Seals (2005) s-1

by Jack Terral

  Ashraf suddenly stopped, then pointed to the side of the valley. A fresh smudge in the dirt showed where somebody must have stumbled and bumped against the earthen wall. Abdullah saw it too, and nodded to indicate he thought it a very significant sign. This was more than just the evidence of a recent passerby to the skilled eyes of the Pashtun friends. It was a clear indication that the enemy they followed, though skilled and crafty, was growing tired and careless. Both could remember when even the elite Soviet Spetsnaz troopers, highly trained and motivated, compromised themselves at times during long, arduous missions. Their carelessness was mostly dropping cigarette butts when their senses were dulled with exhaustion. They also urinated anywhere they pleased, leaving wet spots in the ground easy to identify if one stuck one's finger in the dampness and sniffed it. Human piss is much different from that of animals.

  Abdullah stood beside Ashraf, also noting things that would be invisible to the uninitiated. He put his mouth close to his friend's ear and whispered, "This is fresh, ror! They cannot be far away."

  "Au! " Ashraf agreed. "Stay here with the radio. I shall go ahead and take a look."

  He slowly and silently ascended the wall of the valley. When he reached the top, he went down flat on his stomach and snaked his way through the brush. After carefully raising his head for a look at the surrounding countryside, he quickly ducked back down. He had seen the head of a man wearing a brimmed cap made of camouflage material. It was not like the kamufliron kurtki pattern of the Russians; instead it had brown spots of various shades on a tan background. Ashraf took one more quick peek. Now he saw another fellow beside the first. He crawled carefully backward, reached the edge of the valley and noiselessly lowered himself to where Abdullah waited. He signaled to his friend to follow him, and they moved a few meters back in the direction. They had come from. Ashraf lifted the radio handset out of its cradle.

  "Amir! " he said in the informal manner of mujahideen communications. "We have located the infidels!"

  .

  WARLORD KHATAMI'S CP

  WEST RIDGE

  0850 HOURS LOCAL

  WARLORD Hassan Khamami sat cross-legged on the carpet in his tent. He leaned forward as he studied the Soviet map of the area in which he once again was waging war. His radio operator spoke into the microphone of the R-108 radio, then held out the handset for his commander's use.

  "I have contacted Major Malari, Amir," the commo man said. Then he sat while he patiently listened to what seemed to him a one-sided conversation as the warlord spoke to his field commander.

  "Yes, Major, I have good news. We have located the enemy. They are well into the Wadi Khesta Valley. Yes. It is reliable information. They were found by Abdullah and Ashraf. Ha! Ha! Yes, they are. The foreigners are now trapped. There is only one way for them to reach safety. They must continue to travel westward by following the valley. Their only alternative is to go up into the high, flat country where there is neither cover nor concealment. Now listen to me, Major. We are going to advance some companies to their front. They can move on foot, and we will fly the helicopters back and forth between their column and the target area. The movement will go very fast. That is Phase One. Phase Two will be simultaneous with Phase One, and other companies will move to the rear of the invaders. Both groups will occupy the valley as well as the flat land above. That is right, Major. There will be no escape for the enemy. No matter which direction they turn, we will have them covered and outnumbered. Now! Listen to this carefully. Do not attack. I say one more time, do not attack! I have a special assault group to throw at them first. Who? Durtami's bunch of miserable beggars, that is who! They will soak up a great deal of the foreigners' ammunition. The attack they make will also confirm the enemy's exact location. Do you understand all I have told you? Der khey--very good! I will give you orders by radio to let you know what to do and when to do it. Any questions, Major? Excellent."

  He handed the handset back to the radio operator.

  "Will you want to contact anybody else, Amir?" the man asked.

  Khamami shook his head. "Na. But fetch me Sheriwal and the other helicopter pilot. Os! Now!"

  .

  WADI KHESTA VALLEY

  0930 HOURS LOCAL

  LIEUTENANT Bill Brannigan called a halt. The men were dragging their feet now, thirsty and sweat-soaked from the heat. He knew they hadn't much more than a few ounces of water in their canteens. This was a worst-case scenario when it came to heatstroke. Even an adult male in the pink of condition would crumble fast when he became dehydrated, with his body temperature soaring while he was unable to perspire. Brannigan hoped a half hour in the shade of the valley sides would cool them down enough to continue the tortuous hike.

  Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz joined the platoon commander. They sank down wearily beside him. Mike licked his dry lips before he spoke. "Any special orders, sir?"

  "Yeah," Brannigan said. "Find some fucking water!"

  Neither of the Odd Couple bothered to make a reply. That's all they'd been thinking of as they moved forward on the point. But the valley was as dry as the proverbial bone.

  Senior Chief Buford Dawkins walked up slowly and stood silently beside the trio for a few moments. Finally he asked the same thing the Odd Couple had inquired about. "Any special orders, sir?"

  "Put out the word," Brannigan said. "We've got no choice now but to avoid any further contact with the enemy."

  Dawkins shrugged. "I don't know how the hell we're gonna do that, sir. We're gonna run into 'em sooner or later."

  "Well, then, godamn it, Senior Chief, if we do make contact we're going to have to take some pretty fucking drastic steps, aren't we?"

  Dawkins nodded, ignoring the Skipper's angry sarcasm. "I'll pass the word, sir."

  Brannigan watched him walk away to inform the fire teams. He pulled out his canteen, then stuck it back in its carrier without taking so much as sip. "When you find yourself down deep in a shit hole, you got to stop digging."

  The Odd Couple looked at their commanding officer, then each other. Mike yawned. "I think I'll take a nap:'

  "Good idea, Assad," Brannigan said. "I'll call you in about two minutes."

  "Thank you, sir," Mike said. "Being surrounded and outnumbered by a vicious enemy, thirsty as hell and as hungry as a starving bear is a great inducement to sleep."

  "Y'know," Dave mused, "compared to this, Hell Week wasn't really all that bad, was it?"

  Mike was already snoring quietly in his slumber.

  Chapter 18

  THE FOOTHILLS WEST OF WADI KHESTA VALLEY

  30 AUGUST

  1400 HOURS LOCAL

  CAPTAIN Lakhdar Tanizai's two-company force was slightly under strength at 150 men, but he had been more than adequately augmented with the addition of three Soviet 82-millimeter mortars and plenty of shells. At that moment his mujahideen struggled through the afternoon heat on a forced march of twenty-five kilometers. They were close to exhaustion from fatigue and exposure to the sun as they hiked across the open country above and alongside the Wadi Khesta Valley. It could have been worse, but the movement was being made with minimum equipment of nothing more than personal weapons, a basic field ammunition load and canteens of water. The rest of their gear had been flown ahead by helicopter to the location where they were to set up a defensive position that would block the far end of the valley. This was their portion of the operation Warlord Khamami had devised to hem in the infidel invaders.

  Tanizai walked at the head of the column, doing his best to set a good example for his fighters in the demanding situation. The officer was a firm believer in maintaining excellent physical conditioning, and he personally supervised an exercise regimen that he had designed for his men.

  Now he kept up a steady, confident pace, forcing himself to endure the fatigue with no sign of discomfort. The captain finally allowed himself to relax a bit when he sighted two figures up ahead through the haze of heat that shimmered off the terrain. He increased the pace, impatient to reach
the scouts Abdullah and Ashraf, who had been waiting for them.

  Ashraf, always the spokesman for the duo, performed a Russian-style salute when Tanizai walked up to him. "Greetings, Captain. It is only another kilometer to where the equipment awaits you."

  "Thanks to Allah!" Tanizai said in relief. He turned toward the column, shouting as loudly as he could. "Your packs and rations are just ahead. Step lively!"

  The word was passed down the line, and the mujahideen happily put forth some extra effort to hurry forward to the place where they could regain possession of their gear. The company formation began to spread out as they stepped up the rate of march in their excitement. The sub-leaders immediately regained control of their men, keeping them in good order as they neared the final destination of the speed march.

