Little leaned toward the console, pointing. “Here. These four here. Look at their hands. This one has one finger down. This next one has four fingers down. The next one here has three fingers down, and the last one has his fist clenched, signaling zero. Don’t you see? One, four, three, zero. That was their flight number: fourteen thirty.”
Brodie was incredulous. “Now that’s grasping at straws.”
“But think about it, Captain. These people obviously knew that this was being transmitted to us and signaled us in a way they hoped only we would see.”
Brodie paused, trying to put his thoughts together as he rubbed his face.
“Think about it, sir. They’re signaling us with their flight number, and it was transmitted to us on our emergency frequency for five minutes exactly. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know this means something.”
“Okay.” Brodie leaned back. “I’ll get a report out to the State Department and see if we can’t get a small recon team in to check it out.”
“Sir...” Little hesitated, not wanting to upset the captain by pressing the issue. “You don’t really need the State Department to send in a recon team. I mean, if this goes to the State Department, it’ll be tied up in red tape for God knows how long.”
Brodie sighed, then looked at his junior officer, knowing he was right. “You have a point there. I’ll sleep on it and let you know tomorrow. Obviously, they’re not going anywhere.”
He left Ops already knowing what he was going to do. Little was onto something, and he could sense it, too. It just didn’t seem to fit as some kind of Iraqi trick. It was just too obvious. Besides, a recon team would be in and out in twenty-four hours, giving him much more accurate information for the State Department. He sat down in the captain’s chair on the bridge. “Get Captain Wright from the Marine Tactical Unit up here ASAP.”
Main Operations Center, USS Roosevelt
Persian Gulf
Captain Wright sat alongside a half dozen intelligence officers as he watched the film carefully. Brodie stood off to the side observing. Wright was a man of intimidating stature. His powerful arms and chest made everyone think twice about tangling with him. Handsome and trim, women adored him, from his perfectly chiseled jawline to his muscles bulging from his short-sleeved shirt.
He had been preparing himself and his men for a covert operation behind the lines to gather information about enemy strengths and positions. He and his men were considered the elite of the Marine Recon units, hand-picked and specially-trained. They had to endure the most rigorous training program of any unit in the U.S. military. They were the best-of-the-best.
Part of their mission was to disrupt supply lines if the opportunity arose, but now it seemed that his mission was about to change. As he watched the film, it seemed to be more confusing than informative. It was obviously taken by a surveillance camera panning back and forth across a room of civilians. He wondered how they got this film.
Finally, the film ended, and the lights came on. Brodie stepped forward, looking directly at Wright. “Did you notice anything unusual about the film, Captain?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. I take it these are prisoners, probably from the hijacked flight that was headed to Israel the other day?”
“That’s correct.” Brodie paused and continued to stare at Wright as if he were expecting Wright to continue. Wright took the cue and went on.
“We were probably sent this film and a list of demands...” He looked around the room for agreement, but no one spoke or nodded. They all just continued to stare with blank expressions on their faces.
Finally, Brodie walked to the front of the room and faced Wright directly. “No, that is not correct. We intercepted this transmission coming from an unpopulated, remote location southeast of Baghdad. The point of origin is not known to be of any military value, and, to top it off, it was transmitted on our armed forces emergency band. So now you know as much as we do. We don’t have any answers, just lots of questions. We don’t know who broadcast it, or where and when this film was taken. We don’t even have a clue as to why it was transmitted. That’s where you come in. We’re sending you in to the location of the transmission to try to establish who transmitted it and to gather any other information you can. We sent a reconnaissance flight into the area to get an idea of what you can expect, but the film isn’t out of the lab yet. The only thing I can tell you is that the pilot reported seeing what looked like some old abandoned buildings. Hopefully, we’ll have more to give you before you go in. But don’t take any chances. You’ll be going in as a recon squad only, and I do stress only! If the Iraqis sent this film, then you can expect that this is a trap. You are to avoid any and all contact with the enemy. If there are hostages there, you are not to attempt a rescue under any circumstances. Do you understand me, Captain?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Questions?”
“When will we be going in?”
“We have the chopper warming up now. These men will brief you. Now, if there are no further questions, I’ve got work to do.”
Wright and three others of the Marine tactical team were aboard a SH-53E Super Stallion as it lifted off the deck of the Roosevelt. It would be four and a half hours before they would reach their destination. He studied the map, carefully examining the terrain while his team checked out the equipment. They had sophisticated equipment that could snoop the compound for even the faintest broadcasts and record them for evaluation by the intelligence staff aboard the Roosevelt.
