by Harold Coyle
Seeing that the major's eyes betrayed no fear, no hesitation, Jefferson knew that he was serious. Without another thought, he decided it was time to pass this off to someone who got paid to deal with this kind of crap. "Okay, Major, you and your driver stay right here. I'm going to get my CO out here. He'll know what to do." Suddenly, Jefferson laughed as he thought about his young company commander. Like hell he'll know, Jefferson thought. Like hell.
63 kilometers north of monterrey, mexico
2230 hours, 18 September '
As
they waited for the Mexican Army colonel to be shown in, Big Al sat in a chair turned sideways at an old wooden table, staring at the floor with a vacant look on his face while Dixon nervously paced. The only sound was the hiss of the kerosene lantern that sat on the table and provided the only light in the room.
That he was allowing himself to be sucked into this was as much a surprise to Malin as it was to his staff. Big Al had no doubt that what he was about to do far exceeded his authority. Both he and Dixon knew that, when this incident was reviewed by people back in Washington, D.C., sitting in air-conditioned offices after having had a good night's sleep in a clean bed followed by a hearty breakfast, no amount of reasoning or logic would be able to save them. After all, the entire affair sounded more like a script from a mystery movie than a military operation.
From
the beginning, everything, from the appearance of the Mexican Army major to their covert meeting in an old ranch house just behind the front line trace, was so unreal, so new. Even the means of contacting the Mexican minister of defense had been strange, almost comical. When Dixon had asked Major Caso how they were to give Colonel Guajardo their response, Caso had informed them that the postmaster in Sabinas Hidalgo had a secret phone line that the leader of the local guerrilla unit had been using for receiving his orders and reporting American troop movements. "We are," Caso told the Americans with a smile, "keeping that line open so that, when you are ready, it will ring in Colonel Guajardo's forward command post in Saltillo."
Still, Big Al had decided that it was a chance worth taking. Therefore, without so much as a word to the corps commander, Big Al and Dixon had gone to the ranch that served as a battalion CP to meet with Colonel Guajardo, minister of defense and member of the Council of 13, in order to find out what he knew about Congressman Lewis and Jan.
When the door opened, an infantryman, his M-16 held at the ready, entered the room, then stepped aside to make way for the tall Mexican officer who was following him. In the shimmering light, both Big Al and Dixon recognized Colonel Guajardo. Stepping up to the edge of the table, opposite where Big Al was seated, Guajardo stopped and saluted. "Colonel Alfredo Guajardo, at your service, General Malin."
Big Al, caught off guard, stood, returned the salute, and then, without thinking, reached over the table and offered Guajardo his right hand.
Mechanically, Guajardo took the general's hand and shook it. For a brief moment, while they still held each other's hand, the two opposing commanders stared into each other's eyes. It was as if they were gauging each other's strength and honesty.
Big Al took his seat while Guajardo pulled a chair out on his side of the table and sat down. Dixon, standing in the corner, caught the attention of the infantryman who had escorted Guajardo into the room. "That will be all, soldier. Close the door when you leave."
Without hesitation, the soldier saluted Big Al with his rifle and left the room, executing sharp, quick turns as he did so. When the door shut, Big Al waved over at Dixon. "This, Colonel Guajardo, is Lieutenant Colonel
'"
Dixon, my operations officer."
Guajardo and Dixon looked-at each other and nodded. How peculiar, Guajardo thought, that he should finally have the opportunity to meet Jan Fields's lover under such circumstances. Still, Guajardo knew, these
were strange times. At times like this, nothing, not even this improbable meeting, a meeting between men who were supposed to be trying to kill each other, was odd.
Not understanding why Guajardo was staring at Dixon, Big Al hastened to explain his operations officer's presence. "I brought him along as a sort of note taker, nothing more. You see, Colonel, my memory isn't what it used to be." Then Big Al turned and shot Dixon a glance that could only mean "Keep your mouth shut and ears open."
