The four followed the head smuggler over to the buildings, where a group of military officers stood waiting. Sikes noticed both Iranian and Afghan uniforms among the Army men. When they arrived, Khadid greeted them as old friends. There were some customary Islamic hugs, kissing motions, and backslapping. The Iranian pointed to Sikes. This is Orakzai's new field commander. He's going on this run to familiarize himself with this part of our operations. Quick introductions were made, but the names went right by Sikes. He really didn't give a damn who they were anyway. What he did make note of was the fact that they didn't seem too surprised to see him. That told him all the military men had already been fully briefed on his background.
As the group stood in conversation, another officer over by the Iranian trucks called out something in Farsi that caught Khadid's attention. He took Sikes' arm and led him over to the man. After an exchange of salutes, a large envelope was handed to Khadid. He immediately passed it on to Sikes. The Englishman frowned in puzzlement. Wot's this then?
Open it, Sikes Pasha, Khadid said.
Sikes took his knife and ran it along the top edge of the envelope. He opened it and pulled out what appeared to be a legal paper. A diploma of sorts was with it. Khadid watched Sikes look at the unfamiliar script of the Farsi wording on the documents. That's for you, Sikes Pasha, he said. It is your appointment as sargord. You are now officially a major in the Iranian Army. Thus, as it is said in the language of my people, tabrik! Congratulations!
Sikes grinned to himself. After all the strife and trouble, he had finally ended up a proper officer. Maybe the commission wasn't in the Royal Regiment of Dragoons, but it was of field-grade rank. He wouldn't be surprised if he went all the way to the top of the Iranian General Staff. Say, Cap'n Khadid, how d'you say 'field marshal' in Farsi?
Our equivalent is called an arteshbod, the Iranian replied.
Motor sounds from a distance caught everyone's attention. They turned to see a convoy of four large military transport trucks coming across the desert toward them. As they drew closer, Sikes noticed they were UK TM 6-6 models. The sight of vehicles used by the British Army caused him a flash of nervousness. But when he saw the green-white-black stripes of the Afghan flag on the bumpers, the new major relaxed.
Khadid noticed him gazing at the trucks. Sikes Pasha, those vehicles bring us the preprocessed opium poppy powder. The loads are not so much, because there are no modern facilities available for the final production of the powder into heroin; thus, the amount available is limited. But the quantity is sufficient to make each caravan a very profitable operation.
So wot's gonna happen now then? Sikes asked.
The bales will be transferred from the Afghan trucks to the Iranian ones, Khadid explained. When that it is done, we will begin our journey out of Afghanistan. We are going to spend tomorrow traveling across Iran, and the day after, Allah willing, our caravan will be in Turkey or at the border.
I'm starting to see a lot o' this part o' the world, hey?
Yes, Khadid said. By the way. Do you wish to be addressed by your military rank or the title you have chosen?
I'll stay Sikes Pasha.
Chapter 19
SHELOR FIELD
SEALS HANGAR
15 MAY
1600 HOURS
COMMANDER Thomas Carey and Lieutenant Commander Ernest Berringer were in a magnanimous mood when the SEALs arrived back at Shelor Field after their hurry-up return from patrol. The two staff officers actually allowed them time to take showers, then go to early chow at the base mess hall, before having them settle down in the hangar for the new briefing.
Clean and belching, the Brigands sat in the folding chairs with pens and notebooks held at the ready as Carey stepped to the front of the group. It looks like it's deja vu all over again, gentlemen. You've gone from cold to hot to cold, and you're about to go back to hot again.
Lieutenant Bill Brannigan, glad to see that things were picking up from the slow going of the previous weeks, asked, Is this a continuation of earlier actions, sir?
Negative, Carey replied. This is a brand-new mission that's being thrust into Operation Rolling Thunder. And it's a damn critical one. The mission statement is as follows: You will make an attack or attacks on an opium-smuggling trail to neutralize the activity.
Jesus! Bruno Puglisi exclaimed. Who the fuck do they think we are? The DEA?
There's more than that to it, Carey said. Now here's the situation. Iran's bid for power now goes beyond WMD programs. They have organized an extensive Special Operations branch in their Army to take over all Shiite insurgencies in the Middle East.
The commander quickly but fully informed the SEALs of Operation Persian Empire with all its implications and ramifications. The potential dangers resulting from Iranian success in the operation were immediately appreciated by the audience.
The N-3 continued. This program is being financed by their participation in opium poppy-smuggling from Afghanistan to Turkey. Obviously, this operation must be destroyed not curtailed but destroyed!
Lieutenant Junior Grade Jim Cruiser raised his hand. Why not turn it over to the flyboys? Couldn't they bomb the hell out of that route?
That won't work, Carey said. Unfortunately, the way from Afghanistan through Iran and into Turkey could run through hundreds of mountain passes. Aerial bombardment would just slow the bad guys down temporarily. Then they'd pick up the pace along another direction.
What the hell? Chief Matt Gunnarson said. If Afghanistan isn't the best place to hit them, then cream the bastards in Iran.
That is not even under consideration, Carey said. So we can forget that little tactic. Politics, diplomacy, and old-fashion chickenshit will allow us to make our attacks only in Afghanistan. As I mentioned, the flyboys won't be able to handle it, so somebody has to go in there and get down and dirty. That means DPVs. The smugglers are using trucks for hauling and machine gun'mounted Toyota pickups for protection.
They've already had some attacks from rival smugglers and even Turkish Army units, but they've shown they can handle any adversity quite effectively. You'll find your enemy consists of professional soldiers. Be on your toes!
The Skipper was thoughtful. Mmm. We know the mission and the situation. And I have to tell you, sir, I'm real curious about the execution phase of this operation.
You are going to be flown by C-One-Thirty from Shelor Field to an area we're calling the Opium Trail, Carey said. You'll be facing a dozen of those Toyotas, but you'll have six DPVs with two machine guns on each and you can go eighty miles per. It looks like you'll be involved in the same-type combat you had against the armored cars. But it should be easier.
Excuse me, sir, Senior Chief Dawkins said, but we're outnumbered two to one, and them Toyotas can go a hell of a lot faster than eighty miles an hour. And as an Alabama farm boy, I do know my pickups.
The Toyotas don't have run-flat tires, Carey said. And keep in mind that they are not armored.
Well, shit! Puglisi exclaimed. Neither are we!
Carey showed an apologetic grin. What's the name of that old song? 'I Never Promised You a Rose Garden.'
Oh, well, Puglisi said with a shrug. There's also another old song: 'You Always Hurt the One You Love.'
Carey's grin turned from apologetic to wry. Yeah. And I do love you guys.