Operation: Forbidden

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Operation: Forbidden Page 12

by Lindsay McKenna


  “Yes.”

  His voice was raw and strained. How would she feel if one of her sisters was in a fire fight with the Taliban? If the Taliban broke through, they’d kill Kinah on the spot. Lips tightening, Emma said in a soothing voice, “I know she’ll be okay, Khalid. I feel it in my heart.”

  “Let us hope you’re right,” he rasped.

  There was little else she could do. Emma felt a special kind of helplessness. She knew all the people at this village. Good, kind and generous Afghans who wanted nothing more than a life better than the hard-scrabble one they had to eke out in these desert mountains. And what of the A-team stationed there? Had they taken casualties? Emma couldn’t stand not knowing so she dialed in the A-team frequency. Instantly, her ears were filled with the sound of gunfire, explosions and the yelling of orders between the captain and his men. No doubt, a fierce, ongoing battle. Gulping, Emma began to pray because at this point, that’s all she could do.

  Khalid circled the village of Zor Barawul, high up on a hill far above a narrow unseen valley below. His heart centered on Kinah, but he couldn’t afford to go there. Right now, he was coordinating with the two Apaches already on station and working to kill the Taliban who had gotten very close to the village itself. In his gut, Khalid knew it was Asad Malik. Just the other day on a Taliban website, he’d read that Malik promised to kill him and Kinah. Was this the beginning of his campaign against them? Khalid had read Malik’s spewed hatred against the education of girls. He’d railed against Kinah because she was a woman leading a fierce battle for peace and education.

  Khalid had not told Emma about this website or Malik’s promise. Grimly, he swung the Apache around as the air commander, Major Klein, ordered them to hover and fire rockets into a hillside about two hundred feet below the village. Unable to do anything but focus on the attack, Khalid worked constantly with Emma, who would handle the ordinance and fire the weapons.

  Emma watched the explosions walk across the rock, dirt and thick scrub brush on the steep slopes. She heard Major Klein ordering another set of Apaches out of this fire fight, saying that they were low on ammunition. They would have to fly back to the base camp, take on another load of ordinance and then fly back here. Emma was amazed at the ferocity of the battle. The winking red and yellow lights of A-team members firing down the hill looked like Christmas sparkling in the night.

  Emma worried for all the villagers, like Ateefa, the little girl with the prosthetic leg. How was her mother, Jameela? Was she holding her children and trying to keep all of them safe? In the mud homes, bullets could easily fly through the walls and kill someone trying to hide. Abbas had one of the few stone houses, but it had windows and bullets took no prisoners.

  Her headphones jumped with more frantic calls from the A-team. A group of Taliban had breached the slope! She felt Khalid moving the Apache in that direction. With a sinking feeling, Emma saw the other two Apaches who had been on station flying off because they were out of ammunition. Now, it was up to them. Could they repel this attack? Hundreds of infrared bodies showed up on the slope via the one screen. The Taliban were like relentless ants crawling up the hill and cresting it.

  “Medevac’s on the way,” Emma reported, hearing another channel. “A-team has four men wounded.”

  “Roger,” Khalid growled. “Switch to Gatling gun. Hose that area where the enemy is getting over the top of that hill.”

  “You got it,” Emma said. She felt the Apache bank, heard the engines thunder as her fingers flew over the console to engage the huge gun beneath the belly of their helo. At least twenty Taliban were now running full tilt toward where the A-team had made their stand. If they got past the A-team, they were into the village itself. And Emma knew they’d go house-to-house, firing inside and killing everyone without mercy. The villagers had some weapons but could never repulse an attack like this. They were helpless against these thugs.

  Khalid took a big risk by flying in low. They were well within range of the enemy firing a grenade up at them, or worse, a rocket. It was a chance they had to take. The helo shuddered violently as Emma triggered the Gatling gun. Khalid felt the floor of the helo vibrate heavily as the gun continued to fire. His feet grew numb from the shudder. He watched his other cameras because he knew Emma was engaged with the gun.

  Suddenly, a bright light popped off the slope about two hundred feet below. “Rocket launch!” he yelled. Instantly, he shoved the throttles to the firewall, hit the rudders and made an effort to evade the fired rocket.

