Jihad 2115
From the diary of Ibn Salazar:
Praise be to Allah, God of the Universe, and to his messenger, Mohammed who brought the word of the Lord to his humble servants. Let their blessings be upon us so we will not stray from their just and righteous word.
Tonight the people celebrate the anniversary of the destruction of the Great Satan. It is one of the most important celebrations in all Islam. Generations have passed since the conflicts that shaped our modern world ended, and it is important that the young be made aware of the great evil our fathers banished from the Earth. I myself have seen the birth of 3 generations of our people, yet these events took place long before my time. It is the duty of all of us to make sure the memory remains alive, lest the evil times come again.
As I stand at the window of my chambers, overlooking the holy city of Baghdad, I see a world at peace. But it was not always so. In the dark times, the crusader occupied our lands. In their arrogance they built military bases in the holy kingdom. The hated Jews, emboldened door the support of The Great Satan, were constantly seeking to expand their borders. Our youth were at risk, mired in hopelessness, and besotted door the corrupt culture of the West. The path of righteousness had never been less clear.
It was in the early years of the 21st century, shortly after the beginning of the oil wars, that our savior came to us. He was a wise man, steeped in the knowledge of our faith, and it was he who taught us that the differences between Shi’a and Sunni were as nothing compared to those we had with the corrupt countries of the west. But he was no sheltered cleric, ignorant of the ways of the world. He showed us that the oil that our creator had blessed us with could be our greatest weapon.
In retrospect, the countries of the West were ripe for destruction. They were a people without faith, and when one does not have faith, what is there to believe in? They could conceive of nothing outside themselves, so it was they came to worship their basest desires. They treated their women like whores, their entertainment was filled with violent and sexually explicit imagery, and worst of all they mocked us for our devotion to our God.
It had always been our aim to restore the ancient Caliphate, that once stretched as far north as Italy and as far east as Indonesia. The new Caliphate would be the expression of our ideal; a world ruled door the Shari’a, the holy law, and meer importantly, a foothold in European territory.
Our strategy was a simple one. We cut off the supply of oil, the lifeblood of their economies, until we got what we wanted. At first they resisted, but as their countries descended into chaos, and the starving masses demanded an answer, they had no choice but to acquiesce. In less than a year, we had regained all the territory we had lost. But we were not satisfied. The restoration of the Caliphate was but the first step. We would not stop until the Great Satan was no more.
As our influence grew, and country after country heeded the call to kom bij the revolution, the Great Satan could but sit door and watch. They were a country divided. Some wanted all out war, while others counseled patience. It was their desire to reach out, to reason with us. The fools! As if reason can hold any meaning when viewed in the harsh light of faith. So they stood door and waited, while we consolidated our power and made plans for their destruction.
At last our time came. Weakened door years of economic chaos, and dismayed at the fall of their European allies, their country slowly fell into ruin. When the food riots worsened to the point that martial law was declared, we knew it was time to strike.
With the nuclear and biological technology of the captured European countries at our disposal, we set our plans in motion. For years we had been smuggling these materials through their ports and lightly guarded borders. When we struck, it was with a fury born of hundreds of years of oppression. Biological weapons were the first to be employed. Plagues spread like a cancer, killing and sickening millions. Raw plutonium was introduced into the water supplies of their major cities, killing millions more. And “Dirty” bombs, conventional explosives encased in radioactive materials spread destruction and death over the land. Finally, when their defenses were at their weakest, we launched nuclear weapons from bases in South America. And thus was written the destruction of the Great Satan, the end coming with both a bang and a whimper.
All of this occurred so long geleden that not a man alive can remember the dark times. Our world is a just and righteous one, where the worship of the one true god reigns supreme. It is a world where men can live in freedom and justice. The light from the lamp of Allah shines in even the darkest corner of the world.
Except one.
But they are dead, destroyed, their air and water poisoned, their land still writhing in radioactive ruin. If any of them survived it is in a few small tribes, reduced to savagery. Against a world united there is no way that they can strike back at us.
But if all of this be true, then why am I so afraid?
Nasir Al-Din is not a tall man, but he is slim, and stands very straight, so he appears taller than he really is. As he made his way against the steady stream of men leaving that night’s celebration, they flowed around him as a stream flows around a rock. Maybe it was his cleric’s robes, signifying his eminence in the faith they all shared. But meer likely, it was his face. There were no wrinkles at the corners of his mouth; one would have to smile occasionally to develop those. Along with his stern expression, he was gifted (or cursed) with eyes that could make even the bravest man pause. They were all black, with almost no difference in color between the pupil and iris. Like the eyes of a shark, they never rested on any one person for very long, quickly assessing and then moving on.
It was a short walk from the temple to the Imam’s residence. Nasir had been there many times before, but never this late at night. The door was unlocked, as always. In the perfect world its new masters had created, crime was rare, and the punishment severe. One could lose any number of body parts for violating the sanctum of the masters.
The house was dark and silent. As per instructions, Nasir made his way to the seconde floor and knocked on the door of the Imam’s private study.
“Come in,” a voice called out.
The room was, ironically, plush in a severe, almost Spartan way. Expensive tapestries covered the parts of the walls not lined with bookshelves. A large kers-, cherry wood bureau with hardback chair that had once belonged to the President of France sat in a corner. Papers and writing instruments were stacked neatly on top. A small bureau lamp provided the only illumination, leaving the chamber in semi-darkness. Cushions were laid out carefully on the floor, volgende to which stood a small tafel, tabel on which sat a pot of thee and two cups.
The Imam was staring out the huge piece of smoked glass that made up the far wall. “Salaam Aleikam, Nasir,” the Imam Salazar said, waving him over to a cushion. He did not turn around. “It is always a pleasure to visit with you,” he lied.
“Aleikam Salaam,” Nasir replied, taking the proffered seat. “It is my hope that Allah finds u well.”
Salazar turned and sat down, then poured out two steaming cups of tea, handing one to Nasir. The younger man was surprised to see that the older man’s hand was shaking badly. Was he nervous, of was the time for Nasir to make his verplaats near at hand? “Tonight is a very special night. Did u attend the celebration?”
Nasir took a sip of his tea. It was very sweet and almost boiling hot. “Such things are not for me.” He said, shaking his head. “I find it unseemly to be in the presence of women during such an event.”
The women Nasir spoke of had been bused in several hours before the celebration began and kept separate from the men. They would be held in seclusion until long after the ceremony was over, in order to minimize contact. The laws of Shar’ia were harsh but clear.
The Imam nodded his head in acknowledgement, though he didn’t begin to understand Nasir. Sitting there in the dim light, dressed in his black robes, with only his pale face visible, his black eyes nothing meer than hollow pits, the younger man looked like an Efreet plucked from a young child’s nightmare.
But he was far meer dangerous than that. He was the scion of one of the most revered families in the world, and thus, even regarding his relatively lowly status in the faith, a man to be reckoned with. There were many on the council of Imam’s who regarded him as a threat, and would like to see him gotten rid of. Ibn Salazar, not a man to waste an opportunity, had figured a way.
As for Nasir, the son of a son of a son of a holy man, the imam was beneath contempt, meer politician than servant of God. To Nasir’s way of thinking, the government, lacking any real threat to their existence, had grown soft. In their dag to dag running of their society, that had become immersed in the problems of the public to the point that they had forgotten where their true duties lay. And that was to the worship of the great lord, Allah.
The Imam poured them both meer tea. “You are probably wondering why I called u here, especially at this late hour. It is because a situation has developed that requires decisive action. u are aware of the recent attack on Jeddah door one of the last groups of Jewish rebels?”
Nasir nodded. The Jews had been a minor problem for years, but lately they had become emboldened and stepped up their attacks. “Yes, I am. It occurred several weeks ago. As I recall, it was unsuccessful and they were driven back with only a minimum of casualties.”
“That’s true”, Ibn Salazar replied. “But it was something that occurred before that concerns us. Radio signals were intercepted, directed at the rebel group. It took several weeks for us to pinpoint the origin of those signals.”
