be filled with women and children, all of whom were going to die if this firefight could not be halted. Major Kerman knew he stood an excellent chance of getting the blame for this personally. After all, a principal part of his job was to prevent this kind of thing. Any damned fool could cause chaos. The SAS were in the Negev, by invitation of the Government, to bring an element of clinical efficiency to the IDF.
    This was a nightmare, and Ray seized his MP5 machine gun and helmet, and belted across the wasteland, to see the Paratroopers’ Forward Commander. Already he could hear the rumble of Israeli tanks moving up to the front line of this sudden, unexpected conflict.
    The IDF officer shrugged, and told the Major he could do nothing. “Well, we could start off by withdrawing the rocket launchers and the grenades,” said Ray. “That way we can begin to withdraw east to the dividing line. It’s not as if we’ll be pursued. It’s up to us to stop this. No one is going to thank us for continuing. The Knesset will be furious.”
    “Too late,” said the Commander. “I’m not going over the wall—just leave it to the guys.”
    “Then I’ll go,” said the Major. “Gunfire’s one thing, blowing up Arab civilians in their homes is another.”
    Ray made his way to the end of the wall and rounded it, crossed the street, and gained the cover of the houses on theright-hand side of the street. Crouching, he made his way forward to the gap in the row where two buildings had been blown sky-high. The next house was perfect. The top floor was gone, but there was cover on the street floor and he would be in yelling distance of the Paratroopers with the grenades and rockets.
    He made the entrance, crashing through the door, and splintering the lock. Inside was rubble and the body of a man half hanging through the ceiling, plainly dead. Outside, the battle had, if anything, intensified, and the smell of cordite permeated everything. The gunfire was unceasing, and periodic explosions shook the entire street.
    Ray exercised the SAS man’s natural caution, kicking open a door to another empty but more or less intact room. There was only one more door, and Ray booted that open, and found himself standing at the top of a flight of stone stairs.
    Just then a tremendous crash shook the remains of the building, showering plaster from the ceiling. The noise died away, and once more there was just the rattle of the gunfire, and the eerie crackling of burning, very close. In a split second Ray guessed the Palestinians had got ahold of some grenades of their own.
    But then, he heard another noise, coming from deep in the cellar, somewhere near the bottom of