Battleline (2007) (6 page)

.

ZAHEYA POSITIONS

1330 HOURS

MAJOR Arsalaan Sikes--known as Sikes Pasha by his men-finished off the last of the Iranian field ration. The food was canned in this case, and he had grown weary of the various soups the menus offered. The canned bread wasn't too bad, but the cheese spread that came with it was more than an Englishman's palate could stand. He longed for the varieties offered in the dehydrated chow available in Western armies.

He sat outside in front of his bunker, gazing down at the maze of trenches that made up the defenses of the base. He could see his second-in-command, Warrant Officer Shafaqat Hashiri, walking slowly down the line, inspecting the men on duty. Sikes grinned when he saw the veteran soldier give a dressing down to one of the Storm Troopers. The Brit had sharpened the men up from the time he commanded the armored car company at the Chehaar Garrison near the salt swamps farther south. Now, thanks to a fearful drubbing by Americans, they were an infantry unit. But they still demonstrated a marked fighting spirit, and responded well to discipline.

"Sikes Pasha!"

He looked up the path at the sound of his name, and saw Captain Naser Khadid of the Iranian Special Forces approaching. Sikes lifted a hand in a gesture of greeting. "Out for a stroll?"

Khadid shook his head as he walked up and took a seat on the ground. "Brigadier Khohollah wanted me to drop by to see how your Arabs are doing."

Sikes gestured downward. "They're 'standing to,' as is said in the British Army."

"The Brigadier is extremely pleased to note how well you have trained them,"

Khadid said. "He is particularly pleased that their morale has remained high in spite of the previous setbacks. I thought you might be interested in the fact he speaks highly of you to others."

"That's always nice to know, ain't it?" Sikes remarked, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. He offered one to Khadid and took one himself. "Them lads o' mine are damn good, no doubt. Good thing for them they're here, ain't it? If they was back in Iraq, they'd prob'ly all been sent to blow themselves up as suicide bombers by now."

"Indeed," Khadid said, lighting a match to serve both of them. "That is the one thing my government wanted to stop. That was the driving force behind the concept of Iranian control over all Shiite insurgencies."

"Here now, Naser," Sikes said. "I ain't completely stupid, y'know, hey? You Iranians want to own the whole bluddy Middle East. Even I figgered that out though nobody sat me down and actually said it."

Khadid looked at him carefully. "How do you feel about that, Sikes Pasha?"

"I got no problems with it," Sikes said. "I'm a major in the bluddy Iranian Army, ain't I? So when this all happens, I'll be sitting pretty." He took a drag off the cigarette and slowly exhaled. "But I'm a bit confused about this here operation, know what I mean then?"

"What is bothering you?"

"Aw, there ain't nothing bothering me, but I can't quite figger out what we'll be accomplishing here, hey?" Sikes said. "What if we win? What if we lose?"

"Although there are not many troops here, this is an important operation," Khadid said. "For both sides. Our objective, of course, is to get a good foothold in Afghanistan, then have large units of the Iranian Army follow up to occupy our conquered area. A victory on our part will bring Yama Orakzai and his band back to us. When that happens, more Pashtuns will rally to our cause. Afghanistan will be completely dominated by Iran within six months."

"Then what in the bluddy hell are we waiting for, hey?" Sikes asked. "There ain't a single, solitary Yank across that valley sitting in Orakzai's old stronghold. All we got to do is make our way over there and it's ours."

Khadid shook his head. "The Americans would simply contain us there, then push us back here. What we must do is defeat them here as they attack us, understand? In the meantime, do not forget that more and more Shiite Arabs are joining our ranks. If we can keep the infidels occupied long enough, we shall have a strong force."

"Alright," Sikes relented. "I'll take yer word for it. Tell the Brigadier that me Arab Storm Troopers are ready to fight."

Khadid stood up. "He will be glad to know he can depend on you, Sikes Pasha."

