by Harold
Gathering his shooters well away from Azizi and Elham, the Hezbollah leader set up his unexpected star pupil for a lesson in humility.
“I have decided that we should sit down to study the lessons of Brother Larijani’s experience in Beirut. Because he is the first of you to experience sniper combat, each of you can learn from his observations and take them with you when your turn arises.” He turned to Larijani. “Brother, please describe your mission for us.”
Larijani shifted his position. All the men were sitting on the ground, arrayed in a circle. Esmaili usually conducted such meetings in that manner to reinforce the perception of equality among the cell members. It also meant that every man could look at everyone else, with attendant psychological pressures for composure and veracity.
“Well, we deployed as Brother Azizi directed. I was on the north side of the Zionist compound and Yazdi on the east. We were both roughly two hundred meters from the target area. We arrived in daylight to see the details and study the enemy patrol patterns. Then as night settled, we took our positions and waited for the time.”
When no one asked a question, Esmaili prompted with one. “How did you feel at that moment?”
“Teacher, I was ready to fill my mission.”
“Yes, yes. But how did you feel? Were you nervous or calm? What was in your heart?”
Larijani looked down. Then he raised his gaze. “I was afraid that I might fail to do my part.” He swallowed. “I did not want to disappoint anyone.”
Esmaili was taken aback. He did not expect so honest a response. He modulated his voice. “Yes, go on.”
The novitiate seemed to relax a little. “When we got the order to fire, I was looking at a sentry on the far wall. I placed him in my sight and fired.”
Hazim finally spoke. “What was your firing position?”
“I was sitting with my Dragunov resting on the edge of the wall.”
“Did you hit your target?”
Larijani hesitated for two heartbeats. “I believe so.”
Esmaili interjected. “You do not know? What about your spotter?”
“Well, I did not have a trained spotter. Just the security men from Beirut.”
“How many times did you fire?”
The shooter thought for a long moment. “Four or five times.”
Esmaili’s voice held an edge. “A trained sniper should know if it was four or five. Which was it?”
“I ... I think it was five. Yes, five.”
Nobody believed him.
Hazim asked the obvious question. “How many targets did you hit?”
Larijani bit his lip. “It was dark and I had no spotter.” He glanced away. “Maybe two or three.”
Esmaili was pulled in two directions. He could further humiliate the boy by stating that a trained marksman could call his shots even without a spotter to confirm the hits. The steadiness of the sight picture and the precision of the trigger release would tell a good shooter all he needed to know.
On the other hand, Larijani had been selected to die and for whatever reason—fate, coincidence, God—he had been spared. Whether he had dispatched two or three enemies, or more likely none, he had done his duty.
“Perhaps we will receive more information from our brothers in Beirut,” Esmaili purred. “But for the present, we can take the experience of Larijani and apply it to our own work when the time comes.”
Before rising, Esmaili locked eyes with Hazim. For anyone who cared to notice, the status quo ante had been restored.
* * * *
Part
4
THE MISSION
* * * *
22
HASBAYA, NABATIYEH GOVERNATE
Major Fahed Ayash provided the briefing almost before the SSI team had settled into temporary quarters.
“Welcome to Hasbaya, gentlemen. You will not be here very long but Lieutenant Colonel Leopole and I expect that some of you will be in and out of here, rotating from your militia areas. Therefore it is helpful for you to know something of the city.
“As you saw on the way in, Hasbaya is built on hills near Mount Hermon, sited around a tributary of the Hasbani River. The current population is about thirty thousand, and the local industries include grapes for wine and olive oil. Since you will be working with the Druze militia, you should know that a few kilometers northeast is the pilgrimage site of al Bayyada with its old praying halls.
“History is everywhere. Near Habbariye lie the ruins of a Roman temple with walls twenty-five feet high.” He gave a sardonic smile. “It says something that one of the newest tourist spots is the mosque with a distinctive hexagonal minaret. It was built in the thirteenth century.
“Otherwise, there’s the Chihabi Citadel from the Crusades in the eleventh century, plus the Chehab Palace.
“We’re not far from Syria. Damascus is only about thirty-five miles east, and the border is much closer. That is why your training mission is so important. The militias in the area are under increasing pressure from Hezbollah elements backed by Syria as well as Iran.”
Ayash turned to an easel with a map of the region. “Your primary operating areas are south and east of here, at the villages of Amasha and El-Arian. They are fairly small but their positions are important because they command obvious routes from the border, continuing farther inland to the south.” He paused for effect. “Obviously, that means toward Israel.”
Frank Leopole relieved Ayash at the front of the room, taking in the crowd of operators. He noted that most held rifles or carbines and some had sidearms as well. After the Beirut episode, he had recommended that everyone go armed everywhere, and the proliferation of AKs and Galils attested to the acceptance of his wisdom. Robert Pitney seemed content with his Springfield XD, but Leopole conceded that the speed shooter could do more with a pistol than many operators could accomplish with a rifle.
