All the Iranian machine gunners lay dead in the back of the Toyotas, with one exception; that vehicle was empty because the gunner had fallen out due to the violent maneuvering of the driver.
ALPHA One was in the lead of the close-packed formation of DPVs. All twelve gunners impatiently waited to get within range of the parked pickups, and when the distance was right for the M-2s, the gunners sent tracers streaking toward the vehicles. The Toyotas bounced from the heavy slams of armor-piercing rounds.
Never mind the fucking trucks! the Skipper said over his LASH. There isn't anybody there except the dead. Start laying down fusillades up higher in the hills. That's where the survivors went.
Now the M-60s were also within range, and everyone became involved in reconnaissance by fire as they attempted to find where the fugitives had taken cover. The only reward they got for their efforts was the sight of tracer rounds bouncing off rocks and boulders to streak off into the distance.
Cease fire! Brannigan ordered.
UP in the rocks, Sikes was at the head of the group as they scrambled toward higher ground. Everyone, including the Iranian drivers, was in super physical condition and had no problem negotiating the rugged terrain. Sikes came across some boulders the size of Volkswagen Beetles, and he scrambled up on them. When he reached the top, he discovered a natural fort. He stopped and turned to the others.
Right! Here's where we make a stand, he announced. I counted them Yanks. They got six o' them little fucking buggies and there's three each riding in 'em, hey? That's eighteen of the wankers. There's ten of us and we got concealment and cover here, right? So we'll stand fast and let the bastards come up here after us.
Khadid quickly translated into Farsi for the drivers, then issued orders. Everyone found good firing positions and settled down to wait.
THE SEALs had parked the DPVs and were now some twenty-five meters up the rocky slope that led to the highlands. Lieutenant Bill Brannigan spent a few moments with his binoculars, scanning the boulder-strewn area above, hoping to find some clue as to what the enemy was doing. But he could detect absolutely nothing. Assad! Leibowitz!
The Odd Couple left their place in the impromptu skirmish line and went over to report to the CO. They squatted down beside him, and Dave Leibowitz asked, What's up, sir?
Right, Mike Assad said with a grin. As if we didn't know.
Did you know I'm about to put your asses deep into some real hairy shit? the Skipper asked.
They looked at each other, then back at him, and shrugged.
The bad guys had a good lead on us, Brannigan explained. They could be hauling ass toward the ridges up there to get out of the area, or they're holed up and ready to fight back. He pointed upward. Go find out.
Aye, sir! came the simultaneous response.
Assad led the way with Leibowitz behind, ready to cover him in case of trouble. They began a zigzag course, working their way carefully through the boulders and sparse brush. Mike's eyes went from looking upward for a sight of the bad guys to looking down to the ground to check for tracks the enemy might have left to reveal the direction they were traveling. After ten minutes of climbing, the Skipper's voice came over the LASH. If you reach a point where the hair on your necks is raising with apprehension, you're free to break off and return.
Roger, sir, Dave replied.
They knew exactly what Wild Bill meant. Sometimes, in dangerous situations, there is a certain unpleasant feeling that comes over a combat veteran. It's not fear. The best way to describe the sensation is as an instinctive sureness that something real bad is about to happen. That is one reason why experienced fighting men sometimes are able to survive in situations where rookies are gunned down.
Mike continued the upward trek, unable to spot as much as a single speck of evidence of where the bad guys had gone. Dave, with his M-16 held ready, stayed in his protective mode, ready to put out covering fire if Mike suddenly came under attack. The higher they went, the more nervous they became.
Suddenly both stopped, then squatted down.
A volley of fire swept over them, ricocheting off nearby boulders with sparks and whines. Once more, Brannigan made contact with the Odd Couple. What's the situation?
We're under fire, sir, Mike replied. Every time we raise our heads to see where it's coming from, it increases.
Okay, Brannigan said. That means they know exactly where you are. Can you break off or are you pinned down?
We can back down to a better spot, Dave explained, then we should be able to withdraw okay.
Do it.
Aye, sir.
The Odd Couple, the bores of their weapons pointing upward, stumbled downward in deep crouches. It was slow going for about ten minutes, then they were able to get behind a large stand of boulders.
All right, sir, Mike said. We'll be back pretty quick now.
Right, Brannigan said. He knew it was useless to try to catch the fugitives. Everything cover, concealment, firing positions, and knowledge of the terrain was in their favor.
Okay, Section Leaders, Brannigan said. As soon as the Odd Couple gets back, we'll mount up on the DPVs and go back to the battle site. There may be survivors among those smugglers or whatever they are.
Everyone monitored the orders over the LASH systems and stared upward to catch sight of Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz. They were perturbed about the escapees, but they had accomplished their mission. The smugglers had been destroyed. A few EPWs would be icing on the cake of victory.
