A Touch Of War

by Isaac Stormm

  “Captain, it’s us,” he heard someone call.

  “Enter.”

  The two men came to the doorway and then recoiled at the horror that greeted them. “We’ll have to turn him over,” one said. “otherwise his guts will fall out.” They carefully rolled Milton over onto his chest, showing that his back was nothing but red jelly. They eased him through the doorway and down the stairs. There was still a lot of blood on the floor, and David knew that if they had to move around quickly, they’d probably end up sliding in it. He took the M24, tugged the bolt back and ejected the spent cartridge, ramming home a fresh one and looked through the scope out to where their nemesis once was. Yes. They got him. His barrel still pointed harmlessly into the sky. There was still no sign of him.

  A bullet ripped through the edge to the right where Foxmann was standing and thudded against the wall behind. He ducked down and watched the spent bullet roll around. It was a 7.62mm NATO. There was another sniper. Foxmann used his little finger to try and probe the hole where the bullet hit. He took out a pin, took the cap off and stuck it in feeling the angle where the penetration occurred. The sniper was out to his front and about 20 degrees to his right. He repeated the direction over the radio. “Can’t see them from here,” was the response from the detachment below. “You’re on,” he said to the Gill crewman.

  Out came another M24. The man stood up, making sure the long barrel stayed covered by the shadow of the minaret’s ceiling. He looked out into the shimmering heat radiating off the tops of the buildings. He scanned, putting the mil-dot reticle over the tops of buildings, bringing it down just a little as he let the 10X magnification soak up the light, providing a crisp, clear picture.

  At the lower edge of the scope he saw movement. Two heads. Now they disappeared. A sniper and his spotter. Western trained, hell, maybe by the U.S. “Two men, about 600 meters distance hiding behind the ledge of a building.” One had showed himself for a quarter of a second.

  A head jutted up just to the right of the crosshair. It disappeared as the Israeli zeroed him, leaving him to gasp in frustration. He placed the edge of the gun on the minaret’s window ledge, letting it balance on the folded bipod. Another head popped up to the right of the crosshair. With a catlike reflex, he shifted the reticle onto the head and raised just a little bit to add elevation. Satisfied, he squeezed the trigger. A millisecond later, the head exploded in a pink shower, binoculars flinging from lifeless hands. “One Tango down.”

  Right then, the other one raised up. He could tell by his posture he was crouching behind a rifle. He moved the reticle to his left. Saw the puff of smoke from the man’s muzzle, and squeezed the trigger. The Saudi’s round hit just below the rifle spraying bits of concrete into the Israeli’s face. Never flinching, he saw the man duck back down. He’d be in a different place the next time he fired. He’d probably abandon that particular rooftop.

  Small bits of paper began to drift in front of the scope. He lowered the rifle to investigate. Saw it looked like pamphlets of some sort. More of them fell. A shower of papers.

  Foxmann looked over toward the hotel. The pamphlets made it look like it was snowing around it. It was the warning pamphlets for the people to evacuate. There would be a JDAM incoming afterward. Several of them, he thought.

  He knew there had to be military and police up there looking down at them. They might even take a few shots at them as time passed as it was a potential sniper’s hide that looked down into the mosque area.

  Pamphlets kept falling, getting thicker until it looked like the hotel was enveloped in some sort of haze of tiny white bits. More kept falling out of the sky as if from nowhere. What was really happening was GPS containers were being released and fracturing over the city. The wind at altitude was spreading them out. That’s why they were coming close to the mosque.

  “It’s going to get real interesting very soon.” Foxmann grimaced at the thought of those bombs hitting nearby. They were going to hit a structure similar in size to the World Trade Center. A whole lot of dust and rubble lay ahead. Then his attention turned back to the sniper. “See anything?”

  “Nothing. He may have bugged out.”