Guajardo nodded. "I understand. It is no problem." Then, leaning forward, he placed two folders before Big Al. "I am in your debt for honoring my request for a parley. Under the circumstances, had you refused, I would have understood."
Big Al grunted. "Hell, Colonel. After the thumping your people gave me outside of Monterrey the other day, my career is in the shitter anyway."
The
attempt by Big Al to put him at ease, and the compliment, whether intentional or not, pleased Guajardo. Perhaps, he thought, this would not S
be as hard as he had expected. "The folders in front of you, General, each contain a copy of a report I submitted after interrogating a mercenary being employed by a man named Alaman."
At the mention of Alaman, Big Al snapped his head around and looked at Dixon. Guajardo saw the reaction and the surprised look on their faces.
They already know, he thought, something about this. But how? Was their CIA that good? When Big Al looked back at him, Guajardo continued.
"Rather than my trying to explain, it might help if you both read through these. The translation of the report is far better than my English."
Big
Al handed one of the folders to Dixon before he began to read his copy. As the two men read, Guajardo watched them, looking for a reaction.
When neither man showed any, Guajardo knew that the Americans already knew something about Alaman and his mercenaries. For a fleeting moment, Guajardo panicked. Were the Americans, he wondered, in league with Alaman? Had they, in order to provoke a war with Mexico and occupy its northern states, used Alaman to instigate a war? Were the Americans capable of such a thing?
Guajardo's mind was still racing with such thoughts when Dixon, and then Big Al finished reading the report and closed the folders. Tossing his copy onto the table, Dixon turned to Big Al. "It agrees with what the G2's people got out of the Colombian."
Big Al nodded. Then, seeing that Guajardo was looking at them with quizzical eyes, he explained. "We found a wounded Colombian mercenary at a checkpoint that Alamn's men hit ten kilometers from where we found Congressman Lewis's vehicle and the dead escort officer and driver." Big Al thumped the report with his finger. "Although he didn't provide as much detail as this Lefleur character, everything that he told us agrees with what Lefleur said." Big Al paused, sucking in a deep breath before he continued. "We, our nations, have been had. The question is, Colonel Guajardo, what do you expect us to do? Why did your government not take this through diplomatic channels to my government? Why go through us?"
"That will be done, at the proper time. But first, there are things that need to be done before Alaman and his people find out how much we know about them. To do these things, I need your help, General Malin.
And you, mine. You see, my government has already been corrupted by Alaman. There are members of the Council of 13 who no longer support our efforts and have been providing information to this bastard. Although I could, eventually, pull together a force of loyal soldiers, it would take too long. My best and most capable leaders are scattered all over Mexico, many of them operating behind your lines as leaders of guerrilla units. By the time I pulled them back, your congressman and Miss Fields would be dead."
The mention of Jan's name caused Dixon to straighten up. "You know where she is?"
Guajardo nodded. "Lefleur has agreed to lead us to their base camp."
Big Al looked at Dixon, then Guajardo. "This man has already betrayed his boss and comrades. Can he be trusted?"
Guajardo's response was dry and cold. "Lefleur is a mercenary. Trust has nothing to do with this. His only concern is money and survival. He must survive in or
der to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Lefleur has no loyalty to Alaman. He would receive no bonus that he could enjoy by dying for him. There is no honor or principle attached to what Lefleur has done. He is a businessman, a man who provided Alaman a service and received money for that service. Right now, Lefleur is no longer in a position to provide that service or to be paid. At the present time, it is in his own best interests to cooperate." Then, as a fleeting smile crept across his face, Guajardo added, "Besides, Lefleur and I have an understanding."
After
thinking about Guajardo's response, Big Al looked at Dixon, then back to Guajardo. "You obviously have something in mind, Colo nel."
"Yes, I do. Based on what Lefleur has told me, the congressman and Miss Fields are, probably, still alive. But that will not last for long. Once the mercenaries figure out that Lefleur is not coming back, they will assume the worst and move their base camp. When they do this, we will have nothing. Therefore, it is critical that we act soon if you are to save your people and I am to find a way to Alaman. Therefore, I am offering you the services of Lefleur as a guide, and safe passage through our front lines and into our rear for a raiding party."
