by C. X. Moreau
Between the wire, at intervals of about one hundred meters, were two sandbagged guardhouses. These were the same posts he had watched the sergeant of the guard check promptly on the hour for a whole week.
Beyond the line of wire and the guard posts was an iron fence that surrounded the building on three sides. The fence was set in a low stone base and directly in the center on the south side that he now scanned was a large double gate. The gate was an integral part of the landscaping of the building and had never been intended as more than a device to limit access to the parking spaces directly adjacent to the building. He was pleased to see that it seemed to be in poor repair, with a decided inward cant at its center. He made a mental note to check it carefully when leaving the terminal.
He now turned his attention to the building itself. Although it displayed a heavy black smoke stain on the south side it appeared to be reasonably sound. Its construction was of heavy concrete with broad expanses of glass, the style favored by modern designers. As the waiter filled his now empty cup he lit another cigarette and counted the upright columns that ringed the building at regular intervals. There were exactly ten on the south side with the heaviest smoke damage visible between the second and fourth uprights on the western end. To his disappointment it did not appear possible for a bomber, utilizing surprise and speed to gain the target, to direct his vehicle toward the portion of the building that had obviously received the heaviest fire damage.
The first floor of the building was supported by large concrete yokes that thinned into the slender uprights that ran the height of the building. By rough calculation he reckoned them to be at least five meters high at ground level. Such calculations would become an integral part of his planning with regard to the height of the vehicle that would deliver the bomb and the point of placement on the building.
The plan began to take shape in his mind as he rose to leave the terminal. Glancing at his watch he realized he had been in the terminal over an hour, more than enough time to draw the attention of a conscientious guard. He left a few Lebanese lire on the small round table and walked out the glass door and stood on the broad sidewalk in front of the terminal. Internal Security Force troopers sat on their heavy American-made motorcycles and smoked as he waited for a cab to appear. He noted them with some trepidation. Of all the Lebanese uniform services, only the ISF had retained its former authority and continued to police the streets of the Lebanese capital.
He had been standing in front of the terminal for over five minutes without even seeing a taxi when he was approached by a sergeant from the ISF. He regarded the man casually as he approached, cautioning himself to adopt the demeanor appropriate for the businessman he was supposed to be. The man spoke courteously to him without asking him for identification. He sensed the sergeant wanted something, but was puzzled as to why he didn’t just state his business.
Finally the man asked if he was waiting for a friend to arrive or if he needed a taxi. When the Syrian said that he was waiting for a taxi the man smiled and offered his assistance. Without missing a beat the sergeant motioned to another trooper who picked up a radio and spoke into it. From around the corner of the terminal building a cab materialized. The Syrian nodded gratefully and slipped the man a couple of notes. The sergeant ambled off, no doubt to extort a percentage of the fare from the driver, thought the Syrian.
The cab passed the access road heading north as the Syrian took a long look at the gate being manned by the Lebanese soldiers. One glance was enough to assure him that the soldiers at the gate were young conscripts who would not pose a threat to his plan. As the cab drew abreast of the Marine headquarters he noted that the Marines had barracked troops under the eaves of the building as well as others in tents that were pitched on the broad courtyard surrounding the building. Vehicles were parked on all sides of the structure and troops moved in and out of both sides of the building through broad doors.
The doors held particular interest for him. He noted that they were constructed of aluminum frames and were placed side by side directly underneath the center of the building. Although he was unable to see the east side of the structure he had a good view of the west face and it did not appear to have any entrance. He noted that the ground rose slightly as they continued north past the building and the far side of the courtyard wall was actually dug into the side of the hill to a depth of about seven feet in places, with steps located in it at the center to facilitate access to the buildings just to the north of the headquarters.
The driver slowed near the checkpoint and the Syrian saw the entrance to the group of smaller buildings. A row of shade trees lined the small road and at its intersection with the boulevard was a checkpoint manned by Marines and soldiers of the Lebanese Army. A red and yellow sign with Roman and Arabic lettering announced that this was the headquarters of the 24th Marine Amphibious Unit and the 42nd Brigade of the Lebanese Armed Forces. Looking east along the road past the checkpoint he noted that a bomber would have to make a ninety-degree turn approximately one hundred meters past the checkpoint followed by another ninety-degree turn to gain access to these buildings. The trees lining the road would prevent his leaving the road earlier and would also serve to limit the height of the attacking vehicle.
If the bomber were to take the northern branch of this road he would immediately be stopped by a heavy gate manned solely by Marines. Behind it, some fifty meters to the rear, was a low one-story building. In the yard surrounding the building were various vehicles of the Marines and troops who appeared to be repairing them. He surmised that this was a vehicle-maintenance facility and that mechanics were housed in the structure.
The car picked up speed heading north and he noticed that the ground rose steadily to a series of small hills. These hills had obviously been occupied by the Marines, and hidden from the view of anyone approaching from the opposite direction was another small road leading east past the entrance to this compound. Traffic from the village of Al Laylakah moved along the road and past the heavily defended entrance to the Marine position. He dismissed immediately any idea of attacking this location. It was obviously well defended and the bomber would have the added disadvantage of attacking uphill against a force of infantrymen who were well dug in and dispersed.
