Seals (2005) (18 page)

WEST RIDGE BASE CAMP

23 AUGUST

0915 HOURS LOCAL

DUST swirled violently off the ridge top as the two Blackhawk helicopters came in for landing. The roar of the engines frightened the buzzards feeding on the dead mujahideen farther down the slope, and the large, obnoxious birds rose in dark clouds of feathered flight at the thunderous disturbance. They scattered through the sky, their indignant squawking loud and obscene at this interruption in their gruesome feasting.

As soon as the wheels touched down, each squad of Brannigan's Brigands disembarked from its aircraft, quickly forming relay lines. The crewmen inside began handing boxes and bundles of gear and ammo to waiting hands, and the supplies were passed from man to man toward the side area where Senior Chief Petty Officer Buford Dawkins and Chief Petty Officer Matt Gunnarson neatly stacked the goods prior to proper stowage. Among the usual issue of ammunition and rations were camouflage netting, shovels, picks, empty burlap sandbags and an assortment of uniform items to replace what the SEALs had been wearing for almost three weeks. The fresh, unused skivvies were the most appreciated, but not quite as much as eight cases of Budweiser officially donated by the Army Post Exchange Board in Kabul. The Brigands didn't receive enough alcohol to get roaring drunk, but they were appreciative of this second gift of beer just the same.

Connie Concord and Bruno Puglisi were also happy with the addition of an M-224 light mortar system to their small arsenal of support weaponry. The platoon commo was enhanced greatly with each officer and chief petty officer being furnished with a PRC-112 radio to enhance his command and control capabilities. These sets also broadcast beacons that all military aircraft monitor on their guard channels to provide an automated method of calling support to particular points of the globe. It was a handy and quick way to get help when needed.

As soon as the Blackhawks were given the all-clear signal, their rotors whipped back up to flying speed, and they lifted off the ridge, turning toward their home base. The ensuing quiet was broken by the hoarse shouts of the chief petty officers, who set the men to work constructing storage sites for all the new gear. This would include the erection of camouflage netting to enhance the cut brush the platoon had been using for concealment since their arrival.

The Odd Couple, Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz, were the lucky ones in the activities. The assignment of recon patrol duties saved them from the pick-and-shovel work. They happily donned their combat vests, grabbed their CAR-15s and headed down the ridge to check out the area.

When the new equipment was covered and concealed, the next order of business was the improvement of the present fighting positions. Now, with better digging implements than entrenching tools, the SEALs set about deepening and strengthening the field fortifications that surrounded the immediate area. This included filling the sandbags to build up higher parapets.

With the work under way, Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan called a staff meeting with his 21C and chief petty officer. Rather than go into the CP, they stood outside for the session, gazing at the men working hard at their various tasks.

Brannigan liked what he saw. "That's real discipline."

Chief Gunnarson frowned in puzzlement. "What are you talking about, sir?"

"Some people--especially civilians--think military discipline is a combination of harsh training and punishment," Brannigan replied. "Chickenshit stuff, y' know? Like making guys spit-shine boots and Brasso their brass. But real discipline is the voluntary spirit to be willing to do whatever it takes to make yourself the best man in the best unit in the best service of the Armed Forces. And that's especially true when what you're doing is pissing you off or busting your balls. Like the platoon out there."

"Yes, sir," Senior Chief Buford agreed. "Guys in outfits like ours put out a hundred and ten percent without a boot up their ass."

"Your statement may be grammatically flawed," Lieutenant Cruiser said, "but it is filled with volumes of truth."

The senior chief grinned. "As long as I'm understood, sir."

"Well, understand this," Brannigan interjected. "We're up here for the long haul, and I've reached the conclusion that nobody anywhere in any SOCOM has the slightest idea of what is going to happen around here. They've stuck us on top of this fucking mountain and are waiting to see what kind of shit is going to be thrown at us."

"They must expect a lot of trouble," Gunnarson said. "Why else would they give us all these extra goodies, not to mention have us improve the fortifications on this ridge top?"

"If they expect a lot of trouble," Cruiser said, "why don't they reinforce us or send in a larger unit?"

"Because nobody else is available," Brannigan replied. "Whatever happens here is going to drop right in our laps."

"Ouch!" the senior chief said with a wink. "That's where I keep my balls."

"I was just thinking the same thing," Brannigan said. "Now! Let's organize the Watch Bill, shall we?"

"Aye, sir," the other three answered together as the administrative side of the session began.

.

1115 HOURS LOCAL

THE Odd Couple, dirty and sweating, returned to the ridge after struggling up from the valley below. They climbed over Bravo Fire Team's improved defensive positions and looked around.

"Wow!" Dave Leibowitz said. "What the hell have you guys been doing?"

"Working our asses off," a disgruntled Gutsy Olson replied. He and Connie Concord were filling sandbags. "How was your stroll?"

"Oh, God!" Mike moaned. "We're gonna need to see psychiatrists after this."

Chad Murchison stopped his shoveling. "So what's driving you two into the depths of derangement?"

"Them buzzards, man," Dave said. "They're eating those dead mujahideen down there."

"And they're just about finished," Mike added. "They're picking the last bit of meat off the bones."

"Shit!" Gutsy said. "That's worse than a horror movie. Don't tell me no more."

Mike felt wicked. "They're even eating the eyeballs right out of the sockets."

Gutsy scowled. "You make me fucking sick!"

