Caesar the War Dog 2

by Stephen Dando-Collins

  ‘Is there a town or city nearby, sir?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Yes, Sergeant, the lake is a few clicks southeast of the city of Bamiyan. This is in the province of Bamiyan, which is adjacent to the province of Uruzgan, where the secretary-general’s heelo went down. Bamiyan is an ancient city. It sits on the old Silk Road.’

  ‘How big is this Bamiyan?’ Duke Hazard asked while, as always, chewing gum.

  ‘The city is home to 62,000 people, but has no gas, no electricity, no running water, no sanitation. Going there is like travelling hundreds of years back in time. Before the current war, it was famous for the Bamiyan Buddhas.’

  ‘The what?’ Sergeant Hazard queried.

  ‘The Buddhas of Bamiyan. Giant 1200-year-old statues of Buddha that were cut into the rock. They were Afghanistan’s greatest tourist attraction. You’ll probably remember that in 2001 the Taliban blew those statues to pieces.’

  ‘Freaking vandals!’ General McAvoy muttered, half to himself.

  ‘Why wouldn’t the Taliban keep the secretary-general and his party in Bamiyan?’ Sergeant Tim McHenry pondered out loud. ‘It would be easier to disappear in a ramshackle city like that.’

  ‘Ah.’ A faint smile crossed Major Jinko’s lips. ‘Here’s the thing. Bamiyan is home to the Hazara people, an ethnic minority. The Hazara and the Pashtun people of the rest of Afghanistan don’t get on. When the Taliban was in power in Afghanistan, they persecuted the Hazaras. They hate one another, so there’s no way the Taliban would get away with hiding in that Hazara city. There are 800 Hazara soldiers stationed there, along with 150 New Zealand ISAF troops. Too much activity by Pashtuns in Bamiyan is going to attract their attention. But hiding in caves near Dragon Lake is another thing. It’s a clever move by the Taliban. Because of the bad blood between the Taliban and the Hazaras, we would never have thought to search Bamiyan Province for the secretary-general.’

  ‘What’s the terrain like, sir?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Difficult. Few sealed roads.’

  ‘You mentioned caves, sir,’ said Charlie.

  Major Jinko nodded. ‘I did. Let me bring someone into the conversation who knows Dragon Lake a lot better than I do.’ He gestured to a soldier standing by the door at the back of the room. ‘Ask Dr Jordan to come in.’

  The door opened and a woman in a sandy-coloured shirt and trousers entered the room and joined the major and the general on stage. The slouching men in the room straightened a little in their chairs.

  ‘This is Dr Emma Jordan,’ Major Jinko went on, ‘an Australian geologist from Brisbane, my home town. She’s in Afghanistan serving with the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation – UNESCO. Dr Jordan has in the past conducted extensive geological surveys of the Dragon Lake area for the Afghan Government. Dr Jordan, would you like to fill the boys in?’

  ‘Er, thank you.’ Clearly unnerved by all the faces staring at her, Emma Jordan cleared her throat. ‘Band-e-Azhdahar is etched into travertine cliffs, as you can see,’ she began, pointing to the image on the screen. ‘The cliffs on the eastern side of the lake are riddled with caves. Before this war, one of them was popular with foreign cavers. The cave has no local name but cavers used to call it Deep Cave. It’s large and hundreds of metres deep. A channel from the lake feeds into it and almost fills half of it with water, creating a large pool inside the cave. If I were going to hide someone at Band-e-Azhdahar, I would do it in Deep Cave.’

  ‘How in God’s name are we supposed to find these people in that cave system?’ Duke Hazard demanded.

  ‘That’s where the EDDs will come in,’ General McAvoy spoke up. ‘In the video Dr Park mentioned that the Taliban had threatened to blow up the hostages. So, the dogs will track the explosives the Taliban hostage-takers will have on them.’

  Dr Jordan moved to a whiteboard at one side of the stage. With a felt marker, she drew a simple diagram of Dragon Lake, with Deep Cave in the cliffs to one side of it. ‘This is Deep Cave,’ she said. ‘In the main cavern, there is an extensive area with a high roof, 50 metres high in some places. It surrounds the vast freshwater pool I spoke of. Here.’ She tapped the diagram. ‘That pool is 500 metres wide at its broadest point and is 100 metres deep. The pool is fed by the lake via this connecting channel, 100 metres down.’ She pointed to the channel.

  ‘How many entrances to the cave?’ asked Hazard.

  ‘Just one. Here.’ Dr Jordan marked it with a cross on the diagram.

