Trimler gave his orders and the Rangers headed toward the Kurdish farmstead Carroll had pointed out. Four Rangers ran ahead to scout the building and make sure it was secure while another four stayed behind and swept the field to make sure no equipment was left behind and erase every sign that trucks or people had been in the field. Carroll jumped in the lead truck next to Zakia and told the driver to follow the Rangers.
A Ranger directed the trucks to park next to a shed and was speechless when he saw Zakia get out. He finally found his voice, “Ma’am, why don’t you go inside with Captain Trimler.” They followed his directions and entered the low mud-brick house, where Carroll introduced Zakia and the man who was her contact.
“We had planned to use the phone here,” Zakia said.
“A place like this has a phone?” Trimler asked.
“We installed it to send an arrival message,” Zakia told him. She spoke to the man in a language Trimler did not understand. He opened a cabinet where the. phone was hidden and dialed. Zakia sent up a torrent of words in a high-pitched, whiny tone while the man spoke. Carroll motioned for Trimler to remain silent until they had finished.
“What the hell…?” The Captain was bewildered.
“He was calling about his father,” Carroll said. “Seems the old gent is in failing health but has just taken a turn for the better. He still needs two more days before he’s out of bed. Actually, it’s a code they set up with their radio operator. You arrived and are two men short. He’ll send out the arrival message. They use the phone system to keep in contact. Zakia was making background noises in case anybody was listening.”
“Who the hell are they?”
“Don’t ask,” Carroll said. “I don’t know and they won’t tell you.”
Trimler shook his head and went outside. He checked the security of the compound and ordered half the men to sack out and the other half to stay on alert. “Wade, Baulck, set up a listening post a hundred meters down the road.” He pointed to the rut that led to the farmstead, and the two men moved quickly out and disappeared into the night.
The captain checked the disposition of his men again, not surprised to find half of them asleep. He had heard how the strain of actual operations caused men to fall asleep the moment the tension was broken. Good, he thought, I want ’em fresh. He unstrapped the radio from his shoulder and leaned against the low wall that surrounded most of the compound. “Romeo Two-Five, you up?” he radioed. No answer. For a moment he thought maybe he heard a low crackling, but couldn’t be sure…
*
“Any idea where we are?” Jamison asked.
Kamigami didn’t answer and held the whisper mike to his left ear. He thought he heard something and spoke into the radio. No answer. He set the radio down and pulled out a map and flashlight, hunched down to shield the light and studied the map. The last briefing they had received before mounting the C-130 had pinpointed the drop zone ten miles northwest of Kermanshah. But he didn’t know where he and Jamison had landed. He had seen some farm buildings south of them and they had passed over a dirt road before they landed in a field. He stood up and peered into the night, his six feet four inches working to his advantage. When he adjusted his night vision goggles he could make out a low hill the other side of the dirt road.
“We go there.” He pointed to the hill, hoping they could get their bearings on top…otherwise they would have to wait for first light. When in doubt, he thought, take the high ground.
*
Eastern Turkey
Leon Nelson glanced at his watch, 1948Z, and ran another station check. Each position on the AWACS reported no unusual activity inside Iran or Iraq. The Iraq air defense posture had reverted to normal after the two MiGs that had almost intercepted Scamp had landed. The Iranians had never stirred. They had another hour on station and no aircraft to control. It was going to be an unproductive hour boring holes in the sky.
He relaxed into his seat and tried to rest but his mind would not let it go. He kept thinking about the briefing he and his controllers had received the day before on Operation WARLORD. They had only been briefed on their role in the mission and not shown the specific objective. His private theories about WARLORD were confirmed when the C-130 broke off its planned profile and flew within sixty miles of Kermanshah. The cargo plane had slowed to 130 knots before it started its descent to low level. To the lieutenant colonel’s way of thinking, there could only be one reason for that-it was an airdrop and it had something to do with the POWs at Kermanshah. But why had the C-130 headed toward Iraq? They should have flown a low-level right back to Turkey. There were too many unanswered questions to let Nelson relax.
