by C. G. Cooper
Chapter 28
U.S. Embassy
Baghdad, Iraq
8:37am AST, August 15th
They had to get a good view of the mob. Impossible from the inside. If they scaled the walls, there was the very real likelihood of being shot. The screams were deafening as they approached the main gate. Mortar rounds had taken out chunks of pavement and pieces of the protective nine foot blast walls. Dead bodies littered the way, staffers who’d died in the initial barrage. Cal didn’t see any dead Marines.
Daniel pointed to an oversized construction excavator up ahead, its tilting bucket now lying on the ground.
“Maybe we can get a better look with that,” he said as they ran.
“You know how to use one?” asked Cal.
“I’m sure one of the others do.”
They got to the Caterpillar brand excavator.
“Anyone know how to work this thing?” Cal asked the rest of the team.
Valko raised his hand. “I can.”
“Good. Me and Daniel are gonna take a look. Don’t drop us, okay?”
Valko nodded and made his way to the vehicle’s cab. Apparently the keys were still in the ignition because the Bulgarian cranked it up immediately, maneuvering the arm around so that the front of the cab now faced the high wall.
Cal and Daniel hopped into the bucket and were lifted into the air. They had decent cover behind the metal plating unless someone had an RPG, Cal figured. The tracked vehicle shifted into gear and moved forward, its arm extending out and up, reaching.
They could see over the first wall and then the second. Arms waving, some members of the mob were carrying flags.
“They don’t look like terrorists,” said Cal, scanning the crowd as they lifted into a better vantage point, careful not to expose themselves too far from behind the clawed bucket.
Daniel had a pair of mini binoculars to his eyes.
“I don’t see any weapons,” said the sniper.
“What? How is that possible?” Cal had never faced down a group this large. The crowd extended back as far as he could see, easily filling the street abutting the embassy.
Daniel didn’t answer for a moment, and then pointed suddenly. “There’s a guy with an AK.” The sniper unslung his rifle and took a look through his scope. “I could take him out, but…Cal, the rest of those people look scared.”
Cal grabbed Daniel’s binoculars and panned over the screaming crowd. Everything came into focus when he saw the tear-streaked face of a woman carrying a wailing child in her arms. “What the—?”
A round pinged off the thick bucket, making both of the Marines duck.
“I don’t think this is what we thought it was,” said Cal as he motioned for Valko to lower them down to the ground.
“Me neither,” agreed Daniel.
The leaders of the international teams gathered around when they touched down.
“What’s the situation?” asked Gene Kreyling, the Brit obviously ready to do something productive.
Cal shook his head. “I can’t be sure, but this doesn’t look like a mob that wants to storm the embassy.”
“They already overwhelmed the first layer of defense,” argued Owen Fox, the Aussie’s wavy hair held back by a red bandana.
“I think we’ve got agitators in the crowd, probably prodding the rest. The worst thing we can do is start firing at innocents,” said Cal, trying to figure out how they could deal with the situation.
No one said a word. It was one thing to kill an enemy. It was quite another to find them like a needle in a haystack and kill them without wounding everyone else.
The initiative was taken from them as the first head popped over the wall, the man throwing his arm and then leg over. He was not armed, eyes wide as he took his first look into the complex.
“Fox, take your snipers to the best vantage point you can get. We may need your cover. Daniel, you go with them. The rest of us will split into two teams and hop over the wall. Maybe we can get around the crowd and find out who’s pulling the strings.”
There were no objections, their options limited. Already there were more embassy security forces sprinting to the main gate. They could take care of the people climbing over. Cal had to find whoever was controlling the thousands just outside the embassy walls.
Less than five minutes later, Cal’s half of the team, which included MSgt Trent, the Bulgarians and the Japanese, scaled the wall at a point where they’d determined the crowd couldn’t see them.
The Japanese went over first, assisted by thin but sturdy black line with grapple hooks that snapped open with a click.
Cal couldn’t believe how fast Kokubu and his men went up and over. Nimble ninjas. Cal, Trent and the Bulgarians went next, not as swiftly, but successfully.
Cars littered the road, drivers having decided it was better to leave them where they were rather than getting caught in the ongoing battle. The team spread out and trotted toward the crowd. In less than a block the mob came into view.
The crowd’s attention was on the embassy gate, giving Cal the ability to get his team in close. Apart from the yelling and lack of weapons, nothing seemed out of place.
A moment later Cal heard a distinctive rifle shot in the distance. It had to be the snipers. One down and who knew how many left to go.
The crowd pulsed with agitated energy, surged forward and back as if willing the front row through the heavily reinforced embassy walls. As they neared, one man turned around, his face hard, concentrating. His eyes bulged when he saw Cal’s men, his arm lifting from under his robes, a sawed-off shotgun rising in hasty aim. Cal and Valko were the first ones to respond, easily putting three rounds apiece center mass, the man going down before he could pull the trigger.
“Let’s split off in twos. Valko, you’re with me,” said Cal.
The Bulgarian didn’t argue.
