by Andres Mann
Tess relaxed enough to signal she was calming down. When the man loosened up, she slunk away and lunged for Roger again. “You spineless wimp! You can’t even lie properly!” She started to punch him out, causing the strong man to grab her again and drag her out of the room like a sack of potatoes. Tess furiously resisted, to no avail. The man lifted her up and hurriedly carried her to an open room down the hall. He closed the door, laid her down on her back and straddled over her with a hand over her mouth.
“Please calm down; you are going to get in trouble. Relax, I am sure that we can work things out.” Tess appeared to calm down, but the man did not loosen her. He had seen her temper in action. Tess resumed struggling, but the man continued to immobilize her and kept his hand over her mouth.
In frustration, Tess stopped struggling. The man did not let go, and gently tried to soothe her. “It’s okay. You will be fine. Just calm down and we will deal with this. You don’t want to go to jail, do you?”
Tess considered herself a pretty good fighter, but this man seemed to be made of steel. There was no way to shake him off. She finally relaxed, and the man, warily, released her.
Several people rushed to Roger’s room. Tess could hear the commotion in the hallway, and it became apparent that Roger did not want any more fuss. He declined to press charges. He said he did not know the person that attacked him and his companion. It was probably an attempted robbery. The hotel security people and the police looked doubtful, but they couldn’t do much without a formal complaint.
Tess peeked into the mirror in the room and saw that she looked like a mess. The little mascara she had worn had melted and streaked on her face. She excused herself, went to the bathroom and washed her face. She was furious at herself for showing her emotions to a stranger.
She walked back into the room and stared at the man, who was now sitting on a chair, turning the pages of a magazine.
“What gives you the right to get involved in my life?” she angrily confronted him.
“Hi, my name is Jake.” The man put the magazine down on the end table. “Perhaps you might want to tell me who you are.”
“Why should I? I don’t know you, I don’t want to know you, and at this point I am mad as hell!”
“I can’t blame you if you are angry. If what happened is what I think happened, I don’t know how I would have reacted. On the other hand, you could be in jail now, charged with assault. Frankly, I don’t believe it’s worth it. There are better ways to handle something like this, and I am sure you will find them once you calm down and think things through.”
“My name is Tess,” she said. “I didn’t overreact. Roger, my husband, did an unforgivable thing. I really wanted to hurt him, but I do get your point. There is one thing that I can’t figure out, however. I have a black belt courtesy of Army training, and you are able to immobilize me at will. Who the hell are you?”
Roger shrugged his shoulders. “I do stuff in the Army.”
“So do I,” Tess volunteered, but I haven’t had anyone subdue me in a fight before!”
“It wasn’t a fight, I just restrained you.”
“Why do you care? Tess exploded. Don’t you have anything else to do?”
“Correct, at the moment I don’t have anything else to do. But I do care because I saw you in the lobby, and frankly, you looked like someone that should not end up in jail just because you have problems controlling your temper.”
“My, you certainly work fast!”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. If you need a reason for my becoming involved, I submit that you should never do anything when you are in a temper, for you will do everything wrong.”
“I heard that quote in college,” Tess observed. “Was it by a Spanish philosopher?”
“Balthasar Gracian, who lived in 1600’s,” Jake added.
Tess finally sat and crossed her legs gracefully, sarcastically adding “So, now we have a soldier and a scholar!”
“I am a realist who learned the hard way that it is always better to think before unleashing the artillery. I submit that in your situation, the objective should be to punish the person that did you wrong without damaging yourself.”
Jake got up and picked up a bottle from the small hotel bar. “Look, let’s stop this. Would you like a drink?”
“Now you make sense,” she responded wearily. “Scotch on the rocks.”
Jake poured the drink and gave her the glass. “Do you have a place to stay? You are welcome to take over my room. I am leaving tomorrow morning.”
Tess sat on a plush chair. “I am leaving too. I have been deployed to Iraq.”
Jake smiled. “It looks like we are headed the same way. What do you do in the Army?”
“I am a chopper pilot, assigned to a recon unit. And you?”
Jake responded vaguely: “I am in Intelligence.” It was obvious that he would not be likely to provide additional information.
Tess got up and picked up her suitcase. “Well, we might meet in the desert sometime soon. I need to go. I’ve got a few things to do before I leave.”
Jake stood up. “You can stay here if you like. I promise I will no longer try to restrain you.”
Tess walked out the door. “Thanks, but no. I suppose I should be grateful to you for keeping me out of trouble. Thank you,” she said sheepishly and walked out.
***
Tess took the first flight out to New York and went straight to her lawyer’s office to start divorce proceedings against Roger.
Roger had left a dozen messages on her cell phone, begging forgiveness and asking her to meet to discuss things. Tess was not interested. She was not a forgiving person, and her attitude on relationships was black and white. Either you love or you don’t. There was no room for weakness or mistakes. She was ruthless with herself and anyone who might be ambivalent, confused or with a propensity to rationalize things. She had loved Roger, but his failure to resist temptation was unforgivable and unacceptable. She cut him out of her life immediately and turned with determination toward the only unambiguous endeavor in her life — her career.
