by Jack Leavers
‘Although you’ll have PID’d Abu Saif by video image, it would behoove us to have you confirm his ID face-to-face as soon as he’s back here.’
I wasn’t impressed with the thought that Abu Saif would know it was me who had identified him. I’d be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, which might prove to be a lot shorter with that plan.
‘Abu Saif knows who I am. I’m happy to do anything that’s needed to help get this guy, but he knows too much for me to do it face-to-face like this.’ I gestured between us. ‘Will it be a two-way mirror or something?’
Holmes considered my question.
‘Sure. Makes sense. When I say face-to-face, it might be via close video link anyway. If it needs to be in the flesh, then we’ll be using the suites with mirrors. If not here, then somewhere else.’
Thank fuck for that. I liked this guy already.
The American continued. ‘We’re on standby from eighteen hundred hours. You and the intel guys need to have camp beds near the live feed screens in the TOC. Although we’ll have video playback capability, time will be of the essence once the targets appear. The helos will take twenty minutes from a firm ‘GO’ to get the extraction team on the ground. We need those targets identified ASAP to make this work.’
As Roper and I went back to the cars to grab our kit and let the Kurds know they needed to scavenge for a place to sleep tonight, I tried to find out some more about Holmes and his people.
‘So, what’s the deal with this TF145? Is it an American special forces unit? How come we’re involved with them?’
Roper looked across at me. ‘It’s actually a combined US and British special forces and intelligence group, tasked with hunting down high value insurgent targets. The team on the ground in Hawija are from Hereford (SAS). There are a few Brits knocking about, we just haven’t bumped into them yet.’
I pressed further. ‘How about Holmes? Delta, SF, Agency or what?’
Roper stopped and turned towards me. ‘Does it matter? I’m sure you can imagine the various units and agencies involved in this kind of set-up. British and American. Whatever their backgrounds, they’re part of this Task Force right now.’
‘Yeah sure, I just wondered.’
I was intrigued, but Roper was right. It didn’t make any difference which three-letter outfit the people in this Task Force came from. For these guys, it was all about completing the mission successfully.
Chapter 38
The TOC was busy but surprisingly quiet, as though a fierce librarian prowled ready to pounce on anything livelier than muted conversations and the hum of electronic equipment. The peace occasionally broken by the crackle of radio transmissions – the latest from the support and extraction teams as they checked comms between themselves and the ‘Night Stalkers’ Black Hawk squadron who would be their ride for the mission.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I met the two intelligence personnel from TF145. Dexter struck me as a smart, funny guy right from the off, but it was his colleague, Katie, who took my breath away. She was stunningly attractive, with long blonde hair tied up in a messy ponytail and the most entrancing light-blue eyes I’d ever seen. She looked as though she was modelling her combat uniform with curves that could be politely termed ‘distracting’ to say the least. To go with it, she came across as down-to-earth, funny, and intelligent.
‘I think you have a new fan,’ Dexter said. My face must have betrayed my thoughts.
As Katie’s eyes flicked over to mine and a mischievous smile played on her lips, my cheeks warmed up.
‘Sorry, I was just surprised. You’re…’
‘What?’ asked Katie, clearly revelling in my discomfort. My reaction probably similar to many other dumb-asses in these male-dominated environments.
‘You’re not quite what I was expecting. You’re just very pretty for someone stuck in the dark here.’
Now it was her turn to blush, but she quickly countered with ‘Shucks’ in a syrupy voice and fluttered her eyelashes.
We all laughed to the disapproving glares of two operations officers stood nearby.
Dexter pulled me back on track. ‘Let me take you through the equipment here and show you how to replay and refine the captured images.’
*
The tension was mounting in the TOC. Nearly 21:00 and no sign of any movement had been reported at the suspected meeting location. Joe and Roper were talking with an army major when Joe was summoned to a secure call. He looked thoughtful on his return.