  “All right. Rest easy. I’ll continue looking.” The binoculars revealed no further movement. He decided to go back down and get the XM25. He decided he was going to use it instead of one of his men. He knew it would come in handy in the minaret. He returned with it and 25 rounds, looked through its electronic ranging and targeting sight and propped the weapon up against the wall. “You know, if they have any more those 50s, we’re in for real trouble. They can set up a long distance away and just start taking chunks out of these minaret walls, making it impossible for us to stay here. If we lose these towers, we’re extremely vulnerable.” He also suspected that the Saudis were meeting with religious leaders trying to get permission to use violence in the mosque area. He expected more probes so he picked up the XM25, staying in the shadows and looked again through its sight. All he had to do was press a button and it gave him the proper range and the angle at which to elevate the gun. He crouched back down, staying away from the wall that faced where the .50 caliber had hit.

  “Jessy, we’ve got a helicopter, probably about a mile out.” It was from the north face. He looked upward and indeed saw a small black speck roving the sky. It was close enough to be taken out by the surface-to-air missiles.

  “Get a SAM on it.”

  A Stinger MANPADS (man portable air defense system) was hooked up to its electronic brain and its long tube came to rest on a shoulder. The sight lined up on the helicopter. A switch was flicked and a growl was heard in the operator’s ear. He raised the tube, super elevating it and when the growl grew more intense, he pressed the trigger.

  The missile leapt out of its tube and ignited, shooting out a fast plume of white smoke sending it in a great arching maneuver toward the target. There was a small flash in the distance and the helicopter spun around under its rotors and fire seeped from its fuselage. Then the rotors flew off as it began to tumble as massive wreckage coming apart by the second. It descended at a high speed until it crashed into some buildings afar, kicking up a gout of smoke and flame.

  Foxmann clinched his gloved fist, satisfied with the outcome.

  A force moving at the speed of sound slammed him and the Gill gunner against the wall, momentarily pinning them in suspended animation. It released them with a painful concussion that roared in the distance. The hotel was being hit. Foxmann looked out and saw nothing but a huge cloud of brown and black smoke climbing past the top of the clock face. The adjacent buildings also disappeared as well. It was almost like a tactical nuclear strike as it sent a giant dark mushroom cloud boiling overhead. But he knew it was just a product of several 2000 pound bombs striking simultaneously. Somewhere out there, a flight of jets had let loose about two dozen of them that satellites guided carefully, timing them to impact at the same moment.

  A massive wall of brown smoke radiated outward racing across the ground to smother the mosque and its minarets into a choke of dust and debris. Foxmann tried not to inhale but it was too much. He placed his handkerchief against his face trying to filter out the strangling feeling his parched throat felt. He got on the ground on all fours. He could see nothing. Just brown and dust swirling about. The Gill gunner reached out and he saw the faint outline of the man’s hand clasp his.

  “One hell of an explosion!” the Gill gunner called, a chuckle at the end of his sentence.

  “You all right?”

  “Never better.”

  Foxmann’s ears popped and they had a deep ringing sensation to them. He wondered if he sustained hearing loss. He clapped his ears repeatedly, thinking he could unstop them. Apparently it worked because the hearing rapidly returned. “All detachments report in. Is there anybody hurt?” Everybody responded negative. “Now we have an advantage.” Tthe minarets were tall enough to control the high ground now.

  As the smoke slowly cleared, Foxmann looked out to where
the hotel was supposed to be. What he saw was a stubby pile of mounds of rock that looked like it had been freshly excavated. He saw no one moving. He hoped everyone had gotten out okay. But he was sure there were some stubborn ones. There always was. He heard a mass of sirens now. Not just one or two but dozens. Saw their flickering lights passing at the intersections of the different streets that led to the mosque, which as far as he knew, had not sustained any damage but had its outer walls browned as it caught the endless dirt that pummeled it.

  Foxmann looked off and saw people begin to emerge from the destruction, wandering like zombies covered in brown soot. They seemed to have nowhere to go, just to walk back and forth for that purpose. Some people ran out to attend to them. Most were left alone to stagger aimlessly about.

