by Jack Leavers
Dexter was smiling as his hand shot out for a vigorous round of handshakes, first with Roper then with me. ‘Great to see you guys. This time we’ll get the job finished.’
‘I hope so. Some of us have got real work to be getting on with.’
Dexter didn’t miss a beat. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll soon be able to get back to your nice, comfortable civilian life and leave us to get on with protecting the free world.’
Unlike a lot of the Americans I knew, he took attempts at British sarcasm and irony in his stride.
‘Talking of which,’ said Roper, ‘can you bring us up to speed now or are we due into a formal briefing?’
Katie exchanged nods with Dexter before she replied, ‘Sure guys, come with us and we’ll update you. FYI, elements of the mission have already launched, and your team will be deploying tonight. You’ll get those details in a tactical briefing here at fourteen hundred hours, but we’ll focus on the intel situation with you now so you’re up to speed.’
*
We sat down in the Intel Section with a strong coffee each, and Katie and Dexter filled us in on the latest developments and a sketchy outline of the mission. After Katie had run through a general situation brief which echoed the doom and gloom from the latest news reports, Dexter took over.
‘The NSA and your GCHQ have made a breakthrough in our SIGINT penetration of various aspects of the insurgency. In recent weeks we’ve been using this new capability to link personalities and better understand the AQI organisation, particularly its command structure and control methodology. Combined with our existing HUMINT sources and intel from counter-insurgency raids and other initiatives, we believe there is a strong likelihood a meeting of senior insurgent leaders is taking place tomorrow at a location north-west of Muqdadiyah in Diyala Province, seventy-five klicks east of here.’
‘How strong a likelihood?’ I asked. ‘Are we talking the same as the Hawija and Mosul intel, which was a bag of bollocks, or is it going to happen for real this time?’
‘John, you understand how these things work,’ came Roper’s admonishing tone from next to me.
‘No, it’s a fair question,’ said Dexter holding up his hands, although his face betrayed that I’d annoyed him.
‘We’re certain a meeting is taking place tomorrow and we know that a mobile phone belonging to a key AQI Internal Security chief has moved to a farm complex north-west of Muqdadiyah, where two of our British teams have him and his team under surveillance right now. Their situation reports indicate a loose cordon has been set up around the complex and preparations appear to be under way for the arrival of more people.’
Dexter paused.
‘Our understanding is the meeting is due to be chaired by Abu Saif al-Tikriti, the Shadow Emir.’
He directed that last comment towards me and took a beat before continuing, letting the information sink in.
‘Al-Zarqawi is reportedly still recuperating from his recent, unspecified injuries, probably sustained during the operation in Mosul, and is not expected to be present. The location and terrain are challenging but this is considered, almost unanimously amongst those whose opinions count, as a high-grade opportunity to kill or capture significant AQI personalities and disrupt insurgent operational planning.’
If he thought I’d buy into that without question he was wrong.
‘Almost unanimously. So not everyone “whose opinion counts” is on board with this then?’
Dexter sighed. ‘John, there’s never any guarantees, but everything points to this being our chance to finally get Abu Saif and take down other senior leaders in a single swoop. Even so, opportunities like this must still pass a high bar before any related operation is given the green light. This op has passed that threshold and has the green light. What else is there to say? Everyone here knows we might not get the result we want. Hell, there’s been enough false leads and dodgy intel this last two years to last us all a lifetime. When it happens, we just have to suck it up and go again. I realise you’ve been pulled into this without any choice, but you’re here now and you need to get on board with it and focus on your important role in helping us achieve the mission objectives.’
I hadn’t meant to be a dick about it, but I was still riled about being press-ganged in Amman to join in with another half-arsed scheme dreamt up by British and American spooks. No point banging on about it though. I’d made my point and probably already gone too far with it.
‘I know Dex, I’m on board no problem. I just have a healthy habit of questioning everything. If a plan is good, then it should be able to defend itself against robust questions.’