Dixon came over to the table and leaned over toward Guajardo. "If you know where this base camp is, and you have Lefleur as a guide, why do you need us?"
In tones that were dispassionate and cold, Guajardo explained. "The mercenaries are holding an important member of your Congress and a noted television reporter hostage. Even if you believe this report, how would your government and your people react if, during a raid by my people, your congressman and reporter were killed?"
Dixon stood up. Jan had told him, on several occasions, that Colonel Guajardo was a cold, calculating bastard. While what he proposed made sense, it didn't make it any more palatable. If the Mexican Army tried to save Lewis and Jan but failed, they would get the blame. By letting the Americans go in, the Mexicans got rid of the mercenaries and, as a bonus, washed their hands of all responsibility for whatever happened to Lewis and Jan. It was, for Guajardo, a true win-win situation.
JBig Al, coming to the same conclusion as Dixon had, thought about Guajardo's offer. "What, Colonel, do you expect in return?"
"First, I will accompany the assault. I will bring Lefleur with me. He should prove useful in helping us find our way about. Second, I will use my own helicopter. Although I realize that my Bell 212 will be slower than your Blackhawks, it is important that I go into battle in one of our own aircraft, not an American aircraft."
Dixon shot a glance at Big Al. Big Al could tell by Dixon's expression that he didn't like the idea of including a Mexican helicopter in any operation they would be running. But Big Al, who had worked with other military forces, understood exactly what Guajardo was doing. As the minister of defense, the leader of the Mexican armed forces, and a member of the Council of 13, Guajardo was an important man in Mexico. As such, he had an image which he had to maintain. Even though the operation would be an all-American effort, it would be politically suicidal for Guajardo to be carried into battle in an American helicopter. For him to do so would make it look as if he didn't trust his own pilots and equipment and, more importantly, that he had to depend on the Americans for everything. That would never do in a nation where appearances were often more important than fact. Although it was pure tokenism, Big Al knew the Mexican helicopter had to go and, more importantly, it had to make it.
"Finally," Guajardo continued, "I must be given the one named Delapos, who is the leader of these mercenaries, alive, at the end of the raid."
For a moment, Big Al waited for more demands. But there were none.
"Is that all? What about after the raid?"
Guajardo smiled. "We, General, are soldiers. What happens after the raid is best handled by the politicians and diplomats. It would be foolish for us to become involved with anything other than the immediate problem."
Both
Big Al and Dixon agreed. By keeping it at that level, they would be able to justify their action. Although the rules of engagement that they currently were operating under forbade U.S. forces from crossing over the front line held by Mexican forces, they did allow commanders to take whatever actions they deemed necessary to protect American lives. As Big Al saw it, he had the authority and the responsibility to do what Guajardo proposed. Without any further thought, Big Al decided to do it.
When he stood up, Guajardo did likewise.
"When, Colonel Guajardo, do we go?"
"Tomorrow."
Headquarters, 16th Armored Division, Sabinas Hidalgo, Mexico 0105 hours, 19 September
Big Al and Dixon started planning while they were en route back to the division main command post. Poring over data concerning the area of operations and disposition of Mexican forces as well as information provided by Lefleur that Guajardo's aide had given them, they developed several options and discussed them. By the time the general's command and control helicopter landed at the CP, they had already come up with a basic concept and some rules of engagement that would govern the operation. One thing that both men agreed on was that the fewer people that knew and were involved, the better.
Once they were on the ground, they called in the division G2. Together, in a van that served as the commanding general's office, Dixon and the intelligence officer drafted a plan that Big Al approved. Next came the question as to what forces would be used and who would command them. Dixon recommended that Captain Cerro, an officer who had conducted numerous air-assault operations, be designated as the ground force commander. Big Al concurred and sent his aide to roust Cerro out of bed.