  “That’s quite a sight, Foxmann,” Grozner said. “Good camerawork.” He thought the prime minister was sounding a little sarcastic because he had been on the ground most of the time.

  “Nothing like being here. I hope those people got out. I really do.” He didn’t want to make it seem like he was becoming soft-hearted. But that’s how he felt at the moment. “Complex is totally destroyed. Give the pilots a well done.”

  “We’ve picked up radio traffic coming from Mecca. An armored brigade is headed your way.”

  M1A2 tanks. Some of the top-of-the-line hardware in the world provided by the Americans. The Gills could handle them, for they had a tandem warhead which exploded any reactive armor that tried to slow down the main warhead. Still, he never liked the idea of blowing up American made stuff. But it was a necessary thing right now. That damn chopper had probably been American made too. “ETA?”

  “They’re sending them by rail, about two hours out. Here is Metzer.”

  “Colonel, we’re going to attack the train. We can’t guarantee we could knock out every armored vehicle headed your way, but we can sure take a significant bite out of their strength. You still have armored vehicles located in Mecca itself. Mostly light armored personnel carriers. But we believe there could be some tanks. So be on the lookout.”

  “I wish we had a way to properly dispose of my warrior’s body.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. We saw it here. There are no alternatives. Place him outside the mosque.”

  “Negative, I don’t want his body desecrated. We’ll keep him inside in a storage room.”

  “Affirmative,” Metzer said. “Now some other news. The U.S. is in it full bore now against Iran.”

  “I don’t expect it’ll change the situation here.”

  “No. We still have the headlines.”

  “We’re going to be making some more soon.” He was absolutely quiet. Not even his breathing could be heard. “Can you hear it?”

  “No, what is it?”

  “More armor.” He looked off in the direction near the ruins of the hotel. From one of the ruined streets around it came another Piranha. It was flying a white flag from its antenna.

  “All right, all detachments hold your fire. I want to see what this guy is up to.” The Piranha continued at a slow pace turning onto a street facing the mosque. The white flag appeared to be a bedsheet of some kind. It fluttered under the driver’s acceleration. Gill gunners tracked it as it slowed down and then came to a stop below the minaret where David was. The ramp opened in the back and out came a single man wearing an officer’s visor and holding a white handkerchief in one hand and a megaphone in the other.

  He raised it to his mouth.

  “Israeli soldiers. I come here in peace. And offer you a proposal. You may live if you give up our sacred site. As long as you walk within its walls, you are committing blasphemy against Allah. You must realize that the world’s entire Muslim population wants to see you destroyed. This may be the only chance you have to avoid that. You are completely surrounded. I ask to meet with your commanding officer.”

  David keyed the radio. “Colonel?” There were few seconds of silence then he heard, “tell him to go to hell.”

  David smiled, and said, “Negative on the commanding officer. We are all in control here. You must not attempt any kind of assault on this premises. It will be destroyed before your very eyes.”

  “That is precisely why I am here. Please let me in to meet with your commanding officer. I am unarmed. You may keep a gun on me if you wish.”

  “I’m sorry. But no deal.”

  “Very well then. You are responsible for what happens to this place. If it is disgraced in any way, the Jews will pay dearly. No matter where they may be on the earth.”

  “You increase chances of something bad happening here by firing at us. The situation is much bigger than you and I. We both know that. For your sake, and the sake of your countries, and of Muslims everywhere, you must cease firing at us. If you cease firing at us, there is less of a chance of something bad happening to this place. Tell whoever is in command of you to heed this advice.”

  “I am in charge here. I am General Rahim Al–Bashir. I command the military garrison here in Mecca.”

  Foxmann listened to the whole thing. This guy would probably be beheaded if something happened to this place. No, better yet, he would probably kill himself. Still, Foxmann’s mind was changing that he really wanted to talk to this officer man-to-man. He pressed the mic switch. “David, have someone search him and bring him into the courtyard. This will be brief.”

