Strike Force Delta (22 page)

As for the Chief's own men—he had nearly 1,000 under his command—they'd already begun putting the first part of the Iranian plan into action.

It was midafternoon when the Chief finally emerged from his quarters at the Holy Towers. His driver was waiting for him in his heavily armored Land Rover. Along with an escort of technicals, they began speeding around the city, making sure that preparations were being properly made for the impending American action.

People in Khrash were already fearing some kind of American strike—word had spread everywhere by now. But the Chief was not nervous at all. He'd been chewing qat since waking up, as most of the Islamic fighters in town had been, and the mildly hallucinogenic leaf was finally having some effect on him. Besides, he'd contacted close friends in Kabul, people who were inside the government, and they insisted that no one in Kabul had any idea what was happening in Khrash. So how big of a strike could it be if the regular U.S. military was not involved? As far as he could tell, it was just this bunch of crazies, lovesick and looking for revenge. In the past, they rarely numbered above 50. The Chief was estimating the next morning's battle would be over by noon.

His tour of the city began well. Many of the defense positions needed had already been built. This was especially
true around the city's main gate and the wall that encompassed the Old Quarter. The clutter of buildings and high points in this district was an intricate part of the plan.

The Chief was convinced that any American raid would come by air. It was the only thing that made sense. In their previous successes, the Crazy Americans always rode in aboard helicopters; they would have to come looking for the Patch the same way. That's why the Chief had stationed armed men on every roof in the Old Quarter and throughout the most of the city as well. When the Americans appeared, there would be many, many weapons pointing up at them.

And these were not only the hundreds of AK-47s the religious police had on hand, again courtesy of the Iranian military; there was also more than 200 RPG launchers in this part of the city. The Chief even had a couple antiaircraft guns—40mm double-barreled antiques, leftover from the Soviet invasion—stationed at the far end of the quarter, nearing the center of town.

And if all else failed, they also had one very big SAM.

The Chief visited the city's trio of mosques next, one of which was located in the Old Quarter. These buildings were another key part of the defense plan. It was well-known throughout the Muslim world that the American military
never
fired on mosques. In fact, they always went to great lengths to avoid even going near a mosque during military action. It was a stupid policy. Whether it was Fallujah, Sadr City, or Khrash, every Muslim fighter involved in such things knew that because of the Americans' obsession with political correctness, by not firing on mosques the United States was handing them
safe haven in the middle of a war. This was why all of Khrash's extra ammunition, weapons, explosives, and fuel was kept in the city's mosques.

The Chief's driver finally brought him to the place known as Kibosh. It was an old blockhouse located on the western edge of town, about a dozen blocks away from the center of the city.

This was the Chief's office. This was where the Chief's top lieutenants could usually be found; it was also where his own substantial bodyguard force was barracked. The Chief maintained separate living quarters here as well, away from his wife and kids. There were torture chambers and a small jail here, as well as a rape room.

The Chief arrived to a flurry of handshaking and ass kissing by his officers. They had much to report to him, but he demanded a cup of tea and for someone to light him a hashish cigarette first. He dealt with several small matters first: The moving of two more field pieces up to the city's front gate. An increase in the ration of the hallucinogenic
qat
to be dispensed to his fighters starting with their evening meal. The testing of the city's half-dozen huge bells, located in the minarets as well as atop the Holy Towers. These bells would be rung as the signal for the visiting Muslim fighters in the city—the Taliban and Al Qaeda—that they would be needed after all in the defense of the city.

The Chief then heard a report on the city's pride and joy—the huge SA-6 SAM. He wanted to make sure that the batteries inside the big missile's launcher were fully charged—this weapon had to be ready at all times. He was assured that everything was hot within the missile and that the backup batteries were also fully charged.

These things done, the Chief sat atop an old, moldy rug and called on each of his cohorts to give his latest report.

