The old man finally smiled. “I know why you are here.”
“Really? Tell me, then.”
“You are part of a small commando force heading to Samarra. We know about the nuclear weapons being transported to the Samarra compound.”
It took all the control he could muster not to show his surprise. He swallowed hard. “Okay, so you know why I am here. Why are you here?”
“We live here, and we’re hunting. If an Iraqi soldier happens to get in the way...”
Wright decided to take a chance. “Do you know where the Samarra compound is?”
“Of course. This is our land.”
“Could you show me on this map?”
The old man’s smile faded. “Tell me, why don’t you know where it is?”
Wright began to get nervous and hesitated. The old man motioned his fellow tribesmen to approach, raised his old bolt-action gun, and pointed it at Wright’s chest. “I want to know how it is that you do not know where the compound is located. Are you Russian?”
Whatever doubts Wright may have had about this man’s hate for Iraqi soldiers were gone. Other tribesmen were approaching from all around him. “Okay, you were right. There are other men in the brush surrounding us.”
The old man was unshaken.
“You were also right that we are a small commando unit. However, we did not know about the nuclear weapons. We are not on a mission to destroy them.” Wright paused and swallowed slowly as he looked into the eyes of the men surrounding him. “Actually, we are part of a larger commando squad that tried to rescue some prisoners from a compound about seventy-five miles south of here.”
The old man smiled and lowered his weapon. “Oh, yes. We have heard of that failure. But why are you here, so far north.”
“We were looking for a tribe willing to help us get out of Iraq.”
“Are you looking to get out of Iraq or to attack the compound where the nuclear weapons are?”
“Well, now that we know about the weapons, we’re looking to attack the compound and then get out of the country.”
“Well, then, call your men in, if you want, or have them follow us. We’ll take you there. But leave your jeep. There are other vehicles there that you can use.”
Wright called his men in. The way he saw it, this was their best chance. If there were nuclear weapons, they must try to destroy them at any cost.
Day Eight
Third Infantry Division Staging Area
Fifteen miles west of Al-Jubayl, Saudi Arabia
The sinking of three large transport ships cost the U.S. more than seventy-five M1 Abrams heavy tanks, along with other supporting vehicles and supplies. With the loss of so much equipment, the plans the U.S. Army had for a rapid reinforcement of its front lines had crumbled. These supplies were the last hope of the U.S. forces for reinforcing their depleted divisions and stopping the enemy’s imminent breakthrough.
The commanders of the Third Infantry Division had seen their supply of M1 Abrams reassigned to supply the front-line Armor Divisions. By the time their troops arrived in Saudi Arabia, the last M1 was on its way to the front. Now, with their supply of tanks lost, they were forced to consider going into action without the equipment or the supplies they needed. Replacements for the lost equipment and supplies could be flown in from the States, but that would take weeks.
The division commander could wait no longer. His division would have to go anyway.
General Archie O’Brian was the commander of the Third Infantry, and Colonel Jack Cannon was his closest aid. O’Brian had come up through the ranks of the Third Infantry during his twenty-five years in the service. He looked every bit the part of a leader, tall and trim with a booming voice that demanded the respect due him. Though he seemed hard as rock on the job, he was a teddybear to his grandkids.
Cannon, on the other hand, had spent most of his career working at the pentagon and still possessed the Washington mentality that most field commanders considered out of touch with the realities of war. His silver hair and bushy eyebrows gave him an air of distinction, but he was not used to the physical demands of this field assignment. Years of soft Washington lifestyle had taken its toll, and he found himself now woefully out of shape. He knew his place. He was an analyst and felt compelled to consider every option, especially in view of their most recent assignment.
“It’s official, Archie!” Cannon stepped into the command tent waving a single white paper in his hand.
“Well, let’s hear it.”
“It’s from Central Command, and it just came in a few minutes ago. It begins... From blah, blah... To blah, blah... the standard salutation. Then... here. ‘Your request to proceed immediately to Times Square and to engage the enemy in support of the containing American forces has been received and reviewed. We agree with your assessments as to the strategic necessity for the Third Infantry Division to move out immediately without the full complement of heavy equipment and supplies. You are hereby commanded to mobilize and proceed to Hafar al-Batin in support of the British Expeditionary Force. Additional tanks and supplies will be flown in on a priority basis to join up with you as soon as possible. Good luck and Godspeed.’”
The general was deep in thought, rubbing the side of his head. “This is going to be one bloody mess. This isn’t like Vietnam or anything else the U.S. has seen since World War Two. This is one of those wars that you just have to win. The consequences of losing are... Well, losing isn’t even a consideration.”
Being from the pentagon, Cannon knew only too well just what losing meant.
“Maybe our only saving grace is the fact that Iraq doesn’t know the extent of our losses. We have to proceed into action hard and firm to try to create doubt in their minds as to our strength. In other words, we must be aggressive and attack forcefully. We cannot afford to fight a defensive battle. Our only hope is to throw them off balance.”
