This is an act of abject submission to a conquering enemy. The loser approaches the victor in unreserved humility, begging for forgiveness and mercy. The vanquisher is expected to be more than merciful because of this humble act; he is expected to be nothing short of magnanimous, restoring the loser's dignity and making no attempts to punish or debase him.
It was in the spirit of nanwatai that Yama Orakzai sent out peace feelers to the Afghan authorities. He wanted to take his people back to their original home site and reestablish their former lives.
The government in Kabul was relieved to react in accordance with the gesture, not so much in kindness as happiness at having this thorn in their sides removed under amicable and honorable circumstances. However, they bent the basic rules of nanwatai a bit by insisting that Orakzai make his clan an open society. He must accept the aid and teachings of UNREO, cooperate with them, and see that his people obtained all the advantages of what the foreigners had to offer. The Pashtun leader agreed to the terms with a great show of gratitude. He was even willing to turn over all heavy weaponry to the local army commander. Some rusty Soviet Dashika machine guns and 82-millimeter mortars were presented to the soldiers. This act was even filmed for local TV consumption to set an example for other warlords. Of course, the authorities were unaware of a vast arsenal hidden deep within the weatherproof caves of the former stronghold.
The government agent who monitored Orakzai's acquiescence the word surrender was never used was a veteran of relations with warlords. His name was Zaid Aburrani, and he was well known by Brannigan's Brigands. It was Aburrani who oversaw the taming of the former powerful warlords Ayuub Durtami and Hassan Khamami after the SEALs had dealt them a proverbial ass-kicking on their first mission. Now he was having an easier time of it.
Orakzai was very happy to deal with Aburrani, whom he knew very well. They had been involved in the opium poppy industry for several years before Orakzai took his people to the Gharawdara Highlands. Now that the Pashtun mujahideen would cease their fighting activities and get back to farming, they would return to poppy cultivation up in the hidden meadows of the mountains above their village. Zaid Aburrani would see that they were not molested and would have easy access to the old smugglers, who had now taken back the opium trail the Iranians could no longer use.
It was like that old song with the refrain: Boy does the money come in!
.
THE WHITE HOUSE
THE OVAL OFFICE
WASHINGTON, D.C.
5 JUNE
1015 HOURS
A rapping at the door caught the President's attention. He looked up from the press briefing he was preparing and called out, Come in.
Arlene Entienne entered the office. She was elegant and beautiful as always, but it was obvious she was tired. Good morning, Mr. President.
Hello, Arlene, he replied to the greeting. I heard you came in at four a.m. today.
Yes, sir, she replied. I received a call from Edgar Watson at the CIA a little after three. Operation Persian Empire has kicked up into high gear.
The President got up and walked over to the side of the room where a coffeepot was plugged in. He poured a cup of the brew, then brought it over to Entienne. Here, Arlene. You need this.
I sure do!
Did we hear from Aladdin again? the President asked, sitting back down.
Edgar said it was a quick transmission, Entienne answered. Evidently, he is in a particularly dangerous area. At any rate, he informed us that a compact group of Iranians and Arabs are occupying a fortified area in the far west of the Gharawdara Highlands. When the time is right, they'll make their move. Their objective, of course, is to gain control of the Gharawdara Highlands in western Afghanistan.
A 'compact' group, hey? the President remarked. They evidently don't want to make a big fuss. That's good. We don't want to either.
Mr. President, Entienne said, you gave me authorization to put your special executive order into effect. I did so at a little past five this morning.
Alright, he said. It's amazing when one considers the fact that this sensitive international crisis is going to be settled by dozens rather than thousands of troops.
It's a mind-boggler, alright, Entienne stated.
And now our own so-called compact group will answer the challenge. They will go into harm's way. The President sighed. The worst part of this job is having to put the lives of our finest young people at risk. He stood up and walked to the window, gazing out pensively. I cannot describe how much it distresses me.
Entienne got to her feet and went over to him, standing close to the Chief Executive. Would it make you feel better if I reminded you they were all volunteers?
Not really.
EPILOGUE
SHELOR FIELD, AFGHANISTAN
7 JUNE
1430 HOURS
TWENTY-THREE men arrived on the latest flight from Kuwait to be added to the roster of Brannigan's Brigands. However, one was not exactly a reinforcement. Petty Officer Second Class Arnie Bernardi was a Brigand reporting back from Kuwait, where he had been TDy on a training mission. Bernardi's initial joy at being reunited with his old outfit was dashed when he learned of Milly Mills' death. His mood spiraled rapidly down as he experienced a combination of sadness and guilt at not being with the detachment during the battles out on the desert. He truly felt he had let his buddies down, and nothing they said eased his feelings of regret.
Bernardi's fellow passengers had been dispatched into the OA for this one specific operation, of which they knew absolutely nothing. They would have been surprised to learn that their new commander was as uninformed as they. This new mission had evolved out of an earlier one titled Operation Rolling Thunder, and was renamed Operation Battleline by the powers-that-be who ran Special Operations in the Middle East. The Skipper found it irritating to be moved laterally from one tactical situation to another without feeling the first had been satisfactorily wrapped up as an undeniable victory. The ever verbose Bruno Puglisi felt the same, and was not bashful about expressing his disenchantment: The whole thing is too fucking half-ass to suit me, he stated candidly and loudly. It's like changing opponents at halftime in a football game.
The C-130 that brought the personnel to Shelor was one of a quartet that had been arriving since the day before. The earlier trio was crammed with ammunition, equipment, rations, and other war-making material. Randy Tooley had been going crazy coordinating unloading, storing, quartering transit personnel, and all the other headaches that go with the preparatory activities for a campaign in the mountains.
Randy's basic attitudes remained unchanged; the senior airman still found it inconvenient to wear a uniform, salute, use the title sir or ma'am when speaking to commissioned officers, or observe any military protocol whatsoever. Because of this new set of circumstances that had evolved into a problematic turmoil, Colonel Watkins, the base commander, became even more tolerant of Randy's unconventional behavior. The kid was fast, efficient, keeping the operations of the facility going along smoothly and in a timely manner through his totally dedicated efforts. Packing him off to the stockade for insubordination would not only accomplish nothing in reforming the young guy, but would create a loss to the Air Force during his incarceration. Things ground to a standstill badly enough when Randy became upset by a dressing-down from some chickenshit NCO or officer and went off by himself to sulk for a day or two. There was an unofficial standing order that he was never to be carried AWOL on base personnel reports.