"What was that all about?" Carey asked. "Have your defenses been compromised?"
"I'll explain during the flight back to Shelor," Brannigan said. "Excuse me. I have to pack a few things."
CHAPTER 7
ZAHEYA POSITIONS
BRIGADIER'S HEADQUARTERS
13 JUNE 0945 HOURS
BRIGADIER Shahruz Khohollah was pleased. He smoked his Turkish cigarette almost gleefully as he looked across his desk at Sikes Pasha, Captain Khadid, and Captain Komard. "The attack of last night was a superb victory!"
Sikes wasn't so sure about a "superb victory," but it obviously was a tactical success in that the enemy's defensive system was damaged by concentrating fire on known positions to destroy them. This was accomplished as planned. "When them reinforcements arrive, we'll give the Yanks a what-for they ain't soon to forget, yeah?"
Komard was interested in the new men. "How many are we receiving, Sikes Pasha?"
"Twenty," he replied. "It doubles me force, that's wot it does." He glanced over at the Brigadier. "Things are a lot better than when we was at Chehaar Garrison, hey, Brigadier?"
"Absolutely correct, Major Sikes," the brigadier said. He did not refer to Sikes by the title "Pasha," since he outranked the Brit. In fact, there were times when Khohollah was irritated by the arrogant manner in which Sikes conducted himself. It smacked of the old colonial attitudes of the British Empire. But the brigadier was convinced that the General Staff put great value on this deserter from the UK, and any undue complaints about him might prove most disadvantageous to the career of anyone who denigrated the man.
"Our situation improves daily," Captain Khadid said. He had never been at Chehaar Garrison during the situation with the armored cars. He had been in the Pashtun camp as a personal adviser to Yama Orakzai, the Pashtun rebel leader. This had been before and during the setbacks and humiliations that had been inflicted on Sikes by the Americans. The situation had infuriated the former British soldier.
"Yes," the brigadier said. "We are much better off." He was personally miffed as a general officer by the number of men he commanded. Even with the arrival of the Arab volunteers, he would have less than a hundred under his overall control. And no artillery. By proper military custom, Khohollah should have been leading two thousand to five thousand men into battle. However, in spite of the resentment, he showed enthusiasm and optimism for the sake of his subordinate officers and soldiers. He smiled at his loyal adjutant, Captain Jamshid Komard, whom he had given the command of the fire support unit. "Your men made superlative work of covering the withdrawal as well as knocking out the defensive positions."
"I shall pass on your compliments to the gunners, Excellency," Komard said. "They will be most happy about your approval." He hesitated, then asked, "Do you think there is a chance of us receiving mortars to replace the grenade launchers, Excellency?"
The brigadier shook his head. "Do not anticipate any such happening, dear Komard. To express the truth, I was greatly surprised by the reinforcements. I did not expect such a thing unless the Amerikayizan increased their strength in soldiers or weapons."
Captain Khadid lit a cigarette. "The political and diplomatic aspects of this operation truly test a soldier's patience, do they not?"
"You speak the absolute truth, Captain," Brigadier Khohollah agreed. "But we must keep in mind that the Iranian government is not run by the Army."
Sikes nodded. "I'm finding all that a bit too much to swallow meself. I'd just as soon give them Yanks a good whipping, then get the Pashtuns back in their place. Then we can get on with taking over Afghanistan."
"Be patient, Major Sikes," the brigadier advised him. He smiled, saying, "Could it be that you miss your little Pashtun wife?"
"I miss her, alright," Sikes admitted. "But we ain't married no more, since me and Cap'n Khadid was told to leave. That ended the marriage. It was a muta anyhow and supposed to be temporary by Islamic law." He paused hesitantly for a moment, then said, "I don't like to stick me nose in places where it ain't wanted, but I been wondering a bit if you have a wife or wives you miss."
"I only had one wife," the brigadier said. "She died five years ago. We were, alas, a childless couple; thus I have no descendants. Nor are there kin of any sort. And I cannot muster the desire for another woman. I believe, for whatever reason, that Allah in his mercy does not want me to remarry. I am now an old soldier alone in the world." He gestured around him. "And here I am in this strange situation, tied down by puzzling orders issued by my government."
"It ain't all bad, sir," Sikes said. "We do have some leeway in that we can carry on harassing tactics in any manner that suits us." He leaned forward. "I'm working on a couple o' plans, sir. When I get everything straight in me head, I'll bring 'em up." He was thoughtful for a moment, then spoke again. "I was wondering, Brigadier, that wot if we had some rotten luck and them Yanks kicked us out o' here, hey? Wot'd happen then?"
"I have heard no official word," Khohollah said. "However, in my personal opinion, almost the entire Iranian Army would be sent here to storm straight into Afghanistan and create a situation the Yanks--as you call them--would find most disturbing. We will stay low-key as long as they stay low-key. But we are eventually going to conquer Afghanistan, then the entirety of the Middle East."
Khadid smiled at Sikes. "The preliminary steps we take on this journey to glory must be careful and deliberate, Sikes Pasha. At least at this point in time."
"I understand," Sikes said. "But I don't like it one bluddy fucking bit."
"By the way, Excellency," Khadid said, "I am due to make a transmission back to Iran this evening. Do you have any messages for the high command?"
"Only that we are moving along according to plan," Brigadier Khohollah said. "There is nothing negative to report. By the way, will you be using the radio in the signals center, Captain?"
"No, Excellency," Khadid said. "That will not be necessary. I still have the one I took to Orakzai's fortress."
.
WESTERN AFGHANISTAN
JUNE 1600 HOURS
ENSIGN Orlando Taylor sat in the web seat aboard the Pave Low chopper, furtively studying the eight other SEALs who shared the aircraft with him. From their demeanors, anybody would think they were on their way to a peaceful picnic in the country instead of a violent confrontation in which men would be killed by other men.
Taylor had marveled about the fact that he had finally been under fire. Although he knew it wasn't a prolonged battle with many casualties, it was still combat. He had been scared, sure, but it didn't keep him from doing the job properly. He kept an eye on the situation, watched over his men, and coordinated everything through Petty Officers Paul Schreiner and Tony Valenzuela, who were his fire team leaders. When the SAW gunner Doug MacTavish had been hit, Taylor hadn't lost his head or flinched at the sight of the man's bloodied face. In fact, it had been he who pulled the wounded SEAL from the rubble of his blasted fighting position to safety. The best thing about the whole experience was that he had done nothing to shame himself or the Taylor family. He could openly and truthfully discuss the fighting with his father without fear of disapproval.
Taylor grinned to himself in a somewhat fierce manner as he thought of this latest experience in context with his three older brothers. As the youngest he had been the butt of jokes from those overachievers, who never accepted him as an equal. It seemed he would always be "the kid" in the family. The oldest sibling, now thirty-two years of age, was a vice president in a very prestigious bank in Atlanta; the second, at age twenty-nine, was an aerospace engineer with NASA in Houston in the Shuttle Program; and the twenty-seven-year-old was on the staff of a Georgia senator, and being groomed by the state's Democratic Party to run for Congress in the next election.