Run With The Brave

by Run

  The man hesitated, suspecting what he intended to do.

  “Give it to me!” Naveed pleaded, “Give it to me!”

  The man reluctantly handed it over.

  Naveed rolled sideways, tears filling his eyes and, without a word, shot dead his haemorrhaging companion. He then immediately placed the end of the barrel into his mouth and pulled the trigger.

  Shocked by what they had just witnessed, no one spoke for several seconds, the echo of the gunshots reverberating down the valley.

  The first of Ryder’s priorities had been resolved and he prepared to leave; the Americans reluctantly doing the same, Brady saying quietly, “We’re with you.”

  One of the three men Ryder suspected of being Israeli military, due to the way they handled themselves, stepped forward and said, “We want to join you.”

  Another who believes in the strength of numbers. “Please yourselves,” he replied.

  One of the surviving Iranians also asked if they could join.

  Ryder agreed; more the merrier! Ordering everyone to hurriedly gather up weapons, clothing and equipment they were able to carry, together with what scant food they could find from the wrecked vehicles, he led the bedraggled, defiant band up the valley west towards a setting sun – hope renewed.

  9

  Snow began to fall as Ryder, leading the file of eleven men and one woman, weaved silently through the trees up the rising ground, swirling snow hampering progress and branches swaying overhead in the wind affording little protection from the growing storm. However, the more snow, the more their tracks would be covered. They travelled through the night and well into the next day. Now almost totally exhausted and acutely aware of their vulnerability in this wilderness more than 3,000 feet above sea level, Ryder looked for somewhere to rest, get warm and eat some of what little food they had. Survival depended on adapting to the extreme conditions. Ryder knew he and the Americans would be able to, but would the others have the fitness and endurance needed for what they would have to face?

  Wearily, they trudged on until stumbling upon a depression surrounded by bush, offering protection from the wind and large enough to accommodate all below the general level of the ground. A shelter of branches and brush was quickly built and a fire lit. Anyone searching would have to get close before detecting the flames. The risk, however, had to be taken; hot food and warmth was now the priority.

  Although close enough to the fire to keep warm, the separate groups kept largely to themselves; Ryder and the Americans, the Iranians a little further away, and the others on the hollow perimeter. Most of the meagre food scrounged from the trucks was soon devoured. Snow was scooped up into tin mugs, heated, and drunk with relish. Finally, cigarettes taken from the dead guards were shared out within the groups, lit by embers from the fire and savoured. Having given up smoking for less than six months, Ryder fought hard to resist the temptation, although desperate for a nicotine hit.

  Kellar’s voice distracted his thoughts. “Reckon they’ve found the trucks yet?”

  “More than likely,” Sicano replied, drawing deeply on a cigarette. “We’ve been moving now for maybe fifteen to twenty hours.”

  The Iranians spoke rapidly amongst themselves, then one calling himself Tariq Vari Awad spoke to Ryder in broken English. “They had radio contact. The alarm would have been given,” he said, shifting his short, stocky frame and looking intently at him with brown eyes set in smooth, round features.

  “Not much time if they did,” shot Kellar, before Ryder could answer.

  “Hope you’re right,” he said to the American; the smell of cigarette smoke almost making him give in.

  The conversation around the flames was a mixture of Farsi, Hebrew and English, depending on what group you were in. Ryder understood Farsi well from his army tutors and from his time in Iran. He knew a little Hebrew too, from joint operations with the Israelis when with the SAS.

  “How far we come?” Brady asked.

  “Twenty-five, maybe thirty miles,” Ryder replied.

  “Heading west?” questioned Kellar.

  “Last time I checked.”

  “Where are we?” the American pressed.

  “Zagros Mountains,” the Iranian cut in again.

  “Anywhere is better than where we were going,” said Brady. “Hey, you speak good English,” he said to the Iranian.

  “I study,” Tariq replied, sadness to his voice.

