Hayes turned around, his face ashen, and said, “Sir, I was just about to come find you. You need to take a look at this.” His eyes were wary as he asked, “What about our boys outside?”
The machine gun fire had stopped, and an eerie silence had fallen over the compound.
“Staff Sergeant Hayes, I need you to compartmentalize right this second. This whole thing was a fucking trap. Our Marines, our friends, they’re all dead. They never had a chance.” A mix of emotions ran across the young staff sergeant’s face. Captain West thought he might lose it.
“Listen to me, Hayes,” he said solemnly but firmly, “we grieve for them when we get out of this mess. But in order to do that, we have to be smart. Do you know why?” Captain West didn’t wait for an answer. “So we can kill those motherfuckers outside and make them pay for what they did. You understand? I need you with me.”
Staff Sergeant Hayes nodded his head vigorously, trying to quell the grief he felt for his lost friends.
Before Captain West could say anything else, Sergeant Helms moved away from the table, exposing the item that had so transfixed him. It was a human head, resting in the middle of a plate in the center of the table.
That solves that mystery, Captain West thought.
The sight of the head didn’t faze him. In his current mental state, nothing short of the Second Coming would’ve had an impact.
But what did grab his attention was what was carved into the blond man’s forehead. It explained everything he needed to know, a violent epiphany laid out in flesh. In jagged gashes three inches tall was spelled “CIA.”
James, you sonofabitch. You’d better pray I die here.
The real objective of the mission was suddenly obvious. It wasn’t intended to capture one of Saddam’s henchmen. It was a rescue mission to save a captured CIA officer. James had manipulated all of them to do the CIA’s dirty work. He’d sent them straight into an ambush, and now ten of his Marines were dead because of it.
How could I be so stupid? He played me. Hell, he probably knew I’d kick him off the mission. He’s as insidious as the insurgents outside, maybe worse. At least outside, I know who my enemy is.
Unfortunately, before he could extract answers from James, he had to keep his Marines and himself alive.
Captain West spoke with a tone of command intended to focus his Marines on the task at hand. “We’re about to have company. We only have a few minutes. We’re making a stand here first, and then we’ll fall back to the other building.”
He issued his orders, his three Marines absorbing the details. It forced them to concentrate on their responsibilities and not on their fallen comrades.
“Sergeant Avery, run back to the rear entrance and make sure there are no insurgents back there. If we’re lucky, there won’t be. Set a Claymore fifteen feet from the entrance and run the wire back to the outside of that door.”
He pointed to the other entrance to the building, which faced south and provided a view of the southeastern entrance to the compound.
“You stay outside, and when the shooting starts, if they try to use that entrance, kill as many as you can. The Claymore will let me know they’re coming from that way. If we come flying out of this building, be prepared to run with the wire to the other building. Understand?”
Sergeant Avery responded, “Got it, sir. Kill as many as possible. I absolutely fucking understand,” he added for good measure.
“Sergeant Helms, radio the COC in Fallujah and see how fast they can get CAS out here. I don’t give a fuck about the cloud cover. Tell them we need a couple of F-15s, or better yet, A-10s. They should scramble from TQ. Tell them we have ten KIA and need rotor CASEVAC immediately. That should give them a sense of urgency. Stay in here and keep the radio silent until you hear from me on the internal,” he said, referring to his throat microphone.
Captain West looked at Staff Sergeant Hayes. “I want you to set up in the doorway in the other building. If they make it inside the compound, they’ll be focused on us in here. Most importantly, you need to wait until I open up. We’re going to trigger a Claymore first and wait for the second wave before we go to guns. Once I engage, kill everything with the SAW that comes through that doorway,” he said, pointing at the light machine gun Hayes carried.
“Gunny Quick and I will be outside this building, waiting for the bastards.”
Captain West started to move but then stopped as if he’d forgotten something. He turned to face the two young Marines.
“We have close to twenty insurgents with six technicals supported by indirect fire. They’re well trained, and we fell right into their trap. They killed our friends and brothers, even executed those that weren’t immediately killed. When they realize we’re here, they’re going to do the same to us. And quite honestly, I can’t fucking wait for them to try. These are evil men who did this. Now it’s our turn. No mercy, no hesitation. Not one of them leaves alive. Understand?”
His tone conveyed their sentiments exactly. They were with him to the bitter end.
Sergeant Matt Helms summed it up. “We kill them all or die trying.”
“That’s exactly what I had in mind, Sergeant.” Captain West turned and walked out into the night to join Gunny Quick in the calm before the second fierce storm of the night.
CHAPTER 31
Abdul Sattar wiped a sweaty palm across his bald head. It was a tic he’d formed at a young age, one that told the others he was pleased with both them and himself.
These Americans are so stupid. How could they truly believe they could occupy our country without suffering heavy casualties, especially at the hands of our holy warriors?
The ambush had been child’s play. Abu Omar’s mortar fire had been precise, and he had ten dead Americans to bring back to Abu Musab al-Zarqawi as trophies. The leader of Al Qaeda in Iraq would be pleased and reward Abdul Sattar and his men with more weapons and ammunition for their righteous cause.
