Then he noticed Rock walking up the hill toward him. “Colonel, we’re going to have to find fuel, food, and water soon.”
“Why don’t you take the fuel from the rocket launching vehicles down there?”
“Because they use diesel, and our trucks use gas.”
“Well, then, destroy those vehicles. Let’s not leave them anything to use over again. Then we’ll move out.”
“Colonel, do you think they’ll do any good?”
“I don’t know, but this is for sure: it’s going to be like fire falling from the heavens where they land!”
Third Infantry Division
Five miles east of Hafar al-Batin
Al Hajarah Territory, Saudi Arabia
The artillery barrage lasted for over three hours. General O’Brian lay on the ground with his hands over his ears, hoping for a miracle. Explosion after explosion blasted up the ground around him, throwing him into the air and from side to side in the foxhole. O’Brian knew this was the “softening up” artillery barrage before the final attack. He only hoped it would stop long enough for him to return to his longtime friend. There he would continue to fight and, if necessary, die.
Then, as if entering the eye of a hurricane, the explosions ceased. O’Brian leaped to his feet and ran back in the direction of the foxhole. Within minutes, he made it. As he stepped into the hole where his friend lay, he looked around. The dust around him began to clear, and he saw a new cloud of smoke in the distance, completely surrounding their position. That, of course, was from the approaching Iraqi tanks, he told himself. It wouldn’t be long now.
He turned back to the hole to search for his friend. He found him almost immediately, leaning to one side of the foxhole half-buried in dirt from nearby explosions.
Quietly, O’Brian asked, “How’s it going, Jack?”
“It’ll be over soon, now,” Jack answered, putting his arms around his friend. His body was trembling from fever. “It happened just like I said, didn’t it?”
“Yes, Jack, you were right, but then you usually are. That should be no surprise to you.”
“Archie,” Cannon opened his eyes, “what is that sound? What do I hear?”
“Just tanks, Jack.”
“No. Listen. It’s not tank engines, it’s a whine. Almost a whisper. What do you suppose that it is?”
O’Brian stopped and listened. Then he heard it, too. Something above the roar of the tanks in the distance. A whistle, ever so quiet, was steadily growing louder. O’Brian stuck his head out of the foxhole and looked around. All around him, heads were popping up to look. Everyone could hear it.
“Incoming!” someone shouted.
“No!” O’Brian shouted back. “It’s not artillery, it’s... It’s...” O’Brian looked at Cannon. “What is it?”
Cannon was either too tired to answer or didn’t care anymore. He swallowed, then opened his eyes to look at his friend. “They’re rockets, Arch. We’re being hit with rockets.”
Then a miracle happened! It was just like Jack said it would have be. Fire fell from the sky! Hundreds of explosions erupted all around them in a deafening blast. The approaching tanks exploded in rapid succession and burst into flames. Within a minute, it was all over. The roar of the tank engines in the distance was gone. The distant cloud of dust from the tank tracks was replaced with the smoldering black smoke of burning Iraqi armor. Replacing the distant roar of hundreds of tank diesel engines was the crackling sound of fire burning in tanks and armored vehicles.
O’Brian stood and looked around. Behind him, Jack had struggled to his feet also. O’Brian looked into the clearing smoke. It was over! Hundreds, perhaps a thousand tanks laid as burning or blasted out hulks as far as the eye could see. He turned around to see his friend staring at him with his mouth wide open. “See, Jack? We were both right. You said it would take fire falling out of heaven, and I told you we could hold this position.”
O’Brian looked around the battlefield as an eerie silence set in. After days and nights of unending attacks, quiet now ruled the day. His eyes met with those of the men surrounding him, one by one, each looking to their leader for direction. Then, with a smile, he slung his M-16 over his shoulder and started walking north.
One by one, the men crawled out of their foxholes to join him. Two, then six, and then they came by the dozens. In the end, nearly four thousand men joined him as he walked through a virtual wasteland of burning tanks and armored vehicles. They walked the rest of the day back to the burning town of Hafar al-Batin and began to dig in. The rest of his men, the wounded and dead, were airlifted out by helicopter.
The rocket attack had done incredible damage, reducing ten of Iraq’s premier Armor divisions in strength and effectively ending the present momentum of their attack. The invasion, which began as an overwhelming tidal wave, had simply vanished into the desert sand.
Five miles east of the dry lake bed at Buhayrat
Salah Ad-Din Territory, Iraq
“What do you think?” Rob asked Wright as they prepared to get their convoy under way. “Do you think those rockets have done any good?”
