Sword Point (45 page)

Word that the Soviet major was conscious temporarily broke up the planning session. Ilvanich suddenly became uneasy. What would he do if the
KGB
major objected? How would he be able to explain the situation? His convictions wavered as he walked over to where the wounded were. What the hell, he thought. What is done is done. The major is in no position to influence the situation.

The major was propped up against a rucksack, and the American doctor was helping him drink from a canteen cup. When the major saw Ilvanich, he waved the American away. For a moment he watched the young lieutenant without expression. Suddenly his face contorted with a surprised look as he focused on Ilvanich’s AK dangling from his shoulder. His head snapped to the right in the direction of a group of Americans sitting under a tree cleaning their weapons and joking. By the time he turned back to Ilvanich, the lieutenant was standing before him at attention.

Ilvanich saluted. “I am most happy to see you are responding to treatment,

Comrade Major.” The major did not return the salute or say anything as Ilvanich squatted down at his side. The look on the major’s face bespoke his confusion.

“No doubt you are wondering what is happening, Comrade Major.”

The major regained his composure, his face going blank as his eyes locked on Ilvanich’s. Though his voice was weak and raspy, his question was direct and measured. “You have, I trust, an explanation for all this, Lieutenant

Ilvanich?”

Ilvanich explained the situation, including what he and Cerro assumed had happened before the Americans arrived at the oasis and found the major and the burned-out helicopter. The
KGB
major listened without interruption as

Ilvanich described in detail the events that had led up to his capture, the bargain the two lieutenants had struck and the results of the previous night’s patrol. When Ilvanich finished, the major simply stared at him for a moment. Ilvanich was uneasy but did not allow him to see that.

Finally the major spoke. “What about Lvov, and the other helicopter?”

“We have seen nothing of the captain or the men with him, Comrade Major.

Either they went down like me or turned back because of the storm.”

“Do you really believe the American, Comrade Lieutenant? Do you really think that once the mission is complete he is simply going to let us walk away?”

“Yes, Comrade. He will.”

The major’s eyes narrowed. “You are more naive than I thought. I had hoped to make something of you. You had a great future. Do you know what will become of you now if the Americans do let you live?”

Ilvanich felt his anger rising. He fought the urge to lash out at the
KGB
major. Only when he had regained his composure did he answer.

“Have you realized, Comrade Major, what will happen if the Iranians are not stopped?

I may not have a future in the Party. And I may be sent to a gulag for cooperating with the Americans. But at least there will be a Party left to send me to a gulag if we succeed. What, Comrade Major, do you suppose will happen if the Iranians do drop a bomb on either the Americans or us? Do you suppose anyone in Moscow or Washington will worry much about who started it? And where will it stop?

Here? No, Comrade Major. I will not gamble on the chance that sane heads will prevail. Not when the stakes are Mother Russia herself. I am a soldier.

I have a mission to accomplish, an important one. If it means cooperating with the enemy for a moment, then I will do so. After all, did not Stalin sign a pact with the fascists in order to serve the needs of the Soviet

Union and the Party?”

The last comment made the major visibly angry. Party members did not like having certain historical events “discussed.” Ilvanich knew he had hit the mark as he watched the major consider his comments. After a couple of minutes of silence, the harshness in the major’s face softened, then changed to a look of concern. “Do they,” pointing to the Americans, “know that I am KGB?”

Ilvanich fought the urge to smile. So, it has finally dawned upon you, he thought. You are slow, Comrade Major. For a moment he thought of toying with the major, to make him squirm for once. He decided not to, however.

Ilvanich knew that he would be in serious trouble when he and his men eventually returned to their own lines. He would need the support and goodwill of the
KGB
major. If he played it right, he might even escape a tour in the gulag. “No, Comrade Major. They assumed you were my commander, and I have allowed them to continue to think that. Right now they think I am briefing you on the situation in order to gain your approval of our joint enterprise. What should I tell them? Do we continue as planned?”

