“My first priority is that of the safety of this installation. Aaron, David, please remove this man from this briefing.”
While protesting and threatening disciplinary action back in London the ‘bodyguard’ was led out of the room and far away from the mission briefing. The two Israeli spec-ops operators returned to the room five minutes later to rapturous applause.
After a further room sterilisation which included all mobile phones and electronic equipment being taken away from each man followed by a thorough TCSM (Technical Counter Surveillance Measures) sweep being carried out by the Israeli hosts, the para-ops briefing would begin.
“Gentlemen. My name is Captain John Taylor, founder and commander of the Para-Normal Activity Tactical Operations Group. We are one of a kind. A new force in the war on terror. It’s Para-Normal mainly because of our main source of Intel - a former banker who can see into the future. Throw into the mix 40 gunfighting Samurai and some of the most sophisticated and modern day equipment in the world and you soon see why the name fits. Any questions so far?”
“Yes Captain, um. So where are the Ghostbusters, then ?” said Brian.
“He got eaten by Scooby Do. Forget the gags lads, I’ve heard them all before. And this unit will be no joke after tonight, if we still exist.”
“It’s actually not that surprising. And you’re definitely not the first,” said Avi, a much older veteran with battle scars stretching back to the Six Day War. “We have been using para-normal means to watch over our enemies for years. And I can guarantee you that your kit, advanced as it may be, has nothing on ours, Captain.”
Avi’s presence was a commanding one. He was a short but powerfully built man. His eyes were cold, as though his soul had withdrawn from this reality a long time ago. He gave the cliché of “the thousand yard stare” a new meaning. He was in his sixties but there wasn’t a man in the room who would dare take him on in unarmed combat. His words brought a new seriousness to the briefing and the room was still. If an old warrior with years of empirical experience in the art of war says Para-Normal is not in fact that Para-Normal, it simply isn’t.
“Indeed, Avi. Thank you for your words. And thank you for volunteering to join us on this mission. I know every man here is here freely. Until our Para-Ops Unit is taken more seriously by my government we will be but a name and I will rely on your voluntary cooperation until such time that we may permanently call ourselves a unit.”
After a short pause the Captain continued.
“And as a Para-Normal unit we also fit the tag of being expendable. If our unit fails and we die during this raid no one will bat an eyelid. Today we are all dispensable. Having said that we are here because finally someone at the top is listening. We have been given the green light to launch an operation against our enemy on their ground. We, gentlemen, are going after Eltanin – Leader of the Brotherhood.”
The room bubbled with appreciation at the gravity of the commander’s words. In recent years Eltanin was the new face of terror, the new, more terrifying Bin Laden. And every operator in the room wanted the opportunity to end Eltanin.
“Now, this, this is very good news!” said Alon, another Israeli, with a very wide grin on his face.
“Moving forward I would like you all to introduce yourselves and since we are not in school any more I am not going to ask each of you to stand up like little kids and say hello to the rest of the class. Rather get acquainted after we are finished here. And you won’t have much time, we leave before the hour hand moves but twice more.”
A younger athletically built man stood up and joined his Captain and faced the men.
“This is Brian. My 2IC. He will finish this briefing and outline our target and target facility. And remember from here on out there will be no reference to each other’s rank or full name.”
Brian was in his early thirties. He was bald, tall and built like a 100 metre sprinter. He was confident and known to his subordinates as being very aggressive.
“Listen up men. Play time is over, banter is over. We are here to work. We number 16 and we face an enemy of more than 30. An enemy holed up in one of the oldest fortresses on earth. Gentlemen we are about to stage an assault on the crusader castle, Krak des Chevaliers.”
Krak des Chevaliers was first known as the Castle of the Kurds then in 1142 it was given by the Count of Tripoli to the Knights Hospitaller. At its peak the Krak des Chevaliers housed a garrison of approximately 2,000 – this allowed the Hospitallers to extract great tribute from a large surrounding area and enjoy the power the castle commanded for a long time. Then in 1271 after a 36 day siege the Krak des Chevaliers was finally captured by the Mamluk Sultan Baibars. The successful seizure of the fortress was not accomplished by force but rather by subterfuge – the Knights surrendered on the order of the Hospitallers’ Grand Master – the letter was forged.
