Israel's Next War

by Martin Archer

  “Why are you here?”

  I gave him our canned answer.

  “We are a multinational UN team trying to find out what is happening in Iraq.”

  “He is a Turk,” the leader said accusingly as he pointed to Anil, “and you are an American. And none of you have blue helmets.”

  “Of course we don’t have blue helmets. Only the peacekeepers wear them. We are observers not peacekeepers.” It sure sounds plausible. I wonder if it’s true.

  Then I decided to go on the offensive.

  “Why are you here? And, more importantly, what do you expect to do now that the war between Coalition and Israel is over and the Israelis have won?”

  “We are waiting to see what happens next. The Americans who were helping us disappeared as soon as the war started. They said they were Germans but we knew they were really from your CIA.”

  Then, before I could say anything in reply, he added something ominous.

  “The Iraqi colonel wants you. He wants you very much. Why is that?”

  Anil translated as I say “I don’t know. Maybe the Iraqis don’t want us to find out who really controls this part of Iraq. What do you think?”

  He never has a chance to answer. Suddenly there was a lot of shouting and the dull rumbling sound of tanks in the distance. Men and women carrying weapons began materializing out of nowhere and running past our hut towards the sound. Women leading and carrying children began appearing going the other way.

  ******

  Muhammad and the men instantly left us and began walking rapidly in the direction of the camp’s front gate. That’s where the rumbling sound of arriving armor was the loudest and continued to increase. We piled out of the hut—and then stood there in the dirt street weaponless and not knowing what to do.

  What the hell is happening?

  “Jesus Dick. What the hell is going on?” Harry was obviously just as confused as I was. Damn, maybe we can get away in all the confusion. But which way should we run?

  “I don’t know. But maybe we can get away in all the confusion.”

  After a moment’s hesitation we moved into an open area beyond the huts in an effort to see what’s happening and where we might run. That’s when a loudspeaker begins broadcasting from outside the camp.

  Anil listened for a second, and then shook his head.

  “Persian. They’re broadcasting in Persian.”

  About three minutes later we stood in the street and watched as a harried looking Muhammad rushed up to us.

  “Come with me. You must hurry. Please hurry. They want you.” Who wants us?

  We all looked at each other. And then everyone shrugged at the same moment and off we went following Muhammad. He led us straight to the front gate.

  “Kurds,” Anil said. “They’re Kurds.”

  And so they were. An entire column of old tanks and APCs, over a dozen of them, was outside the gate belching blue smoke from their engines as we trotted up. And they were all flying the orange, white, and green flag of the Kurds. Hey, there’s Solly and Hozan.

  “Look, there’s Solly and Hozan.” Hot damn.

  A few minutes later and we’d gotten handshakes and hugs from Solly and Hozan and peace had broken out all over the place. It seems that Hozan and Solly hooked up with Goran at the rendezvous and went straight to the nearest unit of Peshmerga for help. And here it is.

  At the moment we’re standing in a big group of men just outside the gate watching intently as Anil talked to the men who were obviously the leaders of the MEK and Kurds. There was a lot of arm waving and gesturing; then Anil came over with the leader of the Kurds and explained.

  “The local Kurds have gotten the word from Erbil that Israel is going to arm them and help them get their own state. They aren’t so much coming to rescue you and me, Colonel; they’re here to rescue Si because he’s an Israeli.”

  The leader of the Kurds nodded enthusiastically as he listened to what Anil was telling us. He speaks English.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  ****** Major Harry Duffy

  We left the MEK camp and almost immediately fell in with a long column of cars and pickup trucks flying white flags. We were in a combination of a convoy, cavalcade, and jubilant wedding party as more and more vehicles and motorcycles and even a big yellow school bus joined us from the villages along the way. Two hours later we could see what Anil said are the buildings of the Kurdish city of Dahuk on the horizon.

