by Andres Mann
As they moved the wounded men back to her chopper for transport back to the base, a dozen Iraqis ran toward them from three directions. Tess quickly realized that her crew would not be able to make it out of there. She signaled her co-pilot to take off without them, but a burst of machine guns disabled the chopper’s engine. Tess had no choice and ordered the crew to surrender. “Raise your hands in the air; don’t give them an excuse to shoot,” she commanded. The men wanted to resist, but Tess saw that doing so would get them all killed, so she ordered them again not to resist.
Chapter 5
Capture
The Iraqis soldiers surrounded the crew.
The men in the other choppers in the air saw what was happening, but their aircraft were low on fuel and out of ammo and were not able to interfere with the capture. They flew back to base to organize a rescue.
Screaming Iraqis roughly herded the crew toward a large compound. They put the wounded men into a vehicle. Then they started to hit and kick the airmen to move them along. Sarge reacted by slugging one of the captors hard, downing him. The Iraqi soldiers ganged up on him, repeatedly hitting him with the stock of their rifles.
The Iraqi sergeant in charge yelled at his men. “Stop hitting the Americans. The general will decide what to do with them.”
The group ran through smoke, haze and explosions, dodging burning tanks and vehicles until they reached a large compound dominated by a large house.
The Iraqis herded the prisoners toward a complex of several buildings. They drove the vehicle carrying the wounded men to a small infirmary. Specialist Moretti, the medic, persuaded them to let him stay with the injured. The captors then pushed the rest of the prisoners toward a building with barred windows, apparently a jail of sorts, and unceremoniously dumped them into a large cell. All, that is, except for Tess.
Two soldiers roughly grabbed her and started to push her away from the rest of the captive group. The men tried to put up some resistance but were beaten with rifle butts and locked in the cell.
They tied Tess’s hands behind her and dragged her unceremoniously into the large building. Trying to say focused, Tess noticed that the structure appeared to be an old residence, with beautiful pointed arches at the entrance, the theme repeated on the ground level windows and the upper stories.
The interior was spacious, with beautiful furnishings. Large carpets were rolled against the walls. Tess theorized that they were placed out of the way to safeguard them from the chaos outside.
The Iraqi soldiers hurled Tess through a massive open door. The push was so hard that she tripped and fell. She instinctively glanced around to assess where she was. She learned that during survival training. Know where you are. Look for danger. Find exits. Weigh the situation. She was in an enormous, ornate high-ceilinged room, something that you would expect in a European mansion, only without pictures of ancestors on the walls. A high-ranking Iraqi officer was sitting at a desk, pen in hand, writing.
The soldiers threw Tess on the floor and appeared ready to administer a beating.
“What are you doing, idiots! Don’t be so rough,” the officer said in Arabic. “Leave her here, and go away!” The soldiers obsequiously slithered away and closed the door after themselves.
“Please come closer.”
Tess didn’t see many options but to comply. Her well-honed instincts as a soldier told her that to resist would only make things worse.
She hesitatingly stood up and proceeded toward the desk with as much assurance as she could muster. The officer did not look at her, still appearing busy and signing documents. When she was five feet from the desk, the man raised his arm, palm out signaling ‘Halt’. She complied, standing at attention. The officer, from the insignia on his shoulders was a General in the Republican Guards. He continued to handle papers, signing them with a deliberate lack of haste, ignoring the disheveled, bloody and exhausted young woman standing in front of him.
A few minutes later, he raised his head. “I am General Amir Alkan al-Saadi.” Glancing at her name strip on the dirty uniform, he further observed “And you are Major Turner with the United States Army, I see.” He stood up and moved around the desk, still maintaining his distance. “And what is your first name?”
“Sir, I am Major Morgan Theresa Turner, United States Army” she responded, hopefully sounding less apprehensive that she really was.
The General appeared puzzled. “You father must not have liked you. He gave you a strange name. Or perhaps, he would have preferred a son, no?”