“Now I’m not going to give you men a lesson on the history of our target installation. But I will tell you this: the fortress has an impressive antiquity. Under normal military and war conditions attacking the castle would probably be a bad idea and would only lead to a long and drawn out bloody battle -- with both sides taking heavy casualties. But we do not wage conventional warfare. And our greatest advantages are twofold. One, our number is small. And two the castle is very, very large. Any questions?”
“How is attacking a very large fortress with very few men an advantage?” asked David.
“Because they’ll never expect it and according to our latest satellite imagery and informative intelligence our target force is approximately 36. So in terms of man to man they have us beat more than two to one but 36 people protecting a fortress the size of this castle is thin, at best. When the castle was thriving there were more than 2000 men stationed there. Any questions?”
“Do we have any ground or air support?” asked Vincent of the SAS.
“Negative. We don’t need it. To be more precise, at this moment we don’t have it. But as I said before, that wouldn’t necessarily be a good thing as it would give us away.”
“Surely then we have Shadow support?” said Vincent.
“Shadow support?” echoed Jonathan.
“Negative. We have no over-watch. No sniper support whatsoever” said Brian, the SAS Second in Command.
“I am liking the sound of this task more and more” said Avi without a trace of cynicism.
“Shadow support wouldn’t be of much help on this assignment anyway” interjected a gunfighter. “The Krak des Chevaliers sits on top of a hill that is over 2100 feet above sea level. And its own walls are incredibly high, which would mean our sniper would have to be floating in the clouds to provide us with any cover.”
“Well said. For those of you who do not know, these three men in front of me are bushi, otherwise known as Samurai. We have just heard the wise words of Kenzo. How is that you are familiar with this castle, may I ask?”
“You may. And as you have just said, I am Samurai, we make it our business to learn about such things.”
An SAS soldier stood up.
“I’m loving all the colourful background here but come on Sarge, tell us, what’s the fookin’ plan!” said Nick.
“All right then” said Captain John Taylor. “Let’s get on with it. I hate these bloody mission briefings anyway. Here it is, all of it, the facts:
“The western media are reporting that the castle is being held by rebel forces opposing Bashar. This is horse manure. As you will now know it is in fact being held by Eltanin on behalf of al-Assad. Bashar’s forces are shelling the fortress but only the outer walls. This is cover. Our Int suggests that al-Assad’s plan is to replace himself with Eltanin, whom he believes to be his puppet. For now that may be the case, perhaps, but with Eltanin’s links to Al-Qaeda and every other known lunatic organisation this won’t last very long. Syrian forces have been building a network of underground tunnels leading in and out of the fortress for the last 24 months and they plan on using these tunnels to build a new powerba
se situated within the fortress. They plan on staging a fake coup installing Eltanin as the new leader of Syria, a coup they want the world to believe was led by rebel forces. It would be very difficult for the western world to intervene once he is installed. Bashar al-Assad would then be kept in hiding within the fortress until they are ready to make their next move. We are going to disrupt this plan and kill Eltanin.”
“So how did we find ourselves here, at this point” asked Scotty. “I know Geordie and Terry had a cell under surveillance in London for some time, off Int attained from Eltanin when we had him in custody?”
“They did. And they were the ones that uncovered Eltanin’s dual purpose for being based out here – he’s training young lads to use 3D printed pistols! That information coupled with the intelligence obtained through our seer has revealed that they planned on staging a terrorist attack on a football match in London using these printed weapons.”
“Well fuck me sideways! Anything else Captain?” said Scotty.
“Yes, we are going to blow the tunnels’ walls on our way out.”
“Oh okay, easy as. One last question Cap, how exactly are we going to gain access to these tunnels?”