  “This is big,” said Anil who was listening on the pickup’s scratchy AM radio. “Barzani and Talabani, they’re the leaders of the two big Kurdish factions in Iraq, just announced a major Israeli force with more than a thousand tanks and self-propelled artillery has reached Erbil and is turning their weapons over to the Kurds so they can defend themselves and be free. They say they have been invited to Istanbul to discuss the establishment of independent Kurdish states in Syria, Iraq, Lebanon, and Iran.”

  About ten minutes later an attack helicopter flashed along parallel to the convoy and just out of SAM range. We’re obviously being eyeballed.

  “That’s one of ours,” shouted Solly excitedly as he pointed. “That’s one of our Cobras. See the insignia—it’s one of ours.”

  Almost immediately seven or eight more Israeli assault helicopters arrived. They look like great angry birds of prey as they began orbiting our column in a great circle, always staying well out of SAM range.

  “Swing off the road,” Dick shouted at Goran as he pointed to a dirt track coming up on our left.

  Goran’s pickup threw up a plume of dust as we headed off the pavement and began moving towards the distant mountains. As you might imagine, we all had something white in our hands—white tea shirts, old sheets, white pieces of paper, anything we could find—and were waving them for all we’re worth.

  After we get well clear of the column Dick motioned for Goran to stop and we all piled out, still waving our white flags. Suddenly we saw a little scout helicopter creeping slowly towards us from the north. Its pilot was obviously taking no chances; it was only about ten feet off the ground. Two attack helicopters equally low to the ground suddenly appeared well behind the scout to cover it.

  “Si, come with me,” Dick shouted as he started to walk towards the hovering chopper waving a dirty white towel he’d gotten from God only knows where. “The rest of you guys stay back just in case.”

  I sure hope Solly’s right that these guys are Israelis. Dick’s gonna be up shit creek if they turn out to be Iraqis.

  ******

  “Mazel Tov. Welcome to Kurdistan.”

  That’s how Si greeted the Israeli officer who climbed out of the helicopter and walked over to us through the dust cloud it was throwing up. Then they chattered away in Hebrew while Si pointed towards our pickup truck and the passing convoy with its beeping horns and enthusiastically waving and cheering men riding on the roofs of the trucks. They were passing by on the road about two hundred meters away.

  The Israeli made a “wait here” motion with his hand and ducked his head back to lean into the scout helicopter for a second. A few seconds later the attack helicopters stopped circling and began positioning themselves into protective lines on either side of the column.

  I started to say something when I realized Goran has gotten out of his pickup and was standing next to me staring at the Israeli flag on the helicopter. He was weeping and Anil has tears in his eyes as he patted him on the back.

  “He never thought he’d live to see the day,” Anil says. "He’s a Kurd."

  A few seconds later four noisy Israeli F-16s come down the road low and slow and loud—and wiggling their wings. They were so low I could see the pilot in the second F-16 raise his hand in acknowledgement as he came past us.

  We jumped back into Goran’s pickup and rejoined the parade. It grew bigger every time we passed another little village and more cars and trucks joined us, including another big yellow school bus with waving and cheering people riding on the roof. Someone among the K
urds must have called ahead. This is really exciting.

  ****** Lieutenant Colonel Dick Evans

  An Israeli Blackhawk II came in fast from the East about twenty minutes later. It landed in a cloud of dust in an open area about a hundred yards away. We headed over to it as we watched the tail end of our cavalcade recede in the distance with ever more trucks, cars, and motorcycles barreling down the road behind it in an effort to catch up and join the festivities.

  We quickly said goodbye to Goran. Si got his address and we held a fast whip around to empty our wallets for him. He refused to take it until Anil absolutely ordered him to accept the money as we gathered around to shake his hand and say goodbye with a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. It is far from adequate but all we can do at the moment.

  As I climbed into the Huey I caught Harry’s eye and we reached an agreement without a word being spoken—we’ll do more as soon as we can. In the meantime Goran will drive his truck home and get on with his life. Hozan and Anil are going to come with us to Mosul.

