The long november, p.26
The Long November, page 26
“Fine. Nothing new since yesterday’s briefing. Things are subject to change, of course. But if the tactical situation remains the same, once we reach Karachi, our battalion won’t wait for the rest of the division to unload. We’ll head straight from the docks to reinforce the Pakistani army units protecting the city while the others prepare to attack. When the division’s in place, we’ll hit them with everything we’ve got and not stop until we’ve destroyed Basra’s army.”
“Are they still estimating a couple of weeks of intense fighting and we’ll be on our way home?”
“That’s what they’re saying. Nice and simple. Clean up this mess, load back on the ships, and be home before Christmas. With what we’re going to unleash on Basra’s followers, they won’t know what hit them.”
“Let’s hope they’re right, sir. Sure would like to avoid another Christmas spent away from my wife and kids.”
45
4:19 P.M., NOVEMBER 7
OPERATIONAL DETACHMENT ALPHA 6333, CHARLIE COMPANY, 3RD BATTALION, 6TH SPECIAL FORCES GROUP (AIRBORNE)
MISHIRA NUCLEAR ARMAMENTS MOBILE LAUNCH FACILITY
THIRTY MILES SOUTHWEST OF ISLAMABAD, PAKISTAN
Charlie Sanders watched as the Chinook cargo helicopter lifted the final Shaheen missile a few feet into the air. The Chinook whirled about, the rocket dangling beneath it, and headed east toward the snow-covered mountains. Once in India, the disabled nuclear weapons would be placed on air force cargo planes and flown to Germany.
Within minutes, the Chinook and its payload, its image growing smaller, disappeared over the horizon. Sanders let out a deep sigh. With the three rockets and the ten crates holding the smaller tactical nuclear weapons gone, the immense threat was over. Without them, the transporter-erector-launchers were of little importance. The departing Green Berets would leave them in the center of the compound as they made their escape.
The past few days had had their moments, but all of the Americans were in agreement that this portion of the operation had been easier than any had expected. They’d fended off a series of Fedayeen attacks, most highly disorganized and half-hearted. One had been significant, the remainder modest in scope. The assault’s ferocity had lessened with each subsequent attempt to regain control of Mishira. A handful of additional wounded, and no dead, was all the surviving Green Berets had experienced. And on this steamy afternoon things couldn’t have gone better. For the first time since they’d seized the hilltop, not a shot had been fired by any of the Special Forces soldiers. By midmorning, with the world around them calm, Sanders had been able to focus on the task at hand: getting the deadly slayers he and Davidson had disabled out of there. With the final helicopter gone, another critical mission was nearly over.
Before sundown, the same Black Hawks that had deposited them on the contested plateau would arrive to extract them. Even Camp Nowhere, the first stop on the extended journey home, didn’t seem like such an unappealing place when compared to where they were and what they’d been doing. He turned to retreat to the bunker on the northeast corner of the perimeter he’d shared with Aaron Porter for the past three days. Once there, he’d gather his gear in anticipation of the Black Hawks’ appearance. In a couple of hours, the helicopters would arrive and whisk them away from this hellhole. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be sitting in his favorite Fayetteville bar, cold beer in one hand and, with any luck, a smiling woman in the other.
* * *
• • •
An uneventful ninety minutes passed as the afternoon droned on. The time for their departure was growing near.
The square-jawed Neil Short, his bandaged left arm and shoulder in a heavy sling, approached. Inside the bunker, Porter sat sharpening his knife while Sanders stared at the snowcaps rising in the distance. The younger sergeant had been aimlessly attempting to figure out which of them contained the secret location where Camp Nowhere was hidden from all but friendly eyes. Both looked up to see the A Team commander hovering over them.
“Black Hawks on the way, sir?” the upbeat Sanders asked.
“That’s what I came to tell you. Our orders have been changed.”
“What?” Porter said, his surprise evident. Both sergeants understood it was unlikely they’d be pleased by what Short was about to tell them.
“For now, we’re staying right here. Higher-ups believe the threat the Fedayeen poses is too great to let stand. For the good of all, we need to put the Pakistani government back in power and do what we can to stabilize the situation.”
Porter and Sanders gave each other sideways glances. Neither liked the sound of where this was heading.
“We’ve been in discussion with the Pakistan military for a few days now,” the captain said. “After the guys in our group saved their asses by disabling the nuclear weapons, the Pakistanis have agreed a joint effort to put an end to this mess needs to be launched. If everything goes as planned, in less than two weeks the 6th Special Forces Group is going to be part of a massive Allied assault that will sweep across Pakistan to destroy Salim Basra and his followers. The 3rd Infantry is heading out by ship. They’re scheduled to reach Karachi and begin unloading on the seventeenth. A French armored division and a British one will arrive around the same time. As we speak, the 10th Mountain’s loading onto trains and heading for Bayonne. They’ll reach Pakistan and be ready to attack on the same day the 3rd Infantry arrives.”
