Logan got to the hummer before Taylor and started it up. After shifting into four wheel drive, he began to back up slowly so as not to jerk Rob. The wheels began to spin slowly as the hummer struggled against the bridge. Years of neglect and rust made the already difficult job nearly impossible. Then came a grinding sound as the rusty gears began to move. He handled the hummer like an experienced driver, keeping the wheels from digging into the ground. Rob’s left hand slipped loose from the cable and fell to his side. His right hand no longer held it firmly. He was hanging on with an open fist.
Rock, now awake and on his feet, pushed through the small crowd of Marines gathered by the ramp waiting for Rob to get within reach and stood beside Taylor.
Taylor didn’t look up at Rock. “He’s going to fall.”
“Over my dead body.” Rock took hold of the cable and slid out over the cliff.
Rob was nearly forty feet away, hanging by only three fingers. Rock moved methodically, hand over hand. Huge fists clenched securely around the cable propelled his muscular body forward.
“I’m coming for you, Colonel! Just hang on!”
Rob could not respond. All his effort went to hanging on as long as he could.
“Marie’s up on top with your children. You don’t want them to see you fall.”
Rock was barely ten feet away. Rob could not even lift his head to look as another finger let go. Rock continued to move while Logan worked the hummer.
“You did it, Colonel! The bridge is moving in! We’re all going to make it now.”
Another finger let go, and the last one was slipping. Just as his last finger slipped from the cable, a hand... a huge hand reached out and grabbed him by the wrist.
Rock held the cable in one hand and Rob in the other. “You’re all right now, Colonel. You’re not going to fall without me.”
Taylor, watching from the ramp, sprang into action. “Come on, all of you! Grab the cable and pull!”
He turned and picked up the binoculars lying beside the ramp. About a dozen Iraqi trucks had emerged from the mouth of the pass. It was only a matter of time before they were attacked.
Rock strained against the combined weight of the two of them. As they covered the last few feet and hands reached out to pull them both to safety, Rob smiled at his sergeant. “Thanks, Rock.”
Marie ran forward to nurse Rob’s hands while Rock stopped long enough to receive a hero’s hug and kiss from Nancy.
Rob did not bask long in the glory of his success. They were not out of the woods yet. “We need to take something across to see how this is going to hold up.”
Rock nodded. He set out across the bridge on foot to check the security of the other side.
Taylor watched from the anti-tank truck as the bridge was pulled up to the ramp, then checked again for Iraqi presence at the pass. The first tank emerged from the pass entrance. “Time to rock-n-roll,” he said to the Marine beside him. He pulled the firing cord and the recoiless rifle, and a flash followed by a thick black cloud blew out of the barrel. A moment later, there was an explosion near the Iraqi position. Taylor adjusted the controls and fired again.
Rob heard the explosion and immediately stood to his feet. He shouted to Rock, “That’s our wake-up bell! Time to get everything across! Rock, how does it look?”
“It looks good enough, Colonel.”
“Take the hummer over, then.”
Logan approached Rob and smiled, even though Rob was not smiling back.
Rob was puzzled. “You handled that hummer like an experienced driver.”
“I have a four wheel drive truck back at home.”
“I’ll just bet you do. Where is home? A military base in Israel?”
“Let’s not start this again. Does it really matter where I’m from or what I do?”
“Yes! It matters to me. There’s something wrong when you can’t trust someone enough to be straight with them. There’s something wrong with this picture, Logan, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”
“You may be digging awhile.” Logan turned and started walking away.
“Don’t underestimate me, Logan!”
Marie had listened quietly to the exchange between Rob and Logan. “Things aren’t always as they appear, my dear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, and why is he always hanging around you? What do you know about him?”
“Probably less than you, but one thing is certain: regardless of who he is or what he does, he’s here to help us. He must have his reasons for being so secretive. Just leave him alone, and let him help.”
Taylor fired another round. So far, of the seven shots he fired, two had successfully hit a target. The problem was that those targets were trucks and not the tank. He glanced over to the bridge, another truck was on its way across. He would only have to keep this up for a few more minutes.
The tank was setting itself in position, and another truck was crossing the bridge. He saw a puff a smoke leave the barrel of the tank, and soon after, an explosion erupted on the far side of the ravine. The tank was firing at the bridge. Taylor fired again at the tank. Once again, the shell impacted a truck near the tank. He had missed again.
Ignoring exhaustion, he and his Marine assistant shoved another shell into the breach and adjusted the controls. The tank fired again. This time the shell impacted on a left upright support beam of the bridge. There was a grinding noise as the bridge began to sag on that side. Only the machine gun truck and the anti-tank truck still had not reached the other side.
