by C J Brown
CHAPTER 9
Tuesday July 2nd 0830 hours - Australian Army Headquarters, Kabul, Afghanistan
Lieutenant Colonel Frank Elliott sat at the table in the command room. Gathered with him were four of his most senior field officers, including Major Harris.
"Gentlemen, at the outset I'd like to congratulate all of you on the planning and execution of Saturday’s operation. Particularly Rob and his team. Fine job."
Rob Harris acknowledged the compliment. “It’s good to be sitting in air conditioning,” he quipped.
"As you know," Elliott continued, "Khan is a Taliban leader. Taking him out of the equation will potentially save hundreds of lives. The Americans hold him responsible for at least fifty of their losses."
"Yeah, Frank, we all know what a low-life he is. What I want to know is why the call was changed from kill to capture. No one with half a brain can say the world is a better place with him in it!" Major Ken White looked as angry as he did confused.
"Things changed, Whitey. The Afghan government is under enormous pressure to get not only the people responsible for the school deaths, but as much of their network as possible. They only just realised, once Rob and his boys were in the field today, what some of us have been telling them all along - that Khan can't give any information if he's dead."
"Information! These blokes are hardcore Taliban. He's never gonna give up his network. He'd die first."
"Well, he's not going to talk and he's not going to die." The Lieutenant Colonel let the murmuring die down. "Yesterday, within hours of Khan's capture we received this via the Red Crescent.” Elliot picked up the remote control that lay on the table. He clicked a button and the wall-mounted LCD screen flickered to life. The room fell silent.
The assembled officers watched and listened intently as a dark figure came into focus. The man on the screen had a shaved head and rough-cut beard. He looked thin, haggard and, to some in the room, vaguely familiar. He held a piece of paper and, with a strained but distinctively Australian voice, began to speak:
"I am Captain Peter Katz, 7-RAR. I am being held in an unknown location.” He stopped, let out a dry, rasping cough and continued, “I have been instructed to read the following demand..." The speaker held up a sheet of paper. He paused and looked off camera. Another voice could be heard shouting, "Read!"
The speaker again looked directly at the camera. He held the paper in front of his face and squeezed it into fist. "... but they can go to hell." The Australian soldier fell out of view as the butt of a rifle slammed against the side of his head. A hooded figure took his place in front of the camera.
"You have captured our brother, Ahmed Khan. We wish for him to be safely returned to us. Brother Ahmed has been chosen by the prophet, peace be upon him, and must be free to continue the holy war against the infidels who have invaded our country and who deny the truths contained within the most holy book."
The speaker leaned forward and retrieved the crumpled sheet of paper from the ground. He read out a series of GPS coordinates then looked again into the camera. "We will meet there at midday tomorrow. At that time we will exchange prisoners. You will have one chance to have your man returned. You will bring your prisoner and two soldiers. If we see more than that then your man will be killed." The screen went blank.
The Lieutenant Colonel turned to face his officers. They looked at each other, all wanting to speak, but none being sure what to say.
Harris went first. "Katz," he shook his head in disbelief. "Is it even him? We thought he was dead. It's been two years."
"It’s him alright.” Major Cheryl Ferguson said, “He was one of my platoon leaders. And yes, it’s been almost two years."
"He's not in good shape," added Elliott. "He certainly hasn't been on vacation."
“I’m in, Sir.” Harris clenched his teeth. “I’ll take my boys and do the trade."
"What?" White interjected. "You're not suggesting we go ahead with this, are you? We give them a senior commander, a murderous terrorist and in return we get back a junior officer who will most likely be immediately discharged on grounds of ill health. That's crazy!"
"I agree,” added Major Paddy O’Neill. “It's not an even trade. From an operational stand point we gain nothing."
Ferguson unwittingly slapped her hand on the table. "Sorry,” she apologised. “But maybe it's not all about gaining an operational advantage. Maybe it's about saving a mate who looks like he's been put through hell and come out the other side just as tough and defiant as he went in. I’m guessing that what he’s been through would have broken a lot of people in this room, including me. I’m with Rob. I'll do the trade. I'll go in unarmed if that's what they want. Whatever it takes. But Katz deserves better than to be left in some hellhole to rot… or worse.” They winced as they pictured what worse referred to. The Taliban had a penchant for releasing videos of brutal beheadings. "Let’s do the trade. We get Katz back. We can get Ahmed Khan again. We've already done it once."
"But how many people will die in the meantime.” It was O’Neill’s turn to thump the table. “It took months to plan today’s op. You know how hard it is to get Pakistan to go along with anything. How many schools will he shoot up before we can get him again? How many innocent women and kids will die while we plan another operation?”
“Okay.” Elliott held up his hand and the officers were silent. “Thanks for that. Both points of view are valid. I agree with Ken and Paddy. It’s important that we not lose sight of our mission.” Harris looked at Ferguson who pursed her lips and shook her head. “But,” Elliott continued, “if we lose our humanity in the process we end no better than the people we’re fighting and we might as well pack up and leave them to it.”
Major White started to speak.
“Save it, Ken. Let me finish.” Elliott walked over to where the intercom sat on a side table and pressed the speak button. “Corporal, has the package arrived?”
“Yes, sir. I’m signing for it now. I’ll bring it in.”
“What about Katz’ family, sir,” asked Ferguson. “When will they be informed?”
“We’ll see how this operation pans out. No point building up their hopes unnecessarily.”
Ten seconds later Lieutenant Colonel Elliott held a brown envelope. He tore it open and took out what looked to be an empty clear plastic zip lock bag. He held it up but even then the officers were hard put to see the contents.
“Maybe we can all get what we want.”