  When they reached the temporary supply dump, each platoon was brought to a halt, then ordered to dress right and cover down as if on parade. Under the philosophy of discipline established by Warlord Hassan Khamami, there would be no disorderly stampede to retrieve the gear. As soon as they were under tight control, one group at a time was marched in an orderly fashion to retrieve the equipment, then return to their platoon to await the next order of business.

  When everyone was once again fully equipped, Captain Tanizai took personal command of the company and marched them down to the western egress of the valley. The mujahideen were ordered to ground their packs, then begin SEAM digging defensive positions that covered both the valley and the ground above. The mortars were arranged a few dozen yards to the rear to organize for short-range barrages. The crews' aiming stakes were quickly deployed to align all the tubes on the proper azimuth.

  Weariness dogged Tanizai as he walked slowly along the platoon perimeters that faced the direction the infidel enemy would come from. The valley was sealed shut, and anyone approaching them would come under the combined firepower of both light and heavy infantry weapons.

  .

  THE WADI KHESTA VALLEY

  1500 HOURS LOCAL

  THE going was easy for the SEALs. The valley was wide at that point--approximately half a kilometer--and the ground was flat and firm. They had noticed the flights of helicopters that traveled from east to west, but noted there had only been two lifts flown before the aerial activity ceased. That would mean that if a mujahideen unit had been taken ahead to lay an ambush, there could not be more than fifty of the enemy positioned for an encounter.

  Lieutenant Wild Bill Brannigan hoped the bastards were waiting to engage the platoon. It shouldn't be too difficult to deal with them from the valley, and the canteens the mujahideen undoubtedly had with them would be a godsend. The lack of water was a situation that grew more serious with each passing hour. The highly disciplined SEALS took only small sips from their canteens when they should have been gulping down large swallows to replace the body fluids being sweated away in the pressing heat.

  Brannigan noted the men were beginning to look like candidates toward the end of Hell Week during BUD/S. The situation they now endured was the exact reason why SEAL aspirants were driven to the utmost in spiritual and physical limits during training. If the fainthearted were able to successfully complete SEAL training and win the coveted Trident badge, any weaklings among the platoon would have succumbed to the hardships days before. Even the ancient Roman legions recognized the importance of a tough, unrelenting training program, and the centurions who led the legionnaires did their best to make the training more difficult than actual combat.

  Suddenly Joe Miskoski's voice came over the LASH from the rear of the column. "Choppers coming in on our six!"

  Everyone immediately took cover by going into the shadows along the slopes of the valley. Within moments the noise of helicopter engines could be heard drawing closer. But instead of flying overhead, they suddenly eased back.

  Chief Matt Gunnarson's hoarse voice sounded through the headsets. "The son of a bitches is hovering!" A moment later he spoke again, saying, "Hovering my Aunt Tillie's tits! They're landing!"

  Everyone listened as the engines quieted down further, until they made the slow "chop-chop" sound of the rotor gears being disengaged. Within fifteen minutes they revved up again and could be heard climbing back into the sky. Then they turned away, the sound diminishing as the aircraft flew rearward out of the area.

  "Two-I-C and senior chief report to me," Brannigan ordered through the LASH.

  Jim Cruiser and Buford Dawkins rushed from their respective places in the column and joined Brannigan just to the rear of Alpha Fire Team. The Skipper waited as they settled down beside him. "It's obvious the chopper lift has brought an enemy unit to our direct rear," Brannigan said. "And they've already landed people to the front."

  Dawkins's voice was somewhat distorted by the pebble in his mouth. "That means they know where we are."

  "Yeah," Brannigan agreed.

  "How the hell did they figure that out?" Cruiser asked in irritation.

  "Prob'ly recon patrols, sir," Dawkins suggested. "We're so godamn tired they just snuck up on us."

  "It doesn't matter," Brannigan said, irritated. "But there is also the unpleasant prospect that the enemy ahead of us marched to that location rather than use helicopters. And that means we can't accurately estimate how many they are."

  "I hadn't considered that," Cruiser said.

  "Even if they did put a small force ahead of us, they'll be bringing a much larger one eventually. They may be close to linking up even as we sit here. The ones behind us will want to drive us forward."

