A Touch Of War: A Military Thriller Novel

by Isaac Stormm

  “Just one more thing.” David looked deep into Foxmann’s eyes. “What do you think our chances are?”

  “With this kind of objective, and what it means to so many people, I would say anything is possible. But I’m not gonna give odds.”

  “That’s that then. I stand unreservedly behind you, as do we all.”

  Foxmann slapped David on the shoulder. “I knew you would. I’m grateful to have you men.” He truly was. “Now let’s go get breakfast.”

  10:27 P.M.

  At an airbase in Southern Israel

  Grozner peered out the window of the UH-60 Black Hawk, his personal transport. He could see the lights on the two C-130s though the engines were not yet running. Tiny dots milled about and he could tell launch time was approaching because he saw a group of these tiny dots huddled in front of a hangar.

  The Black Hawk flared and set down about 100 meters away from them. He was out before the rotor stopped turning, running to see the men before they took off.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Foxmann smiled, extending his hand. Grozner shook it hard.

  “OPEC and Iran have rejected the latest peace proposal. I want to see each man off and shake his hand before he leaves,” he said.

  “They’ll be glad to do it.”

  Grozner looked them over and each man was wearing a flight helmet with goggles and oxygen mask. He would wear the oxygen mask until he landed on the ground going from a minus 40 degree temperature at 20,000 feet to the high 90s at sea level. They wouldn’t be wearing any kind of night vision goggles. Mecca was always lit up and the Mosque was among its brightest shines. This would be the beacon that guided them down.

  “May I speak to them for a moment?”

  Foxmann nodded, knowing that right now was probably the most important lecture, if you could call it that, that Grozner would ever give.

  “Men, tonight you have been given a sacred task. One that is probably one of the most difficult endeavors you’ll ever attempt. But I want you to know the entire nation is watching you, and counting on you. You men remain our last hope to restore peace to this region. I know you will do your duty, and know you also would not back down from a fight.” His lower lip started to quiver. “I know… I know you will do your duty. And… That’s all I’m able to say.” He wiped a stray tear from his eye.

  They all clapped. And he heard some of them say, “Don’t worry.”

  He turned to Foxmann. “I believe that’s the hardest speech I’ve ever given. You take care, my friend.” He extended a hand which Foxmann took. “Come back,” Grozner said. Then he turned to the rest of the men. “All of you.”

  “Let’s do it,” Foxmann said. He stood next to Grozner and did as he, shaking each man’s hand as they filed by. They responded with smiles and nods of encouragement.

  Once 99 men passed, Grozner reached into his pocket and pulled out two envelopes. “Almost forgot. Here are the codes you’ll need for both devices.”

  Foxmann took it and stuffed it in his arm pocket, zipping it tight. “Just one more thing, Prime Minister. If I shouldn’t come back, if it’s possible, I’d like for you to explain to my wife what happened.”

  “You have my word on that.”

  “Well, I guess this is it then. Goodbye, my friend.” His hand took Grozner’s and shook it slowly. It was the kind of goodbye and motion that one expected to hear solemn music to. Foxmann left him and headed toward the C-130’s ramp just as the first of the four engines began to rotate its propeller. He disappeared into the plane’s cargo bay and the ramp began to raise behind him.

  Grozner just stood there and watched as the twin planes revved their engines, sending a strong wind back over him that ruffled his suit. He watched them lineup and taxi slowly toward the runway. Their navigation lights pulsed and blinked, reflecting off their bellies. Once on the runway, they extinguished the lights and he heard a low rumble that grew in intensity as the first plane was taking off. The minute it was airborne, the supply plane followed up a few seconds later and their sound rapidly faded in the distance.

  His helicopter began winding up its rotor and he boarded it to take off a couple minutes later, heading back toward Tel Aviv. Sitting there in the dark, his eyes welled up in tears and flowed freely down his cheeks. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Seeing the men off even though he’d done it so many times before. Yet he knew nothing you would ever do again could approach the stature that these men were about to accomplish. Whether they lived or died, it was the most audacious and greatest military mission in history. He wiped the tears away, then took out a handkerchief to aid his hand. He looked out into the infinite black and wondered what tomorrow would bring. “Shalom,” muttered from his lips. And he closed his eyes and said a prayer.