  ‘Only one entrance!’ Hazard exclaimed.

  ‘Yes, on the eastern side of Deep Cave,’ Dr Jordan continued. ‘It gives access to a long, slightly sloping corridor in the rock, which opens up to the cavern and the pool.’

  ‘This ain’t gonna work,’ said Duke Hazard, shaking his head. ‘The Taliban will have that entrance barricaded. Sure, we could fight our way in, but by the time we did that the Taliban guarding the hostages would have detonated their explosives and blown the sec-gen and everyone with him sky high.’

  A long, tense silence gripped the room.

  ‘That’s a good point, Hazard,’ said General McAvoy. ‘And we can’t risk the lives of the hostages.’

  ‘Do you need another entrance to the cave?’ asked Dr Jordan.

  ‘At least one other entrance,’ the general replied glumly. ‘If we could distract the Taliban at one entrance, we might be able to use the other.’

  ‘But that second entrance would also be guarded,’ said Major Jinko.

  ‘You’re right,’ McAvoy agreed with a sigh.

  ‘Well, there is a second entrance,’ said Dr Jordan. ‘One that the Taliban would find impossible to guard. They wouldn’t even know it existed – it took modern science to discover it.’

  ‘Really?’ said Major Jinko, perking up. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘As I mentioned before, this channel down here.’ Dr Jordan again pointed to the channel on the diagram. ‘There’s a large opening a hundred metres down in the side wall of the lake, feeding into Deep Cave.’

  ‘Hell’s bells, lady!’ Hazard exclaimed. ‘A hundred metres beneath the surface of the lake? How do you expect us to get down there?’

  ‘Could an underwater diver use that entrance?’ General McAvoy asked, thinking aloud. ‘Mortenson, you’re our diving expert. Do you think you could you get in through the channel?’

  Casper Mortenson stood up. ‘Yes, I could, General, using a pressure suit.’

  ‘But getting one man in wouldn’t be enough, sir,’ Charlie piped up. ‘We’d need at least half-a-dozen men coming up through that second underwater entrance to effect the rescue while the rest of the team kept the Taliban busy at the main entrance up top. And Mortenson is the only one here trained for deepwater work.’

  ‘This is true,’ said Mortenson, nodding. ‘I could not do it alone.’

  ‘And what about the EDDs?’ Ben added. ‘My Caesar can do heelo drops and he can make HALO jumps from 20,000 feet, but he’s not trained for underwater work.’

  ‘And no one has yet made an underwater pressure suit for dogs,’ Mortenson added with a smile as he sat back down.

  ‘We gotta make use of that underwater entrance,’ said General McAvoy, sounding frustrated.

  ‘The Taliban certainly wouldn’t be expecting us to come in that way, that’s for sure!’ Major Jinko commented. ‘If we could keep them busy at the cave’s front door, we could enter through the back door, so to speak, via the pool behind them.’

  Again the room was silent. Brains could almost be heard whirring as the Special Forces men tried to think of a way to exploit the underwater entrance to Deep Cave.

  ‘Okay, I got it!’ exclaimed Chris Banner, the British SBS man. ‘What about a submarine? Could a mini-sub use that underwater entrance and then surface in the pool inside the cavern and unload our people?’

  Major Jinko turned to Dr Jordan. ‘In your opinion, would the channel be large enough for a mini-submarine to pass through?’

  Dr Jordan hesitated. ‘How wide and deep would a
mini-submarine be? The underwater entrance is twenty metres at its narrowest.’

  ‘More than large enough for a small submarine to pass through,’ remarked Major Jinko. ‘You have no doubts about the size of the opening and of the channel?’

  ‘None,’ Dr Jordan said firmly. ‘That entrance has been mapped by sonar.’

  ‘Okay, so how do we get a sub into the lake in the first place?’ General McAvoy asked, sounding sceptical.

  ‘You drop it in,’ Banner suggested.

  ‘By parachute?’ said Major Jinko.

  Corporal Banner nodded. ‘You got it.’

  ‘Could an aircraft carry a sub?’ McAvoy pondered.

  ‘A mini-sub, sure,’ said Sergeant Bruce, the Royal Marine Commando. ‘The Special Boat lads use them.’

  ‘That’s right, man,’ Banner agreed. ‘We sure do.’

  General McAvoy looked intrigued. ‘How big a mini-sub do you guys use, Corporal?’

  ‘S Squadron uses mini-subs that operate with four divers,’ Banner advised.