The major looked in Ilvanich’s eyes. He knew that Ilvanich was going to continue, regardless of what he said. He also knew that if llvanich told the Americans that he was
KGB
, he was a dead man. Reluctantly, he nodded and said yes, continue.

As I1vanich walked away, he smiled to himself. Even the major, like Lenin, he thought, is wise enough to realize there comes a time when reality outweighs ideology and principles.

As the two lieutenants in command ate their evening meal, they talked of many things. Mostly they discussed their homes and families. Cerro told of how he feared heights and hated to jump. He recounted the jump into Bandar

Abbas and how his commander had died. Ilvanich did not say much about his conversation with the
KGB
major, stating only that his “commander”

approved of the cooperation. Instead he told the American of the problems he was having with his company commander, wherever he was. He added that he should be so lucky as to lose Lvov as Cerro had lost his commander.

While they avoided any discussion of their units in general or of politics, their talk turned to things they could not tell anyone else.

They talked about war, leadership and killing. Both were young men, neither one more than twenty-three years old. Both had led and were about to lead men younger than they into battle where they would kill or be killed by other young men. When it was time to leave for the march to Robat-a Abgram, they both felt unburdened of problems and weighty matters that they had carried about for so long. Each also felt an affinity to the man he had called enemy. They were part of a brotherhood, a brotherhood understood only by those who had seen the face of battle and led men into it. For two days, they would be allies. After that, enemies again, until death. That they did not discuss. They didn’t need to. It had always been understood.

Robat-a Abgram, Iran 0059 Hours, 20 July (2129 Hours, 19 July,
GMT
) The assault group in the ditch was not visible. Cerro had no way of knowing whether Ilvanich and his men were in place. Nervously he tapped the metal tube of the green star cluster. This time he had brought only one color. One green star cluster was the signal to attack. Two star clusters were the signal for the withdrawal. Cerro would signal the withdrawal only after the assault party had passed through the platoon on the western side of the compound. Once contact was broken, the platoons would move back

to the well on their own. Cerro again looked at his watch. Thirty seconds.

He prepared the star cluster for firing. Ten seconds. He watched the sweep hand move until it was about to hit the twelve. Holding the star cluster’s tube firmly in his left hand, he hit it on the bottom with his right hand.

Most of the Americans did not wait for the star cluster to burst before they fired. When the sound of the rocket was heard whooshing skyward, they cut loose. Two 60mm. mortars located behind Cerro choked out rounds as fast the gunners could drop them in. Grenadiers fired their 40mm. grenades into the open windows of the barracks. Machine gunners raked the area with long bursts, cutting down guards as they looked up at the bursting star cluster.

Ilvanich held his men in the ditch until the first mortar rounds impacted and the firing had begun. He wanted to ensure that they were not running into someone’s field of fire. On order, the Russians were up out of the ditch and running for the buildings they were to hit.

Hensly did not understand what Ilvanich said, but got the idea when everyone left the ditch. He and his small squad raced behind Ilvanich.

There were several trucks in front of the buildings they were assaulting.

Four Iranians standing by the trucks had grabbed their rifles and held them at the ready, but did not know which way to turn or run. There appeared to be firing going on in all directions. Only at the last possible moment did they see the advancing line of Soviet paratroopers and then it was too late. In a single volley of automatic-rifle fire, all four Iranians were cut down. The presence of the trucks puzzled Ilvanich as he rushed past them toward the buildings. He and Cerro had not seen them the night before.

He wondered where they had come from and why they were there.

Once in the buildings, the Soviet paratroopers ceased spraying automatic fire at random. For fear of hitting one another or, even worse, stored explosives, they carefully marked their targets. When Hensly entered the building that Ilvanich had said was the main assembly area, he was blinded by the lights. In the confusion, the Iranians had not killed the generator or the lights in the building. This, along with the fact that there were no fighters in the building, made the task of clearing it quite easy. From behind a large crate, Hensly watched the systematic elimination of Iran’s best engineers and physicists. Seeing the

Russian paratroopers go about their duty was frightening. He had no doubt

American paratroopers doing the same thing would not have looked much different. The mere thought of being in a room full of armed Russians during a killing frenzy, however, was very nerve-racking indeed.