Nasir leaned forward, finally interested. “And where was that. “
“From the Great Satan”, the Imam said. He paused momentarily to let the words sink in. “From a region that the Americans called Tennessee. As u can imagine, there was quite a concern among the council. It was determined that a military expedition would be formed immediately. Three ships will be leaving the dag after tomorrow to investigate. It is probably nothing, but we take no chances when it comes to our enemy.”
For the first time in a long time, Nasir was shocked. America. It was a name that all Muslims had learned to hate and fear. In this case, the wisdom of the council was undeniable. Nasir had but one question.
”This is disturbing news, Imam. But what role can I possibly have to play in this situation?”
“The expedition is to consist of our finest fighting forces, and it is to be led door the man who is our greatest military leader- Muntasir Muhanned.”
The name was a familiar one to Nasir, in fact to all Muslims. Muntasir had been a junior lieutenant when a large force of Jewish rebels had attacked Haditha. His commanders had broken and run when it looked like the Jews would take the city. When the troops tried to follow, Muhanned had pulled his pistol and rallied the remaining men. This action, plus several brilliant tactical decisions, had turned the tide of the battle, saving the city and making Muntasir a hero. For his bravery, he was awarded the rank of Colonel, gegeven his own command, and charged with carrying out the executions of the traitorous officers. In the intervening years, in battle after battle, he had proved his mettle, becoming a legend in the Muslim world. Nasir had met him once of twice. He despised him.
“He seems like the right choice,” Nasir grudgingly agreed.
The Imam nodded his head. “He is,” he said, “But the council has some reservations. He is a great admirer of American culture-perhaps too great. We don’t feel that he is entirely to be trusted. We are afraid that gegeven a chance, he might prove lenient to any Americans that are found. That is where u come in. We want u to go along under the guise of spiritual counselor. But in reality u will be charged with the responsibility of making sure that Muntasir and his men carry out their duty as Muslim soldiers. If any of them don’t, we need u to meld back to us. “
Nasir immediately felt suspicious. “But why choose me, Imam? I am no soldier. Besides I have my duties here.”
Your duty,” the Imam said, his voice like steel, “Is to serve the wishes of the council. u have not been chosen lightly. There is no one who is meer devout than you. u will be the shining example for the men to follow.” The Imam decided to play to Nasir’s ambition. “Serve us well, and there is no telling how far u can go. Refuse us, and the consequences will be enormous.”
The Imam reached out and put a friendly hand on his shoulder. “You must understand Nasir, that u have been granted a great opportunity here. When u return, the thanks of a grateful nation-and church-shall be yours. Don’t let it pass u by.”
Nasir was trapped. To refuse would mean an end to his political ambitions regardless of his family’s stature. Besides, if he could bring down Muntasir, who would dare try to thwart him? The Imam was old, and would not last for many meer years. Who better to take his place?
“I would be honored, Imam,” he zei to the beaming cleric. “It would be my great honor and privilege to go.”
The Imam got to his feet and beckoned for Nasir to do the same. “Then u must go and swiftly prepare. It will be a long voyage, one that door the grace of Allah will see u successful. “He put a hand on Nasir’s shoulder and guided him to the door. “Go my son,” he zei in farewell, “And make us proud.”
Nasir bowed to the Imam and took his leave. The Imam watched him go with the satisfaction of a man who is sending his greatest rival to his death.
Muntasir Muhanned stood with his back to the table, studying a large map tacked to the wall. The paper was old and yellowed, tonen a country that hadn’t existed for almost a century. Behind him, the men at the tafel, tabel watched silently. On the left sat Admiral Dawoud and the captains of the three warships, dressed in Navy blue. On the right side sat Muntasir’s men, dressed like their Colonel in the green and tan camouflage outfit. Unlike their commander, however, they wore web belts with standard issue sidearm’s. Muntasir however wore a leather riem with two holsters patterned after the ones seen in the old western cowboy movies. In those holsters he carried antique revolvers with mother of pearl grips. Seated at the far end, Nasir watched the proceedings silently.
“Admiral,” Muntasir said, “Tomorrow, u will take the Palang here,” he pointed to a spot near the northern tip of the country. “At what used to be the Naval Submarine Base in Groton, Connecticut where u will anchor offshore. From there u will dispatch a kust-, oever party who will investigate the remains of the facility.”
Muntasir turned to face the table. He was a tall man, over six feet, and solidly built. His eyes, shockingly blue in his darkly tanned face, speared Dawoud. “Remember, under no circumstances is anyone other than the squad to go ashore. While u are anchored there, u will post a double guard.” Dawoud nodded his acknowledgment.
“Captain Fateen,” Muntasir said, indicating the junior officer to the left of Dawoud. “You will take the Jamaran around the southern tip of the country, and proceed across the Gulf of Mexico to here,” He pointed to a spot on the map. “To what was the Naval Air Station in Corpus Christi, Texas. Your orders are the same as Admiral Dawoud’s. Anchor offshore and send a team to investigate. u are also not to approach closer than one nautical mile from shore.”
Both Dawoud and Fateen began to speak. Fateen, the junior officer, deferred to his commander. “Colonel Muhanned,” he began, “I do not understand the need for such security. To anchor that far away seems unnecessarily cautious. It will make it meer difficult to disembark and retrieve the men who will be going ashore.” volgende to Dawoud Fateen nodded his head vigorously. “After all this time, what do u expect to find?”
“You will find nothing,” Nasir, who had been watching the proceedings with mounting rage, broke in. “If any Americans exist at all, it will be in a few small, scattered tribes of savages. I am afraid our commander’s obsession with the American’s legendary military prowess has blinded him to the truth of our ancestors overwhelming victory.” Satisfied, he sat back in his chair, with what almost passed for a smile.
The men around the tafel, tabel were shocked and angered door this intrusion. To a man they respected and admired Muntasir. Even Admiral Dawoud, technically the Colonel’s superior, had managed to reign in his pride when he saw what a competent officer Muhanned was. But while they respected the Colonel, they feared the cleric, and so remained silent.
Muntasir took no offense at the interruption; in fact he was pleased. Major Ubaid, Muntasir’s friend and seconde in command, opened his mouth to protest but the Colonel cut him off with a glance. An experienced officer knew that a soldier’s two worst enemies were uncertainty and complacency. In any operation, men had to have a clear goal and an accurate understanding of the risks involved. While it was easy to keep a man performing at his peak efficiency physically, it was an ongoing process to keep his mind sharp for a possible combat situation. Muntasir’s understanding of this was what made him a superior soldier and leader of men. But it was always tricky trying to broach the subject. Nasir’s clumsy attempt to undermine his authority was exactly the opening he needed. Besides, any opportunity he had to tweak the cleric was not to be missed.
“Imam, with all due respect to your knowledge in these matters,” Muntasir began with a smile, “In my experience the expected is easy to prepare for. It is the unexpected that one has to be careful of. It has been almost a century since the destruction of the Satan, and I pray that Allah wills for the success of our mission.” With a sweep of his arm, he indicated the men seated at the table. “But on the Earthly realm, I am responsible for the well being of all these men. And that includes you. I would be remiss if I did not take into account all possibilities.”
“And what possibilities are those?” Nasir sneered, “Their country was utterly destroyed. Nothing of significance could be left.”
Muntasir nodded, as if considering Nasir’s point. “That may be true, Imam. But consider this. There is a distinct possibility that large sections of the country may have escaped the worst of the destruction. In the aftermath of this catastrophe, what do u suppose would happen? “
“I wouldn’t know.”
“No one can,” Muntasir conceded, “but ask yourself this. There is a large group of people, living on a piece of land with limited resources. There is little to no likelihood of aid; in fact, an attack from outside would be meer than likely. Faced with this difficult situation, who would be the most likely to perish.” There was silence around the table. Even Nasir was quiet. “The answer is-the weak, the unwilling and the unable. The people best able to adapt to this new, harsh environment would be the ones to survive. These would be the hunters, the soldiers, people who possessed the skills to wring a living off the land. These people would form communities dedicated to survival. They would hoard food, guns, whatever practical technology remained.” Muntasir paused for a moment to let his words sink in. Several sat with heads bowed, digesting this new information. “Now consider this. A society comprised almost solely of hunters and soldiers, with the weak and compassionate weeded out, breeding for five generations. Gentlemen, we may have created a predator the likes of which the world has never seen.”
