Seals (2005) s-1

by Jack Terral

  "I am thinking so too," Hajji said. "This is looking like a country bumpkin was able to get some very nice things."

  "Yes!" Ibrahim agreed. "Very nice things. Very nice. So expensive it appears to be."

  After making a round of the place with the hostages at his heels, Brannigan took everyone back to the large foyer. "They sure as hell left in a big hurry," the Skipper remarked.

  "Yes, sir:' Dave agreed. "Did you notice there isn't a military look about the place? No desks, no file cabinets or computers."

  "These guys were strictly gunmen:' Mike said. "A lot like the Mafia, I guess."

  "We'll have to ask Puglisi about that," Dave said with a grin.

  "Right," Brannigan agreed. He turned to Frank. "There's a ladder there leading to the roof. Take the radio up there and contact SOCOM. Tell 'em we've run off the bad guys and have moved into their garrison area. You might add that I estimate that the surviving mujahideen are not very numerous. However, I have no idea how many women and children got away."

  "Aye, sir," Frank said, heading for the ladder with the Shadowfire weighing heavy on his back.

  Meanwhile, the Bravos carefully went through each but in the village, finding the same things the Alphas had in the residence, except these discarded belongings were fewer and cheaper. Gutsy Olson found a burqa that needed mending and slipped it over his head. Chad Murchison laughed at the ludicrous sight. "I'll wager you're much more attractive than the woman who belonged to that covering."

  "I always been suspicious that Arab men insist that their women wear these things 'cause they're uglier'n the south end of a northbound mule:' Gutsy said.

  Over in the vehicle park, the Charlies had discovered some useful transportation left behind. The government van belonging to the hostages Ibrahim and Hajji was there along with a motor-rickshaw and four motorbikes in various states of disrepair. Joe Miskoski and Kevin Albee gave the bikes a quick inspection.

  "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Joe asked.

  Kevin nodded. "Does the word 'cannibalizing' ring a bell?" They studied the little vehicles for a few moments more.

  "Oh, yeah!" Joe said. "I figure two damn good bikes could be made out of the four."

  "Sounds like a fun project," Kevin said.

  "Hey!" Lieutenant Jim Cruise snapped at them. "You guys can fart around with those later. The skipper wants this place scoped out."

  "Aye, aye, sir!" the two would-be mechanics responded quickly and simultaneously. As they turned back to the work at hand, they looked at the motorbikes in happy anticipation of tinkering with them.

  Several 100-liter fuel drums were found. One of them had a pump in the top and appeared to be about half full of fuel. Three others were full and unopened. Milly Mills summed it up nicely. "Three hundred fifty liters of gasoline ain't nothing to sneeze at."

  The Deltas walked along the top of the wall, around to the area bombarded during the attack by the Second Squad. Bruno Puglisi was particularly interested in seeing the effect of the mortar rounds that he and Joe Miskoski had fired at the fortification that memorable night of the attack. He emitted a low whistle of self-admiration, saying, "By God, me and Joe did some knocking down!"

  "I'll say you did," Chief Gunnarson agreed. "Looky there! Somebody has been working on rebuilding that section of the wall."

  "Sloppy bastards," Adam Clifford criticized. "They wasn't doing as good a job as the guys that built it in the first place."

  The hospital corpsman. James Bradley noted the dried pools of blood. "These guys took a lot of casualties during the few hours we were out there."

  "There's a sexual lesson in that," Puglisi said.

  "What do you mean," James asked, "sexual?"

  Puglisi laughed. "They learned not to fuck with the U. S. Navy SEALs."

  "Okay, funny guys," Gunnarson growled. "Let's go over and report in to the Skipper."

  By the time all the fire teams had assembled in the warlord's residence, Frank Gomez was climbing down from the roof. "Sir," he said to Brannigan, "SOCOM wants us to occupy the village south of here. It's supposed to be a small farming community about five miles away. That want, us to report in as soon as we take over the place."

  "Sir," Cruiser interjected. "We won't have to walk. We discovered a van and a motor-rickshaw in working order in the vehicle park. There's plenty of fuel available too."