"We must've really kicked their asses," Dave said. "Not only did they leave their dead behind, but all their weapons and gear are laying around too. All that shit's gonna be covered all winter by the snow when the blizzards come."

"That'll be quite a sight next spring when the sun melts the ice," Mike commented. "It'll look like something out of hell with skulls and rusty weapons all over the place."

"Godamn it!" Gutsy said. "Ain't you guys got a report to make or something? Don't you think you should take care of it?"

"Yeah," Mike said. "We better get over to the CP." He grinned at Gutsy. "Have a nice day."

"Sure," Gutsy said, shoveling angrily. "Thinking about dead humans being eaten by big birds will make the time pass faster."

The Odd Couple left the position, cutting across the top of the ridge to check in with the Skipper.

.

AL-SARAYA CASTLE THRONE ROOM

NOON LOCAL

THIS visit was much more pleasant than the previous one for Ayyub Durtami and Ahmet Kharani. They sat cross-legged at a small table, each with a dish of deep-fried yogurt and flour called jalebi, to be washed down with sabz chai, green tea. Warlord Hassan Khamami sat across from them, sharing the dishes in a magnanimous gesture of hospitality. Two bodyguards, however, stood behind the warlord, glaring at the guests to let them know they were still second-class residents of the fiefdom.

Durtami took a sip of tea. "We thank you for your kindness and consideration in sharing this bounty of delicious food and drink with us, Amir." Like his people in the refugee camp, Durtami and Kharani had been almost starving on the one meal a day allowed them. By Khatib the Oracle.

"Yes!" Kharani said. "May Allah shower you with ten thousand blessings, Amir."

"You are welcome at my table," Khamami said insincerely. Rather than exchange any preliminary pleasantries with his guests, he impolitely moved the conversation to the reason behind the invitation. "I wish to find out exactly what happened in your fiefdom these past weeks."

"It was a treachery brought upon us by Satan," Durtami said. "By the time I had declared jihad, their black magic had grown too strong."

Khamami, who was not in the least bit religious, picked up a jalebi and bit into it. "Perhaps it is as Khatib the Oracle says. You and your people had sinned so much that you angered Allah, who is all merciful and beneficent. Thus he would not come to your aid." He enjoyed the oxymoronic aspect of the statement he had just uttered. It was an expression of disrespect for the tenets of Islam.

Before Durtami could say anything rash, Kharani interjected, "We would not argue with one so spiritually inspired by the Oracle, Amir."

Khamami had already recognized that of the two visitors, Ahmet Kharani was the most intelligent. The warlord was silent for a moment, appearing to be thinking deeply as he considered the past conduct of Durtami. "Tell me, brother-in-law. How many of these infidels were arrayed against you?"

Durtami, almost speechless with pleasure at finally being recognized as a kinsman of the warlord, leaned forward. "At least a thousand, Amir. Perhaps more."

"That does not seem possible," Khamami remarked. "Such a number of foreign devils could not enter these lands without my being informed of them."

Kharani, no longer fearful of Durtami, spoke boldly to his new warlord. "I have heard that the infidels have special fighting forces that are most skillful in the more clandestine aspects of making war."

"Did they make massive attacks against you?" Khamami asked.

"Yes!" Durtami exclaimed.

"No," Kharani answered calmly, making an obvious contradiction.

Durtami turned and glared at his companion. "Was it not a mighty force that attacked those walls when the hostages were taken from us?"

Khamami stifled a laugh.-"Were those the hostages whose ransom you were going to use to pay me for the French mortars I sold you?"

"Oh, no, Amir," Durtami said desperately. "My finances were never so strained." He changed the subject quickly. "A very heavy attack against our walls breached them. They even fired mortar shells into my fortress."

"Those were the same mortars you purchased from the Amir," Kharani said. He turned to the warlord. "They were stolen from us by the infidels."

Now Khamami knew he wouldn't get any reliable information out of Durtami. "You are both dismissed!" he snapped.

"Your will is our command, Amir," Durtami said.

The two quickly got to their feet, bowing deeply before backing toward the door. Just as they reached the exit, the warlord spoke directly to Kharani. "You may move your family into the village beside the castle walls."

Kharani was almost giddy with happiness. "My gratitude toward you will last ten thousand eternities, Amir!"

The two exited the room. As soon as the door closed, Khamami looked up at the bodyguards. "See that Captain Sheriwal is brought to me."

"Yes, Amir!" they said, immediately rushing toward the door. When the great warlord issued an order, he expected immediate and enthusiastic obedience.

Khamami took a deep sip of tea. The situation in Durtami's former fiefdom was precarious and worrisome. It was time to go to war.

.

WEST RIDGE CP

24 AUGUST

0930 HOURS LOCAL

A rocky outcrop of bare ground extended from the ridge, which offered an excellent view down into the valley. The area below could be seen from the north all the way around to the southeast of the base camp. This position had been ignored before, since it would have been too difficult to maintain a firing position there. But with the receipt of camouflage covers and sandbags, the SEALs were able to establish an excellent OP where the eastern valley and East Ridge could be kept under surveillance.

It was the forenoon watch and Charlie Fire Team was on duty as the other platoon members continued to expand and improve the positions put in the day before. Joe Miskoski was doing the honors at the new OP, staying undercover as he used binoculars to scan the eastern side of West Ridge. The number of buzzards feeding and scolding one another among the dead mujahideen had diminished noticeably, and many had despaired of the dwindling food supply, soaring away in search of more abundant carrion.