The remainder of the ride back to the busy center of the city he spent in thought of what he had seen that morning. He was already convinced that the four-story headquarters building was the obvious choice as his primary target. It offered the highest chance of success for a variety of reasons.
It could be fairly easily approached from the south by using the parking lot as a means of access, even though the bomber would lose speed by turning at a right angle into the lot. This would be offset by the distance between the access road and the broad expanse of parking lot just south of the building. The driver could use this virtually unobstructed approach to gain speed, crash the gate, and ram his vehicle into the center of the building.
The smoke damage on the outside of the building lent credibility to his theory that the building had suffered significant damage during the invasion, but his observation of it that morning had convinced him that it was structurally sound. Its modern construction would not have been severely damaged by fire, and its structural members appeared to be intact and undamaged. Although he would have preferred to have the bomber direct his vehicle at the fire damaged portion of the building he had concluded that the loss of speed from doing so would limit the penetration of the vehicle into the atrium of the building and lessen the effect of the explosion on its structural components.
The heavy concrete construction and modern design also worried him. All of his successful attacks to date had been against less substantial buildings. Only the attack upon the American Embassy had been anywhere near the dimensions and scale of this attack. Even though he had achieved virtual ideal placement of the explosive at the embassy, he had failed to bring the whole building down, a fact that had gnawed at him since. He had returned to the building afte
r the bombing and studied it. The center wing had collapsed up to the highest floor, but the two outer wings had remained upright and apparently received only minor damage. He had eventually concluded that his bomb had not had sufficient explosive power to bring down such a large structure without the explosives being deliberately placed near key load-bearing members of the building’s frame.
Since he would obviously not be able to gain entrance to the Marine headquarters and study it from the interior and thereby assess its structural weaknesses he was forced to assume that he would need a somewhat larger charge than had been used against the American Embassy. Acquiring the explosives would be a logistical headache, but an effective vehicle for delivering them would be the real problem. He would obviously need a much greater charge than had been used at the embassy, and this would logically require a correspondingly larger vehicle. However, if the vehicle were too large it would be unable to force itself under the heavy concrete eaves of the building and penetrate to a sufficient depth to cause the maximum damage upon detonation. An explosion occurring outside the building, not under the building itself, stood much less chance of effecting enough damage to collapse the major portion of the structure.
There were also other factors to be considered in selecting a vehicle. Height would be a prime consideration. Too low and the vehicle would pass under the eaves, through the doors, and into the atrium where he would be forced to detonate it once it was out of his sight. If the vehicle were too high it would become jammed under the eaves and the greatest portion of the blast would be directed outside of the building with equally poor results.
He was also concerned over the design of the building. Because the building had a large atrium its center was, in reality, hollow, with the offices being wrapped around the inner rectangle. This presented a problem regarding the direction of the blast once the detonation took place. If the bomber were to run his vehicle through the doors and into the atrium before detonating the explosives it was conceivable that the blast would be directed up the concrete interior of the building blowing off the roof while doing little damage to the sturdy sides of the structure.
Such an explosion might have the desired effect in regards to creating casualties, but it would not dramatically destroy the building as he wished to do. He would have to design a bomb vehicle such as he had never before created. As successful as the embassy bombing had been, it had not been without flaws. One immediate problem he faced was the fact that his training had emphasized placing a small charge in close proximity to the intended target, and the target had always been somewhat fragile. He had studied placement and explosive charge requirements necessary to effect the assassination of a person in a crowded room or to bring down a commercial airliner, but never anything dealing with the destruction of an entire four-story building.
His previous missions had required much smaller explosive charges and he had been devastatingly effective due in no small part to careful placement of the bomb. Now, due to the sheer size of the target, he would be forced to confront problems that he never anticipated and for which he had no real training.
The taxi ground to a stop in front of the hotel he had given as his address. He paid the man quickly and entered the lobby as though he were a registered guest. He watched through a window as the taxi entered traffic then exited the hotel and disappeared among the pedestrians on the street.
CHAPTER
18
Downs poured another helmet full of water into the galvanized tub and stood back as Mac, Ferris, and Smith scrubbed their utilities. The three others worked at washing their uniforms as Downs went for another helmet of water. Most of the Marines in the infantry companies had long ago resorted to washing their own clothing instead of sending it to the support ships where it would be laundered by working parties and returned to them by helicopter. Too frequently they received the wrong clothing in return, or none at all. As he walked back toward the washtub he heard the other three discussing Griffin.
“Well,” said Ferris. “The first shirt is nothing but hot air anyway. Nobody believes anything he says, so it’s no big deal if he gives the sergeant major a bunch of bullshit about what happened up at the hill fight. Who’s gonna believe him?”