Taylor motioned the driver of the machine gun truck to go, but he didn’t watch to see it leave. Again he pulled the firing cord. This time, the shell uselessly impacted on the other side of the tank but close enough to shower it with debris. It must have jarred the tank a little, because as it fired, almost immediately, the shell flew far to the left and exploded a mile over the other side of the ravine.
He watched the machine gun truck cross. The bridge sagged badly on the left side and groaned from the strain. It could barely support the weight. And his anti-tank truck was far heavier than any of the other trucks.
He ordered the Marine to make a run for the bridge. He would try to drive the truck across by himself. His best chance, he thought, is to try driving across as quickly as possible. But as Taylor climbed into the cab of the truck, a large explosion impacted near the base of the ramp, removing half of the left side. He could still get to the bridge but not at any decent speed.
Rob watched from the other side as Taylor struggled to climb up the demolished ramp with his truck. “Rock, let out the winch cable again. I think we’re going to need it.”
Taylor began to cross the bridge slowly, and the bridge responded by bending badly.
“He’s never going to make it.” Rob beckoned to Taylor. “Leave the truck and come!”
Taylor just shook his head. He wasn’t going to leave the truck. They needed it too much.
“Just great! We’ve got a hero here!”
Logan couldn’t resist. “You mean another hero, right?”
“Drop the smart comments, Logan. He’s going to get himself killed!”
“Don’t you see? He can’t leave that truck. We’d never have made it this far without it, and he knows it. We need that truck!”
Crack! The bridge bent with the truck halfway across. The tires began to spin as the truck slid backward to the bottom of the bend. The angle was too steep. The truck could not make it.
Rob took the cable from Rock and began to slide down the bridge to the front of the truck. Once there, he secured it to the front of the truck and motioned Rock to pull.
Up on top, another explosion rocked the side of the cliff to the right of the bridge. They didn’t have much time. Taylor shifted into low gear and went into six wheel drive. The tires spun slowly as the cable tightened. The bridge groaned and jarred. The smell of burning rubber and smoke was everywhere. Up on top, another truck was attached to the hummer, and they pulled with their combined po
wer. The anti-tank truck slowly rose.
Then, with only ten feet left to go, a shell exploded directly behind the anti-tank truck cutting the bridge in half. The far side of the bridge collapsed and fell into the ravine with a loud crash. The near side began to crumble. Taylor shifted into high gear and stomped on the gas. The tires began to spin and burn, and with a loud roar, the truck leaped up the remaining few feet as the rest of the bridge crumbled behind them. The truck teetered momentarily until the cable tightened and pulled them the rest of the way onto solid ground.
On the other side, the enemy trucks were approaching. The machine gun truck began firing as they disconnected the cable, and the convoy began to move. Once again, they had beaten the odds. No one was sure whether it was luck or skill that was with them. Perhaps a combination of both. But as night settled, the convoy moved on.
Marine Tactical Unit
Twenty-three miles north of Baqubah
Diyala Territory, Iraq
Captain Wright and his men had traveled with the tribesmen all day by foot. He was amazed at the tribes’ stamina, for they insisted on stopping for only one break and that was to eat at about midday. Even though most of them were barefoot, they seemed to have no problems crossing the hot sand or the rough rocky terrain. He estimated that they had covered over twenty miles by the time they finally stopped late in the evening.
Now he sat beside a small fire with the old man who led the tribe. “How much further is it?”
“That is a question I would expect from a small child.”
“No, I just meant that... I mean I didn’t mean to complain... I mean I wasn’t complaining and didn’t mean to come across that way...”
“You don’t need to explain. I know that you are not used to this country.”
“It’s not that. We can handle the walking. That’s not a problem for us.”
Wright was visibly embarrassed by what had just happened, and no matter how hard he tried, he only managed to wedge his foot deeper into his mouth. He tried to regain his composure. “I am trying to ascertain our present position, so I need your estimate as to the length of time it will take us to get there.”
“To be honest, I really don’t know. The military patrols have been increased lately, so we are trying to avoid those areas. Tell me, were your losses high?”
“Pardon me? What losses?”
“There are but few of you left from your original rescue party. Were there many casualties?”
Now he understood the question. It was one of the many questions he had asked himself over and over.
“It was like they knew we were coming. They were waiting for us. Just the day before, we had scouted the whole area, and there wasn’t an enemy soldier anywhere. The next day, when we came in with helicopters, they blew us out of the sky. We managed to escape from our downed helicopter, but I don’t know if anyone else did. They could have all been captured or killed.”
“Did you not go back to see what happened to your friends?”
Wright didn’t answer. He had wondered the same thing. Why didn’t he return? There could have been others left there to die. But second guessing would not help them now. They had an important mission to do, and he needed to remain focused.
