by Isaac Stormm
Why wasn’t he mentioning the Strait of Hormuz? Grozner felt he needed to.
“Mr. President, I propose our own coalition against Iran. With what happened to your Navy, a tragedy in itself, an American-Israeli military cooperation would do more to bring an end to this conflict than diplomacy ever would. My hand is outstretched to you.”
“I’m afraid I can’t take it, Mr. Grozner. We have our own military response for Iran. That is all. We are still allies with the Saudis. I implore you not to attempt an attack. It may destroy our countries’ relationships.”
“Mr. President, I don’t want to attack Saudi Arabia, but they have made themselves our enemy. I can make no guarantees that the Ghawar oil field won’t be attacked. It fuels their military that wants to destroy us.”
“Mr. Grozner, I’m fully aware of the gas attacks and you have my sympathies. Destroy Hezbollah, no one will stop you. Even attack Iran again. But leave the Saudis out.”
“I am afraid that is impossible.”
“You know that the Saudi people are going to rally around their military demanding retribution, don’t you?”
“We’ve already planned for that.”
“Good God, Prime Minister. Are you fully aware of the times we’re living in?”
Grozner sighed. “We come from two sides of the world. One with the most prosperous, powerful country on earth and us, fighting and scratching against age-old hatreds that want to exterminate us. Americans have never faced that kind of vitriol living just beyond their border.”
“I understand, Prime Minister. But both of our countries face dire futures unless we stop now. I am going to make another diplomatic push. I want you to support it. The only thing you have to do is withdraw from Lebanon and do not attack beyond your border.”
“Mr. President, if only it were that easy. I’m afraid I must decline. Israel has been hurt too bad to start diplomacy right now. However, if it’ll make you feel better about it, I’ll be open to it in the future when things have stabilized a little bit.” He thought it a bit naïve after so much had happened that Anderson would still be pushing a peace initiative, especially after the Strait of Hormuz. “I’m afraid that’s all I can give you right now.”
He heard the phone click at the other end. He knew the man was mad, but that he also didn’t understand. And that’s what worried him. His forces had been attacked just hours before and somehow he still saw a silver lining. Grozner wished that he could see silver linings in such episodes as well. But he knew it was fantasy.
“We have to find those damn signals. This may sound crazy, but can anyone give me an estimated time when we might have something?”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Prime Minister,” Metzer said, head bowed almost as if he was ashamed. Instead he was looking at the computer screen.
Both men’s screens lit up. A new window appeared, it was from intelligence sources. They confirmed that Halibi was dead. They also mentioned four other members of the royal family killed as well. At this moment, Saudi television was broadcasting what had happened.
“Well, there it is,” Grozner said. “We’ll see just how deep Saudi nationalism is.”
“Our estimates are that most don’t like the royal family. But as you say, they may view it as a national tragedy instead of just the death of elites,” Philpot replied.
“Is there any possibility that the U.S. would attack Iranian forces in Iraq?” Grozner asked.
“That could be a diplomatic starter,” Metzer said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if the U.S. did attack Iranian forces in Iraq, we could be more receptive to a peace offering. Iran will no longer be a threat and we can handle Saudi Arabia’s military. All in all, the action will go back to being in Lebanon because I don’t think the Saudis would ever try to invade Israel.”
“No, but they may try to hit us from the air,” Philpot said.
“Which we can handle with our Air Force,” Grozner nodded.
“Yes. Of course.”
F.O.B. Julie
10:14 A.M.
Foxmann walked over to where Gil David and his team were leaning against an armored personnel carrier, eating their rations. He hadn’t seen them since they’d debriefed, and he had another question for the captain.
“Damn heat,” he heard David say. “I need to get a shower.”
“Do you think you guys may have been sold out?” Foxmann asked and leaned up against the APC.
“It’s been just like Iran. Something’s been biting our tail ever since we started. I’d say we have some compromises among our contacts somewhere. Other than that, I really can’t say.”