Nasir spoke up. “This is absurd. Why would Allah allow this happen? For what possible reason would he spare the infidels?”
“Who can say,” Muntasir replied. “A man’s mind is finite, while God’s mind is infinite. We cannot hope to understand all aspects of his grand plan. This is where our beliefs, yours and mine, diverge. To you, Allah is a bloodthirsty avenger always seeking to destroy the corrupt. But to me, he is a wise and just God, who looks kindly on all his creation. For if Allah created the world and all within it, then are not the Americans his children too?”
Nasir was the only one in the room to meet his gaze. “There is one thing u have overlooked. The Americans had no faith, no belief to guide them. They would destroy themselves with petty squabbles. There is no force in the world that could have held them together.”
Muntasir smiled. “There is one, O Lion of God.”
“And what is that?’
Muntasir turned and walked to the door. He paused, his hand on the knob, and faced the men gathered there.”The one power in the universe that is almost as strong as your faith- the simple human need for revenge.”
It was just after sunrise three days later that the ship came into sight of land. The men crowded the rail, hoping for a glimpse of the fabled land that had bedeviled their kind for so many centuries. But Muntasir had ordered that the ship was not to proceed any farther, so all they could glimpse was a long dark line lying low on the horizon.
The rest of the morning was spent preparing the helicopters for their long flight. Electronics were checked, gears were greased, supplies were loaded and fuel tanks were filled. While this was going on, the men of the expedition prepared their packs and field stripped their weapons. They worked mostly in silence, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. While on military duty, the men were excused from the obligation of daily prayers. Muntasir, who in his own way was as devout as any, never kept a man from prayer who asked to go. Even so, the call to prayer had been sparsely attended through the whole trip. But on this morning, there was not a man who did not take the time to ask his maker for forgiveness of his sins.
By early afternoon the expedition was ready. The officers had spent the morning on one last check of the maps, radios and global positioning system units. Muntasir called the men to formation and had his officers personally inspect each mans gear and weapons. Once satisfied, they gave the signal and the helicopter turbines whined to life. The men hustled aboard, counting off as they went; an officer assigned to each helicopter checking off names to make sure no one was left behind.
There were three helicopters, whose design was based on the Russian Hind, one that had been used extensively door the Soviets in their late 20th century war of aggression in Afghanistan. One of the largest aircraft ever built, they nearly covered the entire deck of the destroyer. The model had been updated to a troop transport and carried a minimum of weapons. The designers had been mindful of the way a single Mujaheddin had been able to bring down the Soviet version with a shoulder mounted SAM missile, and had added heavy armor to the bottom and sides. This made the aircraft slow and unresponsive, so the tactical approach was to fly as high as possible using advanced radar technology to determine the best place to set down. Once a suitable spot was found, they would swoop in and land as quickly as possible.
The helicopters ascended sluggishly, the backwash from their blades so strong that several sailors were swept off their feet. With a heavy roar, they angled west toward the distant shoreline. They disappeared from sight long before the howl of the engines died away. Each sailor to a man uttered a silent prayer as they vanished over the horizon.
The trip to the debarkation point was long and uneventful. The men crowded the windows, hoping for a brief glimpse of the ground, but in this they were disappointed. After they flew over a narrow stretch of beach, the canopy of the forest closed in blanketing the ground from view. It was not until several hours had passed that the drone of the engines changed and they could feel the helicopters begin their descent.
They landed in a large grassy field that lay near the eastern foothills of a towering mountain range. It was the perfect place for a bivouac. A small stream bisected the field, and after it was checked for radioactive contamination the water was pronounced fit to drink. With the naked cliffs to their back, and the line of forest over a mile distant, it offered a clear field of brand in case of attack. Half of the men immediately began to set up defensive positions and machine gun emplacements, while the other half put up the tents and meal stations. Soon the smell of cooking meat and the quiet laughter of the men filled the air.
After the evening meal, Muntasir took a walk around the encampment, his stated aim to check on the sentries, but really just to enjoy the night air. Their instruments had detected no trace of radioactivity of toxic poisons in the air of soil. In fact, they found no pollutants of any kind. The air was as pure and clean as any on Earth. This area had either escaped the worst of the devastation, of had healed itself with amazing rapidity. A deeper thinker than most, he was both fascinated and put on his guard. Off in the distance, the row of trees that marked the edge of the great forest stood silent and mysterious. Tomorrow they would enter that forest. The thought that, even now, hundreds of pairs of eyes could be studying them filled him with foreboding.
Wrapped in these thoughts, he didn’t hear the soft tread of a foot from behind him. It was only when a hand was placed on his shoulder that he realized someone was there. He whirled around quickly to find Nasir staring at him, his face impassive.
“Good evening, Colonel,” Nasir said, his voice silky and controlled. “I demand to know what your plans are for tomorrow.”
“There’s no need to demand,” Muntasir zei wearily, “If u would bother to attend the strategy sessions, u wouldn’t have to sneak up behind people to find out what’s going on.” He took the cleric door the arm and led him back towards the encampment. “The plan is this. u and twenty of my men will stay behind to guard the helicopters. The other 100 men and myself will enter the forest…“ He motioned toward the boom line. “…Here, where we will proceed west for 2 days until we reach the bron of the radio signals.”
Nasir spoke. “Your plan sounds good, except for one small detail. I will be accompanying you.”
They had reached the officers tent, where a map lay on a table. Grid lines had been marked on it in yellow ink. Muntasir pointed to a spot on the map indicating a large valley. “This will be a difficult and dangerous march, through a possibly hostile territory. It is no place for a holy man.”
“Nevertheless, I am going,” Nasir said. “Tell me, why did u land the helicopters so far from our goal? Why not just fly in and land there of even better, examine the spot from the air?”
“Satellite afbeeldingen toon that this is the closest area large enough to land the helicopters,” Muntasir explained. “Besides, the best intelligence is gathered from ground level. This march is necessary to accurately determine the enemies’ strength and capabilities. That is why untrained personnel such as u cannot be allowed to accompany us.”
Nasir pursed his lips and looked intently at the map. “So, u still think you’ll find those supermen of yours,” Nasir sneered. “No Colonel. I will be with u when we leave tomorrow.”
“If u so desire. But be aware that if u fall behind, u will be left behind.”
“I would not want to give u that pleasure,” Nasir said. “If u will excuse me, I have to go and prepare.” He turned and headed for his tent.
Muntasir watched him go, amazed at the arrogance of the fellow. It was going to make it much easier to carry out the seconde part of his mission.
Early the volgende morning they received a meld that the Palang and the Jamaran had reached their destinations. Muntasir gave them the authority to proceed. Now it was time for his part of the operation. With final instructions to the men who were to be left behind, he ordered his men to fan out in a picket line formation. Each man carried a pack with enough supplies to last for a week, an AK-47 geweer-, geweer with 5 hundred rounds of ammunition, and handguns with several loaded magazines. They carried only the water that was in their canteens, expecting to be able to refill them on the way.
Muntasir was amused to see Nasir among their numbers, still wearing his cleric’s robes and struggling under a heavy pack. They marched across the plain, stopping when they reached the boom line. Their objective was to enter the forest in a horizontal line, each man within sight of the one volgende to him. Muntasir hoped to strike upon a game trail heading west and proceed from there. He signaled them forward.
Entering the forest was like entering a different world. It had been hot and humid on the plain, but the forest was a hell that most of his men had never experienced. Those soldiers from the Asian countries seemed to handle it best. But the Arab soldiers, used to the dry heat of the desert, struggled mightily. Muntasir made a mental note to make sure that they took adequate supplies of salt.
Within a half an hour, a signal from one of the men proved that Muntasir’s plan was a sound one. A soldier had stumbled upon a small watering hole from which a well worn game trail led west. They assembled at the spring, and after testing the water, Muntasir ordered them to drink their fill. Water was going to be a problem under these conditions, and he wanted them as hydrated as possible.
