by Damien Lewis
More ecstatic shouts of ‘Allahu Akhbar’ rang out from the brothers.
‘“For now there can be no doubt that men with impenetrable beliefs and impeccable character have arrived,”’ Omer continued reading with obvious relish. ‘“The hearts of the infidels tremble in fear that there are more on the way. Remember the words of the Holy Koran. ‘Oh Prophet Muhammad – peace and blessings be upon him – urge the believers to fight. If there are twenty steadfast persons among you they will overcome two hundred, and if there be one hundred steadfast persons they will overcome one thousand of those who disbelieve.’ The World stands aghast, frozen in panic. Where has the American dream gone? Where is the great USA now? Where is the tyrant of the last century? Where is the superpower ‘modern’ Muslims quiver at the thought of?”’
‘By the grace of Allah, the Great Satan has been struck a mortal blow!’ Ali cried out, excitedly.
‘“Have not the Nineteen Lions attested to the strength of a few armed with Imam – belief – against the many armed with disbelief?”’ Omer continued. ‘“Did not this handful of a handful annihilate the CIA, the NSA, the FBI, the US Army, the US Navy, US Marine Corps, US Air Force, Navy SEALS and Delta Force? Did not the Nineteen Lions, financed comparatively by only nickels and dimes, overcome the hundreds of billions of dollars spent by the US Government on defence? Did not these Nineteen Mujahidin manage to enter the Lion’s Den itself?”’
‘Yes, brother, YES!’ Ahmed roared, triumphantly. ‘Brother Omer, he speaks the truth!’
‘“The hearts of the US and her allies are trembling,”’ Omer read on from the communiqué. ‘“Dark clouds lie overhead. When, and not if, the Call to Prayer bellows through the cities of New York, London and Sydney, and all the people worship none other but Allah, the Muslims will remember the Nineteen Lions, the Nineteen Martyrs. When the chronicles of Islam are written, when the World is ruled by the Book of Allah, then will we remember that these Nineteen Martyrs changed the course of history. Let it be known in the Heavens and on Earth that on Tuesday 11 September 2001, the Nineteen Lions of Islam roared. Allahu Akhbar!”’ Omer shouted, as he finished reading out the communiqué.
Again the brothers took up his cry, punching the sky as they did so and embracing each other.
‘The fresh blood is still dripping from the hands of the Crusaders!’ Omer cried. ‘The Nineteen Lions were men who could no longer sit back and watch the rape and humiliation of our sisters. These men realised that to liberate Muslim lands from the claws of the enemies of Allah required the blood and the sacrifice of the Martyrs. And that is you, brothers! Jihad, brothers! Jihad!’
‘Death to the infidels!’ the brothers roared in reply.
Two days after the brothers had received the news of the 9/11 terror attacks, the men of Ali’s unit were given their marching orders. All of them knew that a great battle with the USA and her allies would be coming soon now. It was just a matter of time. They were ordered to deploy to the front line around the sacred town of Mazar-e-Sharif, in northern Afghanistan. The name Mazar-e-Sharif means ‘the Tomb of the Saint’. In the twelfth century the burial place of the son-in-law of the Prophet Muhammad was discovered there. Thus Mazar-e-Sharif was a sacred place within Islam and one that the brothers felt they would be honoured to defend with their very blood.
As they were preparing to depart, Ali looked around at the thirty fellow fighters in his unit. He had become very close with three of them. One was Mohamed al-Jihadi, an Algerian doctor who’d taken the name al-Jihadi – the jihad – because he didn’t want to identify himself with Algeria, a country ruled by a secular regime. As far as he was concerned, he belonged to no country – his allegiance was only to the Umma, the world Islamic community united under Islam. Over the last few weeks, Mohamed had given away little of his personal background. But Ali was drawn to him because Mohamed was so zealous in his views. He even resented the fact that the foreign fighters spoke in English, because, he argued, it was the language of kofr, of disbelief.
