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Authors: Dennis Chalker

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Months after the JSSF incident in Bosnia, a blue Pontiac Firebird sped along the northbound lanes of I-395, heading in to Washington, D.C. At the wheel of the car was Navy captain Alan Straker. For a high-ranking officer, Captain Straker's deeply tanned skin and heavy muscular build made him stand out as someone who hadn't spent his career behind a desk.

The brilliantly shining gold Trident, the Naval Special Warfare breast insignia, in plain view on the upper right side of Straker's uniform, was a big giveaway as to just how he developed that tan and those muscles. The Trident could be worn officially only by men who had passed through training and been accepted as active SEALs by their peers in the Teams. That symbol on his chest proclaimed him to be a Navy SEAL operator—no matter what his rank or assignment.

Not all of his muscles came from having been in the SEAL Teams. Straker's bright blue eyes had looked out from under a sweating mass of thick
black hair at a number of opponents during his days on the wrestling team at the U.S. Naval Academy. He had always accepted a challenge, and reveled in overcoming them. The challenge he was facing right now was simply the irritation of having to maneuver through D.C. traffic.

Straker decided on parking at the Pentagon and grabbing a ride in on the subway. He could make his appointment at the huge Department of State building between Twenty-first and Twenty-third Streets by just getting aboard the Metro at the Pentagon and getting off at the Foggy Bottom stop south of Washington Circle. The walk was only about half a mile down Twenty-third Street, and the late September weather in D.C. wasn't so bad that he would arrive in a sweat-soaked uniform. Besides, finding a parking spot at the Pentagon was going to be one hell of a lot easier than conducting a parking search in downtown Northwest D.C.

While standing at the subway stop at the bottom of the very long escalators at the Pentagon, and during the ride itself, Captain Straker maintained a pensive look. At only slightly over five ten, but carrying 245 pounds on his broad-shouldered frame, Straker wasn't jostled a lot by the other passengers on the subway. Certainly no one poked at the big SEAL to see if there was a soft spot indicating flab instead of muscle. Only his six-year-old niece would ever think of doing such a thing anyway. A small smile slipped onto the face of the SEAL as he thought of his sister's youngest, the smile evaporating as his mind went back to his mission at hand.

At present, Captain Straker's assignment in the Teams was a general one. He was working TAD
(temporary assigned duty) at Special Warfare Group Two at Little Creek, Virginia. His present position was only to last until the confirmation of his promotion to rear admiral (lower half). Once at flag rank, he would go on to the Special Operations Command in Tampa for a tour of duty there.

With the temporary duties at Group Two, also came a job that no SEAL ever wanted—investigating the possible wrongdoing of a fellow operator. Straker had been ordered to investigate the incident of a SEAL chief petty officer being accused of willfully disobeying orders, assaulting a superior officer, and the murder of foreign nationals. The charges were seriously inflated in Straker's opinion, and the situation a foul one.

Only the classified seal the State Department had thrown over the whole affair had so far kept it out of the hands of the Judge Advocate General's office. Somebody at State wanted a SEAL's ass as a sacrifice over this one—and they wanted all of their ducks in a row before final charges were brought. Straker intended bringing the situation to a close before the JAG's office became inextricably involved. State wanted a straightforward guilty plea, and Straker was going to play that desire for all it was worth.

As he walked south to the State Department Building Straker reflected how, at his rank, politics had become another battleground. In this fight, words did more damage than any bullets ever could. If the present situation burst in his face, that admiral's star was going to go back into the box. But no SEAL had ever been left behind, living or dead. Even if all you could do was go back and bring out a body, if that's what it
took that's what you did. It had been a mantra in the Teams since well before Lieutenant (j.g.) Straker had gone through training. He certainly was not going to be the first one to break that tradition by abandoning a Teammate to the military-hating cookie-pushers at the State Department.