  “How far to the Turkish border?” shot Sicano in Farsi, looking across the flames at the nearest Iranian naming himself Fehed Al Wan.

  “Approximately 200 miles north-west,” the tall, thin, menacing man with a large hooked nose replied. No translation was necessary as all the Americans could speak Farsi well. Ryder was impressed.

  “The Iraqi border must be close,” said Kellar. “We should go for it.”

  Ryder replied, “We could face real problems taking that route. First, the Peshmergas.” He referred to Kurdish guerrillas, literally ‘those who face death’. “I know they’re on our side at the moment against the ISIS crowd, but you can never be sure; secondly, ISIS themselves or Ansar al-Islam militia. All three operate on the north and east borders fighting for independent states. If we’re captured by the Peshmergas I’m not sure what our fate would be – probably okay – but if by the other two we’ll be beheaded for sure with our dicks shoved down our throats. And thirdly: many other fanatical terrorist groups are fighting for power in Iraq with no telling what they would do. No, we’ll head for Turkey, it’s safer.” He definitely did not want to encounter terrorists if it could be avoided. To him Turkey was the nearest safe haven where he had connections.

  “They will expect us to run for Turkey,” offered the shortest of the four Iranian men, muscular with piercing eyes set in hawk-like features who said his name was Saad Amer Abdulla.

  “That’s a risk we’ll take,” Ryder replied.

  The three men furthest away from the fire talked quietly amongst themselves.

  Ryder threw a log on the fire then shouted over, “You with us?”

  All three glanced at one another before the leader firmly replied, “No.”

  Ryder was taken aback at the curt reply. “You wanted to join us; why the change?”

  The man stared hard at him for a moment, appearing to struggle inwardly before glancing towards the Iranians and asking Ryder, “Can I speak with you privately?”

  He nodded and joined the group out of earshot of the others.

  “I am Captain Yoman, Israeli Special Forces, and this is Sergeant Shiron and Corporal Hellmann.” He paused whilst handshakes were made, then, “You are Special Forces?”

  He was not surprised at the captain’s revelation; everything about the three screamed military. He replied, “Ex.”

  “SAS?” pressed the Israeli.

  “Again, ex.” He wondered where this was all going.

  “Are they Special Forces?” Yoman nodded towards the Americans. “Why are they and you here?”

  “Long story; you’ll have to ask them.” It was not for him to say; besides, it was none of his business anyway.

  “You Sayeret Mat’kal?” he questioned, holding Yoman’s gaze, attempting to divert the line of questioning.

  The captain nodded, surprise registering. “Unit 269.”

  Ryder was impressed. He knew from his SAS experience with this top secret anti-terrorism organisation that members of Unit 269 were considered the best of the Israeli Special Forces.

  The Israeli captain glanced at the other two then back to Ryder. “What I have to say is for you only.”

  Ryder nodded, not sure if he would be able to comply with that.

  The captain proceeded to tell him briefly about the failed Operation Tehome, finishing; “So, we have decided, now that we’re in the Zagros, to try and complete the job we came to do.”

  Ryder stared at the Israeli in disbelief. “You’re kidding, that’s one big fucking ask, Captain – you crazy? How the hell do you expect to locate that
base without compass, maps, co-ordinates?”

  “We’ll know the mountain when we see it. The image is firmly imprinted in here,” he pointed to his head, “As are the co-ordinates.”

  “No good without GPS. You’re talking 800 miles or more over rugged country in extreme conditions – unprepared. If a base does exist how will you disable without explosives?”

  “I’ll worry about that at the time. It’s important to know if a base exists.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “If you make it safely to the Turkish border you can inform my people that Tehome is still active.”

  Ryder shrugged; the man seemed determined. “Okay, have it your way.” He turned and walked back to the fire.

  Ryder said little to the Americans, other than explain who Yoman and his men were; not mentioning what they intended to do. Like him, none was surprised.

  The watches were arranged. Ryder wondered if he would ever get out of all this alive until finally exhaustion overcame him and he dropped into a fitful sleep. Soon, one by one, the others followed.