Then there was Sadiq al-Saudia – a lawyer from Saudi Arabia. Sadiq was married and had a family back home in Jeddah. Ever since the brothers had arrived in the training camp, the local Afghan kids had kept begging for money, and Sadiq had never been able to refuse them, partly because the children reminded him so much of his own. Ali had asked Sadiq what it was like to leave a family behind and join the jihad. ‘The bond between the wife and husband, it is even stronger than that of a mother and son …’ Sadiq had responded. From the sadness in his voice, Ali had realised how tough it must have been to leave his wife and two young sons behind. Sadiq had also talked about how hard he’d had to work to provide for his family while he was away from them.
It was Ali’s giant friend Ahmed who was the odd one out. Ahmed was uneducated and came from a dirt poor farming community in the Yemen. He had only managed to make it to the Afghan jihad with the help of money donated by his local mosque. Four years earlier the Taliban Army had seized control of Afghanistan, and Ahmed had decided to join them. He had been swept up in the movement and had proved himself a fearless warrior. He had no wife or children to return to in the Yemen, and felt that Afghanistan was now his personal and spiritual home. He had no intentions of ever leaving, unless he did so on the path to eternal Paradise.
Despite their differing backgrounds, all of the brothers shared one thing in common. They had all come to Afghanistan with one sole intention – to wage jihad and kill the infidels, their enemy. As they set off for the front line Ali prayed that it would not be long before the killing could begin.
3
FIRST INTO ACTION
ON THE MORNING of 11 September 2001, Mat, Jamie, Tom and Mucker had been up at Hereford (the location of SAS headquarters). Earlier in the week they had been on combined SAS/SBS exercises. They’d finished the training ahead of schedule and gone to the ranges for some shooting practice. But around mid-afternoon, the stillness of the countryside had been shattered by a bleeper going off. As the lads pulled out their various mobile communication devices, Mat took a look at the message on the screen of his Blackberry handheld.
‘Holy fuck!’ he exclaimed in horror. ‘They’ve just hit the Twin Towers in the States!’
Five days later, on 16 September, the men of the SBS gathered to listen to the first formal post 9/11 briefing. Mat had never known such a sombre atmosphere at their Poole headquarters, with a raw undercurrent of anger running just below the surface. As far as the men of the SBS were concerned, they served on the front line of the battle against terrorism in all its forms. And the 9/11 attacks had been a declaration of war by Islamic extremists against the Western world. While the terror attacks had hit America, the lads still felt as if they were an assault on their own beliefs, on their own way of life. And now they wanted nothing more than to go into battle against those responsible for the atrocities – which had to mean hitting Afghanistan. That was the only way to boost their battered morale – to go into action fast and hard.
As Colonel James Saunders, the CO of the SBS, stood up to speak, a deathly silence settled over the room.
‘Gentlemen, you all know why we are here,’ the colonel began. ‘Our foremost ally, America, has been attacked. In a cowardly and unprovoked action, terrorists from al-Qaeda have flown passenger aircraft into the Twin Towers in New York and the Pentagon in Washington. Thousands of innocent people have been killed. Some of the intended terror strikes were foiled. If it were not for the brave acts of the passengers on board those hijacked aircraft, the casualty figures might be even higher. That much you are all aware of. Now, as we speak, America is preparing her response: Operation Enduring Freedom. And make no mistake, that response will be rigorous and deadly and aimed at taking out those responsible for planning, financing and executing these heinous acts. As our own Prime Minister has made abundantly clear, Britain – and her armed forces – will stand shoulder to shoulder with America in this struggle against world terrorism.’
The CO paused and took a
look around the assembled men. ‘I know that you are all itching to be in on the action, to play your part in bringing to justice or otherwise dealing with those responsible,’ he continued. ‘You will be aware that the main alleged culprit is Osama bin Laden, presently being sheltered by Afghanistan’s Taliban regime. Unless he is handed over to US authorities, which is looking increasingly unlikely, then Afghanistan will be the first target of any US, and British, response. That much is abundantly clear. However, should the war kick off in Afghanistan, as I am certain it will do, I have to inform you that the SAS have been given Afghanistan as their theatre of operations. We have been given the rest of the world.’