The plan was pretty straightforward. They would land two miles northeast of the compound and hump to the compound under the cover of night to set up the listening post. His men were each specialists in a specific field. Tommy was the sniper and weapons expert. John was a medic and engineer. Kevin was probably the only one who would get any real work. He was a communications specialist and would snoop through the compound with his electronic eyes and ears. These men made a habit of never learning the last names of the team members. Their dog tags and other identifying papers would be left on the helicopter. If everything went as planned, the helicopter would be back tomorrow to pick them up again.
Wright considered the film he had watched prior to the mission. It was possible that these people were placed there as a trap. But then, it was their job to determine whether or not that was the case.
Known for his resourcefulness and the ability to get the job done, Wright didn’t always follow his orders by the letter or do his mission by the book. And now he was about to give an order that went against everything their training always stressed.
“Tommy,” Wright shouted over the noise of the turbines. “When we land, you are to split from the group and head due east until you are one thousand yards out. You are our ambush.”
The team members exchanged nervous glances. Obviously, no one favored the idea of being separated from each other.
“This could be a trap. I’m not going to have us walk right into the middle of it, without something to back us up. Tommy, that’s where you come in. You are to make continuous sweeps of our position and watch for anything suspicious.” Wright turned his attention to the others. “Now, listen up, everybody! If it’s a trap, you are to split up and meet at our rendezvous point. Remember, there is no support or backup. If you have any trouble, it’s up to you to shoot, blast, or hump your way out of it.”
Day Four
Wasit Territory
East Central Iraq
Once the helicopter was within fifty miles of the compound, it dropped down to treetop level and closed in slowly. A small hill about five miles from the compound provided adequate cover for the helicopter to set down and offload the Marines and their supplies. It only took a minute, then the helicopter was off again, and the Marines were on their way.
By midnight, the recon team had covered the five miles and was setting up a base of operation five hundred yards from the compound. Since there was absolutely no sign of enemy patrols or an ambush, Wright ordere
d Tommy to advance and observe the compound while Kevin set up his equipment. John unpacked the Claymore mines and began to prepare booby traps around their position to provide interference for their escape should they be attacked.
Wright used his PVS-5 Night Vision viewer to study the compound and the surrounding terrain. As near as he could tell, there was absolutely no activity. Could it be they were completely unaware of the transmission?
“This place should be crawling with security forces.” None of this made any sense.
Tommy was nearly invisible under his camouflage as he crawled on his stomach toward the compound. He kept his M-14 positioned carefully in front of one eye to allow him to continue to observe the compound through his powerful 12X scope. There was no activity except for a few guards in the towers either sleeping or resting. We could take this place now, he thought.
He was just outside the wall of the compound. There didn’t seem to be any exterior lights, dogs, or roving patrols. It would take him, he estimated, approximately thirty seconds to take out the few guards who stood watch and get inside the walls of this compound.
He was only a hundred yards away, looking through the sniper scope. There’s one of them at the window, he thought. Now we know exactly where they are being held. If this were a rescue and not a reconnaissance mission, there would be no debate on what to do. But he’d seen all he needed to see. Now he needed to get back.
Wright had reached the same conclusion as Tommy. They were in an ideal position to capture the compound and the element of surprise would be complete. The only problem was that the pickup would not be taking place until tomorrow night, and it would be just a single helicopter.
“Sir,“ Kevin whispered to Wright. “Take a look.”
Wright crawled back to the hole in which Kevin had set up his equipment. A desert camouflage net was drooped over it with a few dead branches that would make it next to impossible to see without a deliberate ground search of the area.
“That’s it! Roll the tape.”
The monitor displayed a picture of the passengers asleep on blankets in a large room. It was the same picture that they had seen aboard the Roosevelt.
“It must be broadcast from a closed circuit surveillance camera. I don’t believe it has a range of much over a thousand yards.”
“How would it be possible to broadcast a signal four hundred miles?”
“It can’t! See the static here? This signal is barely strong enough to reach us here. It’s probably being transmitted to a security room where they can monitor the prisoners.”
“Are they transmitting sound?”
“Nope. Picture only.”
Wright shook his head in bewilderment. “I’ve got two questions that don’t add up to anything. Number one, how could this signal be transmitted four hundred miles, and number two, why would they want to?”
“Well, I can answer number one. Look at this.” He pointed to an area on the monitor. “If I’m right, that’s a high aspect remote broadcasting television camera.”
“I’m not following you.”
“It’s simple. All you’d need is something like a beeper that can receive local signals and attach it to that camera. The camera would, in turn, rebroadcast the same signal. Any first year electronics student should be able to do that.”
