Battleline (2007) (4 page)

"Excuse me, Dr. Joplin," Chad Murchison said. "Couldn't our government proscribe Israel from taking such a cataclysmic step?"

"They would not listen," Joplin said.

"How do we know that?" Brannigan asked.

"Because the Israelis said so," Joplin replied. "Having a Persian Empire ruled by people who have sworn to wipe Israel off the map is not the same as dealing with Hamas in Palestine or Hezbollah in Lebanon. The leaders in Jerusalem are not willing to take that chance." He shrugged. "Therefore--and please forgive the cliche-losing is not an option. With your victory in a contained campaign, all those big problems will go away."

Somewhere within the group of SEALs could be heard a single utterance of frustration. "Shit!"

"Yeah," Joplin agreed. "Any questions?" When nobody spoke, he gave them another smile. "No matter the circumstances, I really enjoy being with you again." He stepped back as Carey retook the floor.

The operations officer took a moment to study the faces of the Brigands. Everyone was glum, showing that Joplin's dissertation had convinced them of the seriousness of the upcoming operation. Carey cleared his throat. "Ahem. So, although it is not necessary but customary, I will continue this briefing with the mission statement. You are to engage and defeat the Iranian forces now occupying an area of the Gharawdara Highlands on the Iran-Afghanistan border. The reasons behind all this have been rather well presented by Dr. Joplin, so we'll move on to the execution."

The SEALs all had their notebooks out, with ballpoint pens poised to begin taking notes.

Carey continued, "On seven June at oh-six-hundred hours you will depart from Shelor Field via an Air Force Pave Low chopper to fly up into the Gharawdara Highlands. Your destination is a stronghold formerly used by that Pashtun rebel group mentioned earlier. There are excellent defensive positions already constructed that you can occupy as well as a number of caves available for bunkers and storage areas. These are artillery-and bombproof."

"Sir," Dave Leibowitz said, raising his hand. "Before you go any further, I'd like to know if we have any assets available."

"There is one," Carey said, "and you already know about him. It's the guy code-named Aladdin."

"Wait a minute!" Brannigan blurted. "Isn't he the one who is such a mystery to our own intelligence community?"

"Yes," Carey answered. "I would like to emphasize that he has been officially--I say
again--officially
approved. Since I spoke to you last he has managed to get off a couple more transmissions. That's how we know the physical setup of your base camp. One more thing: There will be neither discussion nor argument about his reliability."

"Aye, sir," Brannigan grumpily acknowledged.

"To continue," Carey said. "The choppers will land on an LZ behind the base camp. It is a small, flat area that can accommodate aerial deliveries and extractions, including medevacs. After offloading, you will proceed down to the former Pashtun area and establish your base camp. When it is properly prepared, you will launch your operations. Any questions about that?"

"Yes, sir," Jim Cruiser said. "Will we have air support?"

"Not unless Iranian aircraft come on the scene," Carey replied. "Anybody else? Good. Now I'll let Commander Berringer give you the intelligence portion of the briefing."

Berringer had no notes with him. He walked up to the front of the group and assumed a relaxed position of parade rest. "The intel we have on the bad guys is a couple of days old, so figure there's probably going to be some changes and alterations, understood? Their approximate total strength is sixty, with an overall commander and three subunit commanders. Two of those subunits are infantry assault troops, while the third is a support element of some kind. That probably means a combination of machine guns and mortars."

"Can you be more specific, sir?" CPO Matt Gunnarson asked.

"No," Berringer replied in a flat tone, then continued with his dissertation. "They are situated in a preprepared fighting position that was constructed under the supervision of Russian military engineers. We know nothing of the layout or defensive capabilities of the area."

"In other words," Brannigan said, "we'll have to dig up our own intelligence."

"Yes," Berringer answered. "Our knowledge is limited because the asset Aladdin is unable to transmit long, detailed messages to us. And we do not know the actual location of his radio. He might be moving it around for security purposes. Any questions?"

"Yes, sir," the former preppy Chad Murchison said. "What is the physical milieu of the area between the warring factions?"

Berringer hesitated before speaking. "I think you want to know what the terrain is like between the SEAL positions and those of the enemy, do you not?"

"Yes, indeed, sir," Chad replied. "I am, of course, referring to the area similar to what they called 'no-man's-land' during the trench warfare of World War One."

"Well, Petty Officer Murchison," Berringer said, "no-man's-land is a valley floor about two hundred meters across. There is cover and concealment available, but the area is under full visibility by either side. You'll have to go up some fifteen meters of steep slopes to reach the fighting positions."

"Ah!" Chad said. "So one must
descend
into the valley, cross it, and then
ascend
the slopes on the opposite side to reach the enemy for any close--hand-to-hand--engagements."

"That is correct," Berringer said. "Any more questions?"

"About a thousand," Mike Assad said, "but I guess we're not going to get any answers."

Berringer spoke up sharply. "If you're a nervous Nellie, Petty Officer Assad, we can pull you out of Operation Battleline."

Now Brannigan's temper flared. "With all respect, sir, but I have to remind you that Assad spent many long weeks undercover within the al-Mimkhalif terrorist group and came out with enough valuable intelligence to put them out of business."

"I don't care if he's been fucking Usama Bin Laden in the ass," Berringer snapped back. "I will not tolerate insubordinate remarks!"

"Aye, sir," Brannigan said. He looked over at Assad. "Shut up!"

"Aye, sir!"

Berringer went back to join Dr. Joplin as Carey retook the floor. "Alright, that's it. You'll be fed additional information by us and the Air Force as it becomes available. In the meantime, take what you've got and turn it into an OPLAN. That is all."