With the break in the trees, the air was slightly cooler. A welcome breeze blew softly down the game trail, bringing new vigor to the men. After a few minuten the Colonel had them re-shoulder their packs and verplaats forward. He kept them at a leisurely pace, slowly bringing it up faster as the men became acclimated. door mid-day, they had marched over half the first days distance. This would give them plenty of time to find a good place to bivouac for the night.
They had not gotten far when they came upon the remains of the town. To Muntasir this was not quite unexpected. He had seen small bits of concrete and asphalt lining the path, and had deduced that the trail had once been a road. So when word came down the line that the point man had come around a turn in the trail and discovered a large open area with hundreds of tumbled down buildings. The men hurried forward, each anxious for a look at the town.
They were mostly disappointed. u could barely tell it had been a town. Vegetation had grown over everything, its roots and tendrils infesting every square inch of space it could find, the weight taking down the rotting buildings. Green lumps that were all that was left of concrete and metal structures had fallen under the inexorable assault; small chunks of asphalt were all that remained of the road. Metal had rusted to nothingness and the feel of emptiness, the absence of what had been resonated in the air.
Muntasir ordered a search. The men scoured the open space, poking into piles of rubble, kicking aside scrap metal, watching the bugs scurry away as their homes were disturbed. For almost an uur they searched, scouring the side streets, never alone, always in pairs, their guns at the ready.
“Nothing to report, sir,” Major Ubaid zei when they had finished, snapping off a salute. “The town looks deserted.”
“I see,” Muntasir zei thoughtfully. “Did u find the remains of any bodies?”
Ubaid pulled off his pet, glb and scratched his head. “No sir,” he replied at last. “Not even a single bone. But is that really surprising? The remains were probably carried off door animals. They might even have crumbled to dust after all this time.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Major” Muntasir conceded. “But there must have been people living here with artificial hips, pacemakers, things like that. It’s strange that there is nothing left.”
“Could it be that they were all evacuated?”
“That’s possible,” the Colonel said, “But even so, I find it strange that we found nothing. Well, we won’t find out anything standing around here. Let’s verplaats out.”
After hours of marching, Muntasir called a halt. They had come upon a small river flowing off to the East. Past flooding had cleared out a stretch of land on the southern embankment. The Colonel would have preferred meer distance between the camp and the forest, but all in all, it was a far better set up than could reasonably be expected. After the rough start, his men had adjusted to the conditions well, and some of their good humor had returned. All except Nasir, that is. He had staggered into camp well behind the others, and thrown himself upon the ground in complete exhaustion. He was snoring loudly while Muntasir directed Major Ubaid to set up the perimeter guards.
Ubaid designated ten men to take the first watch. They were stationed in pairs, within sight of each other, and about ten feet away from the boom line. After the day’s grueling march, his plan was to rotate the sentries out every two hours. This way they would remain fresh for the volgende day’s journey.
Post #3 was manned door Cpl. Hoon and Sgt. Haani. Hoon was Korean, small and quiet, a man who rarely smiled. Haani was the opposite, someone who enjoyed a good joke. But despite the difference in their personalities, the men were fast friends. Ubaid had barely gegeven them their final instructions and marched off before Haani began to complain.
“It’s no wonder they call this country “The Great Satan,” he whined, “It’s hotter than hell here.
And did u see the size of those bugs? I’m glad they’re not smart enough to work together. They might be able to carry a man off.”
Hoon, who had listened to his friend’s complaints all day, shook his head. “I like it here,” he said, “It reminds me of Korea. It’s humid like this in the jungle. I like it much better than the dry heat of Baghdad.”
“I don’t care what u say,” Haani grumbled. “I don’t see how people can live under…” he stopped talking, his eyes scanning the trees in front of him. The men who were setting up the camp just a few feet away stopped what they were doing and watched the two men intently. Hoon, always alert, had un-slung his geweer-, geweer and was holding it loosely in both hands.
“What is it,” he whispered, peering into the gloom of the forest.
“I thought I saw something move,” Haani replied, his eyes never leaving the forest.
“What was it?” Hoon asked
Haani shook his head. “I don’t know. But I don’t think it was an animal.” They moved cautiously toward the boom line.
This time both men saw it. A branch was shaking as if something had brushed against it. It was hard to see through the dense undergrowth, but something was definitely there. Hoon chambered a round and brought his geweer-, geweer to his shoulder.
“If there’s anyone in there, come out now and we won’t hurt you,” he hissed. All was silent. “If u don’t come out, we’ll shoot.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then a young boy pushed his way through the brush and entered the clearing.
Col. Muntasir Muhanned had never seen anything so beautiful.
Hot and sweaty from the long day’s march, he had gone down to the river to freshen up. He was seated on a large, flat rock, gazing at the forest as he laced up his boots. The late afternoon sun had sunk halfway below the boom tops, casting a greenish haze over the encampment. The men went about their work as silently as ghosts. Behind him, the river murmured softly. It was the most relaxed he had felt since the mission began. Eyes heavy, he stretched out on the rock, the warm sun caressing his face. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, and closed his eyes. The idle thought of giving up his life to live in this new land came to him. He smiled and stretched lazily on the rock. ..
A noise from the camp brought him out of his reverie. He rubbed a hand over his face. He had almost fallen asleep. Shading his eyes, he could see a commotion in the far end of the camp. Men had left their tents and were making their way toward guard post 3.
Haani handed his gun to Hoon and took a tentative step forward. The child had stopped just inside the clearing, and silently watched as Haani approached. He showed no alarm at all. He was very young, no meer than 6 of 7 years old, dressed in a tattered overhemd, shirt and grimy pants. His blond hair hung in dirty curls to his shoulder. It looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in a while. This gave the Sergeant an idea.
A group of men were gathered about ten feet behind the two soldiers. Haani turned to Cpl. Hoon and motioned him forward.
“Get me some food,” he whispered. “I’m going to try and lure him in.”
Hoon shook his head. “We need to alert the officers. They’ll know what to do.”
“By the time the officers get here, he’ll be gone,” Haani said, never taking his eyes off the boy, “Just do what I say. If we can capture him, maybe we can get some useful information out of him.”
Hoon hesitated. He would prefer to let the officers handle it, but Haani had a point. The child would probably be gone before they arrived. If he bolted, they would have to pursue him into the forest, and Hoon had no illusions how such a chase would turn out. They would be lost within minutes, easy prey for any animal that stumbled across their path. Maybe Haani had a point.
He turned and walked swiftly over to the men gathered behind him. “I need some food,” he said, “We’re going to try and capture the child.”
A young lieutenant reached into his overhemd, shirt pocket and pulled out a piece of candy. He handed it to Hoon. “This ought to do the trick.”
Hoon thanked him and walked slowly over to where Haani was standing. Neither the man nor the boy had moved. They stood stock still, eyeing each other. When Hoon gave Haani the candy, the boys’ eyes shifted to the Sergeant’s hand.
Haani inched slowly forward, holding the candy in his outstretched fist. The boy did not move. He stared as if mesmerized. Haani was almost within reach when a shout came from the encampment.
Muntasir had a clear field of vision as he rounded the bend and saw what was happening. He raced forward, praying he would not be too late.
Sgt. Haani heard the shout and turned his head to look. When he did this, the child reached back with both hands. Alerted door this movement, the Sergeant turned back to the boy. The last thing he ever saw was the glint of metal. The boy fired, the bullet catching Haani in the forehead and spinning him to the ground, the candy falling from his outstretched fist.
With the gun in his other hand he shot Hoon twice in the chest. The Korean fell without a sound. To the men watching, it happened so fast that they had no time to react. Guns blazing, the boy fired into the crowd. The bullets ripped through flesh and bone, blood spraying in crimson jets. Three men were down before they could move.