  "Well," Cruiser said, "that makes it easy to figure out what to do."

  "Right," Brannigan said. "We're going to attack the small group to the rear for a breakout. And I haven't got a clue what we'll do or where we'll go once we've cleared our way to open country."

  "Out of the frying pan and into the fire," the senior chief remarked, spitting out the pebble.

  "Whatever," Brannigan said, shrugging. "Get your teams ready." He watched as Cruiser and Dawkins returned to their men, and he spoke over the LASH to Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz up on point. "Get your asses back here."

  "Aye, sir!" came Mike's reply.

  .

  THE MUJAHIDEEN

  1600 HOURS LOCAL

  THE former mujahideen chief Ayyub Durtami stood off to the side alone as he watched his men gather into a mob to his direct front. Durtami's former faithful assistant Ahmet Kharani was no longer a part of his entourage. Kharani had found favor with Warlord Hassan Khamami and had been made a lieutenant in the garrison guard. This was an undeniable indication to Durtami that he was now an outcast. His best hope was to martyr himself in battle and seek redemption and reward in Allah's Paradise. There would be nothing for him in Khamami's fiefdom unless a miracle occurred.

  Durtami's men each had a single canteen on a strap around the shoulder, and this small amount of water gave evidence that their chances in the coming battle were considered minimal at best. The Lee-Metford Mark II rifles they carried were in sorry condition. All were dirty, and at least a dozen of them could not be loaded because the bolts were rusted shut. The magazines were designed to hold ten rounds in a double column, but the men had been issued only three. However, those who could not load their rifles gave their three to close friends, so a few had six to fire at the infidels.

  Durtami whistled and clapped his hands for attention. When the crowd of sacrificial fighters quieted down, he spoke to them in as firm a voice as he could muster. Even a true believer was nervous when facing certain death.

  "Listen, brothers! At this moment Allah looks down on you with great love and appreciation. He is aware that you are ready to martyr yourselves for Islam without hesitation. He also knows which ones of you will sacrifice your mortal lives for His immortal glory. Already there are places in Paradise set aside for you. Your families will weep with great joy, knowing you have honored them and all true believers!" He paused, looking at the fierce pride shining in their eyes. "Are you ready?"

  "Allah! All
ah akbar! God is great!"

  The cries and chanting rose in volume as the mujahideen encouraged one another for the ordeal ahead. Durtami did his best to take heart from their morbid celebration. He knew that his karma offered only two possibilities after the battle. He would either come out of it alive to return to the unlikely good graces of his brother-in-law Warlord Khamami or he would find his reward in Paradise. Either way required that he put himself in the front of his men and lead by example.

  "Brothers!" he cried, pointing toward the enemy. "That is the direction to everlasting glory! Follow me!"

  He held his prized pearl-handled Beretta 9-millimeter automatic pistol in his hand, raising it high above his head. Then he turned to trot toward the objective at a steady pace, raising his knees high to emphasize his fervor and passion. Durtami did not look back as his men cheered and fell into a disorganized crowd to his direct rear.

  .

  THE SEALS

  1815 HOURS LOCAL

  BRAVO Fire Team, with Senior Chief Petty Officer Buford Dawkins in charge, moved slowly down the valley, leading Brannigan's Brigands. The team, like the rest of the platoon, felt like they were simply spinning their wheels, since the outfit was now moving back in the direction from where they had come. The men held their weapons ready, their eyes scanning the tops of the valley as well as the area to the direct front.

  For once Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz were not on the point. Lieutenant Brannigan had kept them back with him and Frank Gomez as part of Alpha Fire Team. Charlie Fire Team was directly to their rear, led by Lieutenant (J. G.) Jim Cruiser. Chief Matt Gunnarson's Delta Fire Team brought up the rear with Bruno Puglisi being the tail-end Charlie.

  Suddenly the sound of shouting men could be heard. Brannigan quickly ordered a halt via his LASH headset so they could determine who was raising so much hell. The disturbance grew steadily louder until it was accompanied by the pounding of running feet. A moment later a mob of mujahideen appeared around a bend some one hundred meters away.