“This is what I get paid for,” he mumbled before calling the pilot. “Let’s head for home plate now,” he ordered. Every instinct he had was shouting that he was needed at Incirlik.
Chapter 40: H Plus 4
Maragheh, Iran
The four men in the radar shack were gathered around the TV, engrossed in the program they were watching. Because they were sitting on a mountain top, they had excellent reception and could pick up Turkish and Iraqi channels. Both of those countries offered much better viewing than the Ayatollahs allowed in Iran. It was the only benefit of pulling duty at the radar site.
The radar operator sighed when the channel went off the air. It was almost midnight and he had more than twelve hours to go before he was replaced. He had made a mental promise never to cross the captain in the control center again and returned to the main console. “It’s cooled off by now,” he muttered, and went through the start-up routine, bringing the radar back on line. His training had been thorough and he wanted to do a good job, but other things kept getting in the way. He didn’t even contemplate a communications check that might disturb the captain and felt justified when his sector swept dean. There were no targets over eastern Turkey or Iraq.
Satisfied, he stood up and headed for a bunk at the rear of the room to get some sleep with the other men. He left the radar set on.
*
Incirlik Air Base, Turkey
“Captain Kowalski, let me make this perfectly clear,” Mado was pacing the floor in the Intelligence section of the command post, “by deviating from your planned flight path you put this entire mission at risk.” Stansell listened to the general work over the captain. He was glad Thunder had awakened him when the debrief started. “If the Iranians detected you,” Mado continued, “they are going to start asking questions and all the answers point to Kermanshah—”
“Sir,” Stansell cut in, “why don’t we let Captain Bryant complete the debrief? Dewa made a checklist of items to go over and it’s all in the intelligence appendix of the OPORD.” He had said the right words…Mado considered the operations order to be etched in stone.
Thunder gave a silent thanks that Stansell was there and that the plan was a good well-thought-out document—thanks to Stansell—and Mado in calmer moments. Mado nodded and continued to pace while Thunder started through the questions. He was interrupted by a knock on the door. Brenda Iverson, Kowalski’s copilot, was closest and opened it. A lieutenant colonel in a flight suit was standing there with three other men behind him.
“We’re Delray Five-One,” he announced and came into the room. “I think you want to look at our mission results.”
“It could have waited,” Mado said. “You were to remain on-station until twenty-one hundred Zulu.”
Nelson, not the least intimidated by Mado, said, “But when Scamp One-One deviated from the briefed mission profile I decided that you needed the results more than us boring holes in the sky turning JP-4 into noise.” He looked around the room, picking Kowalski out. “You the aircraft commander?” She nodded. “It was a close one. The Iraqis almost nailed you.” Without waiting he went over the mission from their perspective, pointing out how the Iranian air defense net had been totally passive and the Iraqi’s alive and well. “One question, Captain,” he concluded, “why did you head for Iraq instead of flying a low-level
back through Iran to Turkey? Iranian air defense is like a sieve.”
“I thought for sure the Iranians would pick us up when we dropped off the airliner and wanted them to think I was an Iraqi heading for home. I figured we could sneak through Iraq and they wouldn’t catch us. A calculated risk.”
“A bad decision,” Mado said. “Now we’ve got Romeo Team on the ground and—”
“I acted on the best information I had at the time,” Kowalski said.
“Excuse me, sir.” It was Stansell. “I thought that was the idea…Getting Romeo Team on the ground. Maybe it didn’t happen exactly like we planned, but we met the objective—”
“Colonel, our plan is coming apart,” Mado said. “We’ve got to advise the Command Center and have them reconsider our situation…”
Gregory had been sitting at the back of the room taking it all in. “General, we need to talk. In private.” Mado stared at the army lieutenant colonel, surprised by the steel he heard in the man’s voice. He nodded and walked out of the room and into a deserted office. “Sir,” Gregory began, “I’m your ground commander and I made a promise to my men. I told them I’d get them out. And, sir, I’m going to do that. Please don’t misunderstand me on this. If you get in the way, or don’t do everything you can, I’ll tell the world that you’re a fucking idiot and then I’ll break your neck—personally.” The general couldn’t take his eyes off Gregory’s huge hands. The lieutenant colonel turned and walked away, back to his Rangers.
