“What about the U.S. no-assassination rule?” DeWitt asked.
“Technically these would not be assassinations. They would be military strikes in response to warlike activities by the enemy.”
“But we don’t want to take a reinforced regiment into the Gaza Strip to take down Arafat’s headquarters and his summer house?”
“Precisely. These strikes would be anonymous. There would be no footprints left or equipment lost to identify any of the attackers. No personnel would be left in the field, dead, wounded, or alive. It would be clean, probably not quick, and would take a lot of resources.”
“Do you think Washington will take on a job like this?”
“In view of the destroyer Cole, there is a certain feeling in the air that there should have been a response long before now. From what I hear, we were just not sure enough of the terrorists to tie them down to a nation and a headquarters we could pulverize with a response.”
“Any timetable?” DeWitt asked.
“None, but it has to be soon. Britain has been putting together a response since the start of the nuke threat. They have a plan by now, and are tying down the country and the area to hit. Israel isn’t that far along yet, but they have contingency plans for all kinds of retaliation against a number of targets.”
“So, Uncle Sam is the holdup here, dragging his size-sixteen feet,” Murdock said.
“As I hear it. A decision is due to come down within the next two days.” He paused. “Any wounds or injuries during the current bit of training maneuvers?”
“Well put, Stroh. We didn’t have much to do. No serious physical problems that I’ve heard about.”
“We’re solid and ready to go,” DeWitt said.
“I’d say we’re in for some training during the next two days,” Murdock said. “No firing, but we can do a lot of roadwork.”
“Can we tell the men what’s brewing?” DeWitt asked.
Don Stroh took a drink of coffee and pushed it away. “Not this time. This is more than top secret. If it doesn’t come off, we might talk about what might have been. If it happens, they men will know soon enough, and they always understand anything they do has to be top secret.”
“Fair enough,” Murdock said. “As long as you’re picking up the check here. You know we don’t travel with any money.”
Stroh looked at Murdock and snorted. “Don’t I always. When are we going fishing again? I’d even settle for some bottom fish, some sculpin, rock cod, and a few mackerel.”
“As soon as we hit Coronado I’ll give you the fishing report,” Ed DeWitt said. “Come out anytime you’re free. There’s always something to catch around the kelp beds off San Diego.”
For the first day, the SEALs used the temporary quarters and made a fifteen-mile run through the immediate area. They saw a lot of this semirural part of England up close and intensely personal. The locals had evidently seen a lot of military around, since they hardly glanced at the SEALs as they went jogging down the narrow English roads.
The second day, they did a ten-mile run in the morning with full combat gear except for the Draegrs. In the afternoon it was another ten-mile jaunt with only their cammies and primary weapons. They all chose the MP-5.
That evening, Don Stroh came into the barracks and waved at the SEALs. They hurried up around him and he gave them a tired smile.
“I’ve been up for almost thirty-six hours mother-henning this project, and I’m tired as hell, so no cracks and no comments,” Strohl said. “You have an assignment. A general assignment but with no actual action involved, yet. Tomorrow morning at 0800 you will board a British military transport jet and you will be flown to Tel Aviv, Israel, where you will quartered at an Israeli Army facility pending further orders.”
“Hey, Stroh, we gonna kick ass on some of them fucking A-rab terrorists who brought over the bomb?” Lapedusa asked.
“I’d say that’s a possibility,” Stroh said. “You’ll have to wait and see what your orders say.”
The SEALs’ quarters in Israel were much like those in Britain, a twenty-man barracks with an attached common room for gear and meetings, and a small dayroom with Ping-Pong and pool tables. They would eat at the general mess about a block away. The Army post had heavy security all around, and the interior guards carried loaded weapons.
Don Stroh was there to meet them at the military airport and rode with them on the bus to the Army post just north of Tel Aviv. He gave them some facts about the country as they rolled along.
“Israel is a small nation of not quite six million people, which is about the population of the state of Missouri. Israel has a land mass of a little over eight thousand square miles, which is the same size as New Jersey. It’s a fairly new nation, being created by the United Nations when it partitioned Palestine into Jewish and Arab states in 1948. The Arab nations have never recognized the partition, and have been at war with Israel almost constantly from that date to this.
“Israel is surrounded on three sides by mostly belligerent Arab nations many times its size. For example, Syria has sixteen million people, Lebanon has four million, and Jordan has five million, for a total of twenty-five million Arabs who are for the most part belligerent and would like nothing better than to drive all Jews into the Mediterranean Sea. Egypt, on Israel’s southern border, is less belligerent and sometimes almost friendly, but Egypt has a population of sixty-nine million people. You can see why Israel can be paranoid at times.”
“We’re not here to fight all those different countries, are we?” Mahanani asked.
“Absolutely not. If this goes down, it will not be a war against a nation; it will be one or more strikes against certain terrorist organizations that have preyed on Israel and many other parts of the world, including the United States.”
The SEALs had been in the barracks for almost a day. They had cleaned and oiled their weapons twice, been on a five-mile warming-up march around the perimeter of the base, and had two excellent meals.
The call came at 1000 for a meeting. Don Stroh brought the message.
“Only three of you can go,” Stroh said. “It’s a planning session and to get some areas of concern ironed out.”
Murdock looked at his men. He pointed to DeWitt and Jaybird. They went in the military sedan Stroh had commandeered, and rode to the headquarters building. This was an Israeli Army post and well manned. Murdock guessed at least two regiments must be posted here. The GHQ was large but businesslike. They were ushered into a conference room that had a huge table with eighteen chairs around it. Each place had a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen, a glass of water and two pieces of chocolate fudge.
Twelve men sat at the table. Murdock and his team came in, followed closely by three men Murdock recognized as being British SAS, wearing their famous beige berets with the winged dagger on them. They kept their berets on, but the rest of the men were uncovered. All wore versions of desert cammies.
A man at the end of the oval table stood when the last six were seated.
“Good, we’re all here. I am Colonel Assaf Ben-Ami with the Israeli Army Department and I’ll lead the discussion. We all know why we are here. I’m pleased with the three-nation cooperation on this project. We have the SAS delegation from England. We have the U.S. Navy SEALs here. We have also the Israeli Special Forces from the Air Force, the Navy, and the Army. We welcome all of you. We are here to talk about our first strike against the terrorists. The diplomats have had a hand in our negotiations. They have stipulated that our first action will be on the Gaza Strip, at Gaza City, and concentrating on the headquarters of al Fatah and its military wing, Tanzim.