Tess started to feel her temper flare, but she controlled herself and repeated the standard phrase, all that was required by the Geneva Convention.
“I hope that we will have a more meaningful conversation than that,” the General said. “I am aware of the International Law of War, so let’s dispense with the formalities.” He spoke perfect English, approximating a British accent. Tess realized that she needed time to think and find a way out this mess. She fell back on her training. Assess the enemy, try to find his weakness.
Unlike many of his counterparts, the General appeared to be extremely fit, in his fifties’, handsome, with an immaculately groomed mustache, and very sure of himself. A pair of piercing dark eyes riveted on Tess.
“Major, you seem to need a bath, clean clothes and perhaps something to eat. No?” The General appeared to display genuine solicitude.
“Sir, I would like to see my men attended to first. Also, three of my wounded men need medical attention” The Iraqi raised his eyebrows.
“Your men, you said. Do they listen to you? Do they take orders from a woman?”
Tess forced herself to stand still. “General, you seem to be well educated in the Western ways. You should know that the coalition forces include women as soldiers and leaders.”
“Ah yes! I just thought they used women as secretaries and cooks, not helicopter pilots and commanders. No matter. In fact, I would like to know more about women warriors. It’s a fascinating concept. Let’s approach this in a civilized manner. Please join me for dinner after you, as they say, freshen up.” Tess could see it coming.
“General, with respect, I would like to take care of my men first.”
For the first time, General al-Saadi affected annoyance. “Your men will be taken care of after my interrogators are through with them.” Almost on cue, one of the henchmen appeared, and whispered something in the General’s ear. The officer walked to the desk, picked up a tiny bell and shook it once. Almost from nowhere, an attractive woman in a dark western-style long dress appeared. “See to it that the Major gets a bath and some clothes. Tell the cook that I will have dinner for two.” The General went back to his labors at the desk, dismissively waving his hand as a sign he was done with everyone around him.
The woman gently pushed Tess toward a door at the side of the enormous room. “Please come with me.” Tess released a breath that she had not realized she’d been holding. She had not heard what the General’s lackey had said to make him want to be alone, but she hoped to find a way to buy herself a little more time. The woman showed her to a luxurious bedroom suite. “I have prepared a bath for you,” she pointed ahead and left. Tess, now feeling the effects of the ordeal, ran to the water closet and almost got sick.
“Think, Tess,” she told herself. After all those years of training and preparation, there must be something that can make a difference now.
The woman reappeared with several large towels in her arms. Outside the window, Tess heard ribald jeers from the guards.
“Shhh, I am Kejal Malek. We must be very quiet.” Her English was only slightly broken.
“You speak English? Where am I? Who are you? I am Major Tess …”
“I know who you are Major. I am not your enemy; I am here to help you.” Kejal started to remove Tess’s dirty fatigues. Tess was so tired that she did not resist. Naked, she slowly walked toward a large sunken tub, tiled with beautiful geometric patterns, and gradually lowered her body into the steamy water. The
pleasure of the bath was almost incomprehensible. She forced herself not to relax, thinking about her men not being afforded the privilege of such a luxury. Still suspicious of her attendant, she decided to try to find out as much as possible about the place.
“How do you know English? I would think you might be an interrogator, but I know these pigs would never allow a woman in such a position.”
“You are correct; they are pigs. I am Kurdish. Five years ago the General brought me here after his soldiers killed my husband and children with chemical weapons. Do not think for a moment that they are anything but murderers. They will abuse you and then if you are lucky they will kill you; if you are not so fortunate they will allow you to live.” The look in her eyes told Tess that living had not been a blessing to this woman.
Kejal left the bathroom, allowing Tess some privacy. Around the rim of the pool, various expensive toiletries were set up for her to use. She immediately took advantage of them; particularly the shampoo and body wash liquid. ‘This is bizarre. The world is exploding, I am a prisoner, and here I am enjoying a hot bath.’ She ached to linger and luxuriate in the warm water, but she hurried with cleaning herself, feeling dread and almost guilty.
