The quintet, now out of range of the SEALs after three full minutes of flight, continued to speed crazily toward the Gharawdara Highlands. After they went some five kilometers, the ground grew rougher as the terrain evolved from the sandy soil of the desert to the rocky expanse that led to the hills. Another few minutes and they had reached the first stands of boulders. The drivers hit the brakes and all ten occupants unassed the trucks, running toward the natural cover with their AK-47s and bandoliers of ammunition in hand.
All the Iranian machine gunners lay dead in the back of the Toyotas, with one exception; that vehicle was empty because the gunner had fallen out due to the violent maneuvering of the driver.
ALPHA One was in the lead of the close-packed formation of DPVs. All twelve gunners impatiently waited to get within range of the parked pickups, and when the distance was right for the M-2s, the gunners sent tracers streaking toward the vehicles. The Toyotas bounced from the heavy slams of armor-piercing rounds.
Never mind the fucking trucks! the Skipper said over his LASH. There isn't anybody there except the dead. Start laying down fusillades up higher in the hills. That's where the survivors went.
Now the M-60s were also within range, and everyone became involved in reconnaissance by fire as they attempted to find where the fugitives had taken cover. The only reward they got for their efforts was the sight of tracer rounds bouncing off rocks and boulders to streak off into the distance.
Cease fire! Brannigan ordered.
UP in the rocks, Sikes was at the head of the group as they scrambled toward higher ground. Everyone, including the Iranian drivers, was in super physical condition and had no problem negotiating the rugged terrain. Sikes came across some boulders the size of Volkswagen Beetles, and he scrambled up on them. When he reached the top, he discovered a natural fort. He stopped and turned to the others.
Right! Here's where we make a stand, he announced. I counted them Yanks. They got six o' them little fucking buggies and there's three each riding in 'em, hey? That's eighteen of the wankers. There's ten of us and we got concealment and cover here, right? So we'll stand fast and let the bastards come up here after us.
Khadid quickly translated into Farsi for the drivers, then issued orders. Everyone found good firing positions and settled down to wait.
THE SEALs had parked the DPVs and were now some twenty-five meters up the rocky slope that led to the highlands. Lieutenant Bill Brannigan spent a few moments with his binoculars, scanning the boulder-strewn area above, hoping to find some clue as to what the enemy was doing. But he could detect absolutely nothing. Assad! Leibowitz!
The Odd Couple left their place in the impromptu skirmish line and went over to report to the CO. They squatted down beside him, and Dave Leibowitz asked, What's up, sir?
Right, Mike Assad said with a grin. As if we didn't know.
Did you know I'm about to put your asses deep into some real hairy shit? the Skipper asked.
They looked at each other, then back at him, and shrugged.
The bad guys had a good lead on us, Brannigan explained. They could be hauling ass toward the ridges up there to get out of the area, or they're holed up and ready to fight back. He pointed upward. Go find out.
Aye, sir! came the simultaneous response.
Assad led the way with Leibowitz behind, ready to cover him in case of trouble. They began a zigzag course, working their way carefully through the boulders and sparse brush. Mike's eyes went from looking upward for a sight of the bad guys to looking down to the ground to check for tracks the enemy might have left to reveal the direction they were traveling. After ten minutes of climbing, the Skipper's voice came over the LASH. If you reach a point where the hair on your necks is raising with apprehension, you're free to break off and return.
Roger, sir, Dave replied.
They knew exactly what Wild Bill meant. Sometimes, in dangerous situations, there is a certain unpleasant feeling that comes over a combat veteran. It's not fear. The best way to describe the sensation is as an instinctive sureness that something real bad is about to happen. That is one reason why experienced fighting men sometimes are able to survive in situations where rookies are gunned down.
Mike continued the upward trek, unable to spot as much as a single speck of evidence of where the bad guys had gone. Dave, with his M-16 held ready, stayed in his protective mode, ready to put out covering fire if Mike suddenly came under attack. The higher they went, the more nervous they became.
Suddenly both stopped, then squatted down.
A volley of fire swept over them, ricocheting off nearby boulders with sparks and whines. Once more, Brannigan made contact with the Odd Couple. What's the situation?
We're under fire, sir, Mike replied. Every time we raise our heads to see where it's coming from, it increases.
Okay, Brannigan said. That means they know exactly where you are. Can you break off or are you pinned down?
We can back down to a better spot, Dave explained, then we should be able to withdraw okay.
Do it.
Aye, sir.
The Odd Couple, the bores of their weapons pointing upward, stumbled downward in deep crouches. It was slow going for about ten minutes, then they were able to get behind a large stand of boulders.
All right, sir, Mike said. We'll be back pretty quick now.
Right, Brannigan said. He knew it was useless to try to catch the fugitives. Everything cover, concealment, firing positions, and knowledge of the terrain was in their favor.
Okay, Section Leaders, Brannigan said. As soon as the Odd Couple gets back, we'll mount up on the DPVs and go back to the battle site. There may be survivors among those smugglers or whatever they are.
Everyone monitored the orders over the LASH systems and stared upward to catch sight of Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz. They were perturbed about the escapees, but they had accomplished their mission. The smugglers had been destroyed. A few EPWs would be icing on the cake of victory.
Chapter 22
PASHTUN STRONGHOLD
GHARAWDARA HIGHLANDS
24 MAY
0930 HOURS
WHEN Sikes Pasha, Captain Naser Khadid, and Husay Bangash came down the path leading the five Iranian soldiers into the stronghold, they were met by a somber, wailing crowd of Pashtun people. The young translator Malyar Lodhi and Sikes's adjutant Jandol Kakar had been sent ahead to bring the bad news of the devastating defeat out on the desert. They had gone straight to Yama Orakzai to tell him of the terrible battle with the fierce American warriors who spewed death from their little cars sent to them from hell by Satan.
Now Orakzai stood in front of the people as the small group of survivors walked up to him. Warrant Officer Shafaqat Hashiri and the nineteen Arabs were in a proper formation off to one side, giving their leader a studied look as he approached. They were glad to see their commanding officer was unhurt.
Khadid held back in deference to Sikes' rank as the field commander, and the Brit greeted the warlord with an embrace. We were ambushed, Orakzai Mesher, Sikes said. We had delivered the opium powder and were on our way back to the rendezvous to retrieve the donkeys when the Americans struck.
Malyar and Jandol have told me about it, Orakzai said. We must retire to my quarters to discuss this situation. It is a shock that sends my heart and mind reeling. Did none of my mujahideen survive?
If they did, they're bleeding prisoners, Sikes said. They was trapped in the backs o' the transport trucks. I'm afraid most of 'em was blown up. He nodded to the five Iranian drivers. These were the only Iranians who got away. All the gunners in the back of the Toyotas was killed.
Orakzai could not hide his grief. Tsenga haybatnak! This is a catastrophe! Everything we have worked for is lost! He looked over to Khadid. You must tell your superiors about this, Captain Khadid. We joined the Iranians in good faith, yet somehow we are facing a disaster from which we might not recover.