Four of the medium-sized tankers had already been filled and now sailed silently and secretly down the Persian Gulf headed for oil-hungry markets that would pay more than the market price.
Ar Ramandi watched the hoses being connected and could hear the oil surging through the tubes. Now Iraq would at last have more hard currency to use for its master plan. More cash, more power.
A workman attaching one of the large hoses tripped and fell, dropping sixty feet between the side of the tanker and the dock. For a moment, there was a piercing cry of pain and anguish, then the big boat surged slightly toward the dock, crushing the flailing man against the piling, and the cries stopped suddenly.
Ar Ramandi lifted his brows. The men were cautioned to be careful but quick. They could be discovered at any time and could face severe penalties. It was a risk that all of them were willing to take since the orders came from so high in the Iraqi government.
Ar Ramandi smiled as the tanker signaled it was loaded, the hoses came out, and the big ship at once loosened the huge tie-down ropes and a moment later eased away from the dock and moved toward the outer bay where it would slip into the gulf unnoticed.
Twelve of the medium-sized tankers loaded and left before the sun came up. By then, the locked and guarded pipeline heads were back to normal and the Iraqi guards patrolled the area. With any luck, the tankers would be out of the Persian Gulf and heading for their customers before the U.N. or anyone else realized that they contained the embargoed Iraqi oil.
Ar Ramandi slid into his big, government car and turned up the air-conditioning. He had the driver take him back to Baghdad. It was cool and pleasant in the car. He would sleep most of the way.
Bahrain
In the Persian Gulf
Emir Usa ban Sulman al-Khalifa, the head of state in this traditional monarchy, attended an outdoor soccer game when the national Bahrainian team played against a team from Qatar. The first period was over with the game tied 1 to 1. The emir came out of his traditional white canvas tent to urge on his home team.
Two men with submachine guns ran from the crowd and fired their weapons on full automatic. The emir was hit by more than twenty rounds. When the weapons ran out of rounds, the crowd dove on the assassins, beating them to death before soldiers could get to the killers to try to identify them or find out who they were working for or what political faction they represented.
TV cameras at the game caught the final shots of the assassins and then the crowd venting its anger on the killers.
Two hours later, General Yasim Nassar attacked the emir’s national palace with two companies of rangers, routed the few guards there, killed more than a dozen people who protested, and claimed that he was the new premier of Bahrain.
He went on TV, urging the people to be calm. He said the savagery of the assassins today who killed the emir made it even more important for there to be a strong government to control the island. He said all connections the assassins had would be investigated, and the blame for this tragedy put on the proper country or movement. He said his own move to stabilize the government went smoothly. That all regular governmental operations and services would continue. The eleven thousand in the armed forces had pledged their support for his move, and the country would be ruled for the next two weeks under martial law to try to root out the factions that assassinated their beloved emir.
He said the prime minister, who was second in command of the nation, was missing, and he was afraid that the terrorists who killed the emir might have kidnapped him. There was no confirmation of this, and the prime minister was eagerly sought by the new government to help assure that there would be a smooth transfer of power to the new regime.
USS Enterprise CVN 65
In the Persian Gulf
Stroh waved the papers again, and the room quieted. The SEALs knew this man’s connections and his power, and all of it directly affected them and their lives.
“We’ve got big trouble sprouting up all over the Middle East. First those embassy attacks, then the bombings in Cairo on U.S. companies. Then the hijacking of a U.S. flag tanker. Now we have military coups in two nations along the Persian Gulf. Nobody knows what the hell is going on. Whatever it is, it’s big and getting bigger. We’ve had requests from six small nations and emirates and sultanates around the gulf to come and give them some protection.
“There have been military takeovers and assassinations in Bahrain and in Qatar. Okay, not exactly huge places, but those two have been nominally our friends for a while and haven’t been helping out Iraq or Iran.