  "Don't forget them motorbikes, sir," Joe said. "Me and Kevin can build a couple of good ones out of the four in about two hours."

  Brannigan grinned. "Get on the project. Why walk when we can ride?"

  .

  VILLAGE OF HERANDBE

  1700 HOURS LOCAL

  THE van was the first vehicle into the village square, followed quickly by the motor-rickshaw and the two motorbikes carrying Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz. They brought up the rear of the group, acting as rear guard for a change rather than the point. The fact they were on the bikes created a bone of contention between the Odd Couple and the amateur mechanics Joe Miskoski and Kevin Albee. Since they had done the work of creating the two operative bikes, they felt the ownership was theirs by right. However, Lieutenant Bill Brannigan wanted his recon team mounted on them, and that pretty much settled that hassle.

  The old farmers who always sat at the well were in their usual spot when the small convoy made its unexpected appearance. They already knew what had happened to the warlord and his people. Two families of surviving mujahideen had arrived the night before seeking hiding places with relatives in the village. When the elderly men noted the armed SEALs spilling out of the back of the van and the motor-rickshaw, they struggled to their feet with intentions of fleeing the scene as fast as their ancient legs could carry them. Any attempts to get away were blocked when Mike and Dave zoomed in and braked to sudden stops as they flanked the oldsters. All the SEALs fanned out to form a tight security perimeter around the immediate area. They faced outward, weapons at the ready, keeping their eyes on the surrounding huts.

  Ibrahim and Hajji were the last to get out of the van. They walked up to the oldsters speaking in Pashto. Brannigan was not pleased with that. "Hey! You two don't say anything--not a single fucking word--unless I tell you to. Understand?"

  Both the ex-hostages immediately shut up. Hajji turned to the SEAL commander. "We are sorry, sir. But our bodyguards were murdered here while these old men are looking at it without a warning to us."

  "I understand your anger," Brannigan said. "I want you to tell the old guys that we have no intention of harming them if everyone in the village does as we say."

  "Yes, sir," Ibrahim said. He turned and spoke sternly to the elderly men, translating Brannigan's words.

  "I want everyone to come out of their huts and gather around the well," Brannigan ordered. "Now!"

  One of the oldsters spoke hesitantly, and Ibrahim translated. "The old man he is saying that there are men working in the fields. Only old people and the women and the children are being here."

  Brannigan raised his voice in anger. "Then get 'em out here! And tell him we're going to search the houses, and if we find anybody hiding, there's going to be big trouble."

  Again Ibrahim, enjoying the villagers' discomfiture, translated. The old men hurried away, and began going from domicile to domicile banging on doors and yelling loudly. People looked from their doorways at the SEALs, hesitating to leave the safety of their homes. But the old men kept yelling at them, and within ten minutes all the villagers were crowded together in front of the Skipper. The women instinctively drew their veils tighter around their faces since they were being observed by infidel males. Senior Chief Buford Dawkins noticed a couple of young men among the group. He pushed his way through the crowd and grabbed the youths, dragging them out.

  An exchange of words between Ibrahim and the elders began until Brannigan grew tired of the chattering. "What the hell's going on?"

  Ibrahim explained, "The villagers are frightened about these men who do not live here. They are saying they came from the wa
rlord's fort yesterday and stayed with kin."

  "Take 'em as prisoners, Senior Chief," Brannigan said. "Second Squad! Start going through the huts! And be careful. If anything looks suspicious, shoot first and we'll sort it out later."

  Lieutenant Jim Cruiser led his men into the village and they began kicking doors open. They discovered no people, but immediately found weapons, tossing them out of the huts. It took half an hour to complete the process that revealed more than a hundred firearms. Most were modern AK-47s, but a few pistols and even a half dozen ancient muzzle-loading rifle muskets were among the arms the SEALs discovered.

  While the little community was brought under control, Frank Gomez set up his radio and informed SOCOM that the area was occupied. After an exchange with the commo center, he closed the transmission and reported to Brannigan. "Sir, we're gonna get some visitors from Kabul tomorrow morning. Official types to take a look at things."