It was al-Zarqawi who had orchestrated the operation. Their spiritual leader had received information on a CIA officer who was a member of an American task force hunting him. He’d lured the CIA agent and his driver out of the Green Zone in Baghdad by ordering one of his men to act as an informant and feed the CIA false information about weapons of mass destruction located near Fallujah.
The meeting had occurred off the military base and south of Camp Liberty. The CIA officer had foolishly believed his safety was “guaranteed,” but in this war, there were no guarantees.
Al-Zarqawi had kidnapped and smuggled the CIA officer to this location, tortured the man himself, and cut off his head when he’d finished with him. He’d then decided to use him for bait—and as an example.
Al-Zarqawi had wanted to actually participate in the ambush, but Abdul Sattar had insisted he remain in Ramadi, safe from the Americans and free to continue planning his attacks.
The genius of al-Zarqawi’s plan had borne fruit and provided more opportunities to exploit the Americans, displaying their weaknesses for all to see. A video of ten dead American “soldiers” would spread fear into the hearts of their enemies.
Abdul Sattar smiled at the thought, watching his men quickly move the bodies to the pickup trucks.
He looked at his watch. It was only 11:08 p.m.
Allah be praised. We are blessed in triumph.
Although he was grateful for the victory, he was still surprised at how easy it’d been. What he couldn’t figure out was why the Americans had fired upon the compound. Had someone inadvertently stumbled upon their safe house and decided to stay the night, forcing the Americans to act hastily? He couldn’t imagine any Iraqi male staying in the killing house once he’d seen what was inside.
He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he retrieved their corpses and left before American reinforcements arrived.
“Ziad!” he shouted to a taller, gaunt man dressed in a black jogging suit.
“We need to go! The Americans will be missed at some point
, and we cannot be here! Hurry up!”
Ziad barked orders to the rest of the freedom fighters. The words had the desired effect as they redoubled their efforts to get the bodies and gear loaded on the trucks.
As he watched the retrieval operation, one question continued to nag at his brain. What were the Americans shooting at?
He decided he did care and needed to know. He wasn’t concerned about the bodies inside since he knew they’d ultimately be discovered—were, in fact, intended as a message—but his personal curiosity finally outweighed his sense of urgency.
He turned back to his second in command. “Ziad, take three men and search the compound. I know we left it this morning and no one has been here, but I just want to make sure. These men were shooting at something, but the dead do not reveal their secrets, no? Maybe something spooked them. Who knows?” he said matter-of-factly.
Ziad didn’t question the order. He nodded his head and ordered the three closest men to join him.
They grabbed their AK-47s from the front of their pickup truck. They looked at Ziad expectantly, loyal followers waiting to do their leader’s bidding.
Ziad spoke. “We’re going to quickly search both houses just to be sure no one else has been inside, and then we get back here to finish picking up these dogs. We don’t have time to waste, understand?”
All three men nodded. “Allahu Akbar.”
Each had been with Abdul Sattar for more than a year and had participated in multiple operations against the Americans. It was the only response.
“We’ll be back shortly,” Ziad said to Abdul Sattar, and then added with a smirk, “Don’t leave without us, brother.”
Abdul Sattar smiled and said, “Never, brother. Allah has shined on us this glorious night, and we’ll celebrate our conquest together later. Now go!”
CHAPTER 32
Captain West was a statue, completely focused on the entrance thirty meters away. He lay prone, shrouded in shadows along the east edge of the house, his SOPMOD M4 aimed at the doorway. Gunny Quick lay next to him, the trigger for the Claymore mine in his hands.
Captain West knew they were too close to the mine to safely detonate it. He just hoped the edge of the house would shield them from the backblast and ricochets of the seven hundred steel balls that would be traveling at over 1,200 meters per second.
God, help me get us out of this one alive, he silently prayed, more for his remaining Marines than himself.
His prayers were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a man in a dark jumpsuit who slowly moved through the entrance into the compound. His weapon was up and ready as he searched the area.
Fortunately, Captain West and Gunny Quick were concealed in the darkness.
The man was followed by three more insurgents, all in dark clothing and carrying AK-47s. As soon as the last one entered the compound, all four fanned out in a single line, approximately twelve feet across, and slowly moved toward the entrance of the house.
Wait for it. Wait for it.
Captain West never had to utter a word. Gunny Quick was a master of timing. He chose the precise moment to squeeze the lever on the detonator. Captain West closed his eyes as he heard the clack.
Please let me at least survive the initial blast.
The Claymore exploded with a thunderous roar.
BOOM!
The flash of the explosion blinded the four insurgents milliseconds before the hundreds of one-eighth-inch steel balls tore dozens of holes through their flesh, piercing vital organs and shattering bones.
Captain West kept his eyes closed. Even with his gloved hands over his ears, he still heard the balls ricochet off the north wall and careen crazily throughout the front of the compound. He heard several impacts as steel balls impacted the front of both buildings.
When the whizzing of the projectiles ceased, he opened his eyes and saw four figures in tatters on the ground.