“I think we’d better get our tails out of here. It will only take a minute or two before the Iraqi radar pinpoints the exact place those rockets were fired from, and there will be hell to pay. If they’re on the ball, they’ll figure out it was us. You can bet they’ll be sending everything they have into this area.”
“It’s too bad we don’t have more rockets to fire at those radar sites?”
Wright thought for a moment. “Well, there very well could be more rockets where these came from.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it. These rockets more than likely came from some staging area. I never heard about Iraq possessing any long-range artillery rockets like this, and I stay pretty well-informed. It’s possible that those rockets came from another underground bunker or some other type of camouflaged supply area. Another thing, if our forces knew about the existence of those rockets, they would have been a primary target since this war began.”
“So you don’t think our forces even knew they existed?”
“Correct!”
“Could there be more?”
“It’s highly likely.”
“Then I think we should find that storage area.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far! They’re probably in a highly secure area!”
“Maybe, but you’re not sure?”
“Of course not. I don’t know where they came from or if there are more.”
“Well, I think we ought to at least check it out.”
“You can’t be serious! Look, Colonel, we’re low on fuel, water, and ammunition, and you’re suggesting that we pack up our nuclear warheads and civilians and go looking for a camouflaged ammunition depot?”
“That’s right.”
“Don’t you think we’ve done enough, Colonel?”
“How badly are our forces are doing, Captain? Tell me if you think that it is possible to do too much. I’m not crazy about the idea either, but right now we’re all that our nation has here that can do something about that depot.”
Wright hated it that Rob was right, but he was.
“From what I understand of this war, Captain, there are several nations that might simply cease to exist here shortly. Along with them, there are several tens or hundreds of thousands of fellow American soldiers who will probably die in the process. We’re just a few people, Captain, and we can afford the sacrifice, if necessary. As far as the nuclear warheads go, we’ll blow them up even if it means blowing ourselves up, too.”
“I understand the consequences. But my primary concern at this point is the warheads. We just can’t let the warheads be captured.”
“Agreed. That will be our number one concern. Let’s get this convoy prepared to head north, in the direction where these rockets came from. If we’re lucky, their tracks will lead right to the supply area. I want a roving patrol forward to try to locate
the source of those rockets.” He turned and headed toward the convoy, shouting orders as he went.
As Wright stood watching, Taylor approached. “John Wayne to the rescue again?”
Wright grimaced. “Oh, shut up. I don’t know which of you upsets me more.” He stomped off after Rob, leaving Taylor standing alone.
USS Roosevelt
Persian Gulf
Captain Brodie could not believe what he was hearing. “Repeat it for me one more time. Did you say that an Army helicopter has ordered me to make room on MY flight deck for their landing?”
“Yes, sir. That is correct.”
“Now that can’t be. Since when does any Army flight think they can give me orders about my ship?”
“Sir, all they would say is that they have presidential authority.”
“Presidential authority?”
“Yes, sir. That’s what they said.”
“Well, get them back on the horn because no Army flight is landing on my flight deck without talking to me first.”
The officer didn’t move.
“Well? Why are you still standing here?”
“Sir, because I did try that already. I told them that this would have to be cleared with you, but they just cut off transmission and would not let me reestablish it.”
Brodie stood. “Is that a fact.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When will they be arriving?”
“Sir, they already have.”
He turned around in time to see an Army Blackhawk helicopter flying toward the carrier at full speed. “I ought to have him shot down,” Brodie muttered. “Have you at least validated them?”
“Yes, sir. Their transponder identifies them as friendly.”
“Have Security meet whoever is in that helicopter and bring them to my quarters as soon as they land.” Then he marched off the bridge down to his cabin.
About ten minutes later, a middle-aged man with graying hair dressed in a black suit entered his quarters. “Who are you, and by what authority do you land a helicopter on MY ship without MY permission?”
The man held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, Captain. My name is Dick Miller, and I’m with the NSA.”
“NSA? What interest does the National Security Agency have in this carrier?”
“Captain, we’ll be bringing a platoon of Green Beret’s aboard, and I’ll need your complete cooperation.”
Brodie fumed. He could not believe the nerve of this man. “Mister, I want an explanation for this. The NSA has NO authority aboard this ship, so I want to know by what authority you are here?”
Miller reached into his coat to pull out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to the captain. “I’m sorry, Captain, for not clearing this up first. Do you recognize the seal?”
Brodie read the document carefully, then folded the paper up and handed it back. He sat down at his desk and folded his hands. “That document says you have presidential authority. I want to know why I was not informed of your coming by my command?”