This was not at all the type of strategy that Cannon had in mind. He realized that, once again, he and O’Brian were on opposite sides of the track. “You know that I rarely challenge your command decisions, but even at full strength we couldn’t stop the invasion force, let alone turn it back through an assault! We need to take it methodically and try to contain them until sufficient reinforcements from the States can arrive.”
“Sufficient reinforcements will take weeks or months. We don’t have the luxury of time.”
“I know it’s hard to change your mind once it’s made up, but this time you’re wrong. If we go out there blasting headstrong, we’re going to have our heads stomped in. That force is one of the most powerful in the world.”
“Maybe. You’re right about their strength, of course. I never argue with you about an enemy’s capabilities, but follow me for a minute. They’re spread thin -- thinner than you might think. It’s true that they have a lot of divisions, but some of them are dedicated to defense against an Iranian attack to the east. There’s Turkey to the north with some of its divisions dedicated there. Then there’s Kuwait to occupy in the southeast and NATO and Israel in the west. Finally, there’s the long border with Saudi Arabia. Compound all that with the distance their forces have penetrated and the logistics they need to sustain their forces at this level of readiness... Well, frankly, I don’t believe they can support this offensive for a prolonged attack. I believe their front lines are vulnerable and they’ll collapse under pressure.”
“So you feel that strength isn’t the real issue?”
“That’s right.”
“Then you believe that the past week and a half has bled them and weakened their overall military machine.”
“Many of those Iraqis out there remember our last war and the strength we brought to bear. I have to believe that a strong show of force will have a grave psychological effect on them.”
“I still don’t like it. It’s a big gamble.”
O’Brian checked his uniform and placed his hat on his head. He turned to Cannon. “Colonel, prepare the men for immedia
te moveout.”
“Yes, sir.”
Marine Tactical Unit
Twelve miles northeast of Balad
Nahr al-Uzyam River, Iraq
Wright and his men sat at the tribesmen’s campfire. The old man and the hunting party sat with them as they ate their evening meal, a sort of vegetable stew and bread. They had walked most of the day and talked very little. Wright decided to trust these people. If these tribesmen were going to kill them, they would have done it before bringing them into their camp where their families lived.
He carefully put down his bowl and turned to the old man. “Just how is it that you found out about these nuclear weapons?”
The old man smiled as he took a pouch from around his neck and set it on his lap. “The day before we met you, we were out hunting and spotted what looked like a supply convoy on the road to Samarra. We set up an ambush and attacked the convoy by destroying the lead vehicles. We wanted to keep the supply trucks intact for our use. We barely had time to search the first three vehicles when we were attacked by helicopter gun ships. More than half of our hunting party was killed. But before I ran, I took this from the dead officer in the third vehicle.” He held up the pouch, opened it, and removed a document, handing it to Wright.
Wright took the document and studied the Iraqi writing. It contained command orders for the commander of the convoy, including an inventory of supplies that were to be delivered to a compound in Samarra. The inventory contained only seven items: two nuclear warheads and five nuclear two hundred three millimeter artillery rounds.
He began to tremble slightly as the impact of his discovery sunk in. The document was official, so he had no other recourse but to accept its validity. “Do you have a radio transmitter?”
The old man shook his head.
“What happened to the rest of the convoy?”
“We don’t know. After the gun ships attacked, we spread out and ran. We thought that, because of the speed in which the gun ships arrived, it must have been a trap.”
“Can we go see this compound tomorrow?”
“Yes, but it won’t be easy. We know this place well. You cannot get close to the compound, but we can see it from a long distance.”
“Why is that?”
“There are ears in the ground around the compound. Even if you crawl on your belly, the guards know you are there.”
“It sounds like they have acoustical or pressure sensors buried in the sand. If we only had an infrared scope, we could tell for sure.”
The old man broke into a broad grin. “We have an infrared scope on a sniper rifle that was so graciously donated to us by a dead Iraqi sergeant. Will that do?”
Wright couldn’t believe his luck. “Yes, that will do just fine.”
Day Nine
Wasit Prison Facility
East Central Iraq
Prisoner Barracks
Rob stood watching out the window. What challenges would today bring? Would they be tormented more? Well, at least he had some degree of security in the fact that he was now surrounded by so many soldiers. But his question was quickly answered by the noise outside the large dorm doors. Esfandiari strode in with five guards. Two of the guards stood back beside the doors while the other three accompanied Esfandiari as he approached the prisoners.
He was met by Colonel Dempsey, who stepped in front of him. “I insist on knowing how long you plan on holding these civilians hostage?”
Esfandiari's nostrils flared. “What do you think I am? I have no need of civilian hostages! I have only prisoners of war and spies under my guard!”
“You can’t be serious! These people aren’t spies, and you know it!”