‘Update. Latest source intelligence reports the meeting will take place tomorrow night, but the location won’t be Hawija, it will be Mosul. Exact location will probably be unknown until tomorrow, but anywhere in that city is going to be challenging.’
All this said calmly, but he seethed with frustration when he stopped by the Intel Section on his way out.
‘We’ve got a goddamn team out there in Indian territory and now we’re going to get zero time to prepare anything but a hasty plan for Mosul. And if this is a goddamn trap, then I’m going to personally string up the son of a bitch who set it.’
Rather than the previous excited tension, a more nervous atmosphere settled over the TOC; everyone concerned the original intelligence may have been falsely sown and the team on the ground in Hawija might face attack or ambush at any time. The decision was taken for the team to remain in situ at the OP until the early hours of the morning. It couldn’t be discounted that the new intelligence might be wrong and the meeting could still take place in Hawija at any time. It was getting late, but Joe encouraged everyone to stay vigilant.
‘Okay people, nothing’s changed as far as the mission is concerned until the team move into the extraction phase. Let’s keep concentrated on the task at hand.’
Despite the fears the Hawija meeting might be an elaborate misinformation ploy, the TF145 team extracted themselves successfully without compromise. Once the drone feed and Blue Force Tracker confirmed they’d moved out of the OP and cleared the industrial zone, I climbed into my lightweight sleeping bag on a camp bed and fell into a deep sleep. The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was the tousled hair and serene face of Katie on the cot next door, but I was thinking about Claire.
*
I’d caught the tail end of breakfast at the DFAC and bumped into a bleary-eyed Ali and the rest of our ad-hoc Kurdish team. Everyone else looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but Ali wasn’t a morning person.
‘So, can we go back to Suli now?’ he asked.
‘No mate. Things didn’t work out last night. It sounds like we’ll probably be trying again tonight.’
‘Really?’ Ali emitted a loud sigh as he dropped his head. Although when he raised his eyes again and spotted the copious breakfast selections, he perked up. ‘Right, I’m getting some eggs.’ He wasn’t fat by any stretch, but he wore both his heart and his stomach on his sleeve.
Looking up from my piled plate, I saw Roper and signalled to him. After collecting his own pile of hot food, he came over and sat down.
‘We need to be ready to move up to Mosul. A Chinook up to the airbase at FOB Marez. No move before twelve hundred hours. No final decision has been taken, but it looks as though we’re going to try again tonight.’
‘Okay. What about the guys?’ I indicated Ali and the gang.
‘Nabil will come with me for liaison with Peshmerga elements up there, but your guys can head back home.’
‘I know someone who’ll be happy with that.’ I threw my eyes in Ali’s direction.
Apprised of the plan, Nabil and Dara were soon deeply engaged in conversation.
Nabil said, ‘Mr Tom, you should bring Dara with us. Him and General Rashid have important contacts with the Peshmerga in Eastern Mosul.’
‘Can’t you deal with that?’ asked Roper.
‘It’s Friday and there’s not much time. It
would be much better if Dara is with me.’ Dara whispered a message before Nabil added, ‘Dara and Hamza.’
Friday is the holy day and the main day of the weekend in Iraq. Most people spend it with their families, so Nabil might have trouble raising any potential assistance in the short time frame available. Roper didn’t need that explained to him. He understood the situation and the difficulties.
‘Is it okay with him?’ he asked Nabil.
‘Yes, he’s ready. And he’s never been in a helicopter before.’
And judging by the excited look on Dara’s face, he didn’t want to miss the opportunity for a helo ride across the Nineveh plains to Mosul. I’m sure Roper realised he’d make a friend for life if he allowed him along.
‘But what about me?’ Ali had changed from wanting to go home to concern at missing out.
‘You and the driver can head back home once you’re finished here,’ said Roper.
Ali looked at me for support, but I had no intention of trying to squeeze him into the plan. With Nabil able to translate, there was no requirement for him or the driver.
‘Get back to Suli, mate, and I’ll be in touch when we’re all finished, okay?’