  Foxmann left the minaret, hurrying down the carousel of stairs to the courtyard. He got into the ATV and headed for the gate. By the time he arrived at the area, the general was brought in with two men standing guard on either side of him.

  He was a bit on the short side with a thick bushy mustache and eyebrows to boot. His skin was as brown as the dirt residue on the walls of the mosque. Foxmann finished looking him over and said, “You may be wired but not with explosives. If you have a microphone, that is just as good. I want the whole world to hear what I have to say. We will not hesitate, for one second. Any attempt to take this place will result in its destruction. The only way that this place can be saved is if you cease the offensive against Israel and obey the cease-fire. There is something we would like for you to do to show that you have good faith in this.”

  The general nodded. “What is it?”

  “There are corpses in here. Men who we were forced to shoot because they tried to shoot us. We need to give them back to you for proper burial. In doing so, we’d also like to give one of our men who lost his life so that he can have a decent burial as well. You’re not required to say anything that involves Judaism or perform any rituals. He is just a soldier that deserves a grave with a marker.”

  “As far as the present situation goes that is impossible. I would be torn apart if I brought one of your men out and gave him a decent burial. You must realize that.”

  Foxmann did. He wanted to see if the man had a side that he could negotiate with. Since he did not, he knew that any attempts would prove fruitless. “Very well. We will still give you your dead though. Remember, do not set up positions within one hundred meters of this mosque.”

  Foxmann ordered the corpses retrieved and sent them out past the general and laid them on the street. The general saluted and Foxmann returned the gesture. After he left, Foxmann wondered why the man saluted. He figured the Muslims wouldn’t even spit on a Jew let alone offer a salute. Strange happenings in war.

  Al-Bashir tucked the handkerchief into his pocket and made his way back to the armored personnel carrier. His executive officer was there. “Anything?”

  “No. They are inflexible. Those snakes. We must get permission to assault the mosque. We cannot let this go on.” His mind flashed back to the siege of Mecca in 1979. When militants took over the mosque. They were nowhere near as heavily armed as the Israelis. And nowhere near as well-trained. This was going to be a tough nut to crack. He had no idea exactly how many there were inside but based on his talks with eyewitnesses, he guessed between one and two hundred. In ’79, permission had to be given to assault the mosque. He knew th
at with the most hated enemy on earth that permission was as good as granted. He did still need to present a plan of attack to the religious council of the city. Namely, Imam Wasir Hamsi. The chief imam of all of Saudi Arabia who was just three miles away. “Let’s go.”

  “We checked for bugs. Don’t think he had any of those either,” one of the Israelis said.

  Foxmann nodded at their professionalism. “Did I handle that all right, Prime Minister?”

  “Well done, my friend. I’m signing off now. Metzer will be here for a few more hours.”

  “If they get permission from the imam, I suspect a major attack before the end of the day.”

  “Stay safe, my friend.”

  Foxmann realized Grozner wished he was there. Unusual for a man who never served in the military. But he did admire the guy’s balls for letting them undertake a mission like this. He hoped to see Grozner again soon. He knew that was up in the air, though. He was sitting on the biggest powder keg in the world and he had the matches to set it off, unlike anything anyone had ever seen.

  He climbed up that twirling staircase more tired than before and made his way back to the Gill gunner‘s side, where another man was already there to take Milton’s place. “See anything out there?” he asked.

  “Nothing. No movement. It seems like it’s calmed down. Don’t even hear any more sirens.”

  The silence bothered him. The Saudis were out there creating a perimeter from which no one could escape. They were in the high-rises. They were in the sewers. Their brains trying to formulate an attack plan. He needed to be hyper-vigilant.

  He looked over to where the helicopter wreckage had fallen. The smoldering carcass of metal smoked less now. Whatever fires there were had been put out. He knew there were no survivors. He suspected the choppers would be back though, with more than one the next time.

  20 minutes later

  Al-Bashir stood on a massive golden rug that seemed miniscule by the mosque’s cavernous architecture. Imam Hamsi emerged from behind a curtained doorway.