Chapter 22
PASHTUN STRONGHOLD
GHARAWDARA HIGHLANDS
24 MAY
0930 HOURS
WHEN Sikes Pasha, Captain Naser Khadid, and Husay Bangash came down the path leading the five Iranian soldiers into the stronghold, they were met by a somber, wailing crowd of Pashtun people. The young translator Malyar Lodhi and Sikes's adjutant Jandol Kakar had been sent ahead to bring the bad news of the devastating defeat out on the desert. They had gone straight to Yama Orakzai to tell him of the terrible battle with the fierce American warriors who spewed death from their little cars sent to them from hell by Satan.
Now Orakzai stood in front of the people as the small group of survivors walked up to him. Warrant Officer Shafaqat Hashiri and the nineteen Arabs were in a proper formation off to one side, giving their leader a studied look as he approached. They were glad to see their commanding officer was unhurt.
Khadid held back in deference to Sikes' rank as the field commander, and the Brit greeted the warlord with an embrace. We were ambushed, Orakzai Mesher, Sikes said. We had delivered the opium powder and were on our way back to the rendezvous to retrieve the donkeys when the Americans struck.
Malyar and Jandol have told me about it, Orakzai said. We must retire to my quarters to discuss this situation. It is a shock that sends my heart and mind reeling. Did none of my mujahideen survive?
If they did, they're bleeding prisoners, Sikes said. They was trapped in the backs o' the transport trucks. I'm afraid most of 'em was blown up. He nodded to the five Iranian drivers. These were the only Iranians who got away. All the gunners in the back of the Toyotas was killed.
Orakzai could not hide his grief. Tsenga haybatnak! This is a catastrophe! Everything we have worked for is lost! He looked over to Khadid. You must tell your superiors about this, Captain Khadid. We joined the Iranians in good faith, yet somehow we are facing a disaster from which we might not recover.
Khadid went into his Special Forces mode. It is not an insurmountable calamity, Orakzai Mesher. I admit it is an unexpected blow for which I know of no explanation. There must have been treachery, no doubt, but the Iranian Army is more than capable of dealing with it. If we have indeed been betrayed and I strongly believe that is the case the culprits shall be eventually found out no matter how much care they take to remain undiscovered. We shall have our vengeance and, ultimately, a great victory not only for Iran but for the Pashtun people. Let us keep in mind that your main goal is to establish an independent na
tion.
That seems out of reach now, Orakzai said, close to weeping. Let us go to my quarters.
The Pashtuns, particularly the women, picked up on their leader's distress. This set off more wailing and loud moans as they watched him turn and walk toward his cave in the company of the Englishman and Iranian.
Khadid leaned close to Sikes and whispered, These Pashtuns will quickly develop a keen resentment toward us foreigners because of this calamity. Somehow, they will place all the blame on us. I suggest you keep your Arabs close by.
Bluddy good idea, Sikes agreed in a soft voice.
He gestured to Warrant Officer Shafaqat, who obviously had been having the same thoughts. The Arabs, all armed, formed up into a column of threes and began to follow their leader at a slow pace. Every man of them sensed the tenseness and sensitivity of the situation. The Pashtuns glowered at Sikes' men, but took no overt hostile action against them.
.
SHELOR FIELD
NOON
THE three EPWs brought back from the battle by the Brigands were being kept in a jury-rigged jail set up in the corner of the hangar. A barbed-wire barrier had been hastily erected to hold them, and a port-a-potty donated by Randy Tooley served their sanitary needs. Senior Chief Buford Dawkins set up a watch bill to make sure they were kept under constant guard. All had been wounded and had received treatment at the base infirmary. Now properly medicated and bandaged, they were under the skilled care of Doc Bradley.
None had life-threatening injuries, but one was suffering from a broken leg. This was the only Iranian. His companions in captivity were Pashtun mujahideen. The oldest, a fellow with a gray beard, had second-degree burns on his chest and arms. His buddy, a young guy who looked to be in his twenties, had taken a grazing hit in the side that tore across his body without damaging any vital organs. The massiveness of the injury came from an M-2's heavy .50-caliber slug.
The Iranian soldier, a machine gunner, had been discovered out in the open, lying helpless with a compound fracture of the fibula just above the ankle. He was also badly bruised from the fall off the back of the speeding pickup truck where he manned his weapon. The SEALs spotted him at the battle site when they returned from the excursion into the foothills. The injured soldier expected them to shoot him straight off. He knew no English, so there was a marked lack of conversation between him and his captors. He tried to be as brave about it as possible, but a very obvious trembling, paleness, and continuing struggle to keep from crying showed he was badly frightened. Later, when he received first aid prior to the trip back to Shelor Field, the Iranian relaxed a bit. An offer of food further calmed him, and by the time they brought him to the Shelor Field infirmary for treatment under a doctor's supervision, the soldier was in a very relieved state of mind. It was obvious no summary execution loomed in his future.