“We told most of the others asking for help that we’re not the damned police force for the whole fucking world. Most of them don’t understand. They think we have unlimited resources and manpower and planes and tanks. Ain’t so.
“Right now, we’re getting stretched thin in lots of places. We’re relying more and more on the Reserves and the National Guard to fill in and shore up weak spots when we do get a crisis.
“What can I say?”
“So, where do we come in?” Murdock asked. “I know you’re coming to it, but my retirement is coming up in about eighteen years and I’d like to…”
Stroh swung at him and missed. “Okay, you want it flat out, you get it. The sultan of Oman has asked for help, and in their great wisdom, State and the Joint Chiefs have decided that we can give them some help. To get your geography right, Oman is just down from the Strait of Hormuz, and it curves around the peninsula east and south of Saudi Arabia. It’s to hell and gone down there.
“It’s a good-sized place, a little larger than the state of Colorado, and has about two and a half million people. Army has about 45,000 men. It does oil, gas, fruits, dates, and fish. So you guys are going down there and try to keep their sultan from getting his head shot off.”
“Sounds fair,” Murdock said. “When?”
“That’s the fun part. You’re due down there yesterday. The good part is you’re going to Muscat City, which is on the Gulf of Oman, so it’s not a long flight from here.”
Murdock turned to the men. “Hey, you heard the man. Check out your gear, get loaded up with ammo. My guess, we’ll be bailing out of here as soon as we can on a COD. Let’s hustle.”
8
Muscat, Oman
On the Gulf of Oman
Third Platoon, SEAL Team Seven, landed at the military-controlled airport at Muscat, Oman, just before dawn. The sixteen men off-loaded in bright floodlights and were ushered between military guards to two army trucks and transported to the sultan’s palace, a short way out of the city.
Each man carried double ammo, half of it in a small bag that would be stashed in the new quarters. The Oman military looked efficient enough to Murdock, but he would wait and see how good their security was around the palace grounds. He didn’t expect much.
The trucks drove into a walled compound. It looked to be about a thousand yards square. Lots of places for holes and weak spots. Murdock, Ed Dewitt, Jaybird, and Dobler were all ushered into a plain room at the outer fringe of buildings where an army colonel sat. They all came to attention, and he nodded.
“Gentlemen, I’m Colonel Khalof, director of the sultan’s personal safety and security. I requested your aid. We are pleased that you are here. We are a small country with many enemies. Lately, we have had a number of intrusions and some shooting. We hope you will be able to assist us in our security and to train our people in the best methods of defeating any who try to attack this small fortress. We have a two hundred — man guard force. Do you have any questions?”
“Sir. I’m Lieutenant Commander Blake Murdock, in charge of this platoon. Is it my understanding that we will have some authority to move your men, to suggest different operations, and to assist in the tightening of your security?”
“Commander, you have total authority. One of my officers will be with you to insure that my men comply with your orders. He will also give you a tour of our security and our defensive forces. His name is Major Jabrin.”
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At the mention of the name, a rather stocky man with a full but closely trimmed beard stood and saluted. He had stripes on his shoulder boards and turned to Murdock.
“My English not good, but will make understand.”
“Your English is much better than my Arabic. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
Twenty minutes later, the four men and Jabrin toured the wall surrounding the compound. It was eight to ten feet high, had intrusion alarms on top along with razor wire. Murdock stopped the car where a ravine ran under the wall. It was dry now, but he knew it would surge with runoff water whenever a downpour occurred. A fence of loosely connected barbed wire screened the four-foot ditch under the wall.
“This one will need fixing,” Murdock said. “Some solid wooden gates that can be opened from the inside when a big rain is expected.”
The major made a note on a pad he carried.
By the time the inspection tour was over, Murdock and his crew had found ten places where work needed to be done and security increased. It was nearly dark when Murdock and Senior Chief Dobler talked to the platoon. The men had settled down in a dormitory room with twenty beds and a TV set with a VCR and a rack of more than fifty Hollywood-produced movies.