That didn’t necessarily mean I thought this plan passed muster. For these guys all sat here kitted up and itching to take the fight to AQI it was a no-brainer. For me, trying to set up a business with limited resources, it was a huge pain in the arse if I was going to get dragged into every new plan for the foreseeable future until one of them eventually worked or I got fucked up.
‘Now that’s cleared up…’ Roper spoke pointedly at me before switching his attention to Dexter and Katie, ‘…can you give us some more details of how we’re going to be involved?’
Katie answered matter-of-factly. ‘You guys and Dexter are deploying with a team tonight to an OP giving you eyes on the target farm complex. Dexter and John will make a positive identification of the High Value Targets when they arrive, and the Task Force will execute the assault once the GO codeword is issued. That’s as much as we can tell you now. The rest of the details will be in the fourteen hundred briefing.’
So, there it was. We’d be deployed at the pointy end of the spear again in another insurgent stronghold. My first thought: ‘I wish I had better footwear with me.’ My Merrell shoes were great, but for padding around the wilds of Diyala my KSB boots back at home would have been better. My second thought: ‘Ah ha – Roper’s coming along this time.’
Chapter 47
1400 Hours — LSA Anaconda SF Tactical Operations Centre
A series of mission briefings had already taken place over the previous twenty-four hours, but Roper, me, and three other latecomers assembled by the Intel Section desks in the TOC for our own intimate presentation. Joe Holmes welcomed us to the TOC with a warm handshake and introduced a British SAS colonel, Ben Sheridan. Sheridan was businesslike rather than friendly, probably to be expected considering he had at least two teams out on the ground already for this operation, and no doubt other missions in progress elsewhere. Alternatively, he might just have been a cold fish.
The arrival moments before the briefing of my team leader from Mosul, Greg, was a welcome surprise which made me jump up into a back-slapping embrace without thinking. All very American and unusually demonstrative for me.
Greg smiled as we pulled apart. ‘Man, they pulled you in for this show again. They only told me this morning. You look better than the last time I saw you,’ which made me laugh.
‘It’s really good to see you, mate. You’ve had a shave this time then?’
His appearance was a lot less wild than the last time I’d seen him, and a grin filled Greg’s newly revealed, rugged, All-American features. Then a touch of sadness filtered out from my memory and I paused, wanting to say something about Ricky, but unable to find the right words.
Maybe Greg sensed what I was thinking. ‘We’ll get the job finished this time. For Ricky.’
‘Yeah.’ I nodded, still stuck for words.
The extra time available to plan and execute this mission compared to Hawija and Mosul was evident in the pre-positioning of assets, contingency planning, and the sense of confidence round the TOC that the Task Force were ahead of the game on this one. Two SAS teams had already deployed in proximity to the target farm complex, with one of them ready to guide us into the OP position that night. Positioned slightly further back from the target to reduce the chance of accidental compromise, the SAS te
ams would still be within range to provide immediate support if our American-led team got into trouble.
I smiled when I heard our helicopter insertion would be into the safe hands of General Rashid’s Peshmerga on the edge of the Kurdish-controlled terrain north of the Hamrin Lake. Rather than having the helicopters drop us closer to the target and risk spooking the AQI security team at the farm, the Kurds would be using their local knowledge to drive us to a drop-off point to the north-east of the target.
From there we would patrol on foot the last few kilometres to a final RV secured by one of the SAS teams, GOLF 20. Clearly coming from an army background rather than Royal Marines, Colonel Sheridan referred to us tabbing to the RV location rather than the bootneck version of ‘yomping’, giving me a sideways glance as he said it.
The second SAS team, GOLF 21, would maintain eyes on the target as the final Close Target Recce (CTR) was undertaken and we maneuvered into the OP position. Our OP team, designated EAGLE 6, would be commanded by Greg and included guys I already knew from Mosul and a couple of others I hadn’t met before.