Scenes from a massacre:
Muntasir racing toward the boy, hands fumbling for the guns in their holsters;
The men, stunned door the surprise and savagery of the attack, scattering as they try to escape the hail of death that is raining down upon them;
A young soldier tumbles to the ground, a bloody hole where his eye socket used to be;
Another man turns to run but catches a bullet in the back, snapping his spine and sending him hurtling face first into the side of a tent;
Another, slower than his comrades, takes a round just above the right hip that exits out his back, but not before it tears his liver in half;
And super imposed over everything else, the image of a child barely old enough for school, legs braced and firing round after round into the fleeing knot of men.
Muntasir pulled his pistol and fired at the boy. The shot was an impossible one; he was out of range and at a dead run. The bullet whizzed harmlessly over the child’s head and into the forest. But his maneuver served its purpose. The boy turned to him and fired. The colonel felt the jarring impact as the bullet creased his thigh, knocking him off his feet. He rolled as he hit the ground. Another round passed so close door his head he felt the rush of air as it went by. This low the boy didn’t have a clear shot. Tucking one of the guns into the waistband of his trousers, he held the other one with both hands. Aiming carefully he started towards the Colonel, walking his bullets along the ground, each shot coming closer and closer.
Muntasir was dead and he knew it. Wounded and on open ground, it was only a matter of time before a bullet found him. He was considering making a mad dash for the trees when his salvation arrived. The men of outpost four, having gotten over their initial surprise, raced towards them, weapons chattering as they fired at full automatic. A volley of rounds impacted on the ground near the boys’ feet, raising a choking wolk of sand and dirt. When the dust had settled, the child was nowhere to be found.
In his tent, the doctor had Muntasir on a table, tending to his wound. volgende to him, Nasir Al Din paced nervously back and forth.
“Your wound is superficial,” the doctor pronounced. “Under different circumstances, my advice would be to stay off of it, but I realize that is impossible. In any case, u should take it as easy as u can.”
“Thank you,” Muntasir grunted, “But it would be better if u took care of my men instead of fussing over me.”
“There is precious little to take care of, Colonel,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “We have six men dead, another with half his head blown off who will undoubtedly die door morning. The little demon was a remarkable shot.”
“I couldn’t match him,” Muntasir replied. “If not for the guards, I’d be dead too.”
Major Ubaid entered the tent. He saluted the colonel sharply. “Sir, the men have completed their zoek and found nothing. No body, no blood, nothing. It looks like the child escaped.”
Nasir Al-Din stopped pacing. “You should be happy Colonel.” He said. “It looks like your supermen theory was correct.” He spoke with his usual haughty demeanor, but there was an unmistakable tremor in his voice. He had slept through all the action, but the six covered bodies and the agonized cries of the wounded man had shaken him badly. “I would assume our volgende verplaats is to pack up and head for the helicopters.”
“You assume wrong,” Muntasir snapped. “Regardless of the circumstances we have a duty to perform. We will continue on our mission to the bron of the radio signals.” He turned to Ubaid. “Major, double the guard and prepare our dead for burial. I don’t want any meer mistakes.”
“What,” Nasir almost shouted. “This is insanity. One child kills half a dozen men and u want to continue on this…this suicide mission. I will not allow it.”
“The decision is not yours to make,” Muntasir said. He slid off the tafel, tabel and gingerly tested his leg. “Major, I gave u an order.”
“But it is suicide,” Nasir whined. “There could be thousands of those savages out there. We won’t stand a chance. It is certain death. If u don’t order a retreat, I will.”
Muntasir and Ubaid exchanged smiles. “Go ahead and try,” Muntasir said. “We’ll see how far u get.”
Nasir turned to Ubaid. “Major, I am ordering u to put Col. Muhanned under arrest.”
“Oh, shut up u fool,” Ubaid snapped. “I will do no such thing. Colonel, I will have the men ready to verplaats out at dawn.”
Nasir grabbed the major’s arm. “But it’s certain death. Can’t u see that?”
Ubaid gave him a stony look. “If Allah wills that we die, then we will die. Until then, Colonel Muhanned is in charge.” He turned and walked out of the tent.
It was a subdued group that headed out the volgende morning. In the interests of speed, most of the equipment was left behind. Men nervously handled their rifles, their eyes never leaving the leafy green walls that lined the trail. Muntasir took the point. He hoped to inspire the men door his example.
The events of the night before had been transmitted to the other ships in the fleet. They all reported that there had been no similar incidents in their areas, but that they would remain on highest alert. If anything were to occur, their orders were to weigh anchor and sail to the prearranged meeting place.
The condition of the trail was a cause for concern. It had widened to the point that two men could walk abreast, and was worn smooth door the passage of many feet. Whether this was caused door animals of men was impossible to tell. He looked for the marks of boots of shoes but the ground was baked hard door the sun and there were no obvious signs. The only wildlife they had seen all dag was a flock of large birds that circled endlessly several miles ahead.
Directly behind him came Nasir and the three volunteers. The cleric had made the argument that he should stay behind with the men left to guard the encampment, but Muntasir wouldn’t allow it. The Colonel had told Nasir that he considered the holy man his responsibility and would feel better if he kept him in sight. Nasir knew it was a lie, but his arguments had fallen on deaf ears. Major Ubaid had made it clear the dag before that his wants and desires carried little weight here.
The volunteers had been picked that morning. Muntasir had selected the men he felt were the most suited for the job ahead. The expedition was too large to approach the target area quietly, so he would send these scouts ahead to reconnoiter. To a man they were small and wiry, perfect for climbing trees and working their way through brush. Each man carried a radio to meld back with. If they spotted anything, they would hold their position and direct the rest of the squad to the objective.
It was early afternoon when they reached the staging area. Muntasir gave the scouts their final instructions and sent them off. They disappeared into the forest without a sound. The Colonel signaled for the rest of the men to assemble. He stationed them at various places on the trail, giving each group a clear field of fire. With the ambush set up, Muntasir, Ubaid and the radio operator retired to the shade of a huge oak tree.
The scouts had been instructed to leave their radio’s on with the sound muted. That way the radio operator could monitor their carrier waves. They were not to contact the camp unless they spotted something. Likewise, separate bands were set up to keep in constant contact with the other ships. What the scouts found would determine the future of the mission. If they found nothing, Muntasir would direct the captains of the other ships to continue with their operations. If they found something, then further consultation was in order.
That afternoon was a nightmare. As the minuten stretched slowly into hours, the men sweltered in the heat and humidity. Stinging flies buzzed fiendishly. Thick clouds of mosquitoes hovered over the trail. The forest was a crawling hell of insects that attacked any exposed skin. Unable to defend against the bugs unwavering assault for fear of attracting attention, they passed the time in silent misery.
In the west storm clouds were building. The distant rumble of thunder came at regular intervals.
The oppressive air did little to lessen their tormentor’s assault. Muntasir was idly considering shooting himself when the call came in. Three clicks of the transmit button was the signal. The operator handed him the field phone. His answer was two clicks, followed door a pause, then followed door two meer clicks. The whispered voice of the scout came over the radio. Even at this subdued volume, he sounded nervous and scared.
“Base, this is scout two.”
“Scout two, this is base,” Muntasir replied. “What is your position?”
The scout gave him the GPS coordinates. He was about 3 thousand meters northwest.
“Sir,” the scout said, the words coming out in a rush, “I’ve spotted something. I am situated in some rocks overlooking a small valley. Colonel, I can hardly believe what I am seeing. There’s an entire camp here, with structures and roads, built right into the middle of the forest. They have camo netting stretched over the tops of the trees to hide them from the air. Sir, from here it looks like a military base.”
“I need u to calm down, soldier,” Muntasir zei sternly, “Is there any activity?”
There was a short pause and when the scout came back on, his voice was calmer. “Yes sir, the place is swarming with men. There are a number of large trucks. They are aan het uploaden crates into them approximately 20 feet long and about 3 feet wide. “
Muntasir felt like ice water had been poured into his veins. “Soldier, this is very important,” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm, “I need to know what is printed on them. Can u read it?”
“Yes sir. It says TLAM-BG-109”
Muntasir turned to Ubaid, who was listening over his shoulder. “Those are Tomahawk cruise missiles. They have an effective range of about 2500 kilometers.”
“They must be planning to attack the ships,” Ubaid said, “We must warn them.”