“We get our feet wet tonight on this security situation,” Murdock said. “There are three roving patrols in humvees. We’ll have two SEALs in each rig. We’ll also put two men at each of the five worst security risks we saw today. We’ll begin the watches at twenty-two hundred and run until morning. Any questions?”
“We have weapons free in case of trouble?” Jaybird asked.
“We were given carte blanche in this matter. If you think you should fire, then shoot up a storm. Just make sure it’s not some frightened kid looking for a handout.”
The SEALs ate two meals with the other troops. Jaybird said the food was fair.
“Don’t know what the hell it was, but it wasn’t camel nuts. It was good. Not that I’d want to live here forever just for the food.”
They watched part of the movie Battle of the Bulge, and then it was time to go to work. Murdock stationed the men where he wanted them, then he, DeWitt, and Senior Chief Dobler each took one of the roving patrols with an extra SEAL along.
Murdock and Jaybird settled into the humvee. The driver spoke no English. The other Oman soldier knew only a few words of English. Murdock and Jaybird knew no Arabic. It would be an interesting night.
Murdock checked in by Motorola with his men every hour. By midnight there had been no problems. DeWitt’s roving patrol had found two small boys trying to slip in the main gate. They had been caught by the gate guards, given a sound lecture, and sent running back the way they had come.
“They try to steal something,” one of the guards told DeWitt. “If they can’t steal anything, they hope for a gift of food when they are caught.”
The gentle motion of the humvee as it rolled slowly around the compound’s outer road lulled Murdock to sleep. Jaybird shook his shoulder when time came for the radio check.
“Dozed off there a little, Commander,” Jaybird said. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody you went to sleep on guard duty. As I remember, that used to be a hanging offense.”
“Not true,” Murdock said. “It was a simple and immediate firing squad. None of this uniform code of military justice jazz.” He shook his head. “This is tough duty. I’m not used to it.”
The radio net check went without incident.
Just after 0320, Murdock heard gunfire. He got on the net for a report. It came almost at once.
“Skipper. Bradford. We took five rounds of rifle fire here at the ravine under the wall. We returned fire at their flashes but don’t know if we connected. No more firing. The bad guys seem to have vanished.”
“Anything on your NVGs?” Murdock asked.
“Not a thing out there on the night visions, Skipper. We’ll keep a sharp lookout for the next couple of hours. My best bet is they took off like a herd of turtles.”
“Roger, Bradford. Stay tuned.”
The rest of the night was quiet. When the SEALs came back at dawn, they found Lam and Adams waiting for them. Murdock frowned.
“You two were supposed to get a good night’s sleep and heal up for when we need you,” Murdock said.
Adams snorted. “Hail, Skip, I can shoot just as good now as always. Want me to do some push-ups for you? Damn arm hardly hurts at all anymore.”
“Let it heal up, Adams. I catch you doing push-ups, I’ll ship your skinny ass back to the ship and slap you in a hospital bed.”
Adams grinned. “Aye, aye, Commander. Had to give it a try.”
Lam just waved. “Checked out you guys on the Motorola,” he said. Looks like you didn’t need me after all. I was ready to choggie out there to the hot spot.”
Holt walked up to Murdock then, holding out the handset to the SATCOM radio.
“The king of the CIA wants a word,” Holt said.
Murdock took the handset. “Yeah, Stroh, what’s happening?”
“Too much. We just had a report that two more of the small countries around the area are having trouble. There’s a serious challenge to the government in Lebanon. Two regiments of the army have attacked the government offices, and there is heavy fighting. A colonel has declared martial law in Beruit and claims victory. He’s premature. Most experts there say that the loyal Lebanon army and air force will defeat this upstart colonel, but it will be close.”
“You expect there could be trouble here?” Murdock asked.