“Know it? I know that the aircraft these people were in invaded our air space just moments before your country invaded Iraq.”
“That’s outrageous! Your tanks and aircraft invaded Saudi Arabia and Kuwait! We’re a defensive force!”
“So you say.”
“Look at these people. They cannot possibly be of any use to you.”
Esfandiari scanned the room until his eyes met Rob’s. “You have no idea of their value.”
“I know you haven’t much honor if you consider it your duty to hold civilian hostages.”
“I know...” Esfandiari shouted back but caught himself and smiled. Then, with the smile still on his face, he stepped back and drew his pistol. “I know that I am about to stop a prisoner from escaping.”
He pointed his semi-automatic gun at Dempsey and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck him in the stomach and threw him to the floor. Rob dropped down beside him. Blood oozed out between Dempsey’s fingers. Both Rob and Dempsey were looking at the wound in disbelief. Rob caught Dempsey’s eyes which seemed to scream with terror from the unspoken words they both knew. He was going to die!
Rob’s eyes narrowed. He rose slowly to his feet as several other soldiers took his place and began to administer first-aid. He scowled at Esfandiari who stood arrogantly over Dempsey, smiling. Rock charged forward, but Rob caught him. “No, Rock! He’s mine! I earned this one!”
Every muscle in the big man’s body tensed like a lion prepared to attack.
“Rock! He’s mine! You got that?”
Rock took a half-step back, but his body remained tensed, ready to pounce, and his voice was cold as death. “Okay, but I’m right behind you. One way or another, he’s going down.”
Rob turned back to face Esfandiari, carefully examining him and his guards. Then, with a voice that echoed hate and disgust, he groaned, “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”
Esfandiari stood confidently still and grinned while two guards on his right side and another on his left seemed to insure his safety. Rob approached him to within inches, ignoring the guards who were leveling their machine guns directly on him.
“With what are you planning to kill me?”
Rob’s eyes never left his adversary. “Your own gun.”
Esfandiari continued to smile as he cocked his head arrogantly and scoffed, “Is that right?”
Rob answered through clenched teeth. “That’s right.”
The smile drained from Esfandiari’s face as the resolve in Rob’s eyes burned into his soul. He realized only too late that he had pushed him too far. He had gone over the edge, and nothing was going to stop him now.
For a moment, they both stood motionless as if frozen in time. Esfandiari took a step back and shouted to the guards who were standing by the steel doors to the dorm. “Shut and bolt the doors.” He lifted his gun toward Rob in an attempt to stop him, but it was too late. Rob caught his hand and shoved it upward just as the gun discharged. The bullet slammed uselessly into ceiling.
With one sweeping motion of his right leg, he kicked the guard on the right into the other guard, knocking them both to the floor. The guard on the left was trying to maneuver forward to get a clean shot at Rob. Rob somehow knew what was happening and jerked the gun from Esfandiari's hand and shoved him to the floor. Then he also dropped down, narrowly missing a stream of bullets shot over his head. The bullet Rob fired was not as hastily aimed. It struck the guard in the forehead and splattered blood all over Esfandiari and himself. Rob quickly turned and shot the other two guards.
The fight was over as quickly as it began, and Rob found himself standing over Esfandiari with three dead guards around him. Esfandiari stood to his feet, brushing the dust off his pants with the same arrogant demeanor and cocky smile. He expressed no fear for his life or concern over the deaths of his men. Rob may have been holding the gun but he still was holding all the cards.
With arms crossed, he faced Rob. “I’ll give you two choices. You surrender the gun to me, and I’ll pretend that these deaths never happened. If you kill me, then this locked dorm will become your tomb. The doors will remained locked until you all either thirst or starve to death.”
Rob’s resolve was unshaken. After a moment of silence, he answered with a cold and emotionless voice. “I’ll give you two choices. Pick up a
gun and defend yourself, or I’ll kill you where you stand.”
Once again, the smile drained from Esfandiari's face. Rob had made it clear that it didn’t matter who held the cards, the game would be played his way. He never took his eyes off Esfandiari as he shoved the gun into his pants. “I’m going to count to ten, and then I’m going to kill you.” Rob began to count slowly. “One... two... three...”
Esfandiari reached down slowly, picked up a machine gun from one of the dead guards, and held it to his side. “This doesn’t have to happen,” he insisted. “We can work something out.”
But Rob knew the words were designed to distract him. With one quick motion, Esfandiari pulled his machine gun level with Rob, but Rob was ready. Once again, Rob caught his hand and pushed it up toward the ceiling, at the same time shoving his own gun into Esfandiari’s chest. Both guns discharged together sounding as if only one gun was fired. The bullet from Esfandiari's gun slammed into the ceiling while Rob’s penetrated Esfandiari's chest and exited his back, spraying blood against the wall behind him.
Ron Schwartz - The Griffins Heart.txt Page 14