  “Both gadgets require some assembly,” Foxmann said. “We’ll do that once we’re on the ground.” He pulled the envelope from his sleeve pocket and opened it and took one of the codes and handed it over to David. They both looked over the code they were to punch into the control console of the nuke. It was a series of letters and numbers. A total of 16 in all, that had to be inputted to arm the devices.

  The White House

  Oval Office

  4:52 P.M.

  “This is a damn travesty,” Anderson seethed. “We had the Israelis. All the Iranians and the Saudis had to do was say yes. This is definitely a war, not a conflict anymore and we’re part of it until the end.” He looked from Mason to Mitchell. “I want you to make the necessary arrangements to wage war between Iran and the United States. We’re not going to invade anybody, but we are going to destroy Iran’s ability to make war. Then when they see they don’t have anything to fight with, that’s when they’ll come to the negotiating table. I think the Saudis are just following Tehran’s movements to see what they should do next. OPEC seems to be the same way. Has there been any military movements on their behalf since we last spoke?”

  “All OPEC military forces have been put on alert. There have not been any movements, but there is definitely elevated activity.” Mitchell folded his arms. “We have another carrier group we can put into the Gulf and we can put one into the Red Sea just in case Saudi Arabia chooses to act against us.”

  “Very good. Start strikes against Iran immediately.”

  “Just one more thing,” Mason asked. “What of our forces guarding the oil fields. Withdraw them?”

  “No, we can’t do that. At least not right now. Saudis aren’t going to make any moves against us as long as we’re providing free security for their most treasured asset.”

  “Should we view this as standing shoulder to shoulder with Israel?”

  “No. We’re acting alone based on attacks against our forces. I don’t want to make it seem like there is some sort of coalition fighting in the Middle East against the Arabs or the Persians.”

  The phone buzzed. “Prime Minister Grozner is on the line, sir.” At last, some good old-fashioned telephone action instead of looking at each other over a computer screen trying to judge expressions and intent. He pushed the speaker button.

  “Mister President. I’ve struggled long and hard with what I’m about to tell you. I figure you are entitled since you conducted yourself honorably and tried to bring an end to this terrible situation. As your ally, I want you to know that since they have rejected the U.N. peace proposal, we are exercising the only option we have left. We are going to take and hold Mecca until this thing ends.”

  “No. You can’t be serious. That’ll inflame the whole region.”

  “It may do that. But we have no option. OPEC and Iran have pushed us to this brink and we’re taking the next step to ensure our survival.”

  “The world will definitely come down against you about this.”

  “We’re ready for that.”

  “Listen, Mister Grozner, we stood side by side with you for years. Just so you know, if the U.N. decides to vote to condemn your action, I don’t think we can vote to stop it. I’m sorry.
”

  “Such trivialities are of no consequence anymore. You’re in a state of war yourself with Iran. We could share intelligence.”

  “Thank you, Mister Grozner, but no. The world is going to come down on us too. Because we’re getting back into the fight. And we’re going to end Iran’s ability to make war. Should such a time come when we need to share intelligence, I’ll let you know.”

  “As you wish.”

  Anderson bade him goodbye and sat down in his chair. “Well, you heard it, guys. The Muslim world will be on fire after tonight. If we have any problems here in the U.S. and I mean really bad problems, we’ll have to lock down the country. That means martial law.”

  “Hopefully, it won’t come to that, Mister President,” Mason said, hands on his hips. “I have faith that our Muslim population will remain calm.”

  “Nevertheless, send a warning to all police stations that we are at an elevated level of threat from the Islamic world. There’s a lot of sleeper cells here, I guarantee that. This’ll be just the thing to set them off.” He scratched his nose and traced his finger over his cheek, thinking of his next words. “I’m going to go on as if nothing is facing this government. That’s the best way to deal with this. I don’t want any panic among the populace. I have a speech tomorrow at a political fundraiser in Richmond, Virginia. I’ll be in touch all day long ‘cause it is going be one busy news day.”