Within two minutes the Russians were done. Ilvanich walked out to the middle of the floor and looked around, his AK held at the ready. A yell from him in Russian brought responses from his people. Satisfied, he let his AK drop to his side and called out to Hensly, “We are finished,

Commander. Time for you.”

From behind his crate, Hensly came to where Ilvanich stood and began to survey the area. All eyes were on him now, waiting for his orders and directions. He walked a few feet, then stopped and looked some more.

Ilvanich, his AK dangling, its barrel still hot from use, followed him.

Outside, the sounds of fighting continued unabated. Still Hensly took his time, taking it all in before starting.

When he found what he was searching for he stopped and smiled. Turning to

Ilvanich, he asked, “Have you ever seen an atomic device before?”

Ilvanich shook his head, annoyed at the time being wasted but not wanting to rush the expert. Hensly, with a sweep of his arm, pointed out six large cylinders on tables. Wires and electronic equipment surrounded four of them. Two that were apparently completed were on small carts with wheels, as if they were about to be moved. “You have before you, Lieutenant, six bombs. We have found what we were after.”

Ilvanich, anxious to leave, snapped, “Good, let us get on with destroying them. We must leave, quickly.”

When he was ready, Hensly turned to the men in the demolition team and directed them to their tasks. Some were sent to destroy machine tools and equipment used for fabrication of the devices. Two men, one Russian, the other American, followed Hensly from one device to the other, handing him blocks of C-4 detonators and timers. While Hensly set the explosives where he wanted them, the two men set the detonators and timers.

At Hensly’s direction, Ilvanich sent two other men to find the storage containers for the plutonium. When they returned, Hensly, accompanied by Ilvanich, followed them to the other building in the center of the compound.

As they entered the building, Hensly stopped and gasped. “Jesus Christ!

It’s a wonder these clowns didn’t blow themselves up.” Throughout the room large, heavy containers were stacked haphazardly. Each contained the symbol that cautioned against radiation. Hensly walked up to one of the containers and knelt to read the markings on a metal data plate.

“Shit. I should’ve figured.”

Ilvanich came up beside him and also knelt. “What is it, Commander?”

“Read the markings from shipping, Lieutenant. Nice friends, eh?”

“Perhaps they had them from before the fall of the Shah?”

Hensly shook his head. “Not likely. Not with the shipping date of January 1985.”

Ilvanich was amazed. “That government would allow such a thing to be sold to people like the Iranians? Is that country not your ally?”

Hensly smiled. “Lieutenant, in the West we have an old saying, “Money talks and bullshit walks.” You are looking at the ultimate in a world that believes in supply and demand. Someone no doubt showed a tremendous annual profit for his company over this deal.”

The rattle of machine-gun fire reminded Ilvanich that they needed to hurry.

“We must destroy this and be gone. Come, let us hurry.”

“That, my young friend, is easier said than done.” Hensly looked at the containers for a moment and tried hard to imagine what would happen if they tried to destroy them all. His training and what little he knew of physics had not prepared him for this. A bad call on his part, breaking too many containers and allowing, or forcing, too much plutonium to mass, could set off a chain reaction. At least, that was what he thought. He wasn’t sure. Mumbling to himself, he mused,

“Well, this is a fine mess you’ve got yourself into.”

After considering the problem for a few more moments, he began showing the men where to place the demo charges and then directed them as they finished the task. He would destroy some of the containers, hoping that he didn’t err in judgment and break too many. He wanted to cause just enough damage and dump enough radiation in the area to make everything in the compound too hot to handle. That, however, was a hope, as he had no way to gauge the amount of radiation that would be generated or the degree of damage his demo would cause. There were too many variables that he could not measure.