Chapter 3
Planning for War
Jake Vickers sat in the lounge of a Kuwait hotel, sipping orange juice. His role in a CIA field intelligence unit allowed him to wear civilian clothes, and he let his hair be just a little longer than the standard GI would.
He also knew much about the comings and goings of key officers in various units ready to depart for operations. He found out that Tess was coming to the hotel, and he wanted to see her again. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he rationalized that if you wish to meet someone like Tess again, you can’t leave it to chance.
A van stopped at the entrance of the hotel, spilling a few people in uniform. Tess was among them. As she headed toward the registration desk, Jake stood up and smiled at her. “Hi,” he said.
“Look who is here, my guardian!” she responded.
“Today I am merely Jake, at your service.”
Tess put her bag down and crossed her arms. “Are you sure that you are not going to try to keep me out of trouble again?”
Jake smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of interfering with a Black Hawk pilot with machine guns.”
One of the officers that had arrived in her van approached them and suggested she check in. Tess picked up her bag and waived at Jake. “We’ll let the bad guys worry about that when the time comes.”
Jake waved back “Will I see you at dinner?”
Tess smiled. “I will freshen up a little bit and see you in 30 minutes.”
Once in her room, she angrily threw the folder with the assignment orders on the desk. Sometimes she got tired of the condescension and innuendos of privilege because she was the daughter of a celebrated General, and even more annoyed about having to deflect advances from men trying to get her attention. At this time, men were the last thing that she needed. She just wanted to do her job.
Tess had foreclosed on her father’s profession, foreclosure
being a psychological term that accounts for so many doctors and lawyers being in the same family. She committed herself to being a professional Army officer before fully exploring other options to achieve a genuine sense of self. She had committed to an identity too soon, but she wasn’t aware of it.
Due to her talent for music, her dad hoped that she would take advantage of a scholarship that she was offered to study piano at the Conservatory. He was less than pleased about her choosing the Army, but could not overcome her strong will. The Army was her choice, a reaction to observing her mother as the dutiful Army wife, holding down the home front while her husband was doing his duty all over the world. She had little to say about her own needs for a life outside that context.
As a little girl, Morgan concluded that home and hearth did not fit her view of the world, a world dominated by men who wrote the rules and accrued the benefits. She considered going into business, but could not stand the idea of putting up with meetings, offices, and quarterly reports. The Army, on the other hand, seemed to offer much more. A chance to advance rapidly, to lead, to go to different places and to do good. She also understood that the road ahead involved immense dedication, both physical and mental, challenges that she overcame with relentless will and talent. She qualified for West Point, graduating with a degree in Electrical Engineering and a minor in Political Science. She figured that ultimately, her career would lead her to Washington or the Pentagon, so she might as well get a handle on politics.
***
Tess changed into silk pants and blouse and met Jake in the dining room.
She started the conversation. ‘You say that you are in the military, but your hair is a little long.”
Jake smiled, “Touché. Do you feel that hair length is that important?”
Tess shrugged her shoulders. “People have accused me of being obsessed with the rules. Some have called me a martinet. Perhaps they are right. I believe in discipline.”
Jake raised his drink; “To discipline, then.”
The waiter came and Tess agreed to let him order their dinners. Her companion proceeded to pick dishes with the assurance of an accomplished gourmet. He went rapidly through the menu and ordered. “Pâté de Campagne, prunes in crispy bacon, scallops a la Provençal, duck confit with spiced pickled raisins, short ribs with olives and herbs, and Crepe Suzette for dessert. Also bring us a good bottle of Sancerre.”
While he was talking to the waiter, she watched him appraisingly, wondering how much effort it took to develop his marvelous musculature. It’s not that he was big; he just sported well-developed, sinewy muscles that were obviously the product of sustained professional training.
An officer walked into the dining room, recognized the handsome couple, and approached their table. He smiled. “What luck, my two favorite people!”
Major Dan Gardner, Jake’s best friend and colleague and a good friend of Tess’s father. Tess now reported to him.
Jake and Tess warmly welcomed him and asked him to join them. “Delighted,” said the Major, and he pulled a chair to the table.
A waiter came and Gardner ordered some food.
“Well, are you prepared for the upcoming festivities?” he inquired.
“We are ready as we can be,” responded Jake.
Gardner agreed. “This time there are no holds barred. We will go all the way to Baghdad and invite Saddam to be our guest in a nice jail. The bastard is done.”
Tess asked, “Do you think we will be able to find the WMDs? I understand that they are well hidden in many locations.”
Jake responded. “I am not so sure that it will be easy. We really have little evidence that they do exist. The United Nations Monitoring, Verification and Inspection Commission has gone so far as to say that there are few such weapons left, if any.”
Tess followed up. “But isn’t the head of this commission controversial? The Bush people are trying to discredit him.”