“Our friends at the CIA have been working with some local militants and they have just recently captured a house in the village of al-Husn that surrounds the castle and it has direct access to the underground network of tunnels.
“That about covers it for now. Our Israeli friends are going to provide us with transport to the Syrian border. From there we are going in through Homs disguised as locals in civilian vehicles. And this will be the last point where we have satellite and drone cover. After that we are completely alone. Now I have one final meeting with the IDF I need to attend. The next time I see you men will be en route to assault one of the oldest fortresses on earth.”
Chapter Twenty
Mission Mobilisation En Route to Assault the Krak des Chevaliers
Abandoned church, village of al-Husn near Homs. Syria.
A battered white Mazda Bongo Brawny double cab truck screeched to a halt outside a rebel controlled abandoned church. The six Israeli special forces operators got out of the vehicle and were greeted at the main entrance to the church by a white male in his late fifties wearing Rayban sunglasses, a black baseball cap, blue jeans and a New York Yankees t-shirt.
“Your local disguises are damn good. Your tattered vehicle even better. You fit right in fellas!” said the man while thrusting his hand out in greeting.
“You must be… American” said the Israeli team leader.
“Damn right I am. My name is Tony and I’m your man. You’re bang on time. In fact you’re a little early.”
“In this game late usually means dead or captured. So early is always good. My name is Jonathan.”
“Good to finally meet you Johnny boy. I’ve heard a lot about your special unit.”
“Are the rest of the men here yet?”
“That’s a big negative my boy. But like I said you’re early. C’mon in.”
Tony led the way. Jonathan ordered three of his men to stay with the vehicle and posted two more on the church roof to keep watch. The Team Leader followed his CIA point of contact into the bowels of the church.
The two men walked through a bomb devastated and derelict church hall, past the priest’s mantle and down some gloomy stairs lit only by a few fluttering candles. Jonathan noted en route rebel militants staring at him while clutching AK47 assault rifles and various improvised homemade weapons of war.
“They’re a good bunch these boys. They only want their country back! That bastard Bashar has been making their life hell for far too long now. His time is up though” said Tony.
“So they are good soldiers then?” asked Jonathan.
“No way man. They’re fucking horrible soldiers. They have no discipline and follow almost no chain of command. They have huge balls though and they put up a good fight. You know it took almost 200 of them five days to take this old church from Syrian Forces?”
“How many of Bashar’s soldiers were defending it?”
“Twelve! I told you they were dreadful fighters.”
“Good to know I am surrounded by untrained fighters armed to the teeth.”
“Haha, indeed, but it’s all part of the fun, my man. Now, just down these stairs.”
The two operatives continued their descent on an old church stairwell past an ancient dungeon and into the innards of the earth through a makeshift mineshaft of wood and brick. Finally they reached a square holding room which was lit by a single lamp. They sat on square boxes and Tony offered Jonathan some coffee.
“It’s no Starbucks but it’s all I have.”
Jonathan graciously declined the offer and took a swig of water from a flask hanging from his hip and under his white and dusty traditional thawb.
“Now, while we wait for the rest of your unit to arrive tell me all about your journey, Johnny boy.”
“I’m not much of a story teller, so I’ll make it quick..
“We were flown in by military transport to Tripoli from Jerusalem to an abandoned and little known airfield Gadhafi used to use as his own private international travel lounge. Once there our local fixer had been unable to arrange the truck we had requested. That MV was large enough for the entire team. Instead he could only arrange three trucks, like the one you saw us arrive in. It was too risky to travel in convoy so Captain Taylor decided that we should split up and each vehicle would take a different route. That’s when we sent you the communication to expect three vehicles arriving at approximately the same time but from different directions. We each mapped out our own routes, geared up and put on these outer rags and headgear you now see me in. We had no trouble. In fact we were waved through one rebel check point and waved through another Syrian Army VCP. That’s it, now we are here after about 100km of some intense desert pitted dirt road driving.”
“Rather more boring than I had anticipated.”