First to appear before the Chief was a group of mullahs. They were essentially his department's secret police. They reported something the Chief already knew: that rumors were going through Khrash that the city was about to be attacked by the Americans, possibly even a strike by B-52 bombers—a very frightening thought. The mullahs had a warning for the Chief: They were sure that those civilians who could would attempt to escape the city before whatever was coming finally arrived. And the mullahs said, just as certainly, if such a trickle began, it would soon turn into a torrent.

The Chief knew this was a problem. One part of the Iranian defense plan called for civilians to be used as human shields. Just as they were reluctant to fire on religious places, the Americans rarely opened fire if there were civilians around. Again, this gave a huge advantage to the Islamic fighters. In this regard, the lowly citizens of Khrash were one of its most valuable commodities at the moment.

The Chief moved quickly. He told one of his commanders to take a squadron of technicals out to the western edge of Khrash and stop the first group of civilians they encountered who were trying to leave the city. These civilians would then be brought back to the city square located next to the Holy Towers. Their time up, the mullahs kissed his hand and quickly departed.

The next officer to step before the Chief was his arms master, the man in charge of the city's weaponry. He reported that he was expecting a huge arms shipment to arrive in Khrash sometime tonight. More RPGs, more
AK-47s, and ammunition for both were due to be delivered. But more important, several tons of TNT and HE were coming as well. These explosives had been slated to go into the terrorists' schools to make booby traps and improvised roadside bombs for Iraq but could be made available to the Chief's police force at his request.

The shipment was scheduled to arrive around midnight, via a river caravan, coming up the Farāh from the Iranian border town of Rimut fifty miles downstream. The exact time of delivery was unknown, though. The Chief waved away the man's apologies for the imprecise timetable. He just wanted to know one thing: Would the arms shipment be here before sunrise the next day? The arms master replied in the affirmative.

“Then all will be well,” the Chief declared.

The arms master departed to be replaced by one of the religious police's lowest deputy officers. This man was visibly shaking when he knelt before the Chief.

“We have come up empty on our search,” the man said, eyes glued to the floor.

The Chief just stared back at him—what was this man talking about?

“The search for what?” the Chief asked.

“Videotapes, sir,” the man replied, certain a hatchet of some kind was about to come down on his head.

“You? You're the one in charge of looking for videotapes?”

“I am, sir,” the deputy said.

“And still you can't find any? Not a one—in this entire city?”

The man shook his head slowly. “No, sir.”

The Chief felt his shoulders slump a bit. What a pain this was! TV sets, batteries, cell phones—even fax machines.
These things could be had at just about any shop in Khrash as well as throughout the Qimruz But not a single usable videotape? Anywhere? Who was going to tell the Patch?

The Chief stuffed his mouth with more strands of qat, but suddenly he wasn't feeling as good as he was just moments before. He dismissed the deputy but told him to continue his search. That's when one of the Chief's field commanders burst into the room. The Chief's bodyguards were right on the man's tail, but seeing the look on his face, the Chief beckoned him forward. The man was highly upset.

“Very bad news, sir,” was how he started his report.

“What could it be?” the Chief asked with a snort. “The city is tight. Security is high and we are dispelling any rumors. So, what bad news could you possibly give me?”

The man gulped. “Kundez Sharif's compound has been destroyed,” he said.

The Chief stared back at him in disbelief. “What did you say?”

“I saw it myself,” the commander reported. “It has been turned to dust. There is nothing left.”

To emphasize the point, the commander pointed out the room's only window facing north. There was still a distinct red glow on the horizon.

“That could be a simple brush fire,” the Chief said. “Or some fool burning his manure pile.”

One of his top lieutenants intervened. “Sir—it is coming from the same direction as Sharif's compound,” he said. “Perhaps you should call him.”

The Chief nodded brusquely to the lieutenant. This man dialed Sharif's private cell phone and handed the
phone to the Chief. The phone rang and rang. There was no answer.

