Show of Force by Charles D. Taylor

was up to his knees, faltered and then fell forward. Others were luckier. They got far enough out so they could swim, but some were unlucky enough to have misplaced shells land near them.
    Another call from Jorge: “David, I am having trouble keeping my men together. Some of the other teams have already been wiped out or are trying to get back in the water. I don't think I can keep my men together for long. . . .” Then his voice stopped.
    David looked up quickly through the binoculars and saw that a shell had landed near the group around Melendez. Some died in the air, others lay still where they had fallen, and David saw some get up and move quickly to another crater in the beach.
    Then there was a high, loud whistling sound. Instinctively, the men in the boat threw themselves to the deck. A shell landed near enough to shake the boat as it exploded with an ear-shattering sound, more frightening than the impact itself. They were showered with water.
    “Get the hell out of there, David,” came Carter's voice over the radio.
    “I can't yet, Captain. I've lost contact with Jorge.”
    “You are responsible for the men in your boat. You will take evasive action and you will return them safely to the ship,” Carter responded firmly. Another shell landed near them, not as closely as before, but on the other side and close enough to bring from Carter, “Damn it, David, move that boat. They've got your range.”
    Palmer, who had been face down in the boat after the last explosion, returned to the tiller quickly, looking up at David. For just a second he hesitated, then said, “Turn into the beach. Make your own course.”
    -'But, sir . . ."
    He was cut off by David. “They'll expect us to turn out. Move,” he shouted.
    It took just a second for the rudder of the small craft to respond, and then it swung toward the beach. It had moved only thirty yards or so when another shell whistled overhead, landing this time where the whaleboat might have been had they turned toward Bagley. Palmer looked over at the young ensign and nodded, offering a thumbs-up approval.
    After they had gone about a hundred yards, David ordered the whaleboat back on its original course so he could concentrate on the group ashore. As he put his binoculars to his eyes, he told Palmer, “They're going to keep trying to pinpoint us. Zigzag whenever you want, but for Christ's sake sound off before you do!”
    He tried to call Melendez on his radio, first on the private circuit, then on the secondary, but there was no answer. He looked back to the beach where he had last seen them and thought he caught sight of the man for a second. They were that much closer so he could make but faces a bit better. A man waved out to him frantically from among a group crouched in a hole blasted in the sand. A few were firing their rifles toward the palm-tree area. But many more were not moving at all. He recognized Jorge as the one who had waved. Obviously, the last shell had knocked out his radio.
    “Mr. Charles, we're not supposed to be this close,” a voice called to him as another explosion bracketed their little boat. “I heard the captain ask us to come back.” It was one of the seamen sent along in the party to assist Palmer. He was crouched in the bottom of the whaleboat, making himself as small as possible, a terrified look in his eyes.
    David paid no attention to him. Palmer shouted just before he threw the rudder over and the boat heeled in the direction of the shore as it reversed course. David put the binoculars to his eyes again, trying to see what the men on land were doing as the boat rocked wildly on its new track. Two. of the men beside Melendez leaped up to run toward the water. The sand around them lifted in lazy puffs as the machine-gun bullets bit in. The one who was running the safer zigzag was the first one to be hit. The other, probably in terror, simply raced toward the water, somehow avoiding the bullets that became little spurts of water as