Mado’s breathing was ragged as he struggled to regain his composure. Finally he walked back into Intelligence. “The question before us is”—his voice strained but calm—“has the mission been compromised to the point we cannot continue? Colonel Gregory recommends we launch as planned. Your recommendations.”
“Go as planned,” Stansell said. Goddamn, he thought, we’ve been through this before. He’s starting to hedge again. What does it take to get the man to make a decision?
“Go,” Thunder said.
“As planned,” Kowalski said. It was fairly obvious that Mado was big on following plans.
“If you’re worried about the Iranians,” Nelson said, “there’s no indication they’re awake. But the Iraqis probably know something is going down. No way they’ll tell the Iranians, though.”
Mado jerked his head and returned to the command post. They all followed him into the big room. The command post’s Emergency Action Controller handed him a message. “From the Pentagon’s command center,” she told him. “The team is on the ground and have established contact.”
Again, the general studied the status boards in front of him…“Launch as planned…”
They could barely hear it.
“What now?” Thunder asked.
Stansell said, “Launch in three hours.”
“For sure?” Kowalski asked. They were all studying Mado.
“That’s a definite maybe,” Stansell told them, face tight.
Chapter 41: H Plus 5
Western Iran
The hill Kamigami was moving toward was further away than Jamison had estimated. The big sergeant major maintained a steady dogtrot and the young lieutenant was having a hard time keeping up. He wanted to drop some of his equipment and lighten his load but Kamigami had told him to carry it all and keep moving. Jamison was thankful when they moved up a shallow ravine leading to the crest of the hill and their pace eased. Suddenly Kamigami stopped and listened. “Goats.” His voice was soft and quiet. Jamison listened but couldn’t hear a thing.
The sergeant looked around him and pointed to a shadow on the side of the ravine. It was a little more than a crack or animal burrow. Kamigami dropped his equipment and started to sort it out, pushing what he didn’t want into the hole. Jamison did likewise and was about to shove his gas mask in after his parachute when Kamigami grabbed it and handed it back. When they were finished Jamison threw some loose dirt and stones over the equipment while Kamigami carried a big rock up from the dry steam bed and dropped it over the opening.
With their equipment sorted out they made the crest of the hill in a few minutes. It was barren, with little vegetation and no rocks to hide in. The two men flopped down on their stomachs for a break. “Over there, to the cast,” Kamigami said. They could see a glow of lights beyond another set of hills that marked a large town. “Got to be Kermanshah.” He spread his map and set his compass on it, starting to get his bearings.
“I can hear the goats now,” Jamison whispered.
“Goatherder’s around somewhere.”
Jamison touched the sergeant’s shoulder and pointed to the headlights of a car moving in the night. “That must be a highway running east to west. I’d guess we’re two to three miles north of it.”
“Closer to five. Okay, I’ve got our position. We’re ten miles due west of Kermanshah. On this hill.” He pointed it out on the map, carefully shielding his light. “About fifteen miles from the DZ. We head there.” He pointed to the next set of hills to the east of them, toward the glow and Kermanshah.
“Should we try to make radio contact?”
“No, the range is too great and the goatherder might hear us.” Kamigami shoved his map and compass in a pocket and moved out with a speed that surprised Jamison. The big man disappeared in the dark. Jamison hurried after him, stumbling over the rough terrain. A hand reached out and steadied him. “Tanks make less noise,” Kamigami said. “Keep up.”
Chapter 42: H Plus 6
Kermanshah, Iran
The key grated in the lock and the guard had to twist it back and forth to slide the bolt back. It gave Mary time to sit at attention and pull the canvas bag over her head. The guard turned the light on and closed the door behind him.