“Damn right. It looks like every country in and around the Persian Gulf except Iraq and Iran is either being attacked or is having internal problems. It doesn’t seem to be a random situation, according to our Middle East experts in Virginia.”
“So, I’ll warn the authorities here, hope for the best, and be ready for the worst. Any idea how long we are to stay here?”
“Depends on what happens, if and when somebody attacks. Just hang loose.”
“Easy for you to say with three squares a day and a good bed to sleep in. We’ll try. Out.”
Murdock went to find Colonel Khalof. He was in his guarded office. The SEAL commander wondered if the sultan had such good protection. Murdock told the colonel about his talk with Stroh.
“Yes, we have been hearing. It is bad all over. Somebody is rattling everything. At least our army is loyal. There is no chance for a coup here.”
Murdock rubbed his jaw. “Colonel, there’s an open space to the west of the palace. I wonder if it would be possible to pull in a battalion of infantry for some maneuvers.”
“I don’t think that our troops need…” He stopped. “Ah, yes, I see. Have them on hand in case anything happens. Good idea, Commander. I’ll talk with my general. I’m sure that he’ll see the value of a small maneuver program at this time.”
Murdock left, feeling a little better. Most of the SEALs slept the rest of the day. They would go back on guard duty that night at 2100, shortly after dark. They would be ready.
This time, Murdock left Jaybird in the roving patrol and he took the most vulnerable location around the perimeter, the eight-foot stone wall at the back of the grounds. He had also asked the colonel to double the interior guards, especially those around the walls. It was done.
Murdock sat with Harry “Horse” Ronson and his H & K machine gun at a lookout port in the foot-thick stone wall. The slot was three inches high and a foot wide and would barely accommodate the NVGs. Murdock scanned the two hundred yards of cleared area in front of the wall.
Nothing moved.
He gave the goggles to Ronson, who took his turn at the view port.
Slightly after midnight, they surveyed the area again. Ronson grunted.
“Take a look, Skip. We got company.”
Murdock took the NVGs and checked. He saw an infantry squad of uniformed soldiers moving forward slowly, then dropping to the ground. He hit the Motorola.
“Back wall, we have invaders working forward. An
yone else see them? Fire at will.”
A trigger pull later, Ronson laid down a stream of five rounds across the first squad he saw. He could fire through the slot. He checked, then fired a nine-round burst. Murdock checked out another port. Half the men in the lead squad were down. Another squad rushed forward. They were still a hundred yards from the wall.
Murdock heard firing from both sides of his position then. The attacking infantry had no protection, only the semi darkness of a moonlit night.
“Let’s use some mike forties,” Murdock said. He watched through the port, ducked when a scattering of fire slammed into the rock wall, then looked again. Four of the 40mm rounds landed near the moving infantrymen. More men screamed and went down. A dozen kept running forward.
The machine gun chopped into them again, wounding two, then a 40mm WP hit in the middle of the group, spraying its white, superhot burning phosphorus over the troops. Six more went down, screaming at the pain of the instant burns that kept right on burning through cloth, skin, muscle, and bone. The WP was impossible to put out. It had to burn itself up.
Murdock saw the attack slacken, then stop. “More forty mikes,” he said. “Let’s push them back where they came from.”
Six rounds of HE 40mm slammed into the area, knocking down four more of the troops and sending those who could move charging to the rear.
“Let’s hold fire,” Murdock said on the radio. Only then did he realize that none of the sultan’s troops inside the wall had been firing. Unbelievable. Why not? He’d find out as soon as he could locate Major Jabrin. Where was he? Murdock had seen him earlier. He had no communications to use to contact the colonel. He tried the radio, but none of his men had seen Major Jabrin in his own humvee.
Jaybird came on the net. “Skipper. I parked the humvee at the gully under the wall. We got in a few rounds supporting you up there. But now, it’s too fucking quiet. Where did they go? There must be more of them. Why just one try? Got to be coming back again. My guess is they’ll pull back, then hit the hole under the wall.”
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