  We’ve done all we can for Goran at the moment and it certainly isn’t enough—he risked his life to help us and didn’t abandon us and go home when it would have been the easy thing to do. Helluva guy.

  Our noisy flight to Erbil took less than half an hour. We landed on the north side of the Erbil airport in an open spot in a long double row of at least twenty Israeli attack helicopters in the midst of a huge mass of trucks and armor. The airfield itself and the area around it was a beehive of activity. Just beyond the square box of a building that was obviously the terminal building were at least a dozen F-35s and F-16s at the end of the runway ready to scramble. Numerous cargo planes were constantly coming and going in the background.

  And that’s not all. Hundred and perhaps thousands of tanks and vehicles were parked all over the place as far as the eye can see. As the engine of our helicopter spooled down we could hear others further down the line spooling up. Men and women in Israeli and Kurdish battledress were everywhere. It was quite a sight.

  Our pilot must have radioed ahead because a battered civilian Volkswagen bus pulled up near our helicopter even before we settled with a bump onto the dirt and grass in a cloud of dust.

  Boy they better hope it doesn’t rain. This place will be a quagmire if it does. I don’t know what makes me think of that as we land, but I did.

  “Harry,” I shouted over the sound of the helicopter’s turbine as I stepped around the door gunner and jump to the ground. “What do you think will happen around here if it rains?”

  Harry looked at me sort of funny for a second—and then he understood and looked around and nodded. He started to reply when an Israeli major walked up and saluted.

  “Colonel Evans?” He inquired.

  “Yes, I’m Evans. And these men are with me.”

  ******

  We were taken to what might have once been a little office next to the baggage claim area in the little terminal and asked to wait. Si and Solly said something in Hebrew to the Israeli major. He nodded and they promptly went off with him waving their hands as they talked. The three of us just as promptly laid down on the floor and instantly fell sleep with the door open.

  About an hour later an elderly Israeli colonel arrived accompanied by three grizzled looking men wearing battledress and Kurdish headgear. We all jerked awake and stood up almost as one. The Kurds instantly begin questioning Anil and there was quite an animated discussion.

  Whatever they said seems to surprise Anil. But finally he nodded in agreement and everyone smiled including the Israeli colonel. The Israeli colonel obviously speaks Kurdish.

  “Chris, I’m going to have to leave you now. This is Professor Levin from Hebrew University. He speaks Kurdish and a bunch of other languages. He’s going to take my place as your interpreter. Si and Solly will be back shortly and go with you into Iran. I hope we’ll have a chance to meet again, I really do.”

  Anil sure has a funny look on his face. Something’s happened.

  “What’s up, Anil? Are you okay?” Even I can hear the concern in my voice.

  “Actually, I think so. About half of the equipment here is being readied for an Israeli push on through Kurdistan and into Iran that will start in a couple of hours. The rest of it will be turned over to the Kurds here in Iraq as soon as they can be trained up to use it in case Baghdad tries to recapture Kurdistan — and it’s hard to believe but it seems I’ve been seconded to the Kurds as a brigadier to command the Kurdish brigade that will be equipped with some of this armor and based in Kirkuk.”

  “My God, Anil. I mean General. That’s wonderful. I don’t know whether to hug you or salute you.” So we all did both.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  General Roberts was in Washington and came on the line instantly when my call finally got through a little before midnight here in Kurdistan.

  “Dick? Is that you? Are you and your men okay?”

  “Thank you General. It’s me and we’re all okay. It was hairy for a few moments but everything’s okay now. We’re all in good shape and the Kurds are friendly, really friendly.”

  “No, it wasn’t the Kurds, General. The people who grabbed us were Iranian exiles opposed to the Ayatollah. They’re in Iraq because they were fighting for Saddam years ago and got stuck here. It was their Iraqi liaison officer who detained us. He wanted to take us to Baghdad but the Iranian MEKs wouldn’t let him. He deserted them and fled to Baghdad right after that.”