As soon as the CO had spoken those words, a groan went up from the lads assembled in the room.
‘Now, I know that every man among you would want to be in Afghanistan, where you believe the war will be fought at its fiercest,’ the CO continued. ‘But your role is equally, if not even more, vital. On 11 September the world changed. A group of extremist Islamist terrorists – al-Qaeda, bin Laden, call them what you will – declared war on Western interests. That war will now be fought anywhere and everywhere that they feel they can strike at us. We are fully expecting there to be further attempts at terrorist attacks. Which means that the global counter-terrorism role you are being given is a vitally important one. The visible war will be fought in Afghanistan. But the covert, shadow war will be fought wherever these people try to hit us. And that, gentlemen, will be your responsibility: to stop those terror strikes before they can do us any harm.’
As the men of the SBS filed out of the briefing and wandered off in groups, there was no disguising the disappointment that they all were feeling. Despite the CO’s words of encouragement, they felt that, once again, the SAS had been given the real mission, and that they were being left with the scraps from the big boys’ table. For several years now the SBS soldiers had been complaining that their higher profile, sister special forces unit took the lion’s share of any juicy operations. And years of experience had proven to them that counter-terrorism duties rarely resulted in any active combat missions. The key to CT work was to prevent any attacks from happening, rather than taking the terrorists on in full battle.
‘Fuckin’ bunch of shite, that’s what that is, mate,’ Tom remarked to Mat, as they strolled away from the briefing. ‘We’re on CT – fuckin’ “Cushy Time” – again, while the SAS gets the whole of the Stan. Fuckin’ nightmare, that’s what it is, a fuckin’ nightmare.’
‘Too bloody right, mate,’ Mat grunted, morosely. ‘It’ll be kicking off in the Stan left, right and centre, and we’ll not get a sniff of anything. Bloody typical.’
A massive US and British war machine was gearing up for action in Afghanistan. Each morning since the 9/11 terror attacks, officials from the MOD and Defence Intelligence met with Geoff Hoon, the Defence Secretary, and General Sir Michael Boyce, Chief of the Defence Staff. Secure lines of communication had been set up with General Tommy Franks, head of US military Central Command (CENTCOM), based in Tampa, Florida. As the US and British military planners examined the potential for a conventional ground offensive, just about every aspect appeared negative. Afghanistan was a landlocked nation the size of Texas, a logistical nightmare for getting allied troops in to the country. Large-scale troop movements would need helicopter support, and many of the Afghan mountain passes were too high for heli-borne operations. In addition to which, enemy forces numbered some 50,000 Taliban soldiers, including hundreds of foreign fighters – battle-hardened religious fanatics from across the Islamic world.
A conventional ground offensive had all the makings of a disaster, and was clearly a non-starter. A plan was therefore drawn up to use small units of US and British special forces to fight alongside the Afghan resistance, the Northern Alliance (NA). At the same time a massive allied air campaign would target terrorist training camps and air defences, followed by communications and command and control facilities. Then the so-called ‘targets of opportunity’ would be hit: enemy tanks, fuel tankers and other military vehicles. Finally, the Taliban and al-Qaeda forces would be targeted, using munitions designed to kill large troop numbers. At the same time the NA forces would be strengthened by weapons supplied from Russia. And all of this activity was to be coordinated on the ground by US and British special forces.
In late October the SAS were inserted into Afghanistan, using the HALO (high-altitude low-opening) parachuting technique. But their operations on the ground were frustrated by terrible weather conditions and confusion over appropriate mission tasking. In early November, after spending just two weeks on the ground, the main body of the SAS were withdrawn from Afghanistan. Upon hearing that the SAS were being pulled back, Rear Admiral Boyce, a powerful Navy man in Whitehall, contacted the Director of Special Forces to discuss SBS tasking. The Rear Admiral had been fighting the SBS’s corner for some time now and he made an impassioned argument for the deployment of the SBS to Afghanistan. The Director of Special Forces agreed that the SBS should be sent in to secure Bagram airbase, the gateway to central Afghanistan.