  "I expected that:' Brannigan said. "Did they say anything about us being relieved?"

  "No, sir."

  Brannigan sighed. "I expected that too."

  .

  21 AUGUST

  1000 HOURS LOCAL

  THE night before had been uneasy for everyone. The villagers had returned to their huts right after the initial introduction to the platoon, and the men who had been working in the field were met by Charlie Fire Team who ordered them into their huts with warnings not to come out. However, these were farmers not mujahideen and they hadn't the slightest intention of making trouble.

  Wild Bill Brannigan put his men on 50 percent alert, keeping both stationary and mobile sentry posts in operation throughout the hours of darkness. By dawn he had changed the guard to a squad at a time standing around the outskirts of the village at vantage points in case someone tried to leave.

  THE approaching helicopter could be heard long before it came into sight over the distant mountain ridges. When it arrived, the MH-6K Blackhawk came in with a dust-scattering roar, setting down lightly just outside the entrance to the village. When the engine was cut, two figures came out of the troop compartment and hurried over to where Brannigan and Jim Cruiser waited. Ibrahim and Hajji stood respectfully to the rear of the officers, happy at this event that would get them closer to returning to their homes in Kabul.

  One of the arrivees was a civilian in casual clothing that included field boots and a wide-brimmed boonie hat. The other was a U. S. Army lieutenant colonel wearing desert tan BDUs. He returned the salutes rendered him by the two SEAL officers.

  "How are you, gentlemen?" he said with a wide smile. "I'm Colonel Latrelle from the military mission in Kabul. Allow me to present the honorable Zaid Aburrani. He is a special envoy of the Afghanistan government."

  "This is my Two-I-C Lieutenant Cruiser," Brannigan replied after identifying himself. He gestured to the ex-hostages "These are the government agents we freed." .

  Ibrahim and Hajji salaamed respectfully. Aburrani took the behavior as his due, but he gave them a friendly smile. "I am pleased you are safe:'

  "Shukhriya," they replied, expressing their gratitude in the Urdu language.

  Brannigan continued. "I've set up a CP in the first but over there. We can discuss things better inside."

  Ibrahim and Hajji went to the well to wait while the other four men walked over to the impromptu command post. Inside, the little mud building was void of furniture except for a thick carpet. Neither Latrelle nor Aburrani seemed fazed by this lack of modern conveniences, and they settled down on the rug, crossing their legs.

  "I don't have any refreshments," Brannigan said. "I could get some MREs, but somehow that doesn't seem appropriate."

  Latrelle chuckled. "Don't bother, Lieutenant. I'm strictly a staff officer from Civil Affairs, and I came here with a full stomach after a good breakfast that followed a full night's sleep."

  Brannigan had noted the lack of either a parachutist badge or combat infantryman's badge sewn above the man's left breast pocket. He knew that in the Army, that meant Latrelle would never wear general's stars on his collar or epaulets. However, later on he could well be one of those retired colonels who appeared as military pundits on TV news shows.

  The SEAL looked at the Army officer. "What can we do for you, sir?"

  "The first thing is a 'well done' to you and your men," Latrelle said. "When you wiped out Warlord Durtami and his band of thugs, you did a lot of people a hell of a big favor."

  "We didn't exactly wipe him out," Brannigan said. "He managed to escape with his surviving people to the north."

  "He will be joining his brother-in-law," Aburrani interjected. "That particular gentleman will be ten times the trouble getting rid of." He shrugged. "But, alas, we will have to deal with him. And that will be soon, I fear."

  "At any rate," Latrelle said, "the rescue of these two hostages has raised morale considerably in the voter registration program."

  Aburrani nodded enthusiastically. "That is most important, Lieutenant. Our people now know we will make strong efforts to liberate them. These are not the first of these dedicated people to be taken prisoner. And a few have been murdered. They are most courageous to continue their dangerous work in the democratization of Afghanistan."

  "I'm glad we could help," Brannigan said. "In the meantime we are waiting for orders. I don't know if we're going to be relieved or continue to carry the load here."

