.
2200 HOURS LOCAL
THE trek from the DZ up the rock-strewn side of the mountain was arduous even for the superbly conditioned SEALs. The route was so steep in some cases that it was necessary to push up against the rucksack of the man in front, to aid him in the demanding climb. James Bradley was the Tail-End Charlie with no one behind him. Between his personal, gear and the medical kit, he had a hard row to hoe in the ascent. Bruno Puglisi helped him when he could, by turning and taking his hand to give a helping tug.
When Assad and Leibowitz reached the summit, they moved forward to the other side, which looked down the mountain. Both were pleased that the area for the camp was an excellent defensive position. There was plenty of cover in the rocks, and the visibility on both sides of the mountain couldn't have been better. A small stream fed by a spring guaranteed plenty of water. This unexpected boon didn't mean all that much on a mission as short as this one, but it was a blessing nevertheless.
As the fire teams picked out their positions and fields of fire, Frank Gomez warmed up the Shadowfire radio. His shoulders ached from the extra twenty pounds of commo gear he had carried up the mountain. After the commo check, he spoke the code words. "Green Valley. Green Valley. Green Valley. Out."
Now SOCOM back at Station Bravo knew they were on the ground and ready to rock and roll.
.
WARLORD DURTAMI'S COMPOUND
8 AUGUST
0715 HOURS LOCAL
BASHAR Abzai led the ambush party up to the front gate of the compound. They had spent the night sitting in the ruins of the bombed-out village waiting to see if the infidels wishing to contact the now dead Omar Kariska would show up. It had been a boring, useless attempt, and he had trouble keeping his men alert. He was a senior mujahideen and was put in charge of small patrols from time to time.
The men broke off to go to their homes while Abzai continued over to Warlord Ayyub Durtami's residence. He nodded to the guards at the door, who looked at him inquisitively. "I am here to report to the warlord about last night's ambush."
The guards' eyes opened wide. "Was there a battle last night?"
"Nothing happened," Abzai said. "There was nobody to shoot at."
"Not much to report to the warlord," one remarked.
His buddy went inside and reappeared moments later, nodding his head to indicate the mujahideen had permission to enter. Abzai walked into the building apprehensively. He hoped the fierce warlord would not consider the mission a failure. The least a mujahideen could expect in that case was a brutal caning. He found Durtami in conference with his chief lieutenant, Ahmet Kharani.
Abzai bowed and spoke in a tone of deep reverence. "Asalaam aleikum, Amir."
"Pakhair--welcome," Durtami said. "You seem disappointed, Brother Abzai. Did no one appear at your ambush?"
"Alas no:' Abzai replied. "We waited in great alertness all through the night, but not one stranger appeared at the old village."
"You must be patient," Kharani said, not wanting to let him know there was a chance that the effort might be only a waste of time. The fighters had to feel that everything they did was important, in order to keep up their ardor for battle.
"Au!" Durtami agreed. "When we apprehend the infidel dogs who twisted Kariska away from Islam, your hours of futility will be forgotten."
"Yes, Amir," Abzai said. "Meanwhile I have discovered the village to be very defendable. I have also had the men construct some strong positions from some of the rubble that was scattered about."
"Excellent:' Durtami said. "You are doing a fine job, Brother Abzai. I am now promoting you to the rank of jak bresh--sergeant."
Abzai's features broke into a wide grin. "Sukhria--thank you, Amin"
"You are dismissed," Durtami said. After the new sergeant left the room, the warlord turned to his chief lieutenant to resume their interrupted conversation. "Are you sure about the news of a government team coming to register the village of Herandbe for future elections?"
"Absolutely, Amir," Kharani said.
"May Allah curse them into Hades!" Durtami said. He took a deep, calming breath. "I think this will be a chance to get some hostages. A million afghanis will prove very beneficial to our activities."
"Of course, Amir."
"Very well! You know what to do," Durtami said. "I will attend to it immediately, Amir."
"Show no mercy!"
"I shall obey, Amir," Kharani said. "Your wrath is my wrath."
Chapter 4
OPERATIONAL AREA 8 AUGUST
2200 HOURS LOCAL
THE Odd Couple Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz moved silently across the firm ground of the valley, staying alert with the pessimistic apprehension that keeps professional combat troops vigilant and alive. A thick layer of clouds blocked the moon, but the darkness did not affect the two SEALs using AN/PVS-21 night vision system goggles. They had taken forty-minutes to travel a little more than a kilometer and a half, stopping every fifty meters to squat, look and listen during the move through the alien environment that held such a strong potential for danger.
They had left the remainder of the platoon in a defensive position at the base of East Ridge. The two-man patrol's mission was pure reconnaissance, and they were to avoid contact with the enemy.
"Hold it!" Dave whispered over the LASH headset. "Whatcha see?"
"I think that's the village over there at about eleven o'clock."
Mike looked in the indicated direction. "Yeah. Let's do a little observing before we move any closer."
The Odd Couple loosened the headsets and pulled them back to free their ears to listen for any sounds as they carefully scrutinized the rubble of the village and the area around it. A kicked rock, a voice, a cough, belch or fart would be a sure sign somebody was in the vicinity. After a couple of minutes they were positive nobody else was around. The two replaced the LASH headsets, then stood up and cautiously moved forward, holding their CAR-15s ready.
When they reached the ruins, it was obvious the place had been wrecked by rocketing from helicopter gunships. No mortar or artillery damage was apparent. "This prob'ly happened when the Russkis were fighting here," Dave opined.
"I hope the women and kids got away," Mike said. "But I doubt it."
"Guerrilla warfare is nasty on civilians, man."
"The Afghan War happened in the 1970s and 1980s," Mike said. "That means this place was blown up between twenty and thirty-five years ago. And since nobody came back to live here again, it means they were all killed."
"Yeah," Dave said. "Shit happens. C'mon! The skipper wants us to watch this place for at least a half hour."
They left the ruins, and went out to a spot in some scrub brush twenty meters away to settle down for a further period of observation.
.
2310 HOURS LOCAL
CHAD Murchison knelt beside the rocks peering out into the darkness that was molded into a green and white visibility by his night vision device. He was with his mates of Bravo Fire Team, anxiously scanning the countryside to the direct front of their defensive position. Assad and Leibowitz were out there someplace in that wilderness scoping out the location where the defector was to show up.
This was Chad's fourth mission and his first as a Brigand, yet he still could not believe he was a SEAL. He was from a wealthy Boston family replete with old money, an ancestry that could be traced back to the Pilgrims, and money-making generations in banking, stockbroking and other financial professions. Chad, who had grown up as a privileged preppy, was skinny and awkward as a kid. In all his years at the exclusive Starkweather Academy in New Hampshire, he never made an athletic team or even participated in intramural sports between dormitories. Nobody wanted the kid with two left feet on his team. This lack of physical prowess and strength left him with a serious inferiority complex in spite of his brilliant academic record. He dropped out of his freshman year at Yale to enlist in the Navy after his girlfriend dumped him for a jock. An indoctrination lecture about the SEALs during boot camp made him decide to try for masculine glory one more time. He volunteered for the elite unit, ignoring the discouragement given him by his commanding officer. Chad reported to Coronado with a determination he had never felt before. He swore he would kill himself if he didn't make this cut.