by Harold Coyle
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For the first time the bartender turned and seriously regarded the patron he was addressing. After giving Delmont's statement a moment of thought, the Jordanian replied in the same disinterested tone. "According to law in Damascus, at least the way they are practicing it there these days, he is still a Syrian."
Sensing that his point was lost on the bartender and eager to sort out what possible connection there could be between a Syrian-American soldier and a prominent civil rights leader, Delmont pressed on. "So what's the reverend got to do with all this?"
Missing Delmont's sarcastic tone, the bartender listened to the television for a moment before answering. "It would seem that he will be going to Damascus tomorrow to meet with Syrian officials as well as the American prisoners."
Somewhere in the back of Delmont's mind this possibility had already begun to generate a coherent thought, one that the special plans officer dreaded. Even so, when the Jordanian confirmed his suspicion Delmont found that his frustration over being so far from the action as well as the beer he had consumed kept him from checking himself. With more force than he had intended, he lifted his glass before slamming it on the bar. "Great. That's all we need."
Throughout the lounge the collection of businessmen who had gathered with their fellow travelers as well as some of the local talent stopped for a moment and turned their attention to Delmont. Ignoring their stares and -glares, he stood up, pulled some money out of his pocket, and threw it onto the bar before storming out of the room, mumbling as he went. In his wake an English electronics salesman quipped, "Americans!" With that, everyone returned to whatever business proposition they had been making.
Fort Bragg, North Carolina
15:55 LOCAL (19:55 ZULU)
The media blitz unleashed by the Syrian government concerning its decision to put Sergeant Yousaf Hashmi on trial coupled with the stilted interviews of the other American prisoners had its desired effect upon the ceremonies 'staged to greet O'Hara and Laporta. Rather than celebrating an American success, the homecoming served to remind those who turned out to welcome home the two NCOs that the crisis was far from over.
In itself, this new propaganda campaign would have been difficult for the American military community to deal with. Unfortunately for the families of those still in captivity, the ever-voracious American press snapped up every scrap the Syrians dangled before them. Reinvigorated, legions of reporters fanned out across the American landscape as they redoubled their focus on the families, relatives, and friends of the members of RT Kilo featured in the Syrian propaganda clips. As devastating as this was to the loved ones, the effect upon efforts to resolve the crisis was nothing less than crippling. Overnight open negotiations on neutral ground and back-channel communiques between the two nations ceased.
Also lost by this unexpected change in the international landscape Were several initiatives sponsored by third parties.
Even when it became clear that this unwanted attention was having adverse effects on serious efforts, the stampede to project, analyze, and predict what the national leadership would do next did not subside in the least. And when the networks ran out of talking heads, the topic merely shifted to an on-air debate by the
| journalists on how their compatriots were covering the story.
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Throughout this media melee one topic that no one on-camera ever seemed to tire of was the search for someone whom they could hold responsible for the sudden collapse of serious negotiations.
Anxious to lay the blame for this on everyone else's doorstep except their own, TV journalists and newspaper editors stood as one in proclaiming that this reversal of diplomatic fortunes was due to the manner in which the military had gone about retrieving O'Hara and Laporta. In one paper of record, the front page sported a banner headline that read "Misguided Military Misadventure Misfires."
At Fort Bragg silver-tongued commentators who mistook shouting matches between political foes for meaningful discussion of issues and considered a thirty-second film clip to be an in depth report struggled to outdo their competition when it came to describing the somber, bittersweet occasion of the homecoming.
"Even the weather has turned its back on the people assembled here to greet the returning heroes," one wag noted when commenting on the cold gray clouds that filled the sky. And in an effort to keep from offending any of their viewers who preferred redwood trees to more conventional deities, several of the networks cut to commercials when the post chaplain stepped forward to lead the gathering in prayer.
If anyone standing in the hangar was aware of these shenanigans being played out on the nation's airwaves they did not let 1
on. Unlike the esteemed members of the fourth estate who honI estly believed that they actually spoke for the American people, the leadership of the nation's armed forces kept their eye on the ball and their priorities straight. They congratulated those who had participated in the effort to snatch O'Hara and Laporta away from the Syrians, did their best to console the families of those still being held, and maintained their calm when accosted by journalists eager to cap that day's report with a crisp, candid sound bite. At no time did any of the generals, colonels, and senior NCOs allow themselves to forget what their true goal was. While shaking the hand of Specialist Four O'Hara and Specialist Four
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Laporta, each and every man who had a role in planning the next operation saw their return as nothing more than a down payment.
To that end the commanding general of CENTCOM
arranged a private briefing for all the family members of RT Kilo.
Before launching into well-rehearsed briefings put together by his staff for the wives, children, and parents of the men still being held or missing, the general addressed the gathering in an effort to set the tone. "While our purpose here today is to welcome home two soldiers, let no one forget those who cannot be here with us today. Our goal continues to be to bring all of our people home as quickly and as safely as possible." Had the general been totally honest with the gathering he would have added, "without doing any further damage to our already tarnished reputation."