  "You'll be continuing to carry that load, Lieutenant," Latrelle said. "Right now SOCOM has no one to send in to take your place. And all the conventional forces in this theater are hard at working trying to find terrorist camps and cells hiding out in the wilderness. And, of course, the hunt for Osama Bin Laden continues." He turned to Aburrani. "By the way, I noticed some poppy fields when we flew in here. What is being. done about them?"

  "They are scheduled to be destroyed," Aburrani said, covering up the truth about the opium industry. "We wait only for funds from the American government to pay the farmers. I fear they will not readily submit to losing their best cash crop without having money in hand to make up for the loss."

  "I can't say that I blame them," Latrelle said. "These poor people have endured hardships for decades. We certainly don't wish to add to their suffering by making them wait for badly needed cash."

  "That is most understanding of the American government," Aburrani said. He nodded to Brannigan. "Colonel Latrelle and I would like to visit the site of Durtami's old fortress. We wish to take photographs for an official report."

  "Certainly," Brannigan said. "I assume it will be all right if we use the Afghan government van outside. Or would you prefer your helicopter?"

  "The van would serve our purpose better," Latrelle said. "A close-up inspection of an OA is always advantageous."

  "Certainly, sir," Brannigan said, thinking that only a staff weenie would think a quick cross-country drive would familiarize him with an active OA.

  The four men got to their feet and went outside.

  Chapter 11

  THE KHAMAMI FIEFDOM

  WARLORD Hassan Khamami was a muscular, handsome man with a heavy beard and lively green eyes that reflected his high intelligence. He was also a lusty warrior chief with three wives, and further enhanced his sex life with two concubines from the lowly Dharya Clan of the Pashtun people. He maintained these playmates in a but away from his family.

  The warlord ruled his holdings from a sturdy wooden castle called Al-Saraya. Unlike his brother-in-law Ayyub Durtami, who allowed his people to live within the walls of his fortress, Khamami mandated that his followers keep their village outside his rustic palace grounds.

  Many outsiders thought that the warlord had come to be the commander of his private army through heredity since his father was also a great leader of mujahideen. In truth, he gained control of the fighting force not through the peaceful legalities of his father's will, but by violently turning on two of his half-brothers who also had ambitions to control the armed band. 'Their sire had a total of four wives who had presented him
with three sons and ten daughters. All the women in the old amir's household were proper Muslim women who had no ambitions toward acquiring leadership. The third wife, however, saw the advantages of having her two sons take over the fiefdom, and she urged them to contest Hassan's claim to the throne.

  This set off a mini civil war that went on for three years before Hassan's superior skills in field command smashed the opposition. Both half-brothers were hanged in public executions held outside the castle walls. Their domineering mother was beheaded in front of the gallows even as her sons' corpses hung there. This was the traditional punishment of adulteresses, and Khamami jokingly remarked that this was her proper due since she loved power more than his father.

  The macabre event was stark evidence to the rest of the people that their new leader was not to be trifled with. Khamami assembled the opposition's frightened followers and gave them a blanket pardon if they swore their faith to him in 'the name of Allah. These grateful fighters became some of his most loyal soldiers. When the dust settled, the warlord had a large mountain stronghold and close to two hundred armed men at his beck and call.

  Within a year Khamami added to his holdings by conquering some minor warlords in the area. These men resented the intrusion into their domains, and did not submit meekly to Khamami's authority. Consequently, they were dispatched in secret assassinations that included shootings, ambushes and even a couple of poisonings. These deaths left their people confused and lost. It was only natural that they turned to the most powerful leader around for protection. None realized this was the very man who was responsible for the murder of their chiefs.

  This doubled both Khamami's land holdings and his army. The one person to whom he showed mercy was Ayyub Durtami. Durtami, a low-grade chief, was saved because one of his sisters was Khamami's favorite wife. He let Durtami slip off to the south after securing an informal nonaggression pact with him. Durtami was smart enough not to try any treachery toward his brother-in-law, who had emerged all-powerful in that area of Afghanistan.