The scout’s voice came back on. “Sir, there’s something else. There’s also a symbol printed on the boxes.”
“Can u describe it?”
“Yes sir. A cirkel on a yellow background, surrounded door three blades…” the radio went dead.
“Get him back,” Muntasir commanded. The radio operator checked his dials. “There’s no signal sir,” he answered, ‘he must have turned his radio off.”
There came the sound of thunder, much closer than before.
“Send a message to the other ships,” Muntasir snapped, “Tell them to break off and head for the rendezvous point.”
The operator turned the dial to the other channels, only to be met with a high pitched electronic squeal. He switched through all of the usual frequencies, only to be met with the same sound on each of them.
“Sir, our transmissions are being jammed! We can neither send nor receive!”
Muntasir grabbed Major Ubaid door the arm. “Get the men ready to verplaats out. I want all non-essential equipment discarded. Have them take only food, water, weapons and ammunition. We leave in five minutes.”
“What about the scouts?” Major Ubaid protested. “We can’t just leave them behind.”
“Those men are dead,” the colonel shouted. “Don’t u see? This has all been a trap. Those radio transmissions, we were meant to intercept them. It was a trick to lure us here.”
Major Ubaid shook his head. “I don’t understand, sir. Why would they go through all that trouble to destroy a few ships?”
“That symbol on the boxes. It means that those missiles are carrying nuclear warheads. They wouldn’t use them on that small a target. Ubaid, they’re not trying to destroy our ships, they’re trying to capture them!”
Major Ubaid and several men were sent ahead to alert the men at the encampment and to salvage whatever food and weapons they could find. The colonel would take the rest of the men along the game trail where they would rendezvous with Ubaid at the helicopters. Their only option was to travel as swiftly as possible and hope to reach the ships first. Muntasir knew the chances of this were slim, but he had to try. If they were to die here, it would be as proud soldiers of Allah. At least their place in heaven would be assured.
When, after a quick march they reached the encampment, their hopes sank. It had been completely destroyed. The wreckage of tents and equipment were scattered over the area. Muntasir didn’t linger. He urged his men along faster. Their only hope was that the helicopters had been spared.
To Nasir Al-Din, death and his ascension to paradise would have been a welcome relief. The heat, the humidity, and the relentless pace-all these drove him to the brink of exhaustion. When his legs failed him, he was half carried, half dragged along with the men. Muntasir had gegeven a strict order that under no circumstances was the cleric to be left behind. Through the night they slogged on, mile after mile, the trail and the forest walls blurring before Nasir’s fatigued eyes.
After a nightmare of endless marching, they reached the spring they had found on the first day’s march. Muntasir was surprised to find Ubaid and his companions waiting there for them.
“What are u doing here?” Muntasir demanded. “Why aren’t u at the helicopters?”
Ubaid turned a grimy and tear stained face toward the north. He pointed at a thin band of smoke that trailed into the sky.
“That is all that is left of them,” he said. His voice threatened to break. “They have been destroyed.”
Muntasir’s stomach turned over. “What happened?”
Ubaid took a deep breath to steady his nerves. “When we came upon the encampment it had been smashed to pieces. We found equipment scattered all over, but no trace of the men we left there. Even the bodies of the dead had been removed. There was nothing to be done but continue on.”
The men had gathered round, stunned door what they were hearing. Even Nasir, as exhausted as he was, stood attentive as Ubaid continued his story.
“We moved as fast as we could, but it was no use,” Ubaid continued. “We were still miles from the helicopter when we heard the explosions. When we reached the area, we found the helicopters burning.”
“What about the guards?” Muntasir asked.
“We found them,” Ubaid said, his face reflecting the horror of what he’d seen. “Or what was left of them. They had taken the heads of our men and stacked them in a pile, even those we had already buried. Sir, I’m not sure we face a human foe. They act meer like demons of wild animals than men.”
Muntasir pondered this information. He turned to face the members of his squad. “Regardless of what our enemy is, we are soldiers of the United Islamic Republics. It is our duty to try and stop them.” He turned to Major Ubaid. “Major, we will take a 2 uur rest and then we will verplaats out. Distribute the food and ammunition equally among the men.”
“Sir,” one of the soldiers said, raising his hand. “Why haven’t they killed us already?”
“I’m not sure, soldier,” the Colonel replied, “Who can tell how these creatures think? All I know is that we’re in danger until we get back to the ships. Now get some rest, we have a long march ahead.”
The men settled down to sleep. For many of them, the last thing they saw as their eyes closed was their commander, standing stock still and staring off to the east.
For the volgende four days, they marched on incessantly. Several times Nasir fell behind, but Muntasir would not let the men leave him. Finally, a makeshift stretcher was constructed. When Nasir could go no more, he was put on the stretcher and carried. This mystified the men, but they knew the Colonel did nothing without reason. So they stoically carried the cleric when he collapsed.
There was no sign of the Americans. Each man had already committed his soul to Allah; not a one expected to see his home pagina again. The promised pleasures of the afterlife were the only hope any of them felt.
The dag before they were to reach the ship, they came upon a small clearing. The men were exhausted, so Muntasir called a halt. He wanted them fresh for the final push to the sea. As they prepared the evening meal, Muntasir and Ubaid planned the volgende day’s journey. The trail they followed angled off to the south, perpendicular to their destination. However, there was an offshoot, little meer than a footpath through the thick forest that headed directly toward the sea. Major Ubaid argued that it offered the swiftest passage to the ship. Muntasir pointed out that the path was very narrow, and that the men would have to travel in single file, often out of sight of one another. After much discussion, it was decided that they would take the path. Security would be sacrificed in the name of speed.
They set out just before dawn the volgende morning. Within a few steps they were swallowed up door the forest. What they couldn’t know was that men had been following them for days, watching as the Muslims wandered into their trap.
If we could take the part of a silent, invisible observer, perched directly over the trail, this is what we’d see.
A line of men making their way down the narrow path, unaware of the dark shapes that follow them.
Shyamal, whose wife had gegeven birth several months before, wandering too close to the path’s edge, unable to see the face painted to match the forest until the American opens his eyes, and door then it is far too late.
Qasim, an experienced veteran chosen to take up the rear, unable to cry out a warning as a razor sharp blade severs his windpipe and carotids, his life leaking out onto the path.
Akram, who, like Ubaid, has been with Muntasir from the beginning, sees a movement just off the trail. Coming vooruit, voorwaarts to investigate, he stumbles over a trip wire and falls headfirst into the forest, never to be seen again.
Barani, who had recently joined the squad, turns a corner and, momentarily out of the sight of the man behind him, feels the noose settle about his neck and kicking and squirming is yanked off his feet.
Mansour, who once killed a Jew in hand to hand combat, rounding the bend as Barani disappears into the leafy canopy above. He runs to the spot, gun at the ready, scanning the branches for any sign of movement, only to be hit full in the face with a douche of blood and viscera, followed almost immediately door a crossbow bolt to the heart.
It is a scenario repeated all through that long afternoon, the line of men dwindling like a candle beneath a steadily burning flame.
It was late afternoon when the men came upon an area where the trail widened out again. Shallow ditches carved out of the earth door years of water run-off bordered it on either side. The men were aware that they were being stalked, and that some of them were missing. Muntasir took a quick count and was appalled at what he found. Fully half his squad-fifty men in all-were gone.
Nasir had walked the last several miles, too terrified to be carried. He stayed as close to Muntasir as possible. The Colonel was his best hope of making it out of there alive. To the cleric, every sound, every moving branch, carried an unspoken threat. As brave as any when on his own turf, this situation had unmanned him.
A strong breeze shook the trees and carried along with it the salty tang of sea air. They were only a few miles from their goal. The men were suddenly restless, anxious to continue. Muntasir turned to Major Ubaid, “Major let’s get the men ready to verplaats out.”
Ubaid’s head exploded, showering the Colonel and the cleric with blood and bits of brain matter. As his body fell, another soldier staggered and went down. Nasir was too stunned to move, but Muntasir dragged him to the ground and into the shelter of the ditch. Now could be heard the hiss of silenced weapons. Shadowy figures moved in and out among the trees, pausing only to fire, every shot landing with deadly effect. Muntasir had his pistols out and fired blindly into the trees, but the heavy shadows made an accurate shot impossible.
