by J E Higgins
In between the camp relocation and her training duties, she found time to go on a few more recces to build more intelligence against her target. She attempted only one more recce on the enemy base before deciding her concerns were well-founded and security was becoming tighter. The lax and disorganized operation she had first seen had been replaced with a much more efficient and developed set up than what had existed a week ago. The guard posts were better established as were the machine gun positions defending them. Every bridge had a set team with an identified soldier in charge of operating from more established protocols.
In the same period, true to her prediction, security at the town began to tighten up on the Croatian merchants and workers who had been the lifeline of intelligence for the guerrillas and the Croatian forces. Reports came back that the Croatians coming in and going out were now searched thoroughly and many were being denied access to the town altogether. Even inside the town, Croatians were given escorts who stayed with them at all times. They were barred from many sections of the city, especially anywhere near the houses where the Bosnian command operated. Abhajiri certainly knew his business and was onto the growing security threat the Bosnians had for so long overlooked. Although this setback didn’t end the intelligence connection, it certainly limited its effectiveness and general significance.
And just like the bridges, the external security was becoming more cumbersome. Twice in her second recce, she nearly stumbled upon a couple of hidden observation posts manned by Bosnian soldiers. They were set up to cover identified avenues of approach. Trying to maneuver with so many hidden observers would be impossible, particularly when trying to make an escape. Sauwa ended the recce with the understanding that taking her target at his base camp was entirely impractical. The problem was she didn’t see any other truly viable option.
When not training or out on a mission, Sauwa spent much of her time in Marko’s tent pouring over maps and photos of the area and the notes she had jotted down on each recce. She read and re-read her notes and scoured the maps, telling herself she was missing something. But no matter how many times she repeated this exercise, the answer was the same. She gave up on the base and pondered a roadside operation. Eventually, she determined she needed a different location altogether.
Her other missions consisted of studying the vehicle convoys along the road systems. What she hadn’t noticed in her first recce was the paved roadway that cut along the edge of one of the hills overlooking the river. The Bosnians ran several logistical trains over this road every day. It was a lifeline for much of their operation. Strangely, for as much traffic that passed by, she was surprised by the remarkably scarce amount of security that accompanied it. Neither had she failed to notice how little heavy firepower accompanied the convoys themselves. In each case, the security seemed to be relegated to a complement of soldiers riding in the back of a single large troop carrier.
The truck was always covered, which meant the soldiers had no visibility outside. In the event of an actual attack, they would have to get their bearings as they leaped from the vehicle while under fire. Even better, they were all concentrated in a single location. With enough firepower focused on them, they could be neutralized quickly, leaving the rest of the convoy defenseless. It would be a good start for a guerrilla force looking to step up their campaign.
With this in mind, she reviewed her notes and what she got from the dossier. The Iranian was, by all accounts, a field man who took his job seriously. What if they could create an attack hitting the convoy hard enough to warrant a serious response and force the Iranian to come out of the base to review the situation?
As she pursued the idea, she realized there might be a second option for her target after all and began to formulate a plan.
10
Selim Abhajiri had a long career fighting in support of Iran. It had started in his youth when he first joined the thousands of young men answering the cause of the Islamic revolution in the initial stages of the war with Iraq. Luckily for him, the extensive education he had received in Great Britain’s Eton College and later the prestigious military academy at Sandhurst, had spared him the fate of so many of his generation. Young men ─ poorly educated peasants pulled from the countryside ─ lost their lives as martyrs being sent across open minefields, charging into Iraqi machine guns or delivering explosives as suicide bombers. It was a desperate response by the government to combat a much larger, better equipped, and better trained Iraqi army.
What few combat units the Iranians could muster and train were in urgent need of competent leadership after Ayatollah Khomeini had purged the military ranks of most military officers. Abhajiri suddenly found himself an officer in the newly formed Iranian Revolutionary Guard, the Pasdaran. The next ten years saw his career fluctuate between the brutal slaughter of the border war and a series of special assignments to the Mediterranean that took him to the clandestine training camps run by the elite and secretive Force 17.
Force 17 was the special commando unit of the Palestinian military wing. Developed by the infamous terrorist leader, Ali Hassan Salemi, the unit had received extensive training from several of the world’s best commando units: the Soviet Union Spetsnaz, North Korea’s naval combat assault units, East Germany’s naval combat swimmers and Egypt’s and Morocco’s own commando units. Force 17 quickly became the response to the Israeli commando assaults being staged in Lebanon conducting a series of successful infiltrations of their own against the heavily guarded Israeli coastline.
In late 1979, while the revolution was taking over Iran, agents of the Revolutionary Guard approached the Palestinians with a request to help set up and train their own commando unit. This unit would be used to hunt down and eliminate those identified as counter-revolutionaries. At the time, for certain political reasons, the Palestinians declined the request. By the mid-eighties, tension in the Mediterranean had become dire as Israel invaded Lebanon, then the Palestinian stronghold. Desperate for allies, Force 17 began informally opening its training to select members of the Revolutionary Guard and the Iranian supported Hezbollah.