“None of the other teams have had any luck either. We’ve got a few of the fighters that launched the drones, even confiscated up to a hundred of the little machines. We’ve interrogated them and none of them know anything about somebody killed named Zarin or who is controlling the fight other than the leader they all know and that’s Itaya.”
“We’ll go back out there and keep looking but I’m not holding out much hope.”
“I have to play the eternal optimist. Somewhere out there is somebody there that knows exactly what’s going on and who’s leading this operation. Our profile of Itaya says he’s a man with charisma but not much smarts. This is a first-class operation that has achieved more than any guerrilla force has against Israel since the country was founded. They’re making us look bad. Like we don’t know what we’re doing anymore. That has to stop.”
“We’ll get them, Jessy. We just have to keep looking,” David said, downing the last of his beans. “There’s something we’re missing. I’ve had that feeling since this operation started. Something there in plain sight.”
An air raid siren blared in the distance. He, David, and the team crawled between the treads of the APC, hunkering down beneath its armored belly. They waited for the inevitable screech of the incoming rockets. Only it didn’t happen. Minutes went by. There was absolute stillness all around them. Then they heard it. A buzzing. Growing louder. It stopped. A loud crack reverberated over the landscape. Followed by a whooshing sound. Foxmann crawled out and looked toward where the blast came from. It was an APC vacated by its crew but a flame over its entire length. Apparently, the fuel-cell ticked off when the drone hit it, and it shone like a beacon in the humid air.
Foxmann realized that the Trophy system was turned off, as it likely was on the APC they took shelter under.
“Jessy.” David grabbed his shoulder and pointed him in the direction he saw them. “We got big trouble.”
Foxmann’s jaw almost dropped. Off to the northeast looking like a million tiny bugs on some sort of migration flight, a drone swarm was sweeping toward them. “My God!” he yelled. Then pointed hollering, “Incoming! Everybody stay away from the vehicles!” He knew his voice didn’t carry far enough to warn everybody.
David and his team unslung their rifles, took a knee and began firing at a group of drones breaking off, descending toward them. Two exploded in rapid succession and other gunfire joined in, taking out more.
Foxmann started running, remembering he’d left his rifle in the SUV. Explosions sounded behind him as did more gunfire. He turned to see what had been hit and there zeroing in on him was one of them. All light and color left his world. It was like tunnel vision from his pupils to the mechanical assassin that had his number. It grew larger and something told him to dive. But he couldn’t. Then something else hit him, knocking him out of the way. A shadow. A blur that took his place and raised a weapon. It was David.
“Bastards!” he cried. His carbine spouted orange flame and Foxmann’s attention turned back to the drone just a second more. It hung there it seemed, then slumped toward the earth. It crashed and fired its charge into the ground, ripping the earth, spraying it over him and David.
“You alright?” he said through heaving breaths and took a bead on another, firing twice.
“Shit.” He wiped off the dirt on his uniform. “Co
me on, let’s go.” They took the same size sprints toward the SUV, legs pumping like pistons. Each threw a glance back to see if they were being zeroed. Foxmann reached for the latch, opened the door and slid out his MK18 with a bandolier of magazines.
“We got to go back.” More explosions. David acknowledged him and they spread out, watching the sky.
More thunder cracks as drones hit more metal. They were swirling all about overhead like buzzards waiting for their prey to die. Foxmann and David fired at them, knocking a few more down which didn’t make a dent in their numbers. They stayed out in the open with several others firing and claiming more kills.
Foxmann’s body fought him over every shot. A cold sweat tried to join the perspiration streaming down his cheeks. He felt he was about to explode from every pore. He took a knee with his rifle still elevated toward the sky. Then the weapon went limp; it could’ve weighed just an ounce and he couldn’t lift anymore.
“Boss, what’s the matter?” David hollered, looking at him squint-eyed.
“Don’t know. Damn it. My arms… They don’t want to work.” Then he willed it with every muscle his body possessed and he grasped the carbine and raised it again. “There.” He rose next to David again. “Don’t know what happened.”