She stood up, and the woman appeared almost instantly, wrapping her in a large, fluffy towel. Well, Tess observed, not everyone in this country is poor and uncouth. Someone in this house is used to quality goods.
“You must rest,” her attendant suggested. “I have brought out some dresses for you to choose from. You will find excellent cosmetics on top of the makeup cabinet. Call me when you are ready.”
Tess quickly surveyed the luxurious bedroom suite that apparently belonged to a wealthy lady. ‘I wonder who and where she is,’ she muttered to herself. She is probably the General’s wife.
She selected underwear from one of the chests, put on a luscious, soft cotton bathrobe, and proceeded to inspect the apartment. In spite of its luxury, this was a highly secure area. There was only one exit, guarded by at least two soldiers. All windows were barred by ornamental iron. ‘I am not going anywhere fast, sorry to say,’ she concluded.
Hanging on display were three evening gowns, obviously haute couture, probably French, all designed to show off a woman’s figure. These were at the same time beautiful but frightening. A war is raging outside and I have to wear a fancy dress. Dear God, what is this insanity?
Her energy was waning rapidly, and she hungrily bit into an apple from a fruit basket. A few minutes later, she felt somewhat restored; nothing like fruit sugar to perk you up. Since there was no way out, she took Kejal’s advice and laid down on one of the sumptuous sofas. She closed her eyes, and would have loved to get some sleep, but did not dare. Against her will, exhaustion prevailed, and she passed out.
Kejal gently touched her. Tess instinctively jumped to her feet, affecting a bellicose posture.
“It’s okay! It’s me” The woman raised her arms to protect herself from a potential blow. Tess realized that she had been sleeping for some time.
“I am sorry, Kejal, I was in a deep sleep.”
The woman relaxed. “You must dress now. Which garment do you wish to wear?” Tess suddenly felt the irony of her situation. ‘After all I went through to become an Army officer, I am reduced to playing a bimbo for a pervert. Good, going, girl!’
Kejal again exhorted her with urgency. “Please choose your dress. The General does not like to be kept waiting!”
Tess glared furiously. “I don’t care what he likes!”
Her attendant did not back down. “Don’t be a fool! If you make him angry, he will kill you and your soldiers. Please choose a dress!”
Tess sat down, holding her head that she felt was about to explode. She needed time to think. She needed to regain a sense of control. ‘It’s obvious that I have to play along with this until I figure something out,’ she muttered to herself. She stood up, inspected the dresses, and selected a stunning gown in Burgundy and cream with matching shoes. Amazing, everything fits, she noticed. She looked at herself in a large mirror. Her breasts were beautifully showcased by the generous décolleté.
“You are beautiful, Major. Please do what the General wants, and you will survive.” Kejal admonished.
Tess looked at the beautiful, gaunt woman. “Apparently that’s what you did, and you don’t seem to have fared very well.”
Kejal looked at her with her sad eyes. “He keeps my four-year-old daughter in one of his other houses to force me to serve him.”
Tess closed her eyes. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to criticize you.”
Kejal turned her head, tears in her eyes. “It’s all right. It’s not your fault.”
Tess put on a touch of makeup. ‘If I am do battle posing as a helpless woman, I might as well look good.’
Both women started walking through various rooms of the ornate mansion. Unlike Saddam’s modern palaces, this house looked as if it had been around a long time. The décor was tasteful and expensive.
Kejal led Tess to a large dining room. A long table had two place settings at one end. “I must go now,” she said.
Tess looked around. The Lord of the Manor must have been heavily influenced by the Brits when he built this place some time ago, she thought. Lots of wood paneling and plush furnishings, brocade on the windows, a little faded. The room did not look exotic at all.
“Do you like my house?” The General suddenly appeared. He had cast off the uniform in favor of an exquisitely tailored suit, probably Savile Row.
Tess decided to keep it light. “It’s a beautiful house, tastefully decorated. How old is it?”