“Feel free to contact Washington, Captain.”
“I will!”
“The NSA and the White House want this operation to be very low key. We don’t know where the Iraqis are getting all their information, so Washington felt it would be best if I came directly here to brief you on the operation.”
“I plan to protest this.”
“Listen, Captain, I want to be friendly about this, but if you insist on being uncooperative, I have authority to take command of this vessel. That is, unless you want to challenge the orders of your Commander-in-Chief? We can either work together, or I can relieve you of your command. It’s up to you.”
Brodie paused thoughtfully, then spoke into his intercom. “Commander Little, come in here.”
The door opened, and Little entered.
“This man has some orders for me from Washington. I want you to verify them.”
“Sir, that may not be necessary. This came in a few minutes ago from Washington.”
Little handed him a document. He took it, read it quickly, and handed it back to the officer who then left the room. He leaned back in his chair and sized up the man in front of him. “You’d think they’d have the decency to contact me first.”
“I understand, Captain. They were supposed to have. I can’t imagine how things got screwed up.”
“Okay, you’re here now. What can you tell me about this operation?”
Miller sat in a chair in front of the captain’s large desk. “What do you know about the flight that was hijacked and taken to Iraq a few weeks ago?”
“Hardly anything.”
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Tell me, Agent Miller, what does the NSA want with a British flight that was headed to Israel? Some Brits, Arabs, Jews, and maybe a couple of Americans were on it. There weren’t any politicians or heads of state on that flight, so what’s your interest in it?”
Miller was silent for a moment as if weighing whether or not he should say something. “Look, Captain, the Special Forces will be arriving tonight. Put them in private quarters, please. We’ll talk later, but right now I’m tired. Can you have me fixed up with quarters?”
“Of course.”
Miller rose and headed toward the door. “I hope you don’t mind if I head to the officer’s mess for a meal. You can send someone for me when my quarters are ready.”
“Just one more question. Are you aware of the fact that the Third Infantry Division was nearly overrun by Iraqi armor?” He paused to measure Miller’s reaction. But Miller was silent and stood quietly with his back to the captain. “It seems that a corps-strength battery of long-range artillery rockets, fired from the center of Iraq, blew the Iraqi army out of the desert. I’ve asked around. No one seems to know where those missiles came from or who in Iraq could have launched them.”
Miller turned slowly and hesitated. “I’m aware of that. Why are you asking me about this?”
“Well, I was just wondering if these men coming aboard or if this mission has anything to do with that?”
Silence filled the room. He was unable to look Brodie in the eye. “No, I really don’t know much about those missiles.” He turned abruptly and left the captain’s quarters.
Twenty-three miles southwest of Tikrit
Salah Ad-Din Territory, Iraq
It was a slow careful process, but the heavy rocket vehicles tore up the earth, leaving an unmistakable trail. By evening, the roving patrol had located the depot. It was another underground bunker!
“This one is different, but the camouflage is good enough to fool air recon unless they know exactly what they’re looking for and where it’s at.” Taylor was studying the bunker though his binoculars. He continued his narrative in a smooth monotone as if speaking to an audience. “The compound appears to be circular under that hill. Every forty-five degrees, there is a fortified bunker door. My guess is that this is the launching base for long-range missiles. Some type of vehicle probably carries the missile out of those doors depending on which direction the missile is to be launched. I know it’s hard to see, but there are rails coming out from under each door. I think the missiles ride on some kind of rail system out of the bunker. They sure are well-camouflaged, though.”
He turned to face Rob and Wright. “What we’re looking at here is not the same kind of unguided rocket system we used before. This is a missile-launching facility. They’re probably targeted for Tel Aviv, Damascus, Cairo, and every other Middle Eastern country’s capital. The warheads these missiles use could be biological or nuclear. We need to report this, and get out of here! This bunker could have been built before Desert Storm. If you remember, we had our special forces units searching all over Iraq trying to find such a facility as this. When we never found one, we simply gave up searching.”
There was momentary silence as Taylor’s words sunk in.
“Where’s the weak spot?” Rob asked.
“You are seriously thinking about takin
g this facility?”
“I don’t see any guards. No machine gun nest. So, what gives?”
“Well, that’s true. It doesn’t seem to be defended. They probably have an internal garrison for security and depend on its camouflage for defense.”
“So, where is this place vulnerable?”
Taylor looked back at the bunker. “Just about anywhere. It doesn’t appear that any extra security features were added to this base, probably because of how deep into Iraq it’s located.”
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