  The night was crisp and clear and the stars shone bright during Ryder and Yoman’s watch. Both crouched on the rim of the depression staring into the surrounding bush and up into the night sky so vast in its black richness and yet so personal to all who found comfort in its illusion of permanency.

  “How long were you in that shit-hole?” Ryder asked.

  The captain was silent for several moments then, without looking away from the sky, replied in a low voice, “Too long – four, five weeks. They worked us over good. The schmucks got nothing outta me, or them.” He nodded towards the other two lying not far away. “That earthquake was a fucking godsend. I don’t think I could have faced another stinking cell or sadistic schmuck.” He winced like he was recalling and turned to look directly at Ryder, “You suffer too?”

  Ryder nodded. He liked this man – tough and straightforward.

  “Same.” Like the Israeli, he was not going to give much away. “When you intending to split?”

  “First light.” Yoman looked back up into the sky and pointed to a bright star in the south-east. “That’s Sirius. Tomorrow we’ll head in that direction.”

  Ryder tried briefly once more to dissuade the Israeli. “To go south is a dangerous business, even fully prepared, but to attempt taking out a missile base, Captain, is pure suicide.”

  Yoman looked at him firmly and said with an air of finality, “That is the risk we will take. Nothing will stop us, so save your breath.”

  Rebuffed, Ryder refocused on the bush and both men lapsed into silence.

  At dawn they prepared to move out. Ryder asked the Iranians what they intended to do and each said they wanted to head for Turkey with the rest.

  “Can we talk?” Ryder said to the three Americans and led them out of earshot; they had a right to know the Israelis were intending to split and why. He came straight to the point, “The Israelis are going south in search of a missile base.”

  After a few moments’ silence with only the sound of the wind whistling through the trees, Ryder explained what the Israeli captain had told him. When he’d finished the Americans just stared at him in disbelief.

  “A missile base – that’s crazy,” broke Kellar.

  “Longway to go not knowing what’s at the fucking end,” Brady added.

  “Sure have to admire them though,” voiced Sicano, looking intently at Ryder. “Maybe we should join them; compensation for missing out on the dams.”

  They all glanced sheepishly at one another; had Sicano hit a nerve?

  “Turkey is the easiest and the most viable option,” Ryder countered. “To join them is a huge thing to commit to – even to contemplate – in the situation we’re in.” A short silence. “And, if there’s no base, we’ve risked all for nothing; a thousand miles of hostile territory unprepared, to find nothing!”

  “Our mission failed,” added Brady. “Oscar’s right, we should join the Israelis; make something of this – regain some self-respect. I’m thinking: will it let us sleep easy knowing these guys are having a go at the Iranians with limited resources and much less hope of succeeding? Anything we can do to help is, I believe, within our operational scope. We’re allies after all.”

  Ryder could hardly register what he was hearing; he turned to Kellar. “You feel the same?”

  He nodded.

  “You guys crazy?” he shot. “We have to get outta here, not go fucking traipsing through hostile territory after a base that might not even exist. What the fuck can six of you do anyway, even if you found one?”

  “At least we’ll have tried,” shot Sicano. “At least we’ll be doing what we’re trained for. I for one don’t want to go back a failure. This could redeem us.”

  The two others agreed with Sicano.

  Ryder felt a pang of guilt. These men were prepared to risk their lives for something they believed would help the brotherhood and for their own self-respect. He understood clearly where Sicano was coming from and he could not help but agree with the logic. Was his conscious pricking? The warrior within wanted to help the Israelis, wanted to get even with the Iranians for what they did to him. He knew his duty was to get back to the ‘unit’, but then again, he was here in the first place to support the American operation, and now they wanted to continue, only this time a different target; so, what the hell.

  “Okay, we go south with the Israelis and God help us,” he said with a mixture of determination, expectancy and a little fear at facing the unknown.

  Smiles all round from the Americans. Ryder did not know whether to laugh or cry as they returned to the others.