  “Yes sir, they’re called the MEK. I’m not exactly sure what it means, but there are at least a couple thousand of them including women and children and they don’t know what to do. Apparently the CIA abandoned them a few days ago when the coalition invaded Israel. And now their Iraqi advisors are gone too.”

  “Yes sir. They think it was the CIA paying them and arming them to fight the Iranians and gather intelligence. At least that’s what they believe. So do the Kurds. And sir, everyone, both the MEKs and the Kurds think the MEK will be killed by the Ayatollah if they are forced to go home.”

  Then I told him about the Israelis continuing on into Iran with the Kurds.

  “Yes sir, I understand. I’m sure we can handle it. We’ll report how they are received as soon as possible. ... Thank you, sir, I’ll tell them. … We will sir. Thank you.”

  ****** General Christopher Roberts

  The cat is out of the bag and all hell has broken loose—this morning’s edition of the New York Times reports Israel and Turkey have been meeting in Ankara with the leaders of the Kurds and several other minorities. The Times says they are there to discuss a significant realignment of the borders of the Middle East as part of a comprehensive peace agreement that the Turks and Israelis intend to impose on the Middle East. In any event, I’m here in Ankara at the request of the Turks and Israelis and Jack Billaud is on the phone despite it being only six in the morning in Washington.

  “Jack, there’s not much I can tell you. The Kurdish delegations and the others are here talking to the Israelis and Turks about establishing new states and national boundaries in the Middle East.

  “I don’t care what the Times says, there’s been no talk about a peace agreement.”

  It’s early afternoon in Ankara, and I’m in the secure room at the embassy waiting for the President to arrive at the Security Council briefing room for the regularly scheduled seven o’clock morning meeting. I was already on the line talking with Peter with the speaker turned off when the President arrived. The meeting started immediately with Peter giving the world briefing. Then he turned the meeting over to me.

  “Good morning, Mr. President. The meeting of the Turkish generals with the Kurds and other minorities to discuss their relationship with Turkey and Israel started in Ankara this morning and seems to be going well. I suspect that’s because many of the details between each of the proposed new states and Israel and Turkey were worked out before the meeting even began. As it stands, everyone seems to be on board with the idea of being in a Turkish Commonw
ealth and participating in a common market which includes the Israelis as an associate member.

  “Yes Mr. President, that’s correct. The Palestinians are not here and neither are the Lebanese; nor for that matter are any of the Islamic Coalition countries represented. It’s pretty obvious that the people here at the meeting don’t care what they think and don’t want to have anything to do with them.

  “Yes sir, I’m happy to report things have been proceeding rather smoothly. There seems to be widespread support for having new borders and new states in the Middle East at the expense of the Coalition countries and Lebanon.”

  Actually, they haven’t been all that smooth; there started to be a serious problem this morning when we reconvened. The two leaders of the Iraqi Kurds surprised everyone by saying they couldn’t agree to the formation of individual Kurdish states instead of one big Kurdistan. The Israelis ended that idea in a hurry by saying that they are not prepared to even think about a defense agreement with the a unified Kurdistan unless and until Turkey agrees and each of its component states fully demonstrates its ability to function as a democracy. The Turks were more than a little grateful for the Israeli support—I saw Demir thanking Ari and the Prime Minister after the meeting.

  Then the President raised a sticky issue—the possible participation of the United States and “our State Department experts” in the negotiations.

  “I don’t know how that would fly, Mr. President. As you know the Turkish generals are hosting the meeting and I’m only here as an observer. I’m not sure how the generals will react if the state department tries to get involved. ”

  Actually, I’m pretty sure I do know—neither the Turks nor the Israelis want the Secretary of State anywhere near their negotiations because they are afraid he’ll screw them up and leak things to the press.