It took some time to travel through the huge building to locate the conference room that Straker had been told to report to. Already in the room and busily shuffling papers was Martin Rosacrantz, the midlevel State Department bureaucrat who was pushing ahead with the case against Ted Reaper. Rosacrantz was a tall, thin individual with a receding hairline and a superior attitude. Straker wasn't surprised. He had yet to meet any people from State who didn't feel they were superior to the military. Even though it was the military who had to keep cleaning up the messes or carry through the ideas of the moment for the present administration.

“Thank you for being prompt, Captain Straker,” Rosacrantz said. “Please have a seat and we'll get right to business.”

Without waiting for Straker to sit, Rosacrantz began talking.

“This meeting should be little more than a formality before formal charges are brought against Chief Petty Officer Reaper,” Rosacrantz said.

“I hardly think that the decision to bring capital charges against anyone should be considered simply a formality,” Straker said.

Rosacrantz looked at Captain Straker with surprise showing on his face.

“But you can hardly argue against the evidence
and the gravity of the situation. You have a highly trained operator who had a serious failure of judgment that resulted in the murder of two native Muslim defenders of a refugee group. It's quite possible that his slaying of the militia members directly resulted in the slaughter of the villagers.

“The situation in Bosnia-Herzegovina is very unstable right now. The peace accords have been kept in place by very careful diplomatic maneuvering by State with both the local governments and NATO. The U.N. has a direct interest in just how well we handle the situation. This incident must be handled properly.”

“If by properly, you mean railroad an enlisted man who has given fifteen years of exemplary service to his country,” Straker said more than a little heatedly, “then you will not have the cooperation of the Navy or of Naval Special Warfare.”

Straker continued before Rosacrantz could get over his shock at the SEAL's blunt manner of speaking and hard tone of voice.

“I have personally examined the reports of the incident and interviewed the bulk of the personnel involved. Additionally, I have gone over the service records of everyone involved in some detail. More than that, I put Chief Reaper's history under a microscope. Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, in his record indicates anything but exemplary behavior on his part along with the utmost professionalism in the execution of his duties.”

“The situation in Bosnia-Herzegovina was a combat environment,” Rosacrantz said, “with severe stress on everyone stationed in the area. It would have certainly affected the judgment of a man not
used to the intricacies of operating with foreign nationals with their own set of morals and ideals.”

Straker swallowed the expletive he almost burst out with. “The level of stress you seem to think so extreme is exceeded on a regular basis during our normal training in the SEAL Teams,” Straker said. “And Reaper had been in combat before. His conduct under fire with a detachment from SEAL Team Four during Operation Just Cause in Panama demonstrated coolness under fire. He was able to absorb severe hardship without complaint and without wavering from the objective at hand.

“After his combat experience, he went on to be a First Phase instructor at the Special Warfare Training Center in Coronado. Again, he showed proficiency and competence in his job while also looking out for the welfare of the students placed in his care. He is a completely professional military man.

“The same can't quite be said in regards to Captain Paxtun. I find his military records interesting for their brevity. In fact, he doesn't seem to have existed except perhaps in a vacuum before more than a few years ago. It's been a few years but I've seen this kind of military record before, back when I was a young officer in Vietnam. This is the record of an intelligence operative seconded to the military and given a protocol rank. This man isn't a commissioned officer or even really a soldier, he's a spook!

“I don't know just how deeply you've looked into the backgrounds of this officer—and I use that term with reservations. Maybe you're just working from a limited briefing. But with one of my SEALs' career
on the line, you can be sure that I've looked deeply into all the backgrounds of everyone involved.

“Did you even know that Paxtun had been captured by the Soviets while under deep cover in Afghanistan? After being disavowed by our own government, he was finally rescued by members of a local mujahideen faction. For months, he stayed at the Amir Muawia camp in the Khost province of Afghanistan. That place was originally set up by the CIA and the ISI, the Pakistani military intelligence service. Now, it's nothing more than an Islamic fundamentalist base—a training camp for terrorists. On top of that, the ISI is corrupt as hell and ass-deep in the opium trade and gun running.

“That man should never have been allowed back into a combat zone. Certainly not put in charge of a special operations unit. And most emphatically not put into an area where Islamic fundamentalists were trying to gain a political foothold among the Muslim refugee population.