Such candor, however, was not advisable even when dealing with those who understood and felt the true cost of maintaining their nation's place in the world.
Ever mindful of the need to protect the family members of its soldiers, entry into these briefings was restricted to immediate family only. Enforcement of this policy was handled by polite yet unyielding personnel from Fort Bragg's office of public affairs and the post's protocol officer. Only those who could prove that they were related by blood or marriage to one of the men still being held by the Syrians were granted full access to all the briefings.
Everyone else, including in-laws and one woman who claimed to be the fiancee of Lieutenant Joseph Ciszak, had to wait in a vacant office that had been hastily converted into a temporary lounge. Among this assortment of second-tier relatives, lovers, and friends was Karen Green. When asked by Fort Bragg's protocol officer what her relationship was to Elizabeth, Karen had been as truthful as she dared. "I'm here to lend her my moral support."
If she had been totally honest, she would have told the protocol officer that she had come to spare Elizabeth the agony of going there with her mother, a woman who was determined to do all she could to comfort her poor baby.
For Karen, Fort Bragg represented a sinister side of America 240
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that she and her friends delighted in disparaging and denigrating over five-dollar cups of cappuccino. Everything about the place and its people alarmed her, from the presence of gun-toting soldiers in uniform to the high fences and barbed wire that surrounded restricted areas. Never having taken the time to understand the role of the military in keeping democracies free, Karen found that she had nothing better to draw upon to regulate her experience than the popula
r imagery of Nazi concentration camps that the entertainment industry was so fond of perpetuating. This particular comparison had become so ingrained in her psyche that she found herself looking for MPs with snarling German shepherds to appear shouting "AchtungT as they moved about the edge of the crowd. By the time Elizabeth had to part from her side in order to attend the family-only briefings, Karen had managed to work herself into such a state that it was becoming a question of whether she was providing moral support to Elizabeth or vice versa.
In the waiting area where everyone who was nonfamily gathered, Karen found herself alone and feeling quite vulnerable. If ever there were a time when she needed a cigarette to calm her nerves, this was it. Unable to escape, she did her best to be as inconspicuous as possible by tucking herself away in a corner of the room.
With nothing better to do while she waited for Elizabeth to appear, Karen tried to forget about her paranoia by studying the comings and goings of the others who filled the anteroom. Having shared Elizabeth's ordeal since the beginning, more than a few of the faces around her were familiar. Off near the door that led into the auditorium where the briefings were taking place Karen spotted the woman who was engaged to the air force ofhcer.
Sitting patiently against the wall with her feet drawn up under her chair and hands folded in her lap, the woman looked perfectly composed as she waited for her fiancee's sister to emerge from the briefing. I wonder, Karen found herself wondering as she looked at the woman's calm demeanor, if the military has special pi"<>~
grams designed to prepare the families for times like this?
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As the savvy New Yorker was pondering this question one of three chaplains who were circulating throughout the room came up to Ciszak's fiancee. Like everyone she and Elizabeth had come into contact with since arriving at Fort Bragg, the chaplains were doing their best to calm the fears of those who found themselves on the fringe of the crisis. Never having reconciled her lifestyle with the faith of her parents, Karen distrusted rabbis almost as much as she did anyone wearing a uniform. When one of the chaplains threatened to make his way over to where she stood, Karen began to look for someplace to escape to.
Just before she made her move a woman her own age whom Karen didn't recognize approached her. At first glance the stranger appeared to be a professional of some type, a lawyer perhaps, or maybe a businesswoman. Even the easy confident manner with which she carried herself reminded Karen of the sort of person that she enjoyed being around. When she was but a few feet away, the woman gave Karen one of those knowing smiles.
Without hesitation she leaned forward and whispered as if they were old friends, "I could tell by the way you were watching that chaplain that you were desperate for a savior of a different sort."
Without thinking, Karen returned the smile, reached out, and took the proffered hand of the stranger. "You don't know how right you are. How did you guess?"
While still lightly grasping Karen's right hand with her own, the woman waved her left hand about. "Oh, having been around these GI Joe types before, I had a hunch you were new to this sort of thing."
Pleased to see that this woman wasn't wearing a wedding band, Karen felt whatever anxieties she had about her surroundings slip away now that she had found someone with whom to share her plight. Reaching up, Karen placed her left hand on the Woman's upper arm in order to steady herself as she leaned over to whisper in her ear. "If I have any say in the matter, this will be my first and last foray into the cave of the Bear Clan."
The woman's laughter, her light feminine scent, and the feel 242
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of a soft warm hand had an almost intoxicating effect on the nervous woman. Easing back she introduced herself. "I am Karen Green. I'm here with a friend of mine, Elizabeth Stanton."