“That’s fine, sir,” Sanders said. “After what we’ve gone through, nothing would please me more than seeing these sorry bastards wiped out. But what does the 3rd Infantry’s and 10th Mountain’s attacks have to do with us? We’ve done what they sent us here to do. It’s time to go home and settle in for some well-deserved rest and relaxation.”
“The details of the plan are still being finalized, but one thing’s clear: there’ll be no R and R for this team anytime soon,” was the captain’s response. “We’re going to be right in the thick of things. The entire group’s going to do their best to fend off any Fedayeen attacks and hold right where they are for the next ten days. A day or two before the division-level attacks begin, each A Team will head out and start raising hell everywhere they can. Wherever we find them, we’re going to take out the fanatics and sow a mountain of discord behind their lines. The 3rd Infantry, French, and British will be coming from one direction, the 10th Mountain from the other. With us in the middle striking every which way they turn, the rabble won’t stand a chance.”
“How long do they think this will take, sir?” Porter asked, knowing every additional hour of combat decreased the chances of finding their way out of here.
“Group’s estimating it’ll likely be the end of the month, possibly a few days more, before we put an end to this. Once we do, we’ll head for home.”
From the captain’s tone and mannerisms, it was apparent he was pleased with the change of plans. Despite what they’d endured, he was eager to continue the fight. Nevertheless, there was little doubt from their expressions that neither of the grizzled soldiers shared his enthusiasm. They’d stared into death’s eyes on many an occasion. With their captain’s edict, each understood the chances were great that before the month was over they’d do so once again.
46
9:58 A.M., NOVEMBER 8
OPERATIONAL DETACHMENT ALPHA 6333, CHARLIE COMPANY, 3RD BATTALION, 6TH SPECIAL FORCES GROUP (AIRBORNE)
MISHIRA NUCLEAR ARMAMENTS MOBILE LAUNCH FACILITY
THIRTY MILES SOUTHWEST OF ISLAMABAD, PAKISTAN
As always, Porter sensed the danger before he saw it. He peered out on the expansive valley searching for its source. It didn’t take long for him to locate it. “Someone headed this way,” he said.
Sanders looked in the general direction his partner had indicated. They’d intentionally selected this location in the northeast corner of the plateau to establish their defensive position. Here the trees were thin and wouldn’t limit their view of the sloping scene below. Despite his exceptional abilities, Sanders was no match for his partner when it came to identifying potential danger. The junior sergeant’s search found nothing.
“How many of them?”
“Just one,” Porter said.
“Where?”
“About ten o’clock. See the bent sapling well down the hill sticking out of the tall grasses?”
About a half mile away, Sanders spotted the pitiful little tree. “Yeah.”
“Follow it down the slope for a few hundred yards. Hard to see because the person’s clothing kind of blends into with the landscape, but there’s someone down there.”
Sanders located the movement. “I’ve got ’em.” He watched the distant figure struggling up the steep grade toward them. Whoever it was seemed to be wandering somewhat aimlessly. The stumbling form appeared confused and lost. Once or twice each minute, the figure would stop and look around, focusing primarily on what, if anything, was behind them.
The erratic movement continued for a further ten minutes with the person more or less heading in the general direction of the Special Forces encampment. Whoever it was had cut in half the distance between where Porter had first spotted them and the American defenses.
The wayward image was close enough for the team’s senior weapons specialist to hazard a guess as to whether they were male or female and what kind of threat they appeared to pose. “Given what they’re wearing, it’s got to be a woman or girl.” Porter paused, examining the approaching person once more. “There’s no indication she’s carrying a weapon.”
The person stopped and looked around once more, attempting to get her bearings. This time the unsteady effort succeeded. Straight as an arrow, she headed toward where Porter and Sanders were waiting.
* * *
• • •
“Halt!” Porter ordered when the striving Pakistani was thirty yards away. She responded instantly, complying with his directive.
It was a girl of eleven or twelve. Porter motioned with his rifle for her to approach the bunker. Both could see she was trembling, her dark eyes wide with fear as she walked toward them. When she got closer, they spotted blood on her tattered clothing along with heavy bruises and irregular cuts and scrapes on her face. With the remainder of her body covered by what she was wearing, they couldn’t tell any more than that. She didn’t appear to be a threat, but the situation called for prudence. With her wearing traditional Pakistani clothing consisting of loose-fitting salwar pants, a kameez shirt, and a dupatta scarf, she could easily be concealing a bomb beneath them.
When she was fifteen feet away Porter said, “That’s close enough.” The girl stopped. “Hands up,” was his next command.
She did as she was told, uneasily raising her arms into the air. It was apparent she’d understood his commands. With 40 percent of the Pakistani population reasonably fluent in English, it wasn’t overly surprising.
“Charlie, pat her down for weapons and explosives.”
Rifle at the ready, Sanders got up and headed over to where the girl was standing. The terror hadn’t left her eyes. He needed to ensure nothing was out of place, but given her appearance, he wanted to be as delicate as the situation would allow. He gently patted her down.
“She’s clean.”
“All right, bring her in.”
Sanders took her by the arm and led her over to the bunker.