A drone shot between them, twirling them around. Their carbines followed it like a clay pigeon as it raced skyward. They fired simultaneously. The drone shattered like a mirror falling in tiny and large pieces back to the earth.
Now the remaining drones circled above the outpost, with most of the vehicles in flames. They then started focusing on individual soldiers. Foxmann noticed the change of tactic and everyone within his view scrambled for safety.
The rest of David’s team ran to be beside him. They fired wildly at anything above them. And when they reached him, one of them said, “We got to get out here. Abandon this place.”
“What about it boss?” David yelled.
“Come on. Spread out.” They took off running toward a hill about 100 meters distance, their eyes switching back to the sky to see if they were being followed. As they started to climb the hill, another drone zeroed them. They turned and fired as one, detonating its shaped charge, exploding it into atoms.
As they scanned for more, a drone dropped 90 degrees vertically, slamming into the head of one of David’s men. His upper body exploded and it took out another man who was too close to him. Foxmann felt chunks of them splatter his torso. He looked and saw the red of blood on his shirt, before his eyes veered upward again.
“Come on,” Foxmann nearly screamed. They had to make it to the crest of the hill, for beyond it may be shelter in trees and bushes. Foxmann had no idea though. And as their boots dug hard into the earth propelling them forward, Foxmann saw the crest perhaps 20 meters away. Behind him the explosions became one ripple that lasted two or three seconds then silence. He turned and saw his SUV afire as well as every other APC. None of the tents were hit, but there were several bodies strewn about. Something was wrong. There were no more drones in the sky. Instead, they lay about amid the destruction they’d wrought. Unmoving. Dormant.
“What just happened?” Foxmann said, awestruck at the scene.
“Don’t know,” David replied, looking just as dumbfounded.
“Let’s get back, they’ll need help.” He was about to start away then he saw Captain David looking down, tears in his eyes. “I know how it feels to lose a teammate.” He looked at the smudges on the earth tinged in red amid the green landscape, the only markers that two human beings ever existed. He started off and was careful not to walk near them. David and the two survivors fell in behind him. They quickly trudged back within the perimeter of the firebase as the moans of the wounded grew louder. Foxmann saw his SUV burned to the chassis, its aluminum body scorched and crumpling in on itself.
“Foxmann. Foxmann.” It was the commanding general of the base. Blood trickled down his face as he ran with arms outstretched almost as if he was going to hug somebody. He dropped them as he reached Foxmann. ”There’s a lot of us down. Would you just look at it. This was once part of a mechanized brigade. Now it’s nothing but a bunch of flaming torches. Bunch of murdering bastards. I don’t know how many we got wounded. We got to have at least a couple dozen dead though.”
Foxmann saw a man try to raise up and fall back down. He ran over to help him. His face was wet with streams of blood and he seemed almost in a daze, his eyes as big as saucers, and taking quick, short breaths.
“Medic!” Foxmann called. The man waved his arm like he was rebuking what Foxmann said.
“I am the medic.” He pointed to blow out kits on both hips.
Foxmann helped him lay down on his back. The cloth on his shoulders had burned through, leaving bare skin reddened and bleeding. The rest of his shirt was charred from burning particles. It was clear he was close to a vehicle when a drone hit. As he opened the first aid bag, he reckoned most injuries would be more burns than shrapnel wounds. He applied a yellowish salve and the man cringed in pain as it soaked into his skin. He placed his palm on the man’s forehead. “I’ve got to leave. You’ll be alright. Don’t try to move.” He looked up and saw two unhurt soldiers walking by. He motioned them over. “Take care of him.”
He returned to the general who was treating himself.
“Something knocked these birds down.” He looked over at the commo tent and saw it was still standing. He ran to it, found no one inside, just a bank of sophisticated boxes. He sat down in front of one, put the earphones on, and started typing on the keyboard. “Get me the Defense Minister.”