Wright’s eyes opened wide in surprise as he looked back at the compound. “Then that explains everything! That’s why there’s no beefed up security. It isn’t a trap! The passengers themselves sent the signal as a request for help. If we’re going to send a rescue team here, then it needs to be done now before Iraq figures out what happened.”
Wright reflected for a moment. They had not come equipt to do it themselves, so it would have to wait. Kevin continued his electronic search of the compound while recording the transmission.
Kevin carefully aimed a directional microphone at the windows. These sensitive microphones could pick up the sound vibrations that echoed off the window glass when people talked. He listened through his headset. “I’ve got English. It’s English with a definite American accent.”
“Tape it all. We’ll let Intelligence glean through it when we get back.”
Day Five
Wasit Prison Facility
East Central Iraq
Prisoner Barracks
The dawn broke with the sound of an approaching motorcade. Rob and most of the other prisoners were awakened by the noise as the trucks and tracked vehicles pulled into the compound. Two of the tracked vehicles carried radar and missiles on top while others bristled with guns and cannons. The motorcade also included a command vehicle as well as a dozen trucks full of soldiers. The soldiers quickly vacated the trucks and begun to start unloading machine guns, rocket launchers, and other supplies.
Taylor was watching through the window. “I wonder what’s up.”
“Do who you think they’re going to move us again?”
“Maybe they’re on their way to the front and stopping for a rest.”
The group was full of comments and questions. No one had any idea what was going on. Rob was gravely concerned and glanced over in Logan’s direction. Logan was staring back toward Rob with a very worried look on his face, and ever so slightly, he shook his head. They were unloading all their equipment, so they must be staying. They were making it much more difficult for any rescue attempt to be made. They must have discovered the transmission.
Rob sighed in resignation and turned away from the window. They were not going to be rescued after all. He did not have to know Arabic to figure out what they were shouting about outside the window. An officer was instructing other men how to position the equipment and vehicles. They were setting up a trap, an ambush for any rescuers. He looked back toward the window. The cameramen were filming the event, and the ever-present director was narrating. He nudged Taylor to follow him as he walked over and sat down behind one of the pillars.
“What’s up?”
“The day before yesterday, the same afternoon that you arrived here, we transmitted a signal on the American emergency band.”
Taylor stared, absorbing what Rob just told him. “What? How?”
“We intercepted the signal transmitted by their closed circuit camera and rebroadcast the signal to the American band.”
“Why did you wait until now to tell me about this?”
“Because I didn’t know positively that you really were from the U.S. Army.”
“Then why tell me now?”
“Because of them.” Rob pointed to the window.
Taylor was thoroughly confused.
“Why are they here? What do they intend to do? Did Iraq intercept the signal, too? I need your advice.”
Taylor leaned back against the pillar, closed his eyes, and let out a deep sigh. “I see. So you think it’s a trap, don’t you? You think that the Iraqis intercepted the signal and are sending in forces to defend this compound, don you? Perhaps you’re right.”
Taylor wiped his face with his hand and leaned forward. “The Iraqis monitor the same bands our military does, and it is most certain that they have seen any transmissions that U.S. Army received. But our forces will not send in a rescue party without first doing some kind of recon. The recon will see these reinforcements and take them into consideration.”
Rob felt a little better.
“Tell me, what kind of advice are you looking for?”
Rob wanted to be careful. “We could, you know, broadcast another signal of what’s going on out there.”
“I don’t think that would be necessary. Like I said, they’ll recon this area carefully before they come... If they come.”
Logan looks worried, Marie thought to herself. He must have an exciting life. She was aware of her admiration for him, but she also knew that was as far as it went. She was equally aware that she was scared and didn’t have Rob to lean on like she did in most other circumstances. It was difficult for her because this man was gentle and seemed to be genuinely concerned abo
ut her feelings. He kept to himself and seemed to be so lonely that it was hard for her not to feel sorry for him.
Logan suddenly glanced over at her, startling her. She realized that she was staring and day dreaming, so she turned away to focus on her children.
Logan was certainly worried, but not because of the military force that he seen. He recognized the officer giving all the orders. He was an Iraqi intelligence officer who may also recognize him as an Israeli intelligence officer. He would need to keep an even lower profile than he originally thought. He noticed Marie staring at him and felt that she was growing too attached to him. On one hand, he wanted to keep close tabs on her, yet he couldn’t afford to do anything that would draw attention to himself.
Then there was this young girl, Terry. Bright, attractive, and single, just the kind of girl who could cause a soldier to lose focus. He would like to get to know her better, but in his line of work, too close a friendship with an Arab girl could cost him his career. He looked back out the window at the Arab officer. He would just have to deal with things as they happened.
Ron Schwartz - The Griffins Heart.txt Page 10