  “Captain, I’ve told them your intentions; they had a right to know.” He glanced at the Americans.

  The Israelis threw looks of surprise.

  “We want to help if you agree, under your command.”

  “You sure you wanna do that, Frank?” said Brady, “We’re happy with the way things are.”

  “It’s their operation, Jed. Captain Yoman has all the background on what they’re looking for. It’s logical he take the lead.”

  Brady shrugged.

  Yoman glanced quickly at his two colleagues then replied, hardly able to conceal his delight. “I accept. Like you said, we’re crazy, but together we might just pull this thing off.”

  No turning back now, Ryder thought.

  The Israeli captain looked over at the Iranians on the other side of the hollow, busy talking amongst themselves, and called, “I’m taking command. We’ll not be going west. Here we part company.”

  They were visibly stunned. The one named Qatak Nasir Ali, who had hardly said a word since fleeing the trucks, rushed forward, pleading with Yoman, “Turkey is freedom, not to go west is madness. We must stay together, that is our strength. Where can you possibly go otherwise?”

  Yoman stayed silent.

  Qatak continued, “This is our land, we know it well. We can help you.”

  Yoman looked the Iranian straight in the eye and replied sharply, “No. We’ll be moving fast. You’re not trained for these conditions.” He glanced at the woman, who, like Qatak, had hardly uttered a word, keeping much to herself.

  “She’s one of us,” shot Saad.

  “Do not speak for me, Saad!” she spat, “I speak for myself.” Her dark, defiant eyes burned into the Iranian, then into Yoman.

  Fiery, Ryder thought; she looked fit, but what they intended was no job for a woman.

  “My name is Afari Asgari. I am with the underground.”

  “Underground?”

  “MEK…”

  “People’s Mujahedin of Iran,” Saad cut in, “enemies of our corrupt state.”

  She threw him a sharp glance then raised her head defiantly. “I fight and shoot as well as any man. Give me your pistol.” She thrust her hand out to the Israeli.

  Yoman hesitated, stared at her for a few moments then turned away throwing a surprised glance at the others, as if looking for the
ir agreement, then slowly withdrew the pistol from his belt and handed it over.

  In the growing light an eagle glided on the thermals above and gave a sorrowful high-pitched screech.

  She expertly checked over the Russian Makarov then told Saad to set a small stone on the edge of the hollow some ten yards away.

  Ryder gripped the butt of his pistol, taking no chances.

  When Saad finished she waited for him to return, released the safety-catch and then let loose, hitting the stone with a single shot.

  Ryder raised his eyebrows; impressive but she looked as if she had not the stamina to trek all those miles south.

  Yoman echoed Ryder’s thoughts, “Very good; you can handle a gun. However, where we’re going is many miles away. It’ll be a gruelling, dangerous and punishing journey. We’re attempting it with little firepower and no preparation to speak of.” He paused as if weighing his words. “You do not look strong enough to undertake such a mission. You will slow us down.”

  For a moment, Ryder thought she was going to strike the Israeli. Instead, she put hands on hips and looked daggers, then in a cold, clear voice, full of venom, replied in almost perfect English, “How dare you speak like that to me; you have no right. My life has been dedicated to overthrowing this malignant regime since their thugs killed my parents.” She paused to control her emotions. “How the fuck you think I have managed since they left my life? How the fuck you think I survived?” She glared at the other Iranians. “We’ve had to survive in these mountains more times than I care to remember, mostly eluding government forces. To be fit and capable of handling all kinds of weapons is paramount. I have suffered more abuse and danger than you’ll ever know. If you think a long journey fraught with uncertainty is beyond me then think again, Captain.” She paused then in a calmer tone, “I will not slow you down. I want as much revenge as I can get and if that means more danger and hardship wherever you’re intending to go, so be it, خدا به ما راهنمای.”

  ‘God will guide us’. Seemed appropriate to Ryder. We’ll need all the bloody help we can get on this one – even God’s.