Next, the question of troops came up. It was decided that only a single infantry platoon, supported by attack helicopters, would be necessary.
Fewer people on the ground and fewer aircraft in the air meant less confusion. With so little time to prepare, it was mandatory that everything be done to keep the plan simple. Besides, the division had to stay within its limited resources. The division did not have a lot of UH-60
Blackhawks available for troop transport. So one platoon, possibly reinforced, was the limit. The division aviation officer concurred. Since he would plan and coordinate the air movement, he had been added to the growing conference. There would be no time, he pointed out, for the air crews making the raid to do a rehearsal before the actual event. If for no other reason than that, it was critical that the number of aircraft involved be as few as possible.
When Cerro arrived, Dixon quickly briefed him on the mission, his role, and what had been discussed up to that point. When he was asked if he had any recommendations as to where the platoon should come from, Cerro didn't hesitate. He told Dixon that the 2nd Platoon, Company A, 2nd of the 13th Infantry should go. They were, after alii right there at the division CP, they had been tested in combat and had done well, and they were rested. When Big Al asked who the platoon leader was and Cerro informed him, there was silence in the van.
In the silence that followed Cerro's recommendation, he watched Dixon look at Big Al, and Big Al, in turn, look back at Dixon. Cerro knew what the problem was, a problem no one, apparently, was going to be the first to mention. Looking at Big Al, Cerro stated, without any flourishes, without undue emotion, that Nancy Kozak was as good as they came and if he was going to go in, he wanted her and her platoon to go with him. Big Al smiled as he looked about the room. "Well, that's good enough for me. Scotty, would you have my aide go get Lieutenant Kozak?"
Shaken out of a sound sleep, Kozak took a minute to understand that the man who was shaking her was the general's aide. It took her even longer to understand what he wanted. Crawling out of her sleeping bag, she rummaged about for her gear for several minutes, slowly pulling herself together as the aide waited impatiently. Finally ready, Kozak followed the aide to the general's van.
Though she had seen the vans that made up the division main command post, she had never been in them. It was, to her, like entering another world. The radios, telephones, computers, and o
ther electrical equipment that did things she had no idea about made her platoon's radios look puny. As they went through vans, along ramps, past staff officers, and around desks piled high with stacks of paper, Kozak didn't notice a single officer below the rank of captain. She was, she realized, walking through the rarefied air of a higher headquarters. She hardly noticed the stares of both staff officers and NCOs who wondered, just as she did, what she was doing there.
Finally, they arrived at the commanding general's van. The aide knocked, then opened the door without waiting for a response. He, however, did not go in. Instead, he motioned for her to enter. As she walked into the van, her helmet on and rifle slung over her right shoulder, she felt like a Christian entering the arena. The stare of the faces that turned toward the door as she entered only served to reinforce that feeling.
Once inside the door, Kozak stopped. Reaching across, she grabbed the sling of her rifle with her left hand and saluted with her right. "Sir, Lieutenant Kozak reporting."
For a moment, Big Al looked at her. Her uniform was dirty and torn.
Her gear was hanging about her loosely. Her face still showed the results of her broken nose, and of her having been awakened in the middle of the night: patches of black and blue under drawn, baggy eyes.
Turning to Cerro, Big Al dryly commented, "I thought you said they were rested."
Cerro shrugged. "Sir, that's what a well-rested infantryman looks like."
As Dixon, the G2, and the aviation officer laughed, Kozak looked at Cerro, then at the general. When she spoke, she surprised everyone but Cerro. Though her comment made no sense, its meaning and the enthusiasm with which it was delivered were understood by all. "Sir, 2nd Platoon is ready and can do."
The laughing stopped. Big Al looked at Cerro and nodded his approval.
"If the rest of the platoon is like her, they'll do."
Then, after looking at Cerro and then the general, Kozak asked, a little less enthusiastically, "Excuse me, but what is it exactly, sir, we're supposed to do?"