“I don’t know,” said Mac. “The staff sergeant and Sergeant Griffin seem plenty worried. And anyway, since when do they need a reason to conduct a witch-hunt for somebody they don’t like.”
“Yeah, no shit, Jimmy. Remember what they did to Sergeant Hall before we deployed last year?” asked Smith.
Downs joined the group and added, “Yeah, he was late for formation and they busted him. Took a stripe for nothing but bullshit like that. It just goes to show you they give out whatever punishment they want to whoever they want to give it to.”
The other three shook their heads and there was silence before Smith added, “Hall was a good NCO, but that didn’t count for shit when the system got him in its sights. I heard after they sent him to Third Battalion he got busted again on another bullshit charge.”
“So what do you think they’ll do to Sergeant Griffin and Sergeant Slocum, Steve? Have you heard anything?”
Downs shook his head. “Not really. But the staff sergeant called me in to his hooch and asked me about what went on up at the hill. Mainly he just wanted to know the straight scoop. He really didn’t say much, you know.”
“Well, word in the battalion is that the first shirt is pushing for a court-martial of Griffin and Slocum for disobedience of a direct order.”
Downs looked at Smith and asked, “Where did you hear that?”
“From a guy in radio platoon. He has to go back to the battalion CP every couple of weeks on a supply run and one of the other radio operators told him. I guess he got it from somebody at the head shed.”
“Nothin’ would surprise me anymore in this chickenshit outfit. We’re turnin’ into a bunch of queers. What the fuck do they want from us?” Ferris looked at the other three angrily and Downs sensed that he was seeing a rare moment when the two cousins were troubled about something enough that it penetrated their sense of good humor. “Jesus, have you seen what they have the sergeants write on the patrol reports after we get back from the ville?” The other three exchanged looks and shrugged as Ferris continued, “Well, I have. They write some bullshit about ’Create a Presence’ in the block where it asks for purpose of patrol. What the fuck does that mean? I’d like to know the answer to that one. That just doesn’t make any sense to me. I thought our mission was to locate the fucking enemy and kill their ass. That’s why me and Wayne joined up. Not any of this peace keeping bullshit where nobody knows who the fucking enemy is or even why we’re here.”
“Yeah, Ferris,” said Downs. “That’s okay under normal circumstances, but this is hardly normal. We’re not at war with anybody here. We’re just caught between all the fighting groups and our job is to try and keep them separated.”
“What a load of bullshit, Steve! If we’re not at war with anybody then why did they bomb our embassy? And who the fuck was the navy shootin’ at up in the mountains? Hell, damn near every night now they shell the shit out of those mountains, and as soon as they’re done the fucking Lebanese shell us. Maybe that doesn’t sound like a war to you, but it pretty much does to me.”
“He’s right, Steve,” said Mac, “almost every night now we get some sort of shelling. Jesus, I haven’t slept the night through since we got back from the hill. We always get at least H&I fire from those mountains at night.”
Before Downs could answer Ferris continued, “And what the fuck is the big deal about what happened up on the hill anyway? So what if we had a firefight with the fuckin’ rag-heads? It isn’t like they didn’t attack us first. So we handed them their ass and killed a few of them, that’s what the fuck they get for attackin’ us. Maybe they learned a lesson. If not they know where to find us. They can try it again if they like. I’m sick and tired of the command actin’ like we have to walk on eggs in this fucking country.”
Ferris looked at Downs as if expecting a reply before continuing, “And I don’t see what the big deal is about Sergeant Griffin punchin’ out some rag-head in front of the building. Fuck ’em anyway. If they want to ask me about it I’m not sayin’ anything. I didn’t see any of our glorious leaders out there with Sergeant Griffin when a decision had to be made. I’m not gonna help them second-guess him so they can bust him just because the first shirt has a hard-on for the guy. And anybody who does give them any ammunition to hang him with is fucked up. I don’t care what kind of oath they want to make me swear. I believe in God and all, but I’ll lie for the guy with my hand on the Bible if it will keep them from being able to bust him for just doing his job.” Ferris looked at the others, obviously uncomfortable after having spoken so angrily.
For a few awkward moments the silence continued. Downs concentrated on washing his uniform and not looking into the eyes of the others. As the silence continued he made up his mind to speak. “Hey, look. I’ve got something to say, but it has to stay just between us. Just in our fireteam.” He looked at the others and asked, “Does everybody agree? No rank or anything. Just us.” The other three nodded their assent.
“Okay, then. Here it is. I think Jimmy is right. They’re gonna try and hang Sergeant Griffin and Slocum. And if we tell them anything they’ll use whatever we say against them. You can bet the first sergeant is going to push for some sort of official inquiry, and the deck is going to be stacked against Griffin and Slocum.” Downs looked into the faces of the other three, who stared back expectantly. “What I say we do is agree here and now that none of the four of us give them anything to use against them. I mean nothing. If they ask, we just say we didn’t see anything and when the Arabs attacked all we did was respond within the limits of the Rules of Engagement. Does anybody have a problem with that?”