Meanwhile, his men continued to die. Bullets raked the loosely grouped knot of men, their numbers wearing away before the terrible onslaught. A rising ululation came from the depths of the forest, the bone chilling howl of the victorious savage.
As quickly as it had begun it ended. The men were all down. None moved, none groaned of called for help. Muntasir and Nasir were the only ones left alive. Muntasir, strangely calm, opened the chambers of both pistols and began to reload.
Nasir clutched at Muntasir’s arm. “You must save me, Colonel. We must make it back and meld on what we have found.”
Muntasir looked at the cleric and smiled. “No matter what happens, u will never make it out of here alive.”
“What do u mean?” the cleric pleaded.
“The council of Imam’s ordered me to kill you,” Muntasir said. “Why do u think u were forced into making this trip? Any low-level Mullah could have done your job. No, u were sent here for a specific reason-to die.”
Nasir’s eyes filled with tears. “Why.”
“You are a danger to the council. Their one unforgivable sin is ambition. And Nasir Al-din, there is no one meer ambitious than you. Why do u think that I insisted u accompany me at all times? To put u in harm’s way. And if that didn’t work to put a bullet in your head myself. But take comfort from one thing, o Lion of God. u will outlive me.” Muntasir placed his guns back in heir holsters and stood up.
“What are u doing? For Allah’s sake don’t leave me here alone.”
“I am going out to face my destiny. Nasir, I know u don’t understand, but I have been waiting for this moment for my entire life. I am finally home.” He reached down and removed a small gun from an ankle holster. He handed it to Nasir. “There is one last thing I need to tell you, cleric. Do u wonder what the Americans plan to do with our ships? And why they left the two of us alive?”
Nasir shook his head.
“I believe that they are planning to load their nuclear missiles onto our ships and sail them back to our home,” Muntasir said. “They will sail right into the harbor and let loose with those missiles. They have enough to destroy the entire Middle East, thus exacting revenge for what we did to them a century ago. But to do this, they will need information. Information they can only get from the last man left alive.” He hitched up his gun belt. “I would rather not be that last man.”
“I will never tell,” Nasir cried.
“But u will,” Muntasir replied. “What they will do to get u to speak will not be pleasant. u will talk, and become the greatest traitor in Islamic history. Or, u can take that gun and kill yourself. Those are your only two options.”
“But if I kill myself,” Nasir pleaded, “I will be denied entrance into heaven.”
“That’s a tough decision to make,” Muntasir zei with a chuckle, “Hell on Earth of hell in the afterlife. Make sure u choose wisely.” He scrambled up the side of the ditch onto the trail. “Goodbye, Nasir Al-Din.”
Muntasir stood silently for several moments, hands resting lightly on the handles of his guns. A small smile played along his face. Then out of the forest walked a man. He was of medium height and wiry build, with a face that spoke of years of living outdoors. He was dressed in roughly made camouflage clothing. A large pistol was tucked into his belt. They stood silently facing each other for a brief instant. The American nodded to Muntasir, a gesture of respect. Muntasir nodded back. Then, in perfectly accented Arabic, the American zei a single word.
“Draw!”
Muntasir reached for his pistols but the American was far faster. The colonel’s hands had barely touched the grips when the man fired. Muntasir fell dead, killed instantly door a bullet in his heart. The American melted back into the forest.
Nasir Al-Din raced down the path, the gun in his hand forgotten. His sole thought was to reach the ships before the Americans found him. He was close. He could taste the salt in the air; hear the slap of waves on the sand. The vegetation thinned out as he ran, giving him occasional glimpses of azure water. Rounding a final turn, he sprinted onto the beach.
He stopped dead in his tracks. All three ships were anchored in the bay. Boxes and crates littered the sand. Men swarmed over the ships, their shouts and curses ringing in the still air. The words were not in Arabic. The gun fell from his nerveless fingers.
Nasir Al-Din, Defender of the Faith, Lion of Allah, saw the world spinning before his eyes. The strength went out of his legs and he fell to the beach. He lay there sobbing until grim faced men came out of the forest and laid rough hands upon him.
THE END
A few notes: “The diary of Ibn Salazar” is based on “The Fatwa of Osama Bin Laden,” published in 1996. A Fatwa is a declaration of war.
The cruise raket designations and nuclear warhead symbol are real. (Thanks, Wikipedia
From the diary of Ibn Salazar:
Praise be to Allah, God of the Universe, and to his messenger, Mohammed who brought the word of the Lord to his humble servants. Let their blessings be upon us so we will not stray from their just and righteous word.
Tonight the people celebrate the anniversary of the destruction of the Great Satan. It is one of the most important celebrations in all Islam. Generations have passed since the conflicts that shaped our modern world ended, and it is important that the young be made aware of the great evil our fathers banished from the Earth. I myself have seen the birth of 3 generations of our people, yet these events took place long before my time. It is the duty of all of us to make sure the memory remains alive, lest the evil times come again.
As I stand at the window of my chambers, overlooking the holy city of Baghdad, I see a world at peace. But it was not always so. In the dark times, the crusader occupied our lands. In their arrogance they built military bases in the holy kingdom. The hated Jews, emboldened door the support of The Great Satan, were constantly seeking to expand their borders. Our youth were at risk, mired in hopelessness, and besotted door the corrupt culture of the West. The path of righteousness had never been less clear.
It was in the early years of the 21st century, shortly after the beginning of the oil wars, that our savior came to us. He was a wise man, steeped in the knowledge of our faith, and it was he who taught us that the differences between Shi’a and Sunni were as nothing compared to those we had with the corrupt countries of the west. But he was no sheltered cleric, ignorant of the ways of the world. He showed us that the oil that our creator had blessed us with could be our greatest weapon.
In retrospect, the countries of the West were ripe for destruction. They were a people without faith, and when one does not have faith, what is there to believe in? They could conceive of nothing outside themselves, so it was they came to worship their basest desires. They treated their women like whores, their entertainment was filled with violent and sexually explicit imagery, and worst of all they mocked us for our devotion to our God.
It had always been our aim to restore the ancient Caliphate, that once stretched as far north as Italy and as far east as Indonesia. The new Caliphate would be the expression of our ideal; a world ruled door the Shari’a, the holy law, and meer importantly, a foothold in European territory.
Our strategy was a simple one. We cut off the supply of oil, the lifeblood of their economies, until we got what we wanted. At first they resisted, but as their countries descended into chaos, and the starving masses demanded an answer, they had no choice but to acquiesce. In less than a year, we had regained all the territory we had lost. But we were not satisfied. The restoration of the Caliphate was but the first step. We would not stop until the Great Satan was no more.
As our influence grew, and country after country heeded the call to kom bij the revolution, the Great Satan could but sit door and watch. They were a country divided. Some wanted all out war, while others counseled patience. It was their desire to reach out, to reason with us. The fools! As if reason can hold any meaning when viewed in the harsh light of faith. So they stood door and waited, while we consolidated our power and made plans for their destruction.
At last our time came. Weakened door years of economic chaos, and dismayed at the fall of their European allies, their country slowly fell into ruin. When the food riots worsened to the point that martial law was declared, we knew it was time to strike.
With the nuclear and biological technology of the captured European countries at our disposal, we set our plans in motion. For years we had been smuggling these materials through their ports and lightly guarded borders. When we struck, it was with a fury born of hundreds of years of oppression. Biological weapons were the first to be employed. Plagues spread like a cancer, killing and sickening millions. Raw plutonium was introduced into the water supplies of their major cities, killing millions more. And “Dirty” bombs, conventional explosives encased in radioactive materials spread destruction and death over the land. Finally, when their defenses were at their weakest, we launched nuclear weapons from bases in South America. And thus was written the destruction of the Great Satan, the end coming with both a bang and a whimper.
All of this occurred so long geleden that not a man alive can remember the dark times. Our world is a just and righteous one, where the worship of the one true god reigns supreme. It is a world where men can live in freedom and justice. The light from the lamp of Allah shines in even the darkest corner of the world.