Ali expressed regret he’d miss the helicopter ride, but I’m sure he felt secretly glad to be going home. He didn’t seem comfortable in the military environment, probably because he had little idea what was going on.
Chapter 39
MOSUL — FEBRUARY 2005
The TF145 TOC was being hastily reassembled at FOB Marez in Mosul when we arrived by Chinook in the early afternoon. Joe spotted us and came over as we entered the new temporary home in an aircraft hangar. I scoured the frantic activity and spotted Katie, who flashed me a smile as Joe took us into one of the offices, the walls filled with maps of Mosul city.
Joe partially extended a telescopic metal pointer with an embossed handle.
‘We’re working on the assumption we’ll get the green light, but it’s by no means definite. Given the lack of planning and preparation time, this is going to be far more hazardous than any of us would like. The one good aspect is the terrain and location are much more in our favour up here compared to Hawija.
‘As you can see from the map, we’re on the southern edge of the city and the Old City area here’ – the pointer circled an area on the west bank of the river – ‘is only three kilometres north of our current location. We have a lot of assets available which can quickly assist with the extraction and any clear-up that might be required.
‘The difficulty is we might not know the exact meeting location until very late. It’s not going to give us much time to conduct recon and move into position. We do already have local assets and surveillance teams on the ground in the city, but what I’m building up to is,’ – Joe turned and chopped a meaty hand in my direction – ‘I want you to deploy out into a forward staging location, and possibly even a direct OP, depending on how this thing rolls out.
‘Our hasty plan involves you and the OP team moving to an RV point here.’ The stick indicated a position on the southern outskirts of the Old City. ‘The Baghdad bus station. From here it should be no more than one and a half klicks to any potential meeting location.’
Roper moved closer to the map and I followed suit.
‘Dexter will be with you to identify other High Value Targets and Kate will remain at the TOC observing whatever live feeds we’re able to get set up.
‘Tom, I understand you’ve got two well-connected Kurds with you. Can you see if you can raise any support from that angle in the eastern part of the city and in the Old City itself if possible? Nothing too heavy, just friendly forces available on standby if required. Anything they can do on that side will be highly appreciated. And if you can get us any safe havens in the Old City then I’ll get you a goddamn medal.’
‘Roger that,’ replied Roper. ‘The guys are already setting up meetings with Peshmerga commanders. I’m trying to get them to come to us, but can we get a couple of vehicles in case we need to head out?’
‘Sure, speak with Chris Collins after this and tell him what you need. If you have to go, then John here needs to remain. He’s no good to us if you get stuck somewhere out in Mosul having tea with the locals as the meeting goes down.’
Chris Collins was Joe’s number two and seemed like a guy who wasn’t easily fazed. He listened to Roper’s request. ‘Sure, let me make a call.’
Before long, two battered twin-cab Toyota Hilux trucks arrived at Roper’s disposal, along with a four-man escort team. Once the vehicles arrived, Roper, Nabil, Dara, Hamza, and the security escort jumped into them and disappeared into the city to meet with senior figures who weren’t going to interrupt their Friday afternoon to come calling on us.
Because I was going out on the ground, they issued me with various kit and equipment: body armour, Kevlar helmet, medical kit including field dressings, morphine and QuickClot, and a Heckler & Koch MK23 handgun and holster. I hadn’t seen the .45 calibre HK handgun before, but I’d used plenty of other HK weapons in my time. Having a .45 rather than a 9mm provided better stopping power. If I did end up having to use the weapon, it would help make sure the targets stayed down if I hit them. I said nothing as I signed it out with the other kit, along with four 12-round magazines. If I was going to end up in the heart of Mosul, then a decent .45 was top of my list after being told I couldn’t have an M4 rifle.
‘We can’t have too many people waving their dicks in the air if the shooting starts,’ Joe had said as justification why I couldn’t have the M4. ‘But I’ve okayed a sidearm. Can’t have you going in there naked.’ He laughed as he patted me on the back.