A minute later “Foxmann?”
“Minister. We just suffered a major attack. We’ve many casualties. However, something took the remaining drones down. I need to know what happened to cause it.”
“Hold on a moment.” The phone hung up. Foxmann ran through possible scenarios. A team found a transmitter. There were still many teams in the field, but he viewed it as extremely unlikely. They weren’t that lucky. An air attack. Something may have taken down the signal tower. This was the most likely event. Or maybe they had technical difficulties with the signal. Possibly. Again not likely though.
More important was the realization that the drones operated on a single signal, not different frequencies controlled by individuals.
“There was an air attack outside of Beirut that took out some towers, maybe TV or cell phone among them.”
“They may have gotten the signal, then. If that’s the case, we can resume our advance into Lebanon. And I recommend it occur as soon as possible.” He bid goodbye as the system operators reentered. He signed out, handed over the headphones, and went out to David who was helping more wounded lie down. Placing an arm under one of them, they both lowered the man down. “I need to talk to you.”
“Go ahead,” David replied.
“We got lucky just now.”
“Luck? What the hell—”
“I don’t mean the attack here. We were granted a reprieve by a chance event. Their signal is down. They’ll have to get another or replace what is lost. In the meantime, I’m going to request that we be inserted near where the attack on the signal took place.”
“What do you mean we?” David gave him a curious look.
“I’m going with you on this.”
“Jessy, I get the feeling we’re not going to set down on some patch of grass somewhere. No. I got it. You want us to go incognito into Beirut proper. My God, am I correct?”
“That’s exactly it.”
“Just us, nobody else?”
“The less boots on the ground, the less likely to cause suspicion. It’s risky I know, but it’s the most effective way to find just who’s behind all this.”
“Suicidal.”
“We’ve both operated in the occupied territories. No difference. Just a new location. We’ve got to do it, you’ve seen what’s happened.”
“Then may I say that I wish I had your optimism.” David seemed to think for a few second
s. “Alright, I’ve no choice. But please let it be known that I protested beforehand in case things get hot.”
Foxmann nodded. “Your concerns are noted. Want me to write them down?”
“No. Of course not. I just need a little time to take all this in.”
”We can both do it on the plane. I’m going for a night insertion by parachute.”
“Anyone to meet us?”
“Yes. I know someone high up in the Lebanese government. He’s worked for us since the 2006 incursion. Hates Hezbollah with a passion.”
“We risk compromise. You saw what happened to me—”
“Not from this one.” Foxmann saw he hadn’t been convincing.
“You can’t guarantee it.”
“No. But when you find out who it is, you’ll understand why I’m so confident.” He knew that David really wouldn’t be reassured until he actually met the person in question. He left to return to the commo tent.
David called, “Jessy, what’s left of my men out there. I need to…well.”
“I’ll see they’re taken care of, I promise.”
A Black Hawk helicopter arrived twenty minutes later. As they lifted off, they ingested the full extent of F.O.B. Julie’s ordeal. Casualties lay in triage and dozens of APCs still burned as bright as when they were hit. David then motioned the remnants of the team together and huddled for a prayer.
Say one for us all, Foxmann thought.
USS Gettysburg
“I did some checking,” the captain said, looking out over the railing at the teams. ”You boys have been on the move. Three separate actions in close proximity. I wish we could grant you a time of rest and relaxation, but something’s come over the wire. We’re deploying troops and aircraft to protect the Ghawar oil field, some out of the way place were the world gets its gas. They need Spec Ops especially and they didn’t forget you.”
“Where the hell is the Ghawar oil field, Saudia Arabia?” Wilson asked.
“Bingo. We’re heading for the Red Sea. From there, the Ospreys will take you in. There is going to be a pretty large contingent of troops there so you won’t have to worry about not having support for the missions you may have to undertake. Again, I wish it were better news but this shit’s unraveling fast.” The captain started to leave then turned. “I’ll see that you guys are well fed before you’re sent off.”