“Today we’re going to split up into two units,” Leopole began. “Partly that’s so each team can start focusing on its specific mission, and partly for security.” He did not have to elaborate. Bosco and Breezy exchanged hoo-ah glances, acknowledging that if one team was attacked before deploying to its village, the other would remain intact to accomplish its mission.
“I’ll take Team One to Amasha and Chris will have Team Two at El-Arian. Major Ayash will float between them as needed, and coordinate with our IDF liaison out of this facility.
“My team includes Bosco and Breezy, Pitney, and Barrkman. Our militia contact is Rami Hamadeh, who some of you have already met.
“Chris has Ashcroft, Green, Wallender, and Furr with Salah-Hassan Fares. He will be here tomorrow.
“Now, Barrkman and Furr. I know you sniper dudes would rather work together but we need to maximize our expertise so each of you can instruct the militia folks in your respective areas. If it becomes advisable to deploy an all-up team, we’ll pull one of you to work with the other but I hope that isn’t necessary.”
Furr folded his arms and said nothing. Barrkman slumped in his chair, clearly displeased with the decision. Neither would protest— they were far too professional for that and were being well paid besides.
Leopole turned to the map and tapped the appropriate locales. “The villes are about ten or eleven klicks apart. Depending on transport, that means we can reinforce each other in maybe ten minutes, barring en route problems. As soon as we arrive we’ll get on that contingency planning.”
Chris Nissen raised a hand. “Colonel, what’s current intel on the threat in that area?”
Leopole looked at Ayash for the answer. The Druze officer said, “It’s been a hot zone, Sergeant. And it’s likely to get hotter.”
* * * *
NABATIYEH GOVERNATE
Imam Elham summoned Esmaili and Azizi. “You have a mission.”
Esmaili absorbed the sentiment. We have a mission—he gives orders.
The cleric eased himself into a sitting position against a stone wall. “Your task is one of deception. We know that the
infidels expect Hezbollah to take action in this area. The geographic aspects are self-evident.” He nodded behind him, toward the Syrian border fifteen kilometers away. “Therefore, you will begin a series of small actions across a broad front. Using mortars and snipers, your group and others in this area will cause as much confusion as possible, especially among the Druze villages that command terrain features or important roads. They will know that greater action is pending, but not when. And that will be our advantage.”
Azizi ventured a question. “Imam, when is the time?”
Elham looked at Azizi for a long moment. “That will be revealed when you need to know.”
Esmaili was thinking ahead of the game, trying to anticipate problems and requirements. “A few questions, if I may,” he began. Without awaiting approval he pressed on. “Are we to conduct these deceptions as pinprick attacks to keep the enemy off balance, or on a scale large enough to desensitize them for the greater effort?”
The priest cocked his head as if studying a specimen under glass. “That is an astute question, brother. It shows that you appreciate the nuances of the endeavor.” He glanced briefly at Azizi, who turned red-faced at the implication. “How would you distinguish between the two?”
Esmaili felt himself warming to the subject. It was a welcome relief from his usual relationship with the imam. “Mainly it is a difference of scale. As you say, with some snipers and a few mortars we can keep things unsettled with minimal effort almost indefinitely. But if there is to be a large ground offensive, we will need more men and equipment. Also more supplies.”
Elham nodded. “Just so. For the present Tehran and Damascus have few fighters to spare. I can tell you that those available are either committed elsewhere or are being held in reserve. But this will be a multifaceted campaign, not limited to those who fight conventionally. You both know of the survey crews that have prepared possible rocket sites. There are also clandestine teams—special operations troops— who will use the confusion caused by the larger effort to accomplish their tasks.”
Azizi sought to ingratiate himself again. “Whatever the assignment, we will do it, Imam. When should we begin the attacks, and what are our targets?”
The priest pulled a printed sheet from his robe. “These are your objectives and the schedule. But tomorrow would not be too soon.”
* * * *
NORTHERN ISRAEL
“You’re wrong, Sol. It’s going to be even harder than we expected.”
Colonel Yakov Livni and Brigadier General Solomon Nadel had a peculiar relationship. Their respective duties—covert operations and conventional ground forces and logistics—necessarily overlapped on both sides of the Lebanese border. The irony was lost on neither officer that the colonel dictated his requirements to the general, but their mutual professionalism kept them on track.
Nadel was unaccustomed to colonels telling him that he was wrong, but in the freewheeling IDF such candor was not unknown. “All right, I said it would be difficult to provide support to the militia. If I’m wrong, tell me how it’s going to be even harder.”