Cal assumed the ring leaders were probably on the periphery just like the guy they’d just shot. It would make it easier to find them and kill them. Sure enough, not thirty seconds later, another weapon popped out. Cal disposed of the shooter with a clean shot in the face.
The next guy jumped on Valko from behind, but the strong Bulgarian flipped the man over his body, crashing into scared onlookers who backed away as much as they could in the cramped crowd. Valko didn’t hesitate, crushing the man’s face with three powerful strikes from the butt of his assault rifle.
Three more shots from Daniel and the Aussie snipers. Good, but not good enough. Cal was starting to think it could take forever to find the rest of the enemy when Kokubu walked up holding a katana blade, its razor sharp edge lined with blood.
“We saw armed men running away from the crowd and found the demonstration organizer. He’s American,” said Kokubu, in his matter-of-fact tone. Cal couldn’t believe the guy was holding a sword. There’d be time to ask about that later.
“Where is he?”
Kokubu pointed back over his shoulder.
Cal found the American sitting on the street, his pants soaked, probably with his own urine. He was shaking as he tried to gulp water from the canteen one of Kokubu’s men had given him.
“You okay?” asked Cal.
The man, who looked like a prototypical Ivy League bookworm, shielded his eyes from the sun with his free hand.
“Who are you?” he asked.
Cal ignored the question. “Tell us what happened.”
The trembling man told them the story, including how they’d been ushered at gunpoint toward the embassy and how one of his assistants had been shot for refusing to scale the wall.
“I mean, they just shot him, right there in front of me. This was a peace march for God’s sake!”
He was crying as he cradled the canteen to his chest.
“Where did they go?” asked Cal, who was nervous standing out in the open. The others were covering him, but he was still a sitting duck.
“The shots started a couple minutes ago, and the guy in charge heard something ov
er his earpiece. They took off right after that.”
“How was he communicating with the crowd?”
The man pointed to something lying on the ground a few feet away. Cal saw the megaphone and went to pick it up. It was cracked from where someone had dropped it on the ground, but it still came to life when he switched it on.
He held the thing out to the guy on the ground.
“I need you to tell them that it’s over.”
+++
Somehow there weren’t many wounded peace marchers. Most were scared and more than happy to disperse when Martin Gleason, the march organizer, told them it was okay to go home. Cal directed Gleason to tell them to take their time leaving so no one would get trampled.
Whether because of tired relief, or the thought that guns were still trained on them, the crowd broke up gradually. Friends huddled together, crying as they held each other close.
The wounded were triaged by the Japanese while the dead bodies of the ISIS soldiers were left for someone else to clean up.
Cal knew they’d been lucky. It could’ve been a lot worse. His team had come away unscathed, but they were all as ready as Cal to go on the offensive. They left the cleanup to the embassy security personnel and the Iraqi police. Cal and his men slipped through the throngs and made their way back inside the embassy.
Chapter 29
The White House
Washington, D.C.
6:58am, August 15th
President Zimmer stood behind the curtain and waited for his cue to take the podium. By now everyone had heard about the attack on the embassy in Baghdad. Few people knew all the details. The president was one of a handful.
Hours before, ISIS had posted a video lauding their brave soldiers who’d stormed the embassy, killing thousands of Americans in the process. It was a lie, a way to save face and try to get ahead of the global media. Zimmer would not let that happen. It was time.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the president,” announced Bob Lundgren, the White House press secretary.
Everyone in the packed room stood as Zimmer marched in. There were whispers as they noticed his attire. No shirt and tie. No suit or even a sport coat. He wore a leather bomber jacket with President B. Zimmer embroidered over the right pocket and a patch over the left that had the words United States embroidered on the American flag. It had been a gift from a group of special ops vets the month before. They’d invited him to Tampa for a roundtable discussion about the ongoing terrorist threats. Though no longer part of the active duty military, those men still felt deeply responsible for the future of their country and the free world. They’d offered to help. He hoped those men were watching now. Warriors like them had inspired him to act.
“Thank you all for coming. I’d like to address the American people first.” Zimmer looked directly into the camera, his eyes determined, lips tight. “Fellow Americans, as most of you know by now, at approximately one o’clock in the morning Eastern Time, the terrorists of ISIS attacked our embassy in Iraq. We don’t have the complete picture yet, but I can give you what we do know. The number of dead and wounded is still being assessed.
“At 7:15am Baghdad time, a group of approximately fifteen thousand unarmed marchers, dedicated to pursuing peace in Iraq and the Middle East, were accosted by armed ISIS thugs. The peaceful marchers were herded to the gates of the U.S. Embassy as a diversionary tactic. Ten were killed and over one hundred were wounded.
“The second diversion came from south of the embassy where an Iraqi military parade was commandeered by traitors within the Iraqi army. Countless rockets and artillery rounds pounded the embassy complex as embassy staffers started their day. Dead and wounded littered the embassy streets as the cowards assaulted from across the Tigris.