Now the Chief's face creased with worry. He did not want to even think about an existence without the protection of the almighty Kundez Sharif.

“The sheikh has many escape routes in his palace,” the Chief suddenly told those assembled. “He would have managed to get out of any kind of bandit attack.”

But the field commander just shook his head. “This wasn't just a bandit attack,” he insisted. “Sharif's compound was
bombed
from the air. There is nothing left but dust, and even that is still burning.”

“Bombed from the air?” the Chief roared. “By who? Certainly not the Americans. We have a deal with Kabul . . . .”

“They might not have been sent by Kabul,” the man reported meekly.

At this point, another of the Chief's officers burst in unannounced. He was the man the Chief had sent out to look for any civilians attempting to escape. He reported that his men had corralled two dozen civilians—women and children mostly—who'd been attempting to leave Khrash via the northwest wadi. They had been brought to the city square as the Chief had ordered.

In a foul mood now, the Chief demanded to be taken to them.

It was now late afternoon and the sun was beginning to sink over the mountains to the west when the Chief arrived back in Khrash's main square.

The civilians who'd been caught trying to escape were huddled next to a wall of the Holy Towers. There were 26 of them, and indeed most were women and
children. They were all carrying hastily packed bags and suitcases. Besides these and the rags on their backs, they had little else. Many of them were crying.

The Chief had his men round up as many locals as they could find, and a crowd of several hundred was soon gathered in the square. The Chief stood atop his Land Rover with a battery-powered megaphone and made an announcement: Anyone caught trying to leave the city in this crucial time would be considered an enemy of Allah and dealt with accordingly.

Then the Chief had his men line the escapees up against the Holy Towers wall. It took some time to get them to obey; some had to be whipped or beaten. The wailing and panic grew. The Chief waited impatiently, chewing qat and fanning himself in the seat of his truck. If only he'd found a damn videotape, he was thinking. Then everything would have had a positive face on it.

Finally, the 26 people were in place. Eighteen of the Chief's men lined up in ragged fashion, each holding an AK-47. The Chief gave a signal and each man raised his weapon. Stunned silence enveloped those looking on. The Chief returned to the hood of his Land Rover, again with his electronic megaphone, and recited his speech a second time: Anyone caught leaving Khrash would be shot.

Then he gave the order for his men to fire.

But just before they could pull their triggers, the air above the city started rumbling again.

They came in low, wingtip to wingtip, two airplanes so loaded down with bombs, they looked like they were carrying pianos.

The noise was horrific, the sound wave that arrived was so intense. The men in the firing squad saw the planes first, coming in right over the city's main gate,
with barely a shot thrown up in response from the gate guards. The planes seemed huge to these men; they quickly broke and ran.

The Chief's bodyguards saw the planes a split second later—their reaction was just about the same. They instantly fled, though two of them managed to put the Chief back into his Land Rover before they ran away. That's when the intended execution victims scattered as well. The Chief was furious.

This was not the way things were supposed to go.

The two planes arrived over the square a moment later. They were the F-14s, crudely converted into Bombcats. Each was weighed down with 12 five-hundred-pound bombs, way over the expected safe load of the F-14, especially shit boxes like these two. To add to the stability of this very risky attack, both planes were flying with their movable wings extended fully, as if they were landing. Between the weight, the swept-out wings, and the generally bad condition of both planes, they were moving very slowly.

To the surprise of just about everybody on the ground, a siren began blasting away across the city. Then two searchlights stabbed into the early-evening darkness. Suddenly the sky above Khrash looked more like World War Two Dresden or Berlin. There were streaks of tracer fire coming up to meet the two planes. So-called golden BBs were being sprayed over the sky.

The two planes turned almost painfully to the south. They were so low, they both nearly clipped the tops of the Holy Towers as they banked left. It took a while, but finally the F-14s went level again. Straight ahead, about a half mile away, was the city's Grand Mosque.