  ‘Okay, but as Sergeant Grover suggested,’ said Major Jinko, ‘our operation would require a mini-sub large enough to take at least six of our men.’

  ‘Big enough for six men plus crew, but small enough to fit into a transport aircraft,’ said McAvoy. ‘A Globemaster or Galaxy.’ The massive C-17 Globemaster was operated by several air forces, including Australia’s. The even larger C-5 Super Galaxy was the largest transport aircraft in military service, and only the US Air Force could afford them.

  ‘Doesn’t the sub need to be large enough to carry the hostages as well?’ Ben suggested. ‘That way we could take them out through the underwater entrance.’

  ‘Good thinking, Fulton,’ said Jinko. ‘But who’s got a mini-sub large enough for the job?’

  ‘The SBS’s boats are too small,’ said Sergeant Bruce.

  ‘Wait a minute, man,’ said Banner. ‘I’ve been reading up on mini-subs. The Yanks retired the right boat for the job a few years back. I think it was called the Pencil.’

  ‘The Pencil?’ General McAvoy frowned.

  ‘The US Navy built it to rescue crews of big subs trapped on the ocean floor,’ Banner explained. ‘Later, the Navy came up with a different design for sub­marine rescues, so the Pencil was handed over to the Navy SEALs for special ops. But they never used it, and as far as I know it was retired. The British Government tried to buy the Pencil from the US Government for the SBS, but they wouldn’t sell it.’

  ‘Was the Pencil scrapped?’ Major Jinko queried.

  ‘No, man, retired,’ Banner emphasised. ‘With something as useful as that, you don’t throw it out with the trash. It must be lying around a US naval base someplace, gathering dust.’

  ‘You don’t say.’ General McAvoy had heard enough. He picked up the telephone. ‘This is McAvoy. Give me everything you’ve got on a US Navy mini-sub called the Pencil. Put it up on the Special Ops briefing room screen.’

  Two minutes later, patched in from an IT room deep within the headquarters, an image came up on the screen of a long, thin submarine with a low conning tower two-thirds of the way from its bow. The sub truly looked like its name. Officially, it was the DSRV-801X. Beneath the picture, the sub’s specifications were listed.

  ‘Might fit into a Galaxy or a Globemaster,’ General McAvoy said approvingly.

  Pointing to the screen, Major Jinko read out a line from the specifications. ‘“The Deep Submersible Rescue Vessel 801X requires a crew of two and is capable of accommodating up to sixteen submarine crewmen or six fully equipped divers.” Banner’s right. This vessel is ideal for our needs – it can accommodate sixteen personnel, more than enough room to embark part of the extraction team, including an EDD, and the seven.’

  ‘Now we’re cooking with gas!’ Banner exclaimed, rubbing his hands together.

  ‘Is the sub pressurised, Major?’ Ben asked. ‘I’ll go anywhere you send me, but I can’t take Caesar into an unpressurised submarine.’

  ‘Let me see, Fulton.’ Major Jinko scanned the specifications on the screen, then nodded to himself and turned to Ben. ‘Its hull is pressurised to four times the strength of a normal submarine to allow it to go to extraordinary depths. That suit you, Sergeant?’

  Ben smiled. ‘Thank you, sir. Caesar thanks you, too.’

  ‘Four times the strength of a normal sub?’ General McAvoy mused to himself. ‘Okay. That means it should stand the shock of being parachuted into Dragon Lake. Jinko, where is this sub?’

  ‘It says here that it was decommissioned in 2010 and that its current location is unknown,’ replied the major.

  ‘Well, locate it, for God’s sake!’ ordered an exasperated General McAvoy. ‘This sub is the answer to our prayers. Find that sub and confirm that we can get it into the belly of a C-5 or C-17.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Jinko. ‘But, with respect, first we have to confirm that the secretary-general and the others are being held in Deep Cave.’

  ‘We go forward on the basis that they are in that cave until and unless it’s proven otherwise!’ McAvoy barked, heading for the door. ‘Thank you, men. And thank you, Dr Jordan, ma’am.’

  ‘Atten-shun!’ called Major Jinko.

  All the men in the room rapidly came to their feet and stood stiffly at attention.

  Dr Jordan looked at Major Jinko, blinking with surprise. ‘Was I any help to you, Major?’

  ‘Indeed you were, Doctor, thank you,’ he said, shaking her hand.

  ‘One more thing, everyone!’ McAvoy called, turning from the door. ‘We need a name for this mission.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Operation Blue Dragon. We’ll call it Operation Blue Dragon, Jinko. And the team will be known as Strike Force Blue Dragon.’

