Authors: Patrick Robinson

Tags: #Suspense, #Fiction, #Political, #Thrillers, #Weapons industry, #War & Military, #Assassination, #Iraq War; 2003-

Diamondhead (6 page)

How many did you say were dead? Twelve, shot down in cold blood by an American officer? Right there in the middle of the Euphrates Bridge? Jesus.

Had there been a battle of any kind? What’s that? A couple of U.S. tanks slightly damaged after they opened fire on the village? Nothing serious, right? And then this American went berserk? Wow! And where are the bodies of the twelve villagers? Oh, you have them? Completely unarmed farmers just walking to their fields . . . Gimme your number, Abdul, and stand by.

Forty minutes later, al-Jazeera went to work in its customary mode. Its familiar chimes, which always sounded as if they emanated from the heart of a mosque, signaled for the 4:00 P.M. news headlines. A dark-eyed beauty from Riyadh began the broadcast:

Reports are coming in of a terrifying atrocity committed by U.S. Special Forces on a bridge over the Euphrates River near the Iraqi desert town of Hit. Twelve unarmed local farmers were apparently shot down in cold blood by an American officer. All of them died.

Our correspondent was unable to provide the names of the dead, but Iraqi police are expected to supply details later this evening. So far, U.S. military chiefs in Iraq have declined to comment until more of the facts are known. The Pentagon denies all knowledge of the incident and instructed our reporters to speak to the U.S. authorities in Baghdad. We will bring you more on this breaking story as the evening progresses.

For years it has been impossible for Western news networks to ignore al-Jazeera, which has been labeled the mouthpiece of both Osama Bin Laden and al-Qaeda. Any time there is an unusual military problem in the Middle East, the chances are the story hits first on al-Jazeera. And boy, was this ever unusual.

Inside all newsrooms, both print and broadcast, in London, Washington, and New York, there is a near-permanent watch on the Qatar station, which is tuned in, always, to the eyes and ears of the Arab world. And when the possibility of a U.S. atrocity on the Euphrates came bounding onto the screen like a Labrador puppy on steroids, the left-inclined media of both countries could hardly wait to savage the military that guards their freedoms and keeps their nations safe.

One “enterprising” journalist made a phone call to the U.S. military in Iraq and was told, “Yes, we do have a report of an armed clash along the Euphrates, and yes, there is a Navy SEAL commander assisting right now with an internal investigation. We have reports of some casualties on the U.S. side, no knowledge of Iraqi casualties.”

By the time various editors and rewrite men had finished with this and added it to the “report” from Abdul in the attic, it was on for young and old.

MASSACRE ON THE EUPHRATES—SEAL COMMANDER FACES COURT-MARTIAL

There was, of course, an absence of real facts, like what caused the battle? Which side opened fire first, and with what? Did Americans die, which compelled their colleagues to retaliate? Did they come under attack, unprovoked, from roadside weapons? Was there any complaint from official Iraqi authorities?

Never mind all that. What mattered was the chance to demonstrate murderous bullying by U.S. troops, shooting and killing innocent Iraqi farmers, slamming the iron fist of Uncle Sam into the guts of unarmed Bedouins.

There had plainly been glaring failures by U.S. commanders to control their unruly troops. And how did this make the USA appear in the eyes of the world? (See editorial on page 21.)

Not since the disgusting behavior by U.S. troops in Abu Ghraib prison in the spring of 2006 has the ethos of the United States military been called into such question . . .
etc., etc.

This bombardment of journalistic half-truths, misapprehensions, and exaggerations almost caused the roof to fall in at the Pentagon, especially on Corridor 7 on the fourth floor, in the head offices of the United States Navy. SEAL activities have been known to raise the blood pressure of navy chiefs, but mostly at the HQ of SPECWARCOM in San Diego. Only when an incident looks likely to spiral out of control does general disquiet start rippling along E Ring and into the office of the chief of naval operations.

Adm. Mark Bradfield, a former U.S. Navy carrier battle-group commander, occupied the CNO’s chair in the Pentagon. Right now he was staring at the front page of the
Washington Post,
and uttering the time-worn phrase of those in high command but not on the battlefield—“What in the name of Christ is going on over there?”

His personal assistant, Lt. Cdr. Jay Renton, was staring at the front page of the
New York Times,
and grappled for the most calming phrase he could think of. Jay’s kid brother was a SEAL, serving in Afghanistan, and he knew firsthand about the low cunning of the Taliban and al-Qaeda, the way they had open lines to al-Jazeera and reported the most lurid and unlikely scenarios to the Qatar station, the way they knew how swiftly the left-wing press of the United States would jump all over American troops. “Looks like a pretty nasty battle along the Euphrates, sir,” said Jay. “And, like always, the insurgents get to al-Jazeera television a long time before we’re on the case.”

“Doesn’t say anything about al-Jazeera here,” replied the CNO, somewhat gloomily.

“It does here in the
Times
,” answered Jay. “Quotes the source of the story as
al-Jazeera, the authoritative Arab-based television station.
”

“Hmmmmm,” replied the CNO, an element of suspicion entering his voice.