Provided the AQI leadership showed up, Dexter and I would be key in identifying Abu Saif and other High Value Targets. Katie and the other intel guys in Balad and elsewhere would be hooked in to the live feeds coming from our surveillance cameras on the ground and an overhead drone.
The way I saw it, provided he showed up then either Abu Saif should be neutralised, or the Task Force should get enough high definition snaps of his ugly mug to make me redundant. Just in case those eventualities failed to materialise, I was going to make damn sure Dexter got an eyeful of the big man from Baghdad, so they could rely on his recognition skills instead of mine if Abu Saif did somehow evade capture. Much as I respected these people and their objectives, I was an outsider here and had my own battles to fight elsewhere.
If the mission was completed as planned, then me and the rest of EAGLE 6 would be extracted by helicopter. The contingency plan if the raid was aborted, or otherwise went awry, was for the team to withdraw on foot. Either to an emergency RV to the north with the Kurds, or another to the east at the Hamrin Lake dam where US troops would be located.
A mix of American SF and Delta Force, designated Team SILVER, were ready here at the base to conduct a heliborne assault to kill or capture the AQI leaders and seize laptops, documents, phones, and anything else that might provide useful intel. They hadn’t flown forward to the closest US base, FOB Normandy, to avoid raising any suspicion from either the accompanying increased volume of helicopter flights, or their presence being noted by insurgent sympathisers. It meant a longer flight time but I think it suited everyone to keep the preparations close to home at the Special Forces HQ here in Balad, which I’d now heard was nicknamed The Factory.
A platoon of US Army Rangers, Team BRONZE, was already deployed forward to FOB Warhorse near Baquba where it had joined with elements of the Multi-National Division North Central (MND-NC) Quick Reaction Force (QRF) commanded by 42nd Infantry Division HQ. They were ready to bounce up into Muqdadiyah as soon as the assault had been triggered. They would establish a wide cordon and conduct aggressive patrolling to try to deflect the locals from realising the mission’s primary target was the farm complex.
It might be unlikely the regular locals would know about the AQI meeting, but a helicopter raid on a single location would quickly become widely known, arousing interest and suspicion. That could result in AQI making immediate contingencies which might lessen the value of any intel obtained. Team BRONZE and the QRF would also act as both a southern and western cut-off should any of the AQI fighters escape the net at the farm and try to make a break towards Baquba or Balad Ruz.
At FOB Normandy, the US military base immediately east of Muqdadiyah, a TF145 team, SILVER 5, had flown in to direct support from elements of the 30th Infantry Division based there. Besides acting as the eastern cut-off, this unit would have men positioned at the Hamrin Lake dam, one of the emergency RVs for our team if we needed to make our way out on foot. I sincerely hoped we’d be enjoying the planned helo extraction back to Balad with the main airborne element of Team SILVER.
The northern cut-off comprised General Rashid’s Peshmerga, designated Force KILO. I had no doubt my Kurdish friends Dara and Hamza would be at the heart of their involvement. Force KILO would be stationed ready to extract us from an emergency RV north of the Diyala River if the situation demanded.
Finally, a plethora of fast air, helicopter, and drone assets were allocated in support for surveillance, targeting, logistics, and medevac.
Apart from a weather advisory about possible high winds coming in from the east, the situation was ideally poised in most respects, with everything set. We just needed the AQI boys to come to the party or it would all be a damp squib.
The GO codeword: ‘DISNEYLAND’.
The ABORT code that none of us wanted to hear: ‘LOCK KNIFE’.
Chapter 48
It was shortly after 20:00 when our two-helicopter flight of Black Hawks from the Night Stalkers took off into the warm summer evening. Yet again I’d only been issued with a sidearm, this time a Glock 17 with six magazines of seventeen 9mm calibre rounds. A 9mm weapon didn’t have the stopping power of a .45 but it still did the job at close range. Roper and Dexter were both issued the same weapon. The Glocks were for our emergency personal protection only; our requests for rifles turned down flat.