  ‘Roger that, sir,’ Jinko returned.

  ‘And,’ McAvoy added, ‘from this point forward, we do not refer to the secretary-general as the secretary-general, or use his name. From now on, we call him “the Big Cheese”. We can’t risk the Taliban catching on to this operation. So he’s the Big Cheese. No Afghan will have a clue about who or what we’re talking about.’

  ‘Roger that, sir,’ Jinko acknowledged. The Big Cheese he is.’

  It was hard for Josh and Maddie to keep the information about Dragon Lake secret. Josh wanted to tell everyone at his school how clever he was, and Maddie wanted to tell everyone that she had the smartest brother in the world. But they knew they would have to keep the secret to themselves if Dr Park was to be saved.

  As Josh ate breakfast the day after Nan shared his discovery with his father, Nan asked him to do her a favour. ‘Josh, would you walk Maddie home from school this afternoon? I have to go for my annual mammogram, and the only appointment I could get is just when you two are getting out of school.’

  ‘Okay, Nan,’ said Josh, spooning the last mouthful of cereal.

  ‘What’s a nannogram?’ asked Maddie, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  ‘A mammogram,’ said Nan, rubbing Maddie’s face with a napkin, ‘is a test for breast cancer. And we all know how important it is to detect that early.’

  Maddie, associating breast cancer with their mother, looked over at Josh, alarmed.

  Reading her mind, Josh smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s just a check-up, Maddie. Come on, we’ll be late for school.’

  ‘I hope Nan’s all right,’ said Maddie worriedly as she and Josh walked home from school. ‘Those nannograms must be scary.’

  ‘She’ll be fine, Maddie, don’t worry,’ Josh assured her, as they came to an intersection. After looking each way to be sure the street was clear, he took Maddie’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  They had just crossed the street when a voice boomed from behind them. ‘Is she your girlfriend, Dog Boy?’

  Josh’s stomach filled with dread. He quickly let go of Maddie’s hand and glanced around, already knowing who he would find. ‘No, she’s my little sister.’

  ‘Who’s he, Josh?’ Maddie asked.

  ‘No one,’ Josh mumbled
. Speeding up, he put a hand on his sister’s back, urging her to do the same. ‘Get a move on, Maddie!’

  ‘He can’t be no one,’ Maddie countered, struggling to keep up with Josh’s stride. ‘He has to have a name. Everyone has a name. Even dogs have names. Houses have names sometimes. People give their cars names –’

  ‘So, Dog Boy has a sister,’ Kelvin Corbett said loudly. ‘Dog Girl.’ He laughed to himself.

  ‘Who is he?’ Maddie hissed.

  ‘He’s in my class,’ said Josh. ‘His name is Kelvin.’

  ‘Why is he following us?’ whispered Maddie.

  Josh shrugged and walked even faster. ‘Because he’s creepy.’

  ‘What’d you say?’ Kelvin demanded.

  ‘He said you’re creepy,’ Maddie said matter-of-factly.

  Josh groaned. ‘Shh, Maddie!’

  ‘Creepy, am I? You don’t know a thing about me, Josh Fulton,’ Kelvin called. ‘I know a million more things than you do. You think you’re so smart, with your dumb exploding dog.’

  ‘Caesar’s not dumb,’ Josh called back.

  ‘And Josh knows way more than you do!’ said Maddie, sticking up for her brother.

  ‘Oh yeah? Like what?’ Kelvin retorted.

  Maddie stopped in her tracks and turned around. With her hands on her hips, she declared, ‘My brother knows where the Tabilan are keeping the sceraty-general of the United Notions.’

  ‘Maddie!’ Josh grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

  ‘Oh yeah?’ said Kelvin. ‘Where are they keeping him? In your backyard?’ He laughed darkly.

  ‘No, silly,’ Maddie retorted. ‘They’ve got him inside a big blue dragon. So there! You never knew that, smarty pants, and Josh did!’

  ‘In a blue dragon?’ Kelvin laughed again. ‘Your sister is loony, Dog Boy.’

  Josh was tugging Maddie away when a car pulled up beside them. Nan Fulton leaned over and wound down the passenger window. ‘Hop in, you two,’ she called. ‘I was able to get out of the clinic earlier than I’d expected.’

  Josh didn’t have to be invited a second time. He had never been so grateful in all his life to climb into his grandmother’s battered orange Ford Fiesta. He and Maddie slipped onto the back seat and closed the door.