“Boring is good, Tony.”
“So do you think the others may have run into any trouble?”
“Perhaps. As we could have ourselves, but my Sergeant and driver probably avoided most of the trouble for us. He’s got amazing war intuition and danger awareness. In fact he changed our route midway as he swore blindly that he knew an ambush had been set up for us.”
“I suppose you’re talking about Avi, then?”
“Yes I am. You know him?”
“Of course I do. Anyone who has been in this game for as long as I have will know Avi. On a daily basis I work with and have met some of the most deadly and frightening men on the planet but that man is something else. Ah, just thinking of those eyes of his sends shivers down my spine.”
The unmistakable sound of AK47 fire erupted above their heads. The two men immediately made their weapons ready and ran up the make shift shaft, the church stairwell and outside towards the gunfire. By the time they got to the perimeter wall it was all over.
Fifty metres down the road one rebel rag tag soldier was dead, his corpse crushed by a Syrian Army truck, his body pinned between the vehicle’s bonnet and a low slung brick wall. Inside the truck four Syrian soldiers had expired. Their bodies were riddled with holes made by multiple 7.62 and 5.56 rounds of ammunition.
The two overdue Mazda Bongo Brawny double cab trucks pulled into the church perimeter and the remaining members of Captain John Taylor’s SAS Para-Ops Unit debussed. Both trucks had been damaged and the front windshield of one of the vehicles had been smashed, leaving a gaping hole.
“Captain Taylor, it’s been forever my old friend. Had a little trouble I see” said CIA Tony.
“Trouble, no. Just a little pre op gunfire. Keeps my men handy with the steel.”
The two veteran warriors embraced in a large bear hug.
“We must hurry though, clearly our cover has been blown” said Taylor.
“Let’s go, I’ll lead the way. Everything is in place.”
The rest of Taylor’s
SAS troopers followed. All, except Scotty, wore a wide grin. The gunfighters trailed, without expression. Next, Jonathan led his men inside. To more war.
En route to the entrance of the tunnels Taylor explained what had happened.
The truck carrying the Captain, his “bodyguard” and Katsu’s Gunfighters had an uneventful journey until, when just three kilometres out, they received an urgent call for back up from the remaining truck carrying the SAS troopers.
The SAS truck commanded by Brian and driven by Scotty had reached a small Syrian army VCP manned by six soldiers with two vehicles. They were at the back of a queue of four civilian vehicles when all the cars were simultaneously cleared to pass. The soldiers entered their trucks and were about to leave when in Scotty’s haste to drive off he crashed his truck into the side of one of the Syrian Military HGVs. Obviously the soldiers weren’t too pleased about this and ordered the double cab carrying the SAS men to stop. They didn’t and a chase ensued. Gunfire was exchanged. Brian called in the cavalry and two kilometres later while rounding a bend Captain Taylor’s truck came into sight and pushed one of the military MVs onto its side. Within seconds the three Japanese Gunfighters had jumped off the back of the truck and despatched the enemy – two to the chest and one to the head of each of the three wounded soldiers.
The last army vehicle continued its distant pursuit until reaching the site of the church where it was met by a hailstorm of AK47 rounds from the waiting rebels and some very well placed 5.56 rounds from Avi and co’s MTAR-21s aka Micro Tavar assault rifles .
An overzealous, ill-disciplined and untrained rebel fighter ran out into the road firing his rifle wildly, spraying the air with AK rounds. He ran straight into the army truck and he was killed instantly, crumpled between vehicle and wall.
Avi made sure any crash survivors were no longer survivors by sending sniped lead to the head of each enemy.
After a 350km trip into Syrian lands through Homs via Tripoli from Jerusalem and a deadly gun skirmish, leaving six enemy dead, the SAS Para-Ops team had reached their destination -- the staging area for an underground assault on one of the oldest castles on earth.
SAS Para-Ops: MEGA SET - SAS Para-Ops Books #1, #2, #3, #4, #5 & #6 Page 14