"Tell me, something, Naser," Sikes said. "Do you miss your Pashtun wife?" They had both entered temporary Muslim marriages with teenage Pashtun girls during the time they were stationed with Orakzai's people. When the leader pulled out to submit to the authority of the Afghanistan government, the marriages were ended. "I sure miss Banafsha."

"And I long for Mahzala's charms," Khadid said. "But we will be without women for a long time." He got to his feet. "I must go, Sikes Pasha. Good day."

"Ruz bekheyr,"
Sikes said. "And tell the Brigadier that I'm working hard at learning me Farsi."

"You learned a lot of Arabic quite rapidly," Khadid said. "I am sure you will have an excellent working knowledge of Farsi within a few more weeks." He nodded a good-bye, then went back down the path.

Sikes settled back and lit another cigarette off the first. In truth, he didn't have that much faith in his Islamic brothers-inarms, but he had no choice but to stay with them. He would face years in a military prison if he returned to Blighty. He had cut himself off from his native land the moment he deserted and joined the enemy. But if the Iranians succeeded in their plans and really controlled the Middle East, he had much to gain.

His twenty-man Arab Storm Trooper detachment would eventually be expanded to division or perhaps even corps size as the Persian Empire began spreading outward. Brigadier Khohollah had once told him they would branch out to the east and south after conquering Afghanistan and Pakistan, swallowing up Iraq, Saudi Arabia, and Syria. After that came the destruction of Israel before continuing to scoop up other nations until the Great Army of the Empire of Persia was in Turkey, ready to invade Europe itself.

Sikes glanced down at his soldiers on duty in the trenches. They wore Iranian camouflage uniforms and keffiyeh headdresses, giving them an exotic yet fierce appearance. While he and Warrant Officer Hashiri wore Iranian insignia of rank, their noncommissioned officers wore British chevrons. Somehow, the sight of the familiar badges made Sikes feel more confident.

He finished the cigarette and flipped it over into a stand of rocks. God! How he would love to go down to his favorite pub in Manchester for a few pints with his old mates.

CHAPTER
3

SEAL OA

9 JUNE 0625 HOURS

THE Afghan pilot who flew the Huey chopper was good at his job. He had made countless insertions of U. S. Army Special Forces teams into combat situations all over Afghanistan, and instinctively reacted to every aspect of the parachute insertion.

Now, as he swung his aircraft along the proper azimuth over the DZ/LZ, he made note of the wind by studying the directions of the dust clouds being kicked up at ground level. He swung farther away from the western edge of the area to give the three jumpers in his troop compartment more space. However, he knew at that low altitude it probably didn't make much difference. They were headed for a very short trip between aircraft and terra firma. The pilot sincerely hoped it wouldn't be
too
quick.

Mike Assad, Dave Leibowitz, and Garth Redhawk sat on the deck, their legs dangling out of the aircraft. Mike was the jumpmaster, and he waited until he was certain they were in the middle of the flat area designated for the DZ and LZ. When he was satisfied, he pushed himself out. The down-blast from the rotors pressed him hard, and he turned to his side slightly as he rushed earthward. He could see Dave and Garth at slightly different altitudes above him. Suddenly his canopy opened and two beats later he hit the ground hard, unable to make a decent PLF. Pain shot through his legs up into his lower back, but when he got to his feet he was sore but obviously had suffered no serious injury.

After hitting the quick-release box, his harness dropped to the ground and he retrieved his M-16 rifle. A moment later Mike and Garth walked up to him, both limping slightly.

"Shit!" Garth said. "I don't know why they bothered to give us parachutes."

"I think we ought to have a rule in the SEALs," Mike said. "From now on, low-altitude jumps from choppers will be performed by officers only."

"Good idea," Dave said. "Be sure and mention that suggestion to the Secretary of the Navy."

"That'll be the first thing I'll do the next time he calls me up for some advice," Mike said. "Alright! Dave will take the point, and Garth, you're the Tail-End Charlie. Let's go check this place out."