“We've traced at least one of the Islamic fundamentalist factions operating in that part of Bosnia directly back to the Khost region of Afghanistan. If I can find that out just from my contacts in the intelligence community, how in the hell did you guys here at State miss it completely?

“Those Islamic fundamentalists could give lessons in enthusiasm to Baptist missionaries. Don't you think the men who rescued Paxtun from the hands of the Soviets just might not have a bit of influence over him?”

Having visibly wilted under Straker's verbal onslaught, Rosacrantz quickly recovered his composure and spoke back to the big SEAL.

“Captain Paxtun was fully debriefed after his unfortunate problems in Afghanistan,” Rosacrantz said. “It was to his credit that the man never broke under the enthusiastic interrogations of his Soviet captors. At that time, the Soviet military would have liked nothing better than to have had a U.S. intelligence officer taken prisoner from that particular part of the world. It is to Paxtun's credit that he was able to immerse himself deeply in the local Muslim culture and prevent his cover from being blown.

“Paxtun was considered more than able to command the special operations people of that JSSF contingent. His special knowledge of the customs and culture of the Muslim people was expected to be a great asset to the mission. It is unfortunate that the men from your command did not seem to be able to take their direction from a capable and well-trained officer.”

“Are we reading the same reports?” Straker said. “Do you really have any idea just what the true situation is over there?”

“You are hardly qualified to judge the…” Rosacrantz began to say.

“Oh, but I am qualified to judge this situation,” Straker interrupted in a menacing tone. “I have been put in very bad situations in the past by self-serving intelligence operatives who overreached themselves and wanted someone else to blame when things went bad. And I will not stand by and allow it to happen to the men I serve with.

“The idea that the Serbs conducted the slaughter at the relocation village has nothing to support it. There were no Serb forces operating in the area that
SFOR knew of. There were no Serb forces that the Russians knew to be operating in the area. And the Serbs themselves say they had no units within miles of that village during the time of the attack.”

“You could hardly expect the Serb forces,” Rosacrantz said, “who are themselves suspect in a number of criminal atrocities, to admit that they were the ones who conducted this action.”

“No, I would hardly take their word for it,” Straker said. “But it is significant that their information correlates with everything we can get from other sources. And there is the evidence that was recovered by Chief Reaper after the incident that points the finger at Islamic extremists doing the killing.”

“You cannot accept as evidence the described finding of a minor piece of clothing and some religious tracts,” Rosacrantz said. “The materials simply don't exist.”

“That in itself is interesting to me,” said Straker. “The only evidence described by Chief Reaper never made it up to higher headquarters. But the funny thing was, all of his men who were questioned separately about the incident described exactly the same things. And Captain Paxtun had been conducting extensive contact ops on his own accord without informing his men, or anyone else that I can locate right now.”

“If Paxtun is the experienced intelligence operative that you describe,” Rosacrantz said, “you could hardly expect him to give out sensitive information when there wasn't a need-to-know.”

“I saw a number of Intel people try to hide behind the sensitive information shield before,” Straker
said. “That may have worked on a naive young officer twenty-five years ago, but it won't work now. You try and push these swollen charges forward and I will make it my responsibility to uncover everything that was going on in that particular piece of the world.

“Chief Reaper is not going to plead guilty to anything at this point. He will not roll over and play dead no matter how badly the State Department wants him to. Reaper has told me his suspicions regarding the situation over there and Paxtun's involvement in it. It does not make a very pretty picture.

“Paxtun could have been just trying to gather intelligence on the situation in that area of Bosnia-Herzegovina. He could easily have been cooperating with an Islamic group he felt he owed something to. Or he could have been going behind everyone's back to just line his own pockets. Smuggling guns, drugs, whatever, has been going on in that part of the world for decades. Some of the Islamic organizations are raising their operating funds by selling opium out of Afghanistan. It wouldn't be the first time an intelligence officer took advantage of being in the middle of the situation to add to a personal retirement fund.

BOOK: Undeclared War
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