The General seemed pleased that Tess appeared interested. “It’s almost one hundred fifty years old. My great grandfather built it. He spent most of his time in foreign countries. He was a diplomat for the Ottoman Empire and continued in a similar capacity after a British general drew a line on a map and created Iraq in 1922. My ancestor lived a long time in England. He liked it very much there; very civilized country, with clear class distinctions. No confusion.”
Tess decided not to express her views about class systems at this time. “Very interesting,” she noted without much conviction.
The General went to a carved cabinet and opened a door, revealing a well-stocked bar. “Would you care for a cocktail?” he solicitously inquired.
Tess was surprised. “Aren’t Muslims prohibited from consuming alcohol?”
“Some of us are a little more flexible.”
‘I sure would like a drink,’ Tess thought, ‘but I’d better not. He seems to be setting me up like the fly to the spider.’
“No. Thank you, General; I am very tired.” ‘I can’t believe that I am thanking this guy,’ she thought.
“Amir, please. Call me Amir,” he suggested.
I am not ready for this, Tess thought. “General, I am a prisoner of war. I would prefer to follow protocol. I will respect you, and I expect the same treatment.”
The General affected an oblique smile. “Of course, but this does not mean we can’t enjoy our dinner, no?” Tess thought it best to remain silent.
“I don’t like to drink alone, so I will pour you a glass of light white wine, or perhaps you would prefer an aperitif?” Amir extended his arm with the hand palms up and pointed at the bottles in the cabinet, offering a libation as if he was bestowing a gift. Tess saw that he would not be deterred, and agreed to a glass of wine.
Amir invited her to sit on a sofa while he brought her the drink. “My youngest sister’s clothes fit you beautifully. She is very much like you; very beautiful. She has large black eyes, yours are green. She has long, luxurious black hair, you are blonde; a crime to cut it so short. No matter; I appreciate female beauty in all its forms.”
Tess sidestepped the compliment and took a sip from the glass. It was a very nice Sauvignon Blanc. The man had taste. The General moved closer. “Major, may I call you Tess?”
‘How the hell did he know that people call me Tess?’ Her captors mus
t have heard her men use the name.
“My sister never liked to live here. She found it too confining. Perhaps her education in Switzerland corrupted her.”
“Corrupted?”
“Maybe the term is too harsh.” The General affected a slight smile. “Perhaps I am personally responsible for encouraging her Western education. After all, she is from a great family, and will be a great lady. She will be quite useful when the time comes to make an alliance with another great family.” Almost absent-mindedly, he added “I have been the head of the tribe since my father died, and I have many responsibilities.” Tess again passed on expressing her views on arranged marriages and dynastic issues.
“What about your wife?” she asked.
“She is in Paris with my sister. I thought it would be a safe place for them to wait out the war. Just in case you are wondering, my wife is nothing to me. We met on the our wedding day, and we never cared much for each other.”
‘I see where this is going,’ Tess thought.
“It is sad to live without someone to love, and yet you would wish exactly the same fate for your sister.”
Amir sat down across from her, his eyes focused on Tess’s creamy breasts.
“We are members of a distinguished family. We have an obligation to maintain our position in our society. We must make sacrifices when necessary.” A brief pause; “It does not matter, I don’t lack for companionship. I have splendid mistresses in Europe, particularly in London. The ladies there appreciate real men who can afford to treat them like queens.” Tess was starting to feel like the principal in the Perils of Pauline, strapped to the rails, waiting for a train to appear and run her over. Here it comes!
Amir kept staring at the splendid beauty in front of him. He could hardly comprehend how such a feminine creature would want to fly planes and go into battle, or how soldiers, men, could submit themselves to a commander that rightly should better serve their leaders in bed. He struggled to control his lust, not to seize her forcibly there and then. “None of my ladies compares with your beauty, Tess. I would like it very much to enjoy you, and to give you more pleasure than you can imagine.” Tess felt her temper stir.