  Emma cursed and quickly turned her attention to it. She hit the flares in the nose. They could possibly detour the rocket. Red flares lit up the sky. Her fingers flew to the trigger to fire their own rockets. She punched the button. Instantly, the Apache bucked from the rocket’s fire. Bright yellow light momentarily blinded her. Her harness cut deeply into her shoulders as Khalid worked frantically to get the Apache out of the way of the oncoming Taliban rocket. Her eyes widened and her heart banged violently in her throat. Would the rocket hit them?

  A million thoughts jammed into Emma’s head as she watched, almost fascinated, as the ground-fired weapon hurtled up toward them. A rocket had heat-seeking abilities and she was sure it had locked on the Apache’s overhead engines. Mouth dry, Emma suddenly felt her entire world slow down to single frames from a movie. She heard Khalid’s heavy breathing. Felt the Apache screaming in protest as he continued violent, evasive maneuvers to try and outwit the oncoming rocket.

  Then, at the last second, the Apache rocket locked onto the enemy fire and struck it with full force. The entire night lit up like a Fourth of July celebration. Emma gasped and threw up her gloved hand to protect her eyes from the red, yellow and orange fireball that was no more than three hundred feet to their starboard. The resulting explosion sent a massive shock wave through the night air. It struck the Apache broadside. The helo shuddered and shook. Khalid wrestled with the controls in order to ride out the shock wave.

  “Direct hit!” Emma yelled, her adrenaline pumping through her, making her anxious and yet angry. She had no time to sit and gloat over the fact they were still in the air.

  “Back to work,” Khalid snarled. “Gatling gun. We’re going back in. The Taliban is still on top of the hill. We’ve got to stop them!”

  For the next ten minutes, Emma’s world revolved around halting the Taliban attack. Her headphones crackled with other communications. There were three medevac helos on the way. Khalid asked BJS 60 to send more reinforcements, saying that they were running low on ordinance. Emma was careful with the Gatling gun. Prolonged firing would only waste the precious ammunition. Instead, with Khalid’s expert touch at the controls, she was able to use the infrared camera that showed body heat and fire it in short bursts. It saved their ammo and targeted the running groups who were trying to penetrate the village itself.

  Sweat poured down Emma. Her gloves were wet, and she felt the trickle from beneath her armpits. Her gaze was glued to the television console, slipping back and forth between it and the infrared screen. Emma saw the Taliban being driven to a standstill. In the back of her mind, she worried that another rocket would be fired at them. They hovered less than four hundred feet above the fray and directly over the A-team like a big, bad guard dog. Bullets pinged off the Apache’s resilient skin. The Taliban were now firing up at them, hoping to hit the rotor assembly above the cockpits and bring them down.

  Time became suspended. All Emma saw was gunfire back and forth. The shuddering of the Apache vibrated through every cell in her tense body. Khalid’s breathing was ragged and so was hers. This was a life-and-death effort. If they couldn’t stop the Taliban from coming over the slope, the A-team would be overrun. Already, the A-team leader had called for reinforcements. They needed more ammunition. A CH-47 had been launched from the base camp with a resupply of ordinance for them, but none of it would get here in time. Emma knew it was only their being on station above the team that might tip the balance in their favor. If they hadn’t hovered an
d stood like a gate guardian, the Taliban would have surged like a tsunami into the village, murdering men, women and children.

  “Fire a Hellfire missile into that area where they’ve breached it,” Khalid ordered her.

  Emma rasped, “Roger that…” She quickly dialed in the Hellfire II. It was a brilliant idea. Why hadn’t she thought of it?

  “After firing it, I’m going to fly us around to attack that slope with what we have left in ordinance. If we can’t stop them, everyone’s toast.”

  “Roger,” Emma said sharply, her mind focused on the missile. She flipped the switch. The Apache jerked as the missile slid off the rail. Light flared beneath the stubby wing. And then, she watched it hunt down the mass of men coming over that slope like a dark, malevolent ooze toward the village.

  The entire night sky lit up again. Blinded, Emma couldn’t know how many that rocket had killed, but it had to be substantial. Rock, dirt and dust flew skyward. She felt Khalid wrenching the Apache in a sharp bank to the left. The shoulder harness bit hard into her and Emma tried to brace herself. Khalid was a skilled pilot and he knew how to push the limits of the Apache to get the maximum performance.