Burn in hell, assholes.
He looked at Gunny Quick to make sure he was unhurt by the flying steel. His platoon sergeant had already discarded the detonator and had his M-4 trained on the entrance. Captain West smiled at the quickness with which his second in command had switched weapons.
Always have to be one step ahead of me. Well, now the real fun begins.
* * *
Allah had been by Abdul Sattar’s side, for he’d walked away from the entrance to the compound and was thirty meters away, talking to one of his men, when the explosion occurred.
Three of his men weren’t so lucky. They were in the direct pathway of over two hundred steel balls that shot through the entrance and riddled them and the pickup truck behind them with ragged holes.
The remaining fighters initially stood shocked by the explosion before they regained their senses and dove to the ground for cover as they’d been trained to do.
Abdul Sattar searched for signs of the enemy. There were none. In fact, a deathly silence had fallen over the entire compound. The only sound was a constant stream of fluids leaking from the destroyed pickup truck to the dirt below.
We’re not alone.
Abdul Sattar rose to his feet and screamed at his men to grab their weapons. He motioned for Farraj to join him.
He reached into a jacket pocket, pulled out a gray cell phone, and punched a speed dial number, talking quickly to Farraj as he waited for the call to connect.
“Farraj, Ziad must be dead, Allah rest his soul. You are now in charge, do you understand?”
Farraj, a man in his midtwenties who was a fierce fighter, nodded, encouraged and proud to lead the remaining holy warriors.
“What will you have me do?” he said, addressing Abdul Sattar with complete deference.
“That was either a booby trap, or more Americans entered the compound before we arrived and are inside right now. I need you to take three more men and enter two by two through this entrance. This isn’t going to be easy. You and your best shooter go in second. If the Americans are waiting, they’ll hit the men in front of you and give you a chance to locate them and return fire. If you meet no resistance, check both buildings and get back here. We’re running out of time.”
Farraj nodded, unconcerned about risking the lives of two of his men. They would only see Paradise sooner. They served God’s will. What would happen would happen.
Inshallah.
“Good luck,” Abdul Sattar said.
He wondered if he’d just doomed Farraj to an early grave. He’d just lost seven good men. He only had eleven left, including himself. He couldn’t risk more, but he had to find out who was inside the compound. His curiosity was getting the better of him, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to know.
Suddenly, a voice spoke from the phone, and he heard Abu Omar. His thoughts switched to his next move. If indeed Americans remained alive inside, his dark mind had plans for them they most certainly would not enjoy.
CHAPTER 33
Captain West and Gunny Quick waited. Sergeant Helms informed him over the team channel that the COC in Fallujah had contacted Al Taqqadum, but direct air support was still twenty minutes out.
Probably trying to find the pilots at some base bar. Fucking cowboys . . .
Captain West wasn’t really counting on the air support. He knew their fates were going to be determined within the next few minutes, one way or another. What that fate would be was still a mystery.
How the insurgents responded to the mine that had just killed four of their men would be the determining factor and was the only question that mattered. He hoped the leader was wondering why there’d been no additional gunfire from the compound after the explosion. He knew the bald man couldn’t be certain Americans were actually inside.
Captain West’s breathing was slow and steady. His pulse remained at its normal resting rate. He realized that he’d entered mushin, a combat state of mind he’d once read about in a book on Zen while he was earning his first black belt in karate in college.
He had no fears, thoughts, or distractions.
He was completely focused on the doorway, prepared to react with maximum lethality.
There’s my answer.
The first man through the door appeared apprehensive. He paused as he saw the mutilated remains of his comrades. Captain West thought he looked like he was expecting to be shot at any moment.
Not quite yet, but soon.
A second man followed. He focused on the building immediately ahead of the entrance.
Captain West aimed through his reflex scope center-mass at the man on the left. He knew Staff Sergeant Hayes would target the insurgent on the right.
He exhaled as the two men stopped. He was moments away from slowly squeezing the trigger when two more men suddenly appeared through the entrance behind them.
The new men moved to the other side of the first pair and directly toward the other building and Hayes’s position.
Captain West immediately recognized his opportunity when all four insurgents inadvertently positioned themselves in an L formation. They presented perfect silhouettes and had exposed themselves to both fields of fire.
Now or never . . .
Captain West squeezed the trigger on the M4, firing controlled automatic bursts, first at the man on the left end of the L formation, and then at the others.
His aim was precise. The first salvo of rounds struck the insurgent in the chest with a wet thwuck! thwuck! thwuck! as the bullets pierced flesh and shattered his breastplate. One round tore through his heart, ending his life instantly. He crumpled to the ground as the second controlled burst struck the top of his head, shattering his skull into several pieces and tearing a chunk of his brain away for good measure.
Both Staff Sergeant Hayes and Gunny Quick had been prepared for Captain West to initiate the ambush. Once he did, they opened fire.
Gunny Quick dispatched the second insurgent on the right with a burst to the chest and one to the head. He fired early on the second burst, and one round ripped apart the insurgent’s throat, spraying blood into the air as he dropped his AK-47 and fell in a dead heap to the sand.
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