Just after 1600 hours, a briefing convened in the middle of the horseshoe of containerised offices housing the TOC nerve centre. Joe issued a warning order to everyone that we were now all on fifteen minutes notice to move, with no move before 1630 hours.
‘The meeting location is confirmed, and we have the green light to proceed. The target location is grid 38SLF330230, the Mosul Museum. Timings for the meeting are as yet unknown, but the intention is to move into our positions by eighteen hundred hours. Scratch all the hasty plan RV details. Covert teams are already identifying OP and surveillance locations although expect a requirement for vehicle-based surveillance posts. The target location is outside the Old City, which is to our benefit, but this is still a nasty neighbourhood.
‘Everyone needs to be ready to abort the mission if the abort code is signalled. We don’t have time to verify the intel to the degree we’d like, so let’s all be careful out there and ready to notify the TOC at any sign of suspicious activity. And I mean anything. We don’t have “pattern of life” knowledge in this area to work from, but you are the best of the best and we all need to be on our “A” game tonight.
‘I don’t like this kind of fastball any more than the rest of you, but we have a chance here to capture one or more serious al-Qaeda commanders and we have to take it. Team leaders, surveillance coordinators, and air liaison officers to my office for a planning meeting immediately on completion here. A set of orders will be issued by sixteen-thirty hours, but be advised that for some of you it may be a “bonnet brief”. Time is against us.’
Joe and the assorted planners headed into the central TOC office as the briefing broke up. I walked back to my kit and checked it again, just to be sure I was ready for anything. Even before Joe had spoken, I’d known this might prove a difficult evening.
After the American assault against Falluja in November 2004, scores of displaced insurgent fighters had regrouped with the strong al-Qaeda Iraq (AQI) presence already in Mosul. The city had soon been rocked by a serious insurgent offensive which overran police stations and seized most of the western part of the city. Although the US 25th Infantry Division had counterattacked alongside Kurdish Peshmerga and regained control, most of the local police units had dissolved and the end state was mor
e of a stalemate than a victory.
Mosul was AQI territory and this was going to be a difficult mission to complete without stirring up a hornets’ nest. I don’t know if anyone else thought the same, but images of the movie Black Hawk Down about the Battle of Mogadishu were running in my head. This was a different situation to the one the Americans had faced in Somalia in 1993, but there were enough parallels to make me really want that M4 rifle.
Bang on 16:30, I joined Dexter and a six-man US Special Forces team wearing bedraggled winter clothes for a mission briefing. The SF guys were all dark-haired and either sported beards or were heavily unshaven. Each man bulky to the point of looking fat due to the body armour, kit, and weapons under their locally sourced winter jackets. At least two appeared to have Middle Eastern heritage and chat passed back and forth in Arabic as I entered and sat down next to Dexter.
Like me, Dexter didn’t fit the local profile as far as looks, but Mosul was more forgiving than further south because of the common sight of people with fairer hair and light-coloured eyes. I didn’t want to go through a replay of Mohammed’s ‘mute cousin from Mosul’ plan like in Baghdad the previous year, but that was pretty much how Dexter and I were going to have to play things. We both had shemaghs at the ready and wore local jackets over our equipment and body armour. Only carrying sidearms, our weapons were easily hidden compared to the rifles and M249 machine gun of the SF team.
Roper, Nabil, Dara, and Hamza were all still out on the ground enlisting the support of the local Peshmerga, so, for now at least, this was our team.
A map of the target area flashed up on the screen at the front of the room. A big, scruffy-looking man with wild hair and a full beard cut away from his conversation and stood up.
‘Gentlemen, my name is Greg Summers and I’ll be commanding Team BLUE 5 for today’s mission. Due to time pressures, this will be an abbreviated set of mission orders. Prepare to move on completion of this briefing and no later than seventeen hundred hours. The attached intelligence personnel are John, there, from the UK, call sign GRAIL 1, and Dexter here, who we all know, call sign GRAIL 2.’