With measured ease, the stranger gave Karen's right hand a friendly squeeze. "Hi, Karen. I'm Ann."
Karen returned the gesture by placing her left hand upon their clasped hands. For several long seconds the two women stood there in silence, neither making any effort to let go. Finally Karen managed to clear her throat and speak. "I don't know about you, but I feel like a chicken on Colonel Sanders's plantation.
Let's find someplace that's less crowded and a little less green, army protocol be damned."
Laughing, Ann nodded. "I know what you mean. Since this sort of military briefing and the questions that inevitably follow tend to take forever, I doubt anyone will miss us."
Thrilled that she had found someone who shared her feelings and was willing to go along with her, Karen didn't bother to ask how it was that Ann knew about briefings like the one going on.
Even if she had, the woman who called herself Ann would not have told her. She had no intention of letting on that she was a journalist for a national tabloid who had been following Elizabeth for days in the hope of finding a fresh new angle that no one else had yet uncovered.
Damascus, Syria
00:25 LOCAL (20:25 ZULU)
Concerned that the Syrian government could no longer guarantee them unfettered access to the American Air Force officer, the Chinese colonel who served as the unofficial military liaison between the government in Damascus and the People's Republic insisted that First Lieutenant Ciszak be turned over to them immediately. This led to some bitter infighting between senior Syrian officials. On one side there were some who had no desire MORE THAN COURAGE
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to part with any of their captives. To those responsible for generating propaganda and anti-American sentiment on the fabled Arab street as well as abroad, each and every American was a priceless gift from God whose value increased with each passing day. Like an exhibit in a private museum, profit could be reaped simply by displaying the American servicemen, especially one who was been wounded as Ciszak had been when Kilo One had blown up. Already the Syrians had recorded hours of film showing their doctors and nurses tenderly caring for Ciszak's numerous burns.
Time and time again the Syrian minister of information tried to point out that they had nothing to gain by giving in to the Chinese demands and everything to lose. "By releasing our footage showing how we are caring for the* wounded American we will put to the lie the rumors the Americans are spreading about the manner in which we are treating their soldiers," the minister insisted. "We have much to gain by keeping him and selectively granting access to those sympathetic to our goals or prominent figures whom we can exploit. In time I am sure we can use the wounded Air Force officer to extract concessions from the Americans they might not otherwise have granted."
The military leadership however had an entirely different perspective on the issues concerning Ciszak and the others. They saw the remaining Americans as little more than poker chips to be played when the time was right. Already they had made their influence felt in the matter concerning a trial and public execution for a Syrian traitor who had been captured. "So long as the Americans believe that time is on their side they will hesitate to take direct action to resolve the crisis. On the other hand if they feel that they have no choice but to act and act quickly, we may be able to stampede their political leaders to taking action before
their military is fully prepared. By bringing on battle sooner rather than later we increase the likelihood that their attempt to rescue the others will miscarry, a disaster that will enhance our national prestige and humble the arrogant Americans." Despite 244
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I
the fact that those who were against trading away their captives continued to point out that battles were notorious for yielding unintended results, the hard-line military faction won.
It was in this manner that the life of First Lieutenant Joseph Ciszak was reduced to that of a commodity. In exchange for state of-the-art-missile guidance systems for surface-to-air missiles the Syrians so desperately needed to counter American air power, the People's Liberation Army gained an intelligence asset that could be exploited in secret and at
their leisure. Having done this sort of 1
thing during the
Korean War and Vietnam, the Communist Chinese
understood that the knowledge Ciszak possessed concerning techniques and technologies used to coordinate air strikes was perishable.
The sooner they had him in an environment that they controlled, the more valuable the information he yielded would be when it came time to hone their own tactics and countermeasures.
The transfer took place at a military airfield just outside of Damascus. Had anyone been aware of it, they would have found it ironic that the very building and room where Syrians turned the stretcher-borne American Air Force officer over to the Chinese was the same one that Robert Delmont's plan had set aside to be
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the operations center of the 3rd Battalion, 75th Rangers while they were on the ground executing Operation Fanfare.
Arlington, Virginia
07:15 LOCAL (11:15 ZULU)
There seemed to be no end to the surprises that awaited Dulmont upon his return to the United States. The first could only be described as an absolute bolt out of the blue. With his mind still trying to adjust to the shift in time zones and cluttered with a number of unresolved issues, Dclmont had not bothered to look at the newspaper he picked up in the cafeteria along with his morning coffee. It wasn't until he was standing in line waiting to
pay when he caught sight of a photo of First Lieutenant Ken Aveno sandwiched in between photos of two women. Above MORE THAN COURAGE
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them the headline proclaimed "Wife Dumps Army Officer for Lesbian Lover."
Normally the special operations plans officer was able to control his response even when handed orders that were by any measure farcical and outrageous. This revelation, however, struck Delmont with all of his normal safeties off and guards down.