Abhajiri had been one of the few fortunate enough to attend the advanced commando training, at which he excelled, taking part in a few commando missions to gain experience.
He had not necessarily planned on a military career. Sandhurst Military Academy had been more of his father’s idea. Abhajiri proved to be an adept soldier, demonstrating his abilities numerous times on the battlefield and eventually advancing into the officer ranks in the Revolutionary Guard’s elite al-Quds Special Forces unit. Since the end of the war in 1988, he had been part of Iran’s covert strategy, operating in clandestine missions abroad or assisting with training and organizing his country’s allies.
Now in Bosnia, under some meaningless cover that was supposed to give him a reason to be out in the middle of a war zone, he was performing his duty yet again.
He had had many such covers in his life. What was he supposed to be this time? An agricultural specialist? A trade and commerce advisor? Or was it something else? He only needed to know enough to explain his being where he was. And that was a war zone in a country in chaos.
Leaning back in a creaky, wooden chair that sounded as if it would break any second, he watched the frenetic actions of those in the planning office from his place in the corner. The soldiers of the Army of the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina shifted from table to table reviewing their charts, maps, and any recent intelligence reports. They had come a long way since he had arrived several months ago. Back then, the headquarters looked like a badly organized archive of documents spread about in forgotten piles. Intelligence reports were non-existent and each commander planned from their own maps without talking to each other. As a result, units created redundancies and duplicated missions that wasted time and resources.
It had been a fight, but gradually Abhajiri had managed to turn things around. He organized a more fluid system, establishing a general map where all forces and their locations were
identified. He implemented evening briefings to ensure all commanders were aware of the missions going on around them, so the Colonel in charge could better direct resources and make decisions. The Iranian also persuaded the command to develop a more sophisticated intelligence system by having units report back to a designated intelligence officer to be debriefed when returning from a mission. This was a step up from the previous arrangement, whereby soldiers would recount their mission over meals in the mess tent.
Thankfully, while many of the officers were resistant to change, the Pukovnik (Colonel) commanding the unit was interested in bettering the disposition of his operation. The Colonel took the Iranian advisor’s ideas seriously. In the last few months, the Bosnian forces had scored several key victories against the encroaching Serb forces, driving them back and securing the immediate area.
Colonel Hvardic Mjovich, satisfied with his victory dispatching the Serbs, now wanted to direct his attention to the Croatian guerrillas operating in the area. A little less than a year ago the Croatian and Bosnian leaders had decided to realign themselves after the Croatians broke the first alliance to side with the Serbs. Bad blood remained among the rank and file levels and fighting between military units persisted. Colonel Mjovich had little love for the Croatians, who he regarded as opportunists and traitors. Whether his government had ordered it or not, he continued to engage the Croatian fighters.
Abhajiri had tried to dispel his Bosnian hosts of such a notion, judging it as a waste of time and resources. However, the troops shared the Colonel’s attitude, and it was in their interest to keep such hostility alive to better their own relationship with the Muslim Bosnians. Abhajiri had decided to let the issue go where it would.
Draining his tea, the Iranian took one last look around the planning office. Determining matters were well in hand, he stood up and made his way to the door.
Outside, the chilled air caught him off guard. He wrapped his coat more tightly around his body and raised the collar to keep the cold air off his neck. He crossed the road and gazed up at the surrounding hillside. The trees covering the lower portions of the elevated areas made him nervous. Too many comrades had survived vicious battles only to die in the safety of a base camp by a well-aimed shot from a sniper. One had died less than a meter away from Abhajiri while in the middle of a conversation.
Snipers in this war were used heavily by all sides with great effectiveness. Yet, outside the cities, commanders tended to focus more on the conventional military threats ─ the severity of artillery barrages or the slaughter brought on by heavy machine gun fire ─ and not consider the lone gunmen firing single shots from a distance. To them, snipers were an annoyance, nothing more, so when Abhajiri had broached the issue with the Bosnian command, it received only mild attention.
Once across the road, Abhajiri entered a house like the one he had just left. Inside, men with senior insignias on their uniforms were having a meeting. This was the strategy center for the command. In the room he’d just left, officers gathered day to day information and moved pieces on maps. This room was used to discuss the longer-term strategies and plans for their area and situation.
Colonel Mjovich sat at the head of an elongated wood table like a king presiding over his court. Flanking him were his senior officers. Further down the table were commanders of the various sub-units. The mood was somber, not festive nor defeated. At the moment, the room was still, except for Mjovich, whose finger tapped rhythmically on the table.
“Anything of interest to report?” The Colonel broke the silence. His question was directed at Abhajiri.
“Nothing you don’t already know,” Abhajiri said casually. He rounded the table and took a seat directly across from the senior commander. “The Serbs are still in retreat. So far, they are showing no sign of building any counter-offensive. I still advise keeping their feet to the fire and remaining relentless in your push.”
The Colonel continued tapping his finger as if he were composing a musical piece. “I concur. Ensure all priority is given to that effort. I don’t want to give those bastard Serbs a chance to regroup. In less than a week, we should have this area fully under our control.”