The three trekked westward for some fifty meters before finding a trail. It led downward toward the area they were to occupy, and the patrol moved gingerly, keeping on the alert. The photoreconnaissance that showed it unoccupied was forty-eight hours old, and a lot could have happened during the passing of two days.

It was a short fifteen-minute walk down to the area that was obviously the site where the Pashtuns had lived when they inhabited the locale. The SEALs went into the nearest cave, pausing for a moment. "These'll make great bunkers," Mike remarked. "I'll check out this first one." As soon as Garth and Dave were ready to cover him, Mike rushed in with his M-16 ready. The place was empty and also very clean and swept out. Further investigation along the mountainside revealed the same in all the grottoes.

"Them Pashtuns are neat freaks, ain't they?" Mike remarked.

"Y'know," Dave said, "I think this place could pass inspection from the senior chief."

"Are you shitting me?" Garth said. "Dawkins would gig an operating room."

"There's another path," Mike said. "Let's check it out."

The lower level had more caves and some small stone houses. Three mountain springs in the near vicinity produced streams of cold, clear water that gave more favorable indication of the livability of the place. When the SEALs turned their attention to the dwellings, they found clay baking ovens. Countless fires had turned them brick hard, while scorching the interiors to a deep charcoal black. Dave was thoughtful for a moment. "All this orderliness means only one thing. Those people were planning on coming back here someday."

"I think you're right," Mike said. "Well, let's check out the defensive features of our new neighborhood. Then we better hotfoot it back to the LZ."

A short but efficient walk-around brought the discovery of several well-maintained fighting positions. The trio of SEALs gave each location a professional study. Garth stepped into one and looked around. "This place is solid as if it were carved out of rock. The camouflage is all dried out now, but it's easy to tell it was effective when fresh. Everything blends perfect with the surroundings."

"That's why it's called camouflage, wiseass," Dave remarked.

"I don't like stone defenses," Mike complained. "When a mortar shell hits it, the stuff splits up and adds to the shrapnel."

"Well, this place ain't exactly Sherwood Forest," Dave said. "If they got no trees to cut down, then rock is their next best choice."

"Their
only
choice around here," Garth added. "I'm glad there's a shitload of empty sandbags coming in on the Pave Low. It'll be a lot of work to fill 'em up, but they'll strengthen the defenses and make 'em safer for the guys using 'em."

"Okay," Mike said. "Let's get back up to the LZ. The rest of the detachment ought to be coming in pretty soon."

"I hope to hell that Connie and Matty remembered to put our gear aboard that Air Force chopper," Dave said.

"If they didn't, we'll take their stuff away from 'em and split it up," Garth said sourly. "It'll be share and share alike."

Mike could hear the approaching Pave Low in the distance. He spoke into his LASH. "Brigand Boss, this is Sneaky Pete. The Oscar Alpha is secure. Over."

"This is Brigand Boss," came back Brannigan's voice. "We're coming in. Out."

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OA LZ

0710 HOURS

THE Pave Low helicopter nosed up slightly as it eased down to the ground. The three-man recon patrol double-timed over to the aircraft as the rear ramp slid open. The first guy out was the Skipper, followed by the two officers and the senior chief. Immediately the rest of the detachment unassed the chopper, falling into formation by sections, with the officers standing off to the side.

Mike, Dave, and Garth joined the Headquarters crowd, falling in beside Connie Concord and Matty Matsuno. Connie nodded to them. "You're gear is aboard on the starboard side."

Before the three could respond, Dawkins called the detachment to attention. "Alright! We got mucho crapolla to get off the chopper and down to our new home. Alpha and Bravo fire teams form a relay line starting in the aircraft. Charlie and Delta join the line and stretch it over to the edge of the LZ where that path begins. Echo and Foxtrot continue it down to the bottom and stack it there." He looked over at Chief Gunnarson. "Matt, take your men and machine guns down to the front line and pick out three good spots to set up your weapons. Have your bullet toters take along some ammo boxes so you can go into business ASAP."