Jake looked uncomfortable. “When dealing with something so important, it pays to look at all sides of the issue. The UN Commission has accused the U. S. and British governments of exaggerating the threat of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, to strengthen the case for the war against Saddam Hussein. My task in this conflict is to help find and neutralize the stuff, so I have a particular interest in determining what the truth really is. We can’t afford to approach the situation with the Italian concept of ‘Verita’.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Gardner.
Jake elaborated. “One significant problem in Italian politics is the ambiguity of their concept of truth. Each party has its own version of the truth, reflecting their own position and interests, and they have a tendency not to budge, even when faced with irrefutable facts. The net result is a chronic inability to get things done. In our case, we can’t afford to have several versions of reality. We need to proceed carefully and with undisputed facts. I haven’t seen much credible evidence of Iraq currently having many chemical and biological weapons. For sure, they had them in the past, but now it looks that the sanctions leveled against Saddam over the last few years might have persuaded him to get rid of them. He possibly sent them to Iran.”
“That brings up a new can of worms,” Gardner observed.
Tess added, “I guess that this will be something that we might need to deal with in the future.”
Jake agreed. “You may be quite right.”
The group switched to mundane conversation and finished dinner. They were very aware that holy hell would start in a few days, and that they would be tested in ways that could not be imagined.
Dan Gardner excused himself and reminded Tess that there would a briefing in the morning to direct the first operation of the squadron.
Jake and Tess entered the elevator and proceeded to their rooms. Both of them were reluctant to part but did not feel that it would be appropriate to do more than get some rest before the morning. Jake said good night first, adding “Be safe. I will be looking for you.”
“Good luck to you,” Tess responded.
Chapter 4
Blood and Guts
Jake was a member of the CIA’s Special Activities Division (SAD) teams, composed of paramilitary operations officers and Special Forces soldiers. This group had entered Iraq, in July 2002, before the main invasion. Once on the ground, they prepared for the arrival of additional U.S. Army Special Forces to organize the Kurdish Peshmerga.
Due to Jake’s ability to speak Arabic, his role was to coordinate local fighters. In Iraqi Kurdistan, the joint team defeated Ansar al-Islam, a group with ties to al-Qaeda. This battle also led to the capture of a chemical weapon installation at Sargat; this was the only the only such facility found in the Iraq war.
The full invasion of Iraq started with an air strike on the Presidential Palace in Baghdad on March 19, 2003. The following day, mostly British coalition forces launched an incursion into Basra Province from their massing point close to the Iraqi-Kuwaiti border.
Once the fighting started, Jake and other SAD operations officers succeeded in convincing key Iraqi Army officers to surrender their units. SAD teams also worked behind enemy lines to identify leadership targets and relayed the information to the combat units that conducted air strikes against Saddam Hussein and his generals. The strikes failed to kill Hussein, but they effectively ended his ability to command and control his forces.
As fighting raged, Apache helicopters from Tess’s unit conducted numerous attack runs against Iraqi defenses until they expended their ammunition and fuel.
The fighting was intense. Unlike most of the Iraqi Army, the Republican Guard units put up a fierce resistance. Due to taking heavy fire, 8 Apaches returned to their base damaged. Repair teams had to pull unexploded RPG’s out of the skins of the helicopters. Many pilots had been injured.
Major Gardner had maneuvered to pick up a wounded Marine, but his chopper had been hit in the tail rotor by a rocket-propelled grenade. Dan had tried to control the aircraft, but it went into a spin an
d hit the ground very hard. The engine block dropped into the fuselage, killing the four-man medical team on board instantly.
Tess and her team landed close to the stricken Black Hawk. A second chopper hovered to provide support. Tess immediately went into action. “Take over the controls,” she told her co-pilot. Once landed, she jumped out and ran with members of her crew toward the smoking chopper. They reached the damaged craft and tried to extricate the casualties.
“The pilots are still strapped into their seats in the burning cockpit,” said Sarge. “They seem to be unconscious.”
The rescuers grabbed fire extinguishers from their own Black Hawk and tried to put out the fire. Aviation fuel was spewing everywhere, and flares from the chopper’s countermeasures used as defensive aids started to go off.
Tess and Sarge managed to pull the two listless pilots from the burning aircraft just as armor-piercing ammunition on board began to explode. Tess and her people ducked until Sarge saw the gunner hanging out of his door on the side of the aircraft. The wounded soldier was conscious and in distress. He said calmly “My boots and safety harness are trapping me; my feet are burning.”
Sarge crawled back into the blazing fuselage to pull out the badly burned man, cutting off his boots to free him. The gunner was a big man. It took all five of the crew to get him out of the helicopter.
In the midst of the mayhem, Specialist Dario Moretti, a young medic, saw that Dan Gardner had suffered a massive head injury and had trouble breathing. “He won’t make it. He can’t breathe.”
Tess ran to Dan, who was now prone on the ground. “There must be something you can do, Moretti!”
The medic reached into his bag and removed a scalpel. “I will try to do an emergency tracheotomy, Major.” Another medic rushed over to assist. They quickly performed the procedure in the midst of a surreal hell of fire, smoke and explosions.