  The helicopter thumped down, down, down the slope where there was no longer any enemy left alive. Emma tensed and held on. She worked to get the gun back online. In seconds, Khalid whipped the combat helicopter around to the slope where the Taliban had breached the hill. On the screens in front of her, Emma observed a lot of unmoving bodies. Down below them, however, was another mass trying to climb upward.

  “Fire at will,” Khalid muttered.

  “Roger,” Emma said, her voice taut. She triggered the gun again and again. The knot of Taliban scattered like a flock of birds that had had a rock thrown in their midst. “They’re on the run!” she yelled triumphantly.

  “Keep at it,” Khalid ordered in a tight voice.

  Between her skill at hitting targets and Khalid’s ability to make the Apache dance like a ballerina in the sky, Emma was able to beat back the rest of the attack. In minutes, the charge was over. They swung around and around the hill looking at their infrared screens for any moving bodies trying to form another attack. Sweat ran into her eyes. Emma blinked several times. She pushed the perspiration away with her trembling, gloved fingers. She felt the Apache surge upward into the darkness.

  “I think we got them,” she told Khalid. Her voice was shaky; the adrenaline made it that way.

  “Roger that,” Khalid agreed, his voice thick with unspoken emotion.

  “We’re down to dregs on ordinance,” she warned him.

  “In five minutes, two more Apaches will arrive on scene.”

  Five minutes could be a hell of an eternity, but Emma remained silent. They kept flying around the thickly brushed slope below the village. Who was dead in Zor Barawul? Who was injured? She could hear the chatter between the A-team leader and the medevacs that would arrive on scene in ten minutes. Before they could land to take on the injured men, the place had to be secured and safe. That was their job: fly around and continue to be a threat to the Taliban, should they think of trying a second assault.

  “Helluva night,” Emma whispered into the microphone on the inter-cabin frequency.

  “Yes. You’re a good shot.”

  She heard a little relief in Khalid’s voice. He was on an adrenaline high like her. Emma smiled a little. “You’re one hell of a pilot, too.”

  “Thank you. Now we’re a mutual admiration society.”

  Chuckling, Emma felt some of her own relief tunneling through her. “I’m worried about Kinah. I wish we could know how she is.”

  “I know…”

  “Maybe we can get one of the A-team to go check in the village as soon as medevac arrives and takes their wounded back to the hospital at Bagram?”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Khalid said. He swung the Apache out in wider arcs as they approached the base of the hill where the village sat. “I wish we could land. But I know we can’t.”

  Emma grimaced. “Take it from one who once did and suffered as a result, you don’t want to do that.”

  Khalid smiled, but grimly. He kept his hands on the collective and cyclic, continuing to widen their hunt for whatever was left of Malik’s group. He hoped Malik was dead. “No, I don’t want to go there. When things get organized and calmed down, we can ask the captain to send a team member in to locate Kinah.”

  Emma saw the other two Apaches arriving on station. It felt good to see the combat helicopters loaded down with ordinance. “Whew, the cavalry has just arrived. Good to see them.”

  “Hey, Red Dog One,” Nike Alexander called to them, “I hear you’ve been stomping the hell outta the Taliban. Good work. Doesn’t look like there’s anything for us to do. Bummer! Over.”

  Chuckling, Emma keyed her mike. “Roger Red Dog Three, we didn’t leave much for you to clean up. Over.”

  “And here I wanted to dance on those bastards’ heads,” Nike chortled. “Over.”

  Khalid laughed and so did Emma. “We’re going to hang around for a while longer, Red Dog Three. Over.”

  “Roger that. More Apaches are good. It will give those bastards second and third thoughts about regrouping to hit this village again. Any idea of casualties yet? Over.”

  “No, Red Dog Three. No sense of how many are dead or wounded. Over.”

  Emma sat back and tried to relax as Khalid urged the Apache to five thousand feet. She watched as the other two combat helos scoured the area, hunting like hungry wolves for any survivors. Grateful to this incredible machine, Emma knew they had saved Zor Barawul. At least this time. She wondered how Khalid was handling the fact his sister might be dead or injured. How badly she wanted to land, but they didn’t dare break that regulation.