“Please take the bag off.” The man was speaking in English and his voice was routine, matter of fact. Mary did. The man was holding a bowl. “Please eat.” He handed her the bowl and she took three quick spoonfuls of the stew-like concoction before she slowed.
“Aren’t you the one they call Amini?” He nodded. “Can I see Doctor Landis? I’m very worried about him.”
“We must talk first.” He cracked the door and scanned the corridor, listening for the sound of any activity in the darkened building. It was 1:30 in the morning. “You are being moved this morning with half the men. You’re being flown to Tehran, where, I’m sure, your treatment will be better.” Mary was astonished by the guard’s English. “You’ll be turned over to another political party. Should any of your new captors ask you, please do not tell them about me or any better treatment you’ve received. You must make it sound all bad or I will be compromised. That means a firing squad or a noose.” She could hear traces of an American accent.
“You’re the friend we’ve had here,” Mary said. She wanted to touch him.
He nodded his head and looked out the door again while she finished eating. He turned out the cell light and motioned for her to follow him to Landis’ cell. He swung the door back and let her in.
Mary saw the naked man lying on the floor, grabbed his blanket and covered him. “Get the blanket from my cell,” she said.
“I can’t do that.”
“Then help me get him on his bunk.” They moved him and Mary was trying to straighten him out.
“Don’t,” Landis said weakly.
“Get some water,” Mary said. The guard took the empty bowl and left.
“No water,” Landis told her. She could barely hear his voice. “Then I’ll clean you up. Hold on, doc, we’re getting moved today. We’ll get you to a hospital.”
“Better hurry…internal bleeding…Mokhtari stomped the hell out of me…”
The guard was back with the bowl now, filled with water. “I need a washrag,” Mary said. The guard handed her a handkerchief. “Get him some clothes, we can’t move him like this.”
“He’s not going,” the guard told her.
“Then neither am I.”
Chapter 43: H Plus 7
Incirlik Air Base, Turkey
/> On the ramp at Incirlik the last of the Rangers loaded the C-130s and the wail of a cranking jet engine could be heard above the ear-splitting roar of ground power units that supplied electrical power and bleed air to the planes. Thunder was walking in from the AC-130 gunship when the AWACS taxied out, leading the procession of twenty-two aircraft that made up Task Force Alpha. The captain found Stansell and Mado inside the hangar talking to Gregory. “All systems are go on the gunship,” he reported. “They’ve got an FM radio for contacting the Rangers on the ground and a satellite-communications system on board. They’ve already established contact with the Pentagon’s command center.”
Mado nodded and headed for the gunship that was to serve as his command-and-control aircraft. Thunder looked at Stansell and Gregory, snapped a salute and followed the general. Two KC-135 tankers taxied past. They would follow the AWACS into a holding pattern near the border and refuel the F- 111s and F-15s. If needed, they could also refuel the AWACS. The number-three prop on the gunship started to turn. “Time to load,” Stansell told Gregory. The two men walked out of the hangar and headed for Duck Mallard’s C-130. Drunkin Dunkin was waiting for them by the crew-entrance door wearing his battered baseball cap.
Stansell took one last look around and climbed onto the flight deck. Mallard greeted him and the flight engineer handed him a headset. “Starting three.” Mallard hit the start button and moved the engine-condition lever for number-three to ground start. The big four-bladed prop started to turn and then spun down. “Looks like a sheared starter-shaft,” Mallard said. The flight engineer confirmed the problem.
“Radio Kowalski to start engines while we load her plane,” Stansell ordered. The Hercules exploded into furious activity. Stansell could hear Thunder’s voice on the UHF radio acknowledging the change in aircraft and hoped he could keep Mado calmed down. The Rangers tore the tie-down chains off the three jeeps and two motorcycles that were on board and drove them down the ramp. Everyone gathered up their equipment and ran for Kowalski’s C-130. Stansell took one last look around and hurried after them.
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