Heads bobbed along the table, accompanied by wide toothy grins of satisfaction. This had been the news these men had wanted to hear for almost a year.
Mjovich looked over at the Iranian and gave him a complimentary nod of the head. The Colonel knew it had been the counsel of his foreign associate that had been the decisive factor. Through Abhajiri, they had effectively neutralized the guerrilla elements working behind their lines on behalf of the Serb army, the Jugoslavenska Narodna Armija (Yugoslav National Army) or (JNA). Abhajiri had also been instrumental in aiding in the planning and coordination that turned the tables on what would have been a Serb victory.
“Now comes the next part of our business,” the Colonel scratched his salt-n-pepper beard. “The Croatian scum must be dealt with. We have sightings of armed bands of Croatian guerrillas in the area. Until now we have overlooked them in our area because they haven’t been much of a threat.”
“Disorganized nuisances really,” snorted one of the junior commanders.
“Exactly,” Mjovich smiled but only for a moment. “We are supposed to be in an alliance with the HVO bastards again.” The room returned to silence. All eyes were on the Colonel anticipating his next words. “Just because politicians make peace sitting across a table in comfortable offices doesn’t mean the men fighting and dying can so easily forget such betrayal.”
The support in the room for the commander’s words was palpable. “I don’t care what some piece of paper scribbled with a bunch of ink says. They betrayed us because they wanted more land for themselves. They’re greedy and treacherous, and I want them off Bosnian land just as much as I want the fucking Serbs gone. Now is the time to discuss our second front in this war. We need to intensify our campaign against the Croats. Up ‘til now, you have had mild engagements with them. From this point, your orders are to engage the Croatian military or suspected guerrillas when you see them. I think it’s time we begin the next phase ─ initiate a more active seek-and-destroy mission.”
Abhajiri remained silent throughout these pronouncements. He did not feel it prudent to interrupt during such emotional tirades. He didn’t deny the grievance and suspicions the Bosnians had for the Croatians. The Croatians had broken the initial alliance and allied themselves with the Serbs with the understanding they could carve out their own land in the deal. He certainly did not object to the continued hostility against the Croatian army, the HVO. His own government wished to promote any rift that would isolate the Muslims from other factions.
It was the campaign against the alleged guerrillas that concerned the Iranian. There hadn’t been much conflict thus far with the Croatians residing in the area. And, Mjovich and his subordinates seemed to have a very liberal definition when it came to who they described or considered guerrillas. At a time when the Serb army presented the greatest threat, he thought the eagerness of the Bosnians to commit to such an aggressive measure was dangerously unwise. But Abhajiri had always opted to choose his words and moments carefully. This time was no different.
After riling his men, Colonel Mjovich moved to discuss the planning. “From the reports we have received, these guerrillas have taken to setting up encampments in the forests. We need to locate these camps. Once we do, we can take measures to eradicate the threat. I have been conferring with our esteemed friend.” He waved his hand in the direction of Abhajiri. “He has helped us devise a strategy to more efficiently execute this operation so that we are not clowning around out there.”
The Iranian gave a reluctant and awkward bow from his chair not knowing how else to respond.
The Colonel pressed on. “Please, sir, if you would. What is your advice?”
All eyes were now on the Iranian waiting for his wisdom. His initial thoughts were to explain the sheer stupidity of the plan and encourage them to abandon the idea. He envision
ed second and third order effects they may not be prepared to deal with. But it was not the right time.
He rose and walked over to a large map hung across an entire wall of the house. “Right now, what we need to be focused on is the intelligence portion of this operation. As the commander has stated, we have begun to focus on these guerrillas. We know little about them other than they exist and are operating in our forests. So far, they have been active only against the Serbs and even then only on a small scale. We need to figure out their level of training, capabilities, and any support they are getting from the HVO or whether the HVO is directing them at all. We can figure this out by capturing a few of these folks and getting the information from them. Next, we isolate the areas where these camps might be located. If we control their movement, we can marginalize their threat. Close them off gradually before locating their camps and eventually neutralizing them entirely.”
The room was a chorus of congratulatory hums and grunts. Colonel Mjovich smiled, a broad grin glowing from under his thick beard.
Having satisfied his audience, the Iranian returned to his seat. The meeting returned to the issue of the Serbs. They finalized the last details of their plans regarding the campaign. It ended with the officers feeling confident and anticipating the satisfaction of a victory. The room emptied except for Abhajiri and Mjovich.
The two men stared at each other.
“I have some reservations about your plan,” Abhajiri said simply.
“The Croats?” the Bosnian snorted. “I understand you think it might be too early diverting more resources to dealing with them.”
“It’s not that,” the Iranian cut in. “I just feel that the Croatians have not presented any threat so far, nor does it look like they plan anything from all accounts we’ve received. I fear that if we pursue this agenda, we might exacerbate a problem we don’t need.”
“Don’t need!” Mjovich blurted. “I do appreciate your advice. My officers and I have benefitted greatly from your council. But this is not your country, and you don’t understand the politics. I don’t want to wait until these guerrillas organize enough to be a threat, and the Croat leadership decides to betray us again.”