Roper was on the flight, although he’d be remaining with the Kurds of Force KILO as the TF145 liaison officer after his successful performance in Mosul. The communications issues prevalent during that mission had been partly solved by providing the Kurds with equipment and frequencies so they could communicate with the rest of the Task Force units if necessary. Unfortunately, very few of the Kurds spoke decent English so it wouldn’t be without its challenges.
I got the impression Roper was envious he wouldn’t be getting into the thick of things. Much as I really ought to have been back in Amman negotiating a client contract, if I had to be here then I was glad to be at the business end. Thoughts of danger or fear didn’t come into it. I had no doubt everyone involved also wanted to take as active a part as possible, each wanting and willing to step up to help ensure the mission’s success and have the backs of their oppos.
Our destination south-west of the Kurdish town of Kifri was about ninety kilometres as the crow flies. We flew a circuitous route and it took nearly forty-five minutes before the helicopter flared for landing. After we disembarked, the birds sped away to the north and their departure left me with a sense of abandonment, as helicopter insertions always had since I was a young marine. A feeling that contact with the world outside your immediate teammates had suddenly been cut.
With the sound of the Black Hawks receding into the distance, our Kurdish welcoming party emerged from the edges of the makeshift LZ to greet us with broad smiles and excited chatter.
‘Chonit bashi, Mr John?’ (Hello, how are you?) Dara had appeared in front of me with a big grin on his face before shaking my hand warmly.
‘Bashum, supas,’ (I’m good, thank you) used up about twenty-five per cent of the Kurdish I knew.
Dara laughed and turned to speak in Kurdish to someone behind him. From the shadows emerged General Rashid with a welcoming smile.
‘Mr John, chonit bashi.’
‘Bashum, supas.’ I repeated to the obvious amusement of the General and the rest of his Peshmerga.
General Rashid laughed and slapped my back before calling Nabil over.
Nabil was straight into the groove. ‘Mr Tom, Mr John, the General welcomes you back to Kurdistan and wishes for you the protection of Allah for your mission.’
‘Please thank the General,’ said Roper. ‘Now you recognise Mr Greg here. He and the General need to discuss the next phase of the mission so we can move out on schedule at twenty-one hundred hours.’
Greg’s height meant he dwarf
ed the naturally diminutive Kurds, and his camouflaged face and tactical load-out made him look the epitome of a special forces soldier. ‘It’s an honour to meet you, sir,’ he said to the General with Nabil translating. ‘Shall we move to the vehicles and check the route?’
Greg, the General, Nabil, and Roper moved to the lowered tailgate of a Toyota Hilux pickup and spread a map out in front of them. Like the rest of EAGLE 6 I already knew the details of the route, so stayed at a distance with Dexter as the glow of red torchlight illuminated the map.
About thirty Peshmerga were gathered round the vehicles chatting quietly and laughing less quietly, no doubt in the certain knowledge they were in safe surroundings.
Our American team, however, had naturally moved into all-round defence to cover the discussion between their commander and the General. I could see Greg’s second-in-command, Wolfman Russ, and Neil, who’d both been with the team in Mosul. Moose was also here on the far side of the cars. The other two members of the team were a hilarious black guy named Morgan who should have been on stage, and a big unit from Texas with an M60 machine gun that looked like a toy in his hands, unsurprisingly called ‘Tex’.
We mounted up into the six-vehicle convoy at 20:55 and set off five minutes earlier than scheduled. I noticed the Kurds had removed either the bulbs or the fuses to ensure the interior lights of the vehicles didn’t come on when the doors opened. They might have appeared relaxed in their own backyard, but they knew what they were doing and had been doing it for a long time.
One of the Hilux’s operated well forward of the convoy as a scout vehicle and the other dropped to the rear as a sweep vehicle, just in case we were approached from behind. Roper and the eight of us from EAGLE 6 were in four Land Cruisers which made their way, using sidelights only, towards the Hamrin Lake. We crested a hill to see the large lake spread before us, glittering faintly under the night sky even without any moonlight.