  Emma switched to inter-cabin and asked Khalid, “You doing all right?”

  “As best as I can. I’m worried for Kinah….”

  “What if we get permission to fly back to camp and then we pick up a CH-47 and fly back out here? It will be dawn by that time and we’ll be able to do it. That way, we can land and you can find Kinah. It might take an hour, but at least you’d be on the ground.” A CH-47 had no nighttime gear on board and was only flown in VFR conditions where the pilot could do a line-of-sight visually.

  “Good idea, thank you.”

  “I’ll call BJS and get permission to head back to base,” Emma said.

  Chapter 11

  “Kinah!” Khalid called as he ran into the village shortly after Emma had landed the CH-47. Dawn crawled up the horizon, allowing them to fly back to the battered village. The A-team leader, Captain Jason Cunningham, had radioed in just as they landed the Apache at their base camp. They’d found Khalid’s sister. Kinah had been wounded in the fierce fighting but had waived her right to be brought back on the medevac. There were men on Cunningham’s team that needed medical treatment before her own wounds, she’d told them.

  As he rushed into the schoolhouse, Khalid saw that hundreds of bullets had punctured the mud walls.

  Kinah sat holding the two orphan boys in the schoolroom. “Khalid!” she cried, relief in her tone.

  “Sister!” he rasped, his voice cracking with emotion. Kinah’s hair was in disarray. Small oil lanterns burned and shed light into the gray space. Beneath each arm huddled one of the young orphans, Benham and Fahran. Both were pale, their eyes huge with fear. She sat on the floor, her back to one wall near the desk. She was not wearing a hijab. Tracks of tears streaked down her dirtied, tense face, making Khalid even more anxious.

  “They said you were wounded,” he whispered, kneeling down and tentatively touching her shoulder. He tried to keep the fear out of his voice as he searched for blood.

  “Just a scrape,” Kinah protested, sniffing. She held up her hand and showed him a graze of a bullet across her wrist area that had been hidden by her robe. As Khalid gently cupped her shoulders, she struggled to battle back her tears. Her lower lip trembled. “Khalid, it was awful! So many p
eople were killed! I hate the Taliban! They did this to us!” More tears fell and made tracks through the fine dust across her face.

  “I know, I know,” Khalid soothed. He crouched before them. Gently touching each boy’s head, he asked them in Pashto if they were all right. Each jerkily nodded they were okay. Khalid could see they were in shock by the glassy look in their eyes.

  “I was in here,” Kinah whispered, “with them. They wanted to help me clean up the room. Such good boys.” She wiped her eyes and sniffed. “It was just shortly after dusk.” Looking around at the holes and the cool air flowing through the schoolroom, Kinah sobbed once and then gulped back the rest of her tears.

  “I dragged the boys beneath my desk and huddled with them in my arms. We were all crying, Khalid. We were so afraid. I’ve been in fire fights before, but this one was the worst I’ve ever weathered. I was fearful of the Taliban overrunning the A-team. Poor Captain Cunningham! He and his men fought fiercely. All I wanted to do was keep the boys safe and survive this awful hell on earth!”

  Touching her curly, dusty hair, Khalid gave her a sad smile. He pulled a green linen handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabbed her dusty cheeks. “It was bad,” he agreed. “But you survived, Allah be praised. And so did these boys.” He gave them a smile in hopes of letting them know they were now safe. “Are they wounded?”

  “N-no,” Kinah sniffed. She took the handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “A medic already came by and checked them over. He wanted me to leave for this silly scratch on my wrist and I told him no. The boys are fine. Just scared.”

  Who wasn’t? Khalid nodded and helped each boy to stand. They shook like leaves in the wind. He then gripped his sister’s hands and pulled her to her feet. Khalid briefly held her, placed a kiss on Kinah’s damp cheek and looked deeply into her frightened eyes. His sister had been in two other villages where fire fights had broken out a year ago. This one, however, had scared her even more and shadows lurked in her brown eyes. “I want you to come home for a while, Kinah. Let the U.S. Army get this place more secured. Then come back here.”

 

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