“Sir, Garrison Hitmen is probably eight hundred miles from Qatar. Now how do you think the television station found out? Because some al-Qaeda killer hopped into a chicken shed and phoned ’em—with the information that a dozen of his guys had been shot. Never mind why, never mind the circumstances.”

“And how did al-Jazeera find out about the SEAL platoon?”

“They did not find out about it. The U.S. media phoned through to Iraq and discovered the SEALs had been in action on that day along that part of the Euphrates. They took it from there.”

At that point a call came from Jay Renton’s office. “Sir, we got something coming through right here from San Diego. Shall I download it or send it through on the link?”

“Hold it right there. . . . ”

“Excuse me, sir—be right back.”

The lieutenant commander left the office and walked through to the bank of computers that was relaying reports from every theater of war in which the United States was involved. Especially Iraq.

The signal from SPECWARCOM was from Rear Adm. Andy Carlow, commander of the Navy SEALs. Its message was stark but, in this instance, extremely helpful:
Two SEAL platoons came under separate attacks south of the Hitmen Garrison yesterday. Four U.S. tanks hit and destroyed by insurgent missiles. Twenty dead: twelve SEALs, eight Rangers. The attacks were unprovoked. SEALs returned fire. Iraqi casualties sustained. No final count.

“Guess that wraps up this newspaper crap about cold blood,” growled Admiral Bradfield. “In the worst possible way, of course.”

“Sure does,” agreed Jay Renton. “Do we make any public statement?”

“Not yet. First of all, the bereaved families have to be informed, and then we need to get a full report from the senior SEAL commander on the mission.”

“And what do we tell the media, which is going to bombard us with questions about a possible court-martial and God knows what else?”

“Instruct the press office that the United States Navy does not make statements until the facts are known and diagnosed.”

There was an undercurrent of pure disquiet running all through Camp Hitmen. Reeling from the deaths of so many of their officers and buddies, the men of the SEAL, Ranger, and Green Beret platoons were stunned by the version of events that was currently appearing in U.S. newspapers and, in particular, on television.

The accusations that a SEAL commander had shot down twelve insurgents on the bridge were being presented as if he had just met them on the street and then turned his rifle on them for no reason whatsoever. As one-sided accounts go, this one was right up there.

It seemed that no one at al-Jazeera had bothered to check the validity of the secret Arab correspondent, who had slunk away from the battlefield and telephoned a truly outrageous account to the television station, without even mentioning the horrifying, and flagrantly illegal, damage the Americans had sustained before they retaliated.

And the tone of certain U.S. media editorials was directed accusingly at the troops on the ground, the guys who put their lives on the line every day, on behalf of the government of the United States of America.

“Why am I doing this?” The question was not often asked by Special Forces, whose training provided them with a cast-iron wall of self-righteousness. How else would it be possible to turn men into an unstoppable professional fighting unit, contemptuous of the enemy, and ever aware of one shining part of their creed: “Professionalism is about the total elimination of mistakes. It has nothing to do with money”?

But this was different. The U.S. media were chipping away at their very reason for existing, suggesting they were ruthless killers, devoid of any sense of decency or justice. They watched the television; they could read the newspapers on their computers. They knew what was being said.

This new sense of bitter unfairness pervaded their actions. No one wanted to go out on missions where they could come under heavy fire yet, somehow, be reluctant to shoot back.

For two days, Lt. Cdr. Mackenzie Bedford was ensconced with the senior officers of the garrison. There had still been no official complaint from the Iraqis, which suggested the missiles had been fired from an illegal insurgent unit. As for Commander Bedford’s actions, he admitted he had opened fire on the Arabs on the bridge and that he did not know if any of his men had also retaliated. He did not know how many had died, and, quite frankly, he did not care.

In the opinion of the senior command at Camp Hitmen, the real atrocity of the conflict had been the firing of an almost certainly illegal missile that had killed twenty U.S. military personnel in unprovoked attacks.

There was great disquiet in the garrison. And enormous sympathy for Mack Bedford. Behind it all, though, was the unspoken fear that the veteran SEAL commander had simply gone berserk after witnessing the shocking death of his closest friends, Frank Brooks and Charlie O’Brien. Both burned alive.

There was not one single resident of Camp Hitmen, serving officer or other rank, who would ever be persuaded to utter one word against the lieutenant commander. In fact, there was genuine worry among senior staff that men would lie, say anything, in defense of the commander.

Lies have never been tolerated in the navy. Instructors at the U.S. Naval Academy, in Annapolis, will tolerate all manner of transgressions, except for lying. For that, a midshipman will be thrown out. Not might be, will be. Young men being prepared to take command of very expensive warships cannot veer from the truth. Ever. Every man on the ship is dependent on the straightforwardness of the captain and his commanders.

The navy’s SEALs, the combat elite, though normally far removed from life at sea, were nonetheless bound by the same dark-blue code of conduct. And here was an entire garrison of men preparing to close ranks in support of a hugely admired officer, who had essentially carried out what all of them would have wished but didn’t dare. Even Lt. Barry Mason.

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