When the Pashtuns were picked up, the pair was sitting cross-legged among their dead brethren in the midst of burned transport hulks. Unlike the Iranian, they were ready to die, though not exactly pleased about the prospect. Once more, the application of care to their wounds brought about a relaxation of inner tension. When they were handed hot rations warmed in an FRH, they realized they would be treated with dignity and a degree of kindness. The old man, who had worked with an American CIA agent during the war against the Soviets, showed a gap-toothed grin as he slurped up a spoonful of spaghetti. T'ank you, he said.
Before returning to Shelor Field with the EPWs, Brannigan allowed Frank Gomez and the Charlie Two team to make a quick trip to the smugglers' rendezvous site to put out additional feed for the donkeys. When they arrived, they saw that local villagers had looted the place and led the animals away. The guys will be glad to hear about this, Frank remarked. They were worried about those little burros starving to death.
Are you kidding? Chief Matt Gunnarson remarked. If they hadn't been stole, the wolves would have got them long before they died from hunger. You can bet a prowling pack had already sniffed 'em out.
THE first thing Brannigan did after returning to their hangar at the airfield was to have Frank Gomez send a transmission to the USS Combs to inform them of the prisoners. The encoded message gave all the available information about them, but that wasn't much. All that was determined was that one was an Iranian soldier in the uniform of his army. This seemed incongruous since he was on a clandestine, illegal mission, but nobody ever accused the Iranian Government or military of operating in a logical or smart manner. After all, the Iraqis had kicked their asses in a drawn-out war back in the 1980s.
The other two prisoners were described as mountain Pashtuns who appeared to be illiterate, but with an innate self-reliance and a natural ability to endure hardship and discomfort. This last bit of info wasn't included to compliment the two EPWs, but to make it clear they were not operatives in disguise. The pair of stoic men were genuine Pashtun mujahideen.
The S-2 aboard the Combs radioed back, instructing the SEALs to continue to take care of the prisoners' wounds, feed them well, and see that they were comfortable at all times. When the senior chief informed the detachment of the orders, Bruno Puglisi gave a snort, saying, Hell! I wish they'd see that we got the same treatment.
Senior Chief Dawkins showed a sardonic leer, saying, That ain't never gonna happen on my watch, Puglisi.
Jeez! Puglisi exclaimed under his breath to Joe Miskoski. Even them donkeys is luckier'n us.
Yeah, Miskoski agreed. You never hear about a donkey going through Hell Week.
They wouldn't allow nobody to be that cruel to animals, Puglisi pointed out. The Humane Society wouldn't permit it.
The intelligence officer also forbade any attempts at interrogation. This was to be handled by persons unnamed who would arrive to tend to that most important matter. The Brigands could read between the lines of that latter instruction. There was something above and beyond the ordinary that had been thrust into Operation Rolling Thunder.
.
PASHTUN STRONGHOLD
GHARAWDARA HIGHLANDS
26 MAY
0615 HOURS
SIKES Pasha's Arab unit and Captain Naser Khadid of the Iranian Special Forces were formed up to leave both the stronghold and Afghanistan. Yama Orakzai Mesher had seen that a donkey was provided for them to make the journey a little easier. Although the Arabs had no need of the pack animals since they had arrived carrying everything they owned on their own backs, Khadid had his radio transmitter, field desk, and other items that were too bulky or heavy for human beings to tote through mountainous terrain.
This exodus was not a voluntary one. Orakzai had made a decision the day before that the best thing he could to for his people was to get rid of the foreigners, then make peace with the Afghan government in Kabul. Khadid, secretly upset about the Iranian mission being ended, had given a subtle warning that this would displease another government, that of the Islamic Republic of Iran, and there would no doubt be a reaction from Tehran. This was his understated way of saying that the Iranian Army would be given full rein to either get the Pashtun group back into their operation or destroy them. Khadid had learned much during his time with Orakzai's people, and knew that a full-blown threat to a Pashtun would be answered by him and Sikes getting decapitated and their heads sent back to Iran in cardboard boxes. Thus, even the subtle warning was given with a friendly smile, along with assurances that the Pashtuns and Iranians would always be brothers.
The mutas between Sikes and Banafsha, along with that involving Khadid and Mahzala, was dissolved. It was determined by a couple of old Pashtun women that neither wife was pregnant; thus, the marriage contracts were ended simply and rapidly to accommodate the situation. The two girls returned to their families and, although their fathers were not required to return the bridal gifts, they would have to pay hefty dowries for their daughters to be married again. They were no longer virgins, and even though their innocence had been lost honorably under Islamic law, they were second-hand property. If either father wanted to marry off his daug
hter, it would cost so much as to be prohibitive. Both consoled themselves with the knowledge they would have daughters at home to look after them in their old age.
When the Arabs and the Iranian officer leading the donkey began their trek from the stronghold, the population watched them impassively. There was some minor grumbling among those who thought the foreigners should be held responsible for the loss of their men on the smuggler run, but since Yama Orakzai Mesher had made no accusations and showed no inclination to punish them, the Pashtuns accepted what appeared to be a peaceful parting of the ways.
.
Rolling Thunder (2007) Page 24