Brannigan called the detachment to attention as the two officers and the diplomat left the hangar. He turned to the SEALs in the chairs. "Alright! I want to see Lieutenant Cruiser and Ensign Taylor in the cubicle. Senior Chief Dawkins, take over the detachment and set 'em to work."

Operation Battleline was now official and functioning.

.

ZAHEYA POSITIONS

IRAN-AFGHANISTAN BORDER

1400 HOURS

ARSALAAN Sikes, born Archibald Sikes in Manchester, England, was a commissioned major in the Iranian Army. He had insisted on the appointment to solidify his position within the Zaheya to avoid any loss of his prestige as commander of the al-Askerin-Zaubi. Sikes Pasha, as he was called within the strike force, did not trust officers of any army, and that included the ones in the Zaheya.

Now he stood alone on the front lines of his unit's defensive position, using his binoculars to peer across the valley at the area about to be occupied by the enemy. He knew the place well, having lived there for many long weeks. Every defensive position, bunker entrance, and the paths up and down the mountains were familiar to him. This had been the stronghold of the rebel Pashtun leader Yama Orakzai, who had surrendered to the Afghanistan authorities after the American SEALs ripped his organization apart. Part of the dismantling process had included shutting down his opium poppy smuggling operations. That illegal activity provided financial support not only to the Pashtuns but also benefited the very armed force in which Sikes now served.

The sound of footsteps interrupted Sikes' study of the area, and he turned to see the Iranian Army officer Captain Jamshid Komard approaching. Komard was the commander of the fire support unit made up of Spanish LAG-40 grenade launchers and German MG-3 machine guns. The Iranian saluted the Brit. "Good morning, Sikes Pasha."

"Sob bekheyr,"
Sikes replied in Farsi.

Komard smiled. "So you are learning more Farsi with each passing day,
rast,
Sikes Pasha?"

"Right," Sikes replied in the accent of northern England. "I figger it's the bluddy least I could do since I'm a major in the army, yeah?"

Komard pulled his binoculars from the carrying case. "I am ready for you to point out the positions across the valley."

"Right," Sikes said. "We'll work from left to right." He grinned. "That might be a bit sticky for you, since your lot do your reading and writing from right to left."

"I shall manage, Sikes Pasha," Komard said.

"Right then," Sikes said. "Now look slightly up to where the ridgeline runs from the mountaintop. That's the farthest out the bastards can go to the north, and them Pashtuns laid it in good to protect that flank. I'd look for both heavy weapons and infantry to be there."

"I see it plainly," Komard said. "I expect they might try to camouflage it better once they move into the area."

"More'n likely," Sikes agreed. "You can see it well enough now, since the brush around it is dead and dried out."

Komard took his compass and shot an azimuth on the location. After entering the information in his notebook he said, "I'm ready for the next one."

The two men spent the next half hour meticulously noting all the fighting positions the Pashtuns had established in the past.

ARCHIBALD Sikes had once been an excellent noncommissioned officer in the British Army's crack Royal Regiment of Dragoons. This armored infantry unit had a long and colorful history in the colonial days of Queen Victoria's domains. The sun did not set on the British Empire, nor did it set on the battlefields on which the Dragoons had fought and died in the greatest traditions of Great Britain.

Sergeant Sikes had been an ambitious soldier and decided he would like to earn a commission to continue his career as an officer. He was approved by both his platoon leader and company commander to go before the board for attending officer training. He passed the examinations and interviews with flying colors, but when he requested his commission be made in his home regiment, he was turned down. The major in charge of the examining board told Sikes he was not socially acceptable for the officers' mess of the Royal Dragoons.

Sikes had no idea of the rigid class system of the regiment's elite. In reality, they were all from wealthy families with the right connections and a standard of living far above that of the typical British unit. To keep up appearances, the officers had to use more than their army pay. They had high dues and subscriptions in their mess, all uniforms were tailor-made, they kept privately owned polo ponies in the regimental stables, and they enjoyed a lifestyle of the truly rich and famous. Television and movie stars visited their mess along with powerful politicians and industrialists. It was hardly the place for a young Brit whose father worked in a building materials supply warehouse as a stockman.

This snobbery turned Sikes off. When informed of the when and why of the refusal of the regiment to accept him as one of its officers, he was infuriated. It didn't matter that he could have been commissioned in any other regiment--with the exception of the Brigade of Guards--Sikes wanted the Royal Regiment of Dragoons. He had especially picked it out to serve in when he joined up. The same evening of the turndown, he went to town, got drunk, and ended up being arrested for brawling. He was reduced from sergeant to corporal. More misconduct resulted in his being busted down to the rank of private.

When his unit went to Iraq, his conduct did not improve. His regimental sergeant major informed him that when they returned to Britain, he would be kicked out of the Army with a bad-conduct discharge. An Iraqi civilian employee at the camp had taken special notice of Sikes and became friendly with him. This was Khalil Farouk, an undercover agent for a terrorist group that was aligned with Iran. He knew that Sikes was really an excellent soldier, just the sort of man the terrorists needed to whip their mujahideen into shape. The bottom line was that, under Farouk's influence, Sikes deserted, converted to Islam, and joined the Iranian-sponsored Jihad Abadi, which was actually an army-in-the building in a scheme for Iran to control the Middle East.

Sikes, because of his background, was given command of an armored car company at the Chehaar Garrison in the salt swamps on the Iran-Afghanistan border. They used a secret road through the bogs to enter Afghanistan and conduct combat operations. Sikes had discovered an UNREO unit working with the Pashtun natives in the area and ordered them out. When he returned the next day to see if they had left, he was ambushed by an American unit of DPVs. It turned out the Yanks had no AP rounds and could not damage his armored cars. But because of the possibility of CAS aircraft coming onto the scene, Sikes ordered his men back across the border.