“No, we were being pursued, and judging by the size of the force, we would have not been much use to them.”
“That is not the way of my people. To us, our friends are our families, and they are most important. We would never think of allowing them to remain captive.”
“I do understand, and I feel the same. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I should have gone back. But at the time, I guess I felt that our best chance of helping anyone was to stay alive.”
The two said nothing more as they stared into the flames.
Day Ten
Third Infantry Division
Five miles east of Hafar al-Batin
Al Hajarah Territory, Saudi Arabia
The Third Infantry reached the front early that morning about five miles south of Hafar al-Batin. The British forces in the area had been reduced to isolated pockets of resistance in front of them. The Third Infantry was originally supposed to arrive as a reinforced mechanized division with heavy tanks. That should have been enough to contain the Iraqi Armor thrust. As it was now, with few of the heavy tanks they’d need, they could only hope to slow down the advance of the enemy long enough for more reinforcements to arrive. If their proud history of achievement through many wars was any indication of how well they would do, then one would not want to underestimate their effectiveness.
Second and Third Brigades moved into position, extending along a ten-mile length of the front. They began to dig in while First Brigade moved in behind as reserve. All the while, what was left of the British Expeditionary Force slowly filtered out from the collapsed front.
The British had spent all day the day before in an unending artillery barrage. The Iraqi long-range artillery destroyed the British mortar and light howitzer emplacements while their short-range artillery pounded the infantry. After twelve hours of relentless punishment and over seventy percent casualties, the British had had enough.
The Third Infantry was the last best hope for keeping the Iraqis from pouring into Saudi Arabia. They had to defy the odds by putting an end to the Iraqi advance. They would have to stand up against a heavily armored force of about ten divisions, five miles wide and twenty miles deep.
Colonel Jack Cannon, the division’s G-3, was responsible for plans and operations. As a tactician, he understood that their success would require nothing short of a miracle. “I’m telling you, from these recon reports, our best hope is to retreat back to Ar Riyadh and take up a defensive position there.” He shook the reports in the air, then slammed them down on the table.
General O’Brian shook his head. “Ar Riyadh is halfway through Saudi Arabia. To do that means to surrender the entire northern third of Saudi Arabia to Iraq.”
“At least we’d have a chance of holding there. It would take them months to secure the territory. The Army and Marine divisions to our east could retreat and garrison the coastal cities which could be easily supplied and reinforced by the Navy. We could protect the capital and receive proper reinforcements. I’m telling you that in a month or two, we’ll be in better shape with adequate reinforcements while the Iraqis will have exhausted theirs and be spread too thin. With this plan, we’ll have a chance to save at least part of this country.”
“Listen, Jack, retreat is out of the question. You’ve got to come up with something that will allow us to remain here. We must stop them here.”
“Archie, we’re outnumbered seven-to-one in men, ten-to-one in tanks, and twelve-to-one in artillery. You’re not giving me a lot to work with.”
“What odds do the computers give us?”
“Pretty much our only chance to hold would be if a hurricane came out of the Indian Ocean, stalled out above us, and rained for a month. Everything would be so bogged down, they couldn’t proceed even if we weren’t here.”
“Are there any hurricanes out there?”
“Be serious. Not even the rainy season is due to come for another five months.”
O’Brian sat down and looked at the charts in front of him. “Let’s hear it. What can we expect?”
Cannon sat down next to his dear friend and pointed to an area on the map directly in front of their position. “They’ll be coming right through here. They’ll start with an artillery barrage for somewhere between twenty-four and forty-eight hours. Then, probably about two o’clock in the morning, three or four spearheads of armored vehicles will hit us at three or four locations along our front. Don’t kid yourself. Iraq has poured millions into modernizing its tanks for night fighting. And we won’t be able to move reinforcements to each of the breakthrough points quickly enough. Our forces will be broken by nearly two days of constant shelling and easily overrun. As division after division pours through the breakthrough points, we’ll find ourselves surrounded by at least three divis
ions to our south and seven divisions to the north. At that point, we’ll have to pray that they’ll take prisoners.”
O’Brian said nothing for a long time as he stared at the map. Then he rose quietly, brushed the dust from his desert camouflage uniform, and placed his helmet on his head. Their eyes met. “Let’s dig in, then. There will be no retreat.”
National Security Administration
Cooperative Coactive Office, Washington, D.C.
Special Agent Dick Miller had arrived a little late to his office at the National Security Administration in Washington. His wife was sick, so he had to drive the children to school before he could come into the office. Anytime he came in late it was a problem because his supervisor seemed to monitor when everyone had logged into the network for the day.
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