“While the two diversions engaged from the north and south, an EgyptAir 767 was hijacked by another ISIS element. The hijackers took control of the plane and aimed for the heart of our embassy. The embassy currently employs over ten thousand Americans and foreign nationals, most of whom were on their way to work.”
Zimmer paused, his eyes softening as he began again.
“Were it not for the selfless and heroic action of Navy Lieutenant Commander Dillon McKay, a husband and father of two, a former member of the Blue Angels, who somehow guided the larger airliner out of its intended path and into the Tigris River, thousands would have been lost. Fittingly, McKay’s call sign, Crapshoot, given to him for his steadfast belief in doing the right thing despite the possible outcome, served his purpose. It could have gone either way, but due to his skill and ultimate sacrifice, the aerial attack was thwarted.
“I have spoken to Lieutenant Commander McKay’s wife, Patty, and extended my condolences along with the gratitude of the American people. Because of the number of witnesses to McKay’s act, along with the bi-partisan support of Congress and the unanimous support of our military leadership, Lieutenant Commander Dillon McKay will receive the Medal of Honor posthumously at a date determined by Mrs. McKay.
“Commander McKay wasn’t the only hero in Baghdad. His wingman, Lieutenant Joey Nitalli, a second generation Italian-American from the Bronx, took the initiative and wiped out the entire column of vehicles that continued to pound our embassy with deadly fire. Unopposed, those vehicles would surely have killed many more were it not for Nitalli’s bravery. I commend him for his actions and have recommended to the chairman of the joint chiefs that Lieutenant Nitalli receive the Navy Cross for his actions.
“Despite what some of you may think, these are not dark times. The bravery of our men and women in and out of uniform shows us there is always hope. No matter how close the peril and no matter how deep the opposing evil, we will stand, heads held high, jaw set, united.
“That brings me to the next part of my address. To the thugs and prospective recruits of the group known as ISIS, your time has come. While you may think the American people are weary of war, I am here to tell you that her military is not. You see us as a weak country that would rather lounge on the beach than fight. You couldn’t be more wrong. What you’ve forgotten is that in addition to our armed forces, we also have thousands of former special operations veterans who’ve come to me personally and volunteered for future service. They, along with our active duty military, can’t wait to come find you.
“Effective immediately, my administration will do everything in its power to protect the American people and its allies. This is not a question of money or power. This is a battle between right and wrong, between good and evil. We will win. This will not be a fight; this will be a tsunami overwhelming your forces wherever they might be.
“To the American people who believe that war is wrong, that peace should prevail, I would say that I agree. But in order to have peace, we must first have justice. We cannot and will not negotiate with terrorists or their supporters. These murderers will not see a courtroom and they will not see the inside of a jail cell. There is only one fate these cowards deserve.
“Here is my six step process for how we will first start with ISIS and then build an international force that will fight terrorism and corruption wherever it appears.
“First, in dedication to Lieutenant Commander McKay, Operation Crapshoot commenced at six o’clock this morning. I’ve directed a handpicked team currently deployed in Iraq to coordinate a tenfold increase in aerial bombing and close air support. In addition to aerial support, fifteen civilian security companies, including delegations from our international allies, are flying special operations veterans into Iraq. Those forces will be tasked with finding and annihilating ISIS, wherever they walk, eat or sleep. I’ve been told that they can’t wait to get started.
“Second, going forward, our military will be a major component in our battle against evil. Militaries need training. I’ve been assured by General McMillan and his staff that there is no better final training test than live combat. So without much more expenditure, we will do two things, train our troops of the future, and wipe out international threats.
/> “Third, I have a message for our allies. If you need us, we will be there. If evil raises its ugly head, we will be with you, arm in arm, fighting for what is right. But that aid comes with a caveat. Our allies must be dedicated to the common global ideals of personal and religious freedom. Any supposed ally who ignores these terms will find themselves without impunity. A criminal is a criminal. A thief is a thief. Decide which side you’re on, because our side carries a big stick.
“Fourth, to the religious leaders of the world, especially those of Islam, though we live with differing traditions, we are still one people on this Earth. What one person does always has the possibility of affecting others. If you want to be part of our community, it is time to do your part. Denounce the criminals who besmirch your faith. Tell your followers the true meaning of the Koran. Do not let the money and influence of hypocrites taint your religion or your people. We request that you do this now, respectfully, or face the scrutiny of America and our allies.
“Fifth, starting today, an unprecedented coalition of three former American presidents, my predecessor included, will travel around the globe to strengthen our alliances. Much like our brave military leaders, we will lead from the front, go where we are needed. We will go toe to toe with any who would seek to undermine our good intentions, and who trample the freedoms of our citizens. In the coming days you will find out how great our resolve truly is.
“Sixth, my staff is in the process of drafting a proposal for the members of the United Nations. The proposal will outline our recommendations for the formation of an international terrorism strike force along with an international tax that will fund ongoing anti-terrorism operations. Only the countries that contribute to this fund will be supported by the strike force. You pay to play.”