Livni plunked his ample bulk into a straight-backed chair and jabbed a finger at the map. “From recent intelligence we know that Hezbollah is getting more direct support from Syria. Yes, the Iranians are the power behind Hezbollah but the geographic fact remains that they can’t do much without Syrian cooperation. That means it’s doubly difficult for us to keep track of their movements, let alone their intentions.” He pushed his glasses up on his forehead. “Without more eyes and ears on the ground, we can only guess at what the Druze are going to be faced with.”
Nadel paced a few steps away, then returned. “Look. That’s what I don’t understand. My God, Yakov, the Druze militias are already there. They live there! Surely they know the situation better than anybody in Jerusalem or Tel Aviv.”
“Stay with me, Solly. Yes, of course the Druze know the local situation. We rely on their information to produce our intelligence estimates. But they’re seeing the trees, not the forest. That’s why I’m saying that the reports you receive are more pessimistic, and justifiably so. They include information from more sensitive sources, especially back-channel reports and what the politicians call ‘technical methods.’ Of course that means signal intelligence and decrypts, but nobody wants to say so.”
Nadel threw up his hands. “All right, then. Quit trying to impress me with your high and mighty sources that you can’t reveal. For the moment let’s say that I accept them at face value. Just tell me what I need to know in order to support your Druze friends.”
Livni smiled for a change. “Now we’re getting somewhere. The American training teams are ready to move from Hasbaya to the first two villages. Amasha and El-Arian. There has already been sporadic Hezbollah action in that area. Nothing dramatic, just harassment. A few sniping incidents, some mortars and roadside bombs. But we expect that’s going to increase, either as part of a bigger harassment campaign or as cover for something else.”
“Cover? You mean something covert?”
An exaggerated shrug with raised hands. “It’s too early to tell. But I need your boys to be ready to reinforce either of those places on short notice. If Hezbollah makes an overt effort to seize one or the other, it could signal the start of a larger offensive. In that case, we need to move fast.”
“I agree. But in what strength?”
“General, I’m glad you asked.”
* * * *
23
SSI OFFICES
“Well, what’ve we heard?”
Michael Derringer was never known as a micromanager but when an operation was under way he liked to keep his thumb on its pulse. The impromptu meeting of the SSI brain trust was evidence of his concern.
As the senior operations officer, Sandy Carmichael had the conn. “Admiral, our teams are deploying to their operating areas. They’ll be in position later today. Frank has half the crew in a place called Amasha and Chris Nissen is taking the others to El-Arian. Both are villages south and east of Hasbaya.”
“Very well. How’s our comm with them?”
“So far, so good. Satellite phones work well, and for the reliability it’s worth two dollars a minute. Conventional phone service is adequate, and we also have e-mail contact but the server in that area seems somewhat erratic.”
“What about Frank’s contact with the IDF across the border? I mean, in case he needs reinforcements immediately.”
Carmichael nodded. “Sir, I was coming to that. Frank confirmed that he has round-the-clock contact with Northern Command. But if our guys were targeted in Beirut, it stands to reason they’ll be in the crosshairs out in the countryside. I’d like to know what we can do to extract them if necessary.”
Derringer turned to the visitor. “Mr. Baram?”
The Israeli diplomat leaned forward, hands clasped on the table. “I am glad that you asked me to this meeting, Admiral. Our Druze liaison officers are, of course, aware of the situation, and best positioned to provide timely assistance. Their counterparts in the IDF also will lend whatever assistance they can, and I understand that air evacuation is the best option.
“However, I agree that it would be helpful to have prior consent of, ah, certain U.S. Government assets in the region. I am making that request both to your State Department and Department of Defense, though it may be some time before I receive a response from either one.”
Derringer squirmed in his chair. “I’d feel better if that had been settled before our teams arrived in Hasbaya but I recognize the urgency our clients feel in getting the training started. Now, I’d like to think that we can rely on the IDF to extract our people on short notice. If there is any doubt about it, we need to know. Today.”
Baram looked into Derringer’s face. “Admiral, at present there is no doubt about our willingness to do so, and currently there’s not much doubt about our ability. I have dealt with the colonel running covert operations in Lebanon, and he is a good man. A very good man. If he say
s something will be done, it usually gets done.”
The SSI president swiveled his chair side to side. “Very well, then. I’ll accept that at face value.” He turned to Carmichael. “But I’d like to see if we might tap our SecNav or even DoD contacts. It’d be the long way around, but the amphibious group in the eastern Med could get some choppers in there.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve already staffed it. Depending on specifics, it’s about twenty-five to thirty miles from the coast to our op areas. There are terrain features that would be helpful during ingress and egress, but until we know something about threat levels it’s too early to say whether H-46s or 53s would be able to operate in that environment.”
“Oh, how’s that?”