And so, on a day in early November, the best part of C Squadron found themselves leaving the UK at short notice, en route to Afghanistan. As the men left their Poole base, they threw pitying looks at their mates in M and Z Squadrons. Barely six weeks earlier, they had been told that they wouldn’t be deploying to Afghanistan. Every man in the SBS had been bitterly disappointed. Now the C Squadron lads were getting to go, and they departed Poole giving the finger to the others, knowing that every man jack of them was dying to be on this mission.
‘Looks like you poor sods’ve been left behind, again,’ Mat shouted over at the lads from M and Z.
‘Have fun. Enjoy your Cushy Time,’ Jamie added.
‘Yeah – an’ keep Britain fuckin’ safe for us, won’t you, lads?’ Tom chipped in.
‘Anything in particular you’d like us to bring you back from the Stan, lads?’ Mucker piped up, grinning from ear to ear.
All they received in return was a barrage of abuse.
C Squadron departed the UK from RAF Brize Norton in three C-130 Hercules transport aircraft. It was a sixteen-hour flight with a couple of fuelling stops. They came into Bagram airbase in Afghanistan under cover of darkness and showing no lights. When the lead C-130 pilot went to put his giant aircraft down, he found himself having to dodge shell craters and the wreckage of ancient Soviet aircraft in order to make a safe landing. As the roar of the C-130’s turboprops reverberated through the still, night-dark landscape, the men of C Squadron discovered that they had arrived in a deserted wasteland.
Some forty-eight hours earlier, Bagram airbase had been in the hands of the AQT forces. It had only been due to the pounding by US air strikes, plus the repeated attacks by the Northern Alliance troops massed to the west of them, that the enemy had been forced to abandon the airport. As the lead C-130 came to a halt on the battle-scarred central runway, its rear ramp was already opening. Mat, Jamie, Tom and Mucker drove off the still-moving aircraft in their Land-Rover with orders to immediately take possession of this no man’s land. As soon as they hit the ground they were battle-ready, and they headed out to secure the airbase perimeter.
The crumbling and ramshackle Bagram airport sits within a massive series of mountain peaks – the Paghman range – that overlook it on three sides. Although these mountains were now lost in the towering darkness, the SBS knew that the high ground was held by the heavily armed forces of the enemy. It was only the threat of further US air strikes that was preventing the Taliban armour and heavy guns from pounding Bagram further into oblivion. Yet the men of C Squadron now securing the airbase had just flown into an even greater danger than that posed by the enemy – a danger emanating from one of the most unexpected of quarters.
Bagram was built in the early 1980s by the Soviets, strategically located some forty kilometres north of the Afghan capital, Kabul. Control of Bagram was crucial to holding central Afghanistan. The Soviets had known this,
as did the Taliban and al-Qaeda. And it was a fact not lost on the Northern Alliance now fighting alongside the US and British. But the US high command had decided that it wanted to take control of Bagram airbase, as it provided the perfect bridgehead via which to pour US ground troops into Afghanistan. And so the men of the SBS had been quietly inserted into Bagram without the Northern Alliance’s knowledge or prior approval. As the Afghan commanders woke up to the fact that British troops had flown in to secretly occupy ‘their airbase’ they began threatening war.
Mat, Jamie, Tom and Mucker took up positions on the eastern perimeter of Bagram, finding cover in the fuselage of an ancient Soviet MiG fighter jet. The base was a veritable graveyard of aircraft, with the gutted carcasses of MiGs, Antonov cargo planes and Mi-24 helicopter gunships lying around where the Soviets had abandoned them. The Mi-24s were painted sky grey underneath with green-brown camouflage above, and each had the five-pointed red star of the old USSR displayed on its fuselage. It was a poignant reminder to the SBS troops of how former superpowers had come to grief here on the Afghan plains.