“May I have some water, please?” the anxious girl said. Her parched lips and clinging mouth showed she was badly dehydrated. Her meek voice was hoarse and raw. Sanders took out his canteen and handed it to her. She emptied the half-full container in a few hasty swallows. She handed it back.
“Thank you. I’ve been wandering around for hours and haven’t had anything to drink since yesterday afternoon.”
“What’s your name, girl?” Porter asked.
“Fareeda.”
“Okay, what the hell are you doing out here on your own, Fareeda?”
“I was looking for you,” was the unanticipated answer.
“Us? Why us? How did you even know we were here?”
“I heard the Fedayeen Islam men who came to my school talking about the Americans that were nearby. They were planning an attack against you once they finished with us and could gather hundreds of their soldiers to assist them. They’re going to kill you.”
“Let ’em try,” Sanders said.
He motioned to the north. Fifty yards away lay the huge pile of jihadists they’d eliminated while taking the site. With them scheduled to board the helicopters and depart yesterday, the original plan had been to leave the bloated carcasses where they were. Now that they weren’t leaving for another ten days, those plans had changed. The vile smell and unwanted pests the corpses were attracting was becoming untenable. Enough fuel had been drained from the transporter-erector-launchers to douse them all. An hour from now, a huge funeral pyre would blaze in the late morning sun. Hopefully, the fearsome fires and rising smoke wouldn’t attract a pest of a different kind—one holding a rifle.
It took the girl more than a moment to recover from the mass of jumbled images to which the African American soldier had pointed. Finally, her focus returned and she spoke again. “Please, you’ve got to help. I escaped when they weren’t looking. Before they go find others to help slay you, they’re planning on killing my teacher and all of my classmates. If you don’t stop them, all will die.”
“How do you know the Fedayeen will kill them?” Porter asked.
“Because they hate us.”
“Why do they hate you?” Sanders asked.
“Many of the backward men who live in the tribal territories believe educating girls is a sin against the Koran. Most of our country isn’t like that, but our attending school and learning to read and write goes against what those kinds of people have been taught. And for them, there’s only one possible punishment for our sins: death. They’re evil, ignorant men who care nothing about any life but their own.”
Porter looked at the dried blood on her shirt and legs. Along with the multiple rips he spotted on her clothing, when he put it all together, there appeared to be a pattern. “Fareeda, did they rape you?” he said as quietly as he could.
She dropped her head, unable to look into the Americans’ eyes. Her voice, filled with shame, was scarcely a whisper. “Yes, many times. The other students and our teacher too.”
“Shit!” Sanders said. “Every last one of those sorry sonsabitches needs to die in the most awful way imaginable.” His disgust was evident as he spit out the words. “And I know a couple of guys who’d be happy to oblige them.”
Nonetheless, Porter kept his voice calm and steady. He knew the hard-core among the uneducated peasants looked with great disdain at girls attending school. He also understood the sexes weren’t allowed to attend class together, so there’d be no boys among them. “How many girls are there, Fareeda?”
“Counting me, thirty. Please, there’s little time. They’re going to kill all my friends and my teacher. Please, before it’s too late, help us.” There was anguish in the pleading girl’s voice. And an unrelenting pain in her eyes.
“How many Fedayeen are there?”
“I don’t know…forty…fifty, maybe.”
“Where’s your school?”
“In the valley below, about five or six kilometers from here.” She pointed to the east.
“Is it close to any villages?” Porter asked. He knew if further fanatics were nearby it would make any rescue attempt impossible.
“Until they destroyed it, my village wasn’t too far away. It would take me thirty minutes, but I could walk home each evening. The people of my village built the school where they did to keep it hidden from those who might object to such a place. So it really isn’t too near anything. Until the day before yesterday, my friends and I were lucky. The Fedayeen moving through the area didn’t spot us. We’d hoped it would remain so. But as this group was foraging for food, they found our school.”
“What about other Fedayeen? Are there any close by?”
“On the way to find you I saw no one. Still, over the past days there have been more than a few passing through the valley. So it’s possible some are nearby.”
Porter was running through his options, already beginning to develop a semblance of a rescue plan. “Are there trees or other things in that part of the valley to protect us if we try to help?”
“No. My school’s by a little stream in the middle of a wide grass field with nothing at all to shelter it.”
“How tall is the grass?” Porter asked.
Rather than answering, she held her arm out, indicating it was around three feet high.
He looked at Sanders with the hint of a sneer on his face. “High enough to get close without the bastards knowing we’re there.” He looked back at the girl. “Do you think you could find it again if we went with you to save your friends?”
“Yes, I can lead you there.”
“Do you understand? It would mean risking your own life if you did.”
“I’ve no choice. Many will die if I don’t take you. The Fedayeen will kill them. Please, we need your help.”
Both soldiers could sense from her sincerity and the urgency of her plea that she was telling the truth. “Aaron, do you think the captain would even consider letting us try?” Sanders asked.
“No idea, but I’m gonna ask. In all the years I’ve been doing this, I’ve never allowed innocents to die. And I’m sure as hell not about to start now.”
* * *
• • •
The girl stood off to the side as the animated discussion continued. Her uneasiness showed.