  Over Saudi Arabia

  1:05 A.M.

  June 1

  The F-16s drew first blood. A flight of four escorting the two transports picked up Saudi F-15s at a 50-mile distance. The Saudis fired off four sparrow missiles and caused the Israelis to put their aircraft into incredible dances of life trying to evade them. When the threat passed, they let loose their own sparrow missiles and the Saudis replied with the same maneuvers. However, two were hit and the other two broke off contact and egressed the area at supersonic speed. This left the flight corridor to Mecca open, and the two transports maintained their steady altitude of 20,000 feet, approaching a beautifully lit city and its sacred keepsake.

  “Stand up!” Foxmann motioned with his arms. On either side of him the detachments rose from their seats, pivoting on their boots, facing the ramp. Two loadmasters stood behind the pallet with the suitcase nukes. They stood ready to push it out after all men had exited.

  The red light filled the interior and the ramp began to lower in a mechanical whine. Foxmann put himself at the head of the line on the right and David did the same on the left. They both looked at each other. Foxmann winked. David gave a thumbs up. Then, their eyes turned to the red beacon waiting for it to change. A minute passed. Then 30 seconds into the second minute, it blinked to green.

  Foxmann was first out. He went into a swan dive, arms extended outward, legs just slightly extended and plummeting down into the darkness. An entire train of men followed him, assuming the same position, the beautifully lit city below seemingly waiting to envelop them.

  Foxmann could see the Mosque’s outline just ahead of him, thinking it appeared the size of no more than a postage stamp. It appeared as an oval white light in a sea of other lights gradually growing larger. The oxygen mask felt tight against his face and he could feel the rush of the wind curling around his visor. It was too dark to look at his altimeter on his left wrist but he knew he still had a dozen or more seconds before the chute automatically deployed at 5000 feet. They needed this altitude to glide in. He began counting down 10…9…8…

  The mass of men whipped like a dragon’s tail as the chutes sprang from their packs, the onrushing air braking them, suddenly snapping their necks before stabilizing. One hundred parachutes billowed out into a rectangular-shaped airfoil that moved forward ten feet for every foot down. Controlled by risers from their shoulders, men begin to work them, steering left or right, all the while the Mosque grew at them like a hole starting to expand into a cavernous yawn.

  Foxmann looked left and saw the gigantic hotel alight from its ground lobby all the way to its topmost window. He wondered if anyone could see them coming in. The lights began shimmering on their uniforms. Lower they went, the lights reflecting not only off of them but their parachutes as well, which played a kaleidoscope of colors on the nylon as the bright ground started to accelerate toward them.

  The area around the Kabaa was dotted with pilgrims who looked up in awe at the mass of parachutes. They didn’t try to move, just stood there and pointed to the sky. Then they heard shouts and barks of commands from hidden areas in the mosque.

  Foxmann touched down first. He rolled then hopped up onto his feet. He was in front of a middle-aged man and his son who looked at him with genuine curiosity and they focused on that patch on the side of his arm. They both pointed. “Israelis!” the man shouted. He turned and fled, leaving his little boy behind, who looked longingly at the Israeli soldier in wonderment because he just descended from the sky as angels did in the Koran. Then he too turned and ran, arms flailing wildly and shouting in Arabic at the others who were outrunning him toward the exits. Foxmann paid no attention and continued to unbuckle and wrap up the chute. He tore away the oxygen mask and took the helmet off and brought his weapon about as more men landed nearby, some just missing the Kabaa. Those pilgrims who stayed looked in complete shock at him as he ran by calling for David. He heard acknowledgment over near the northern corner beside one of the archways. He saw a group pilgrims close around him. “Out of the way,” he shouted in Arabic. The group fled, leaving David unbuckling his chute.

  Foxmann looked up and saw other men swooping in. The area was pretty much clean of pilgrims now except there were still some watching from the archways, waiting for what happened next.

  The loudspeaker used for prayer began blaring, ‘Evacuate the area. The enemy is here. Evacuate now.’ It became louder and louder until it was almost deafening.

  “They catch on quick,” David said.

  Foxmann nodded and grunted. The two continued eyeing the incoming chutes. Then a shot rang out behind them. They turned and saw a man crumple in an archway, shot by the silent guns of several operators. “It starts early,” Foxmann said, eyes peering back to the sky to look for the pallet with the precious cargo. He saw the massive chute coming down slower than the rest of the men. It landed in the middle of the courtyard and the men swarmed over it. Foxmann and David ran toward it, joining others in unstrapping it and peeling away its contents. They looked over into an archway and saw a man throw a pistol down and disappear into the darkness. Two operators ran after him and they emerged a minute later with a thumbs up. Foxmann realized it was one of the security guards, and he knew there was much more than this. “Begin sweeping right now.”

  The men formed up into their detachments and rushed off in every direction of the compass. No more came from the sky, they were all on the ground now filling into the archways to clear the zamzams.

  “It goes together like this.” Foxmann pressed the set of male plugs into the female receptacles, putting together one of the weapons. They then moved to the second one and repeated the same thing. “Now all we’ve got to do is arm them.” They removed the codes from their pockets and began typing on the keypads. A small red light on top came on. “I want to put these in the storage areas underneath the courtyard.” Two more men came and helped Foxmann and David lift the devices. They then headed toward an archway. “There are stairs off one of the western hallways that will take us down to a large storage bin. Intel says it, at least. I hope they were right. Halt.” They set the devices down. “Get your in NVGs on, this could take a while.” The four pulled the NVGs from their pouches and put them on the anchor of the helmet mount, keeping them flipped up. “All right, now let’s move.”

  They entered the western complex and Foxmann was awestruck by the beauty of the zamzam. The ochre lights hung from what looked like chandeliers and gave the immaculate interior a cream-colored hue that he was sure rivaled any of the great palaces of Europe including Versailles. He wanted to explore the plac
e if he found time.

  They actually found the door pretty quick, though it was among several doors they had open; this one had stairs leading down into the darkness. They turned on the lights and realized they didn’t need the NVGs after all. They did find the storage area beneath the courtyard though it seemed closer to the archways. Foxmann then designated the two men who had to stay with the devices for the next two hours, explained that they would be in touch constantly and would relieve them then.

  They came back into the zamzam and noticed pilgrims, a dozen or so lying facedown under the watchful eye of two Israelis. They’d been caught purifying themselves at the taps supplying spring water to one of the zamzams. “They started throwing rocks at us,” one of the men said.

  Foxmann looked out of the archway and saw the six pallets guided on the GPS waves come down and land in a straight line in the courtyard. He loved the technology. Doing something that was previously impossible. Several men ran out and immediately undid the straps and started opening the crates. One of the pallets contained the rucksacks for the men, the other, anti-tank and surface-to-air missile launchers with ammunition. Two had food and medicine and the remaining two had ammunition. Foxmann and David headed back out to claim their gear.

  “What was it the Navy SEALs said,” David smiled, “about the impossible being done by appointment only. Well, if they could just see us now.”

  “That water back there, we can use for the Camelbaks.” He trotted over to one of the pallets and began looking for his gear. After sorting through several packs, he found his and donned it. David did likewise. Positioning the mic, he called to all the detachments. When they acknowledged, he said, “Everybody take up your respective positions. After they’ve been swept, acknowledge and then start laying the Claymores at the entrances.” He and David turned and set off toward the archways again. They found the stairway that wound up inside a minaret and climbed up into it and saw over a hundred feet out over the rest of Mecca. Way off in the distance, the wail of a siren sounded. “That might be for us.” He raised the binoculars and did a slow sweep out the windows until he completed a 360-degree rotation. The city was still magnificently lit. It was as if the disturbance at the mosque remained isolated. The siren, still far away, stopped. Foxmann swept the landscape again, seeing the streets still occupied with cars remaining active and no sign of police or military units. The density of all the buildings impressed him and there had to be hundreds of thousands of people within a five-block radius. If they only knew… And soon they would.