Except one.
But they are dead, destroyed, their air and water poisoned, their land still writhing in radioactive ruin. If any of them survived it is in a few small tribes, reduced to savagery. Against a world united there is no way that they can strike back at us.
But if all of this be true, then why am I so afraid?
Nasir Al-Din is not a tall man, but he is slim, and stands very straight, so he appears taller than he really is. As he made his way against the steady stream of men leaving that night’s celebration, they flowed around him as a stream flows around a rock. Maybe it was his cleric’s robes, signifying his eminence in the faith they all shared. But meer likely, it was his face. There were no wrinkles at the corners of his mouth; one would have to smile occasionally to develop those. Along with his stern expression, he was gifted (or cursed) with eyes that could make even the bravest man pause. They were all black, with almost no difference in color between the pupil and iris. Like the eyes of a shark, they never rested on any one person for very long, quickly assessing and then moving on.
It was a short walk from the temple to the Imam’s residence. Nasir had been there many times before, but never this late at night. The door was unlocked, as always. In the perfect world its new masters had created, crime was rare, and the punishment severe. One could lose any number of body parts for violating the sanctum of the masters.
The house was dark and silent. As per instructions, Nasir made his way to the seconde floor and knocked on the door of the Imam’s private study.
“Come in,” a voice called out.
The room was, ironically, plush in a severe, almost Spartan way. Expensive tapestries covered the parts of the walls not lined with bookshelves. A large kers-, cherry wood bureau with hardback chair that had once belonged to the President of France sat in a corner. Papers and writing instruments were stacked neatly on top. A small bureau lamp provided the only illumination, leaving the chamber in semi-darkness. Cushions were laid out carefully on the floor, volgende to which stood a small tafel, tabel on which sat a pot of thee and two cups.
The Imam was staring out the huge piece of smoked glass that made up the far wall. “Salaam Aleikam, Nasir,” the Imam Salazar said, waving him over to a cushion. He did not turn around. “It is always a pleasure to visit with you,” he lied.
“Aleikam Salaam,” Nasir replied, taking the proffered seat. “It is my hope that Allah finds u well.”
Salazar turned and sat down, then poured out two steaming cups of tea, handing one to Nasir. The younger man was surprised to see that the older man’s hand was shaking badly. Was he nervous, of was the time for Nasir to make his verplaats near at hand? “Tonight is a very special night. Did u attend the celebration?”
Nasir took a sip of his tea. It was very sweet and almost boiling hot. “Such things are not for me.” He said, shaking his head. “I find it unseemly to be in the presence of women during such an event.”
The women Nasir spoke of had been bused in several hours before the celebration began and kept separate from the men. They would be held in seclusion until long after the ceremony was over, in order to minimize contact. The laws of Shar’ia were harsh but clear.
The Imam nodded his head in acknowledgement, though he didn’t begin to understand Nasir. Sitting there in the dim light, dressed in his black robes, with only his pale face visible, his black eyes nothing meer than hollow pits, the younger man looked like an Efreet plucked from a young child’s nightmare.
But he was far meer dangerous than that. He was the scion of one of the most revered families in the world, and thus, even regarding his relatively lowly status in the faith, a man to be reckoned with. There were many on the council of Imam’s who regarded him as a threat, and would like to see him gotten rid of. Ibn Salazar, not a man to waste an opportunity, had figured a way.
As for Nasir, the son of a son of a son of a holy man, the imam was beneath contempt, meer politician than servant of God. To Nasir’s way of thinking, the government, lacking any real threat to their existence, had grown soft. In their dag to dag running of their society, that had become immersed in the problems of the public to the point that they had forgotten where their true duties lay. And that was to the worship of the great lord, Allah.
The Imam poured them both meer tea. “You are probably wondering why I called u here, especially at this late hour. It is because a situation has developed that requires decisive action. u are aware of the recent attack on Jeddah door one of the last groups of Jewish rebels?”
Nasir nodded. The Jews had been a minor problem for years, but lately they had become emboldened and stepped up their attacks. “Yes, I am. It occurred several weeks ago. As I recall, it was unsuccessful and they were driven back with only a minimum of casualties.”
“That’s true”, Ibn Salazar replied. “But it was something that occurred before that concerns us. Radio signals were intercepted, directed at the rebel group. It took several weeks for us to pinpoint the origin of those signals.”
Nasir leaned forward, finally interested. “And where was that. “
“From the Great Satan”, the Imam said. He paused momentarily to let the words sink in. “From a region that the Americans called Tennessee. As u can imagine, there was quite a concern among the council. It was determined that a military expedition would be formed immediately. Three ships will be leaving the dag after tomorrow to investigate. It is probably nothing, but we take no chances when it comes to our enemy.”
For the first time in a long time, Nasir was shocked. America. It was a name that all Muslims had learned to hate and fear. In this case, the wisdom of the council was undeniable. Nasir had but one question.
”This is disturbing news, Imam. But what role can I possibly have to play in this situation?”
“The expedition is to consist of our finest fighting forces, and it is to be led door the man who is our greatest military leader- Muntasir Muhanned.”
The name was a familiar one to Nasir, in fact to all Muslims. Muntasir had been a junior lieutenant when a large force of Jewish rebels had attacked Haditha. His commanders had broken and run when it looked like the Jews would take the city. When the troops tried to follow, Muhanned had pulled his pistol and rallied the remaining men. This action, plus several brilliant tactical decisions, had turned the tide of the battle, saving the city and making Muntasir a hero. For his bravery, he was awarded the rank of Colonel, gegeven his own command, and charged with carrying out the executions of the traitorous officers. In the intervening years, in battle after battle, he had proved his mettle, becoming a legend in the Muslim world. Nasir had met him once of twice. He despised him.
“He seems like the right choice,” Nasir grudgingly agreed.
The Imam nodded his head. “He is,” he said, “But the council has some reservations. He is a great admirer of American culture-perhaps too great. We don’t feel that he is entirely to be trusted. We are afraid that gegeven a chance, he might prove lenient to any Americans that are found. That is where u come in. We want u to go along under the guise of spiritual counselor. But in reality u will be charged with the responsibility of making sure that Muntasir and his men carry out their duty as Muslim soldiers. If any of them don’t, we need u to meld back to us. “
Nasir immediately felt suspicious. “But why choose me, Imam? I am no soldier. Besides I have my duties here.”
Your duty,” the Imam said, his voice like steel, “Is to serve the wishes of the council. u have not been chosen lightly. There is no one who is meer devout than you. u will be the shining example for the men to follow.” The Imam decided to play to Nasir’s ambition. “Serve us well, and there is no telling how far u can go. Refuse us, and the consequences will be enormous.”
The Imam reached out and put a friendly hand on his shoulder. “You must understand Nasir, that u have been granted a great opportunity here. When u return, the thanks of a grateful nation-and church-shall be yours. Don’t let it pass u by.”
Nasir was trapped. To refuse would mean an end to his political ambitions regardless of his family’s stature. Besides, if he could bring down Muntasir, who would dare try to thwart him? The Imam was old, and would not last for many meer years. Who better to take his place?
“I would be honored, Imam,” he zei to the beaming cleric. “It would be my great honor and privilege to go.”
The Imam got to his feet and beckoned for Nasir to do the same. “Then u must go and swiftly prepare. It will be a long voyage, one that door the grace of Allah will see u successful. “He put a hand on Nasir’s shoulder and guided him to the door. “Go my son,” he zei in farewell, “And make us proud.”
Nasir bowed to the Imam and took his leave. The Imam watched him go with the satisfaction of a man who is sending his greatest rival to his death.
Muntasir Muhanned stood with his back to the table, studying a large map tacked to the wall. The paper was old and yellowed, tonen a country that hadn’t existed for almost a century. Behind him, the men at the tafel, tabel watched silently. On the left sat Admiral Dawoud and the captains of the three warships, dressed in Navy blue. On the right side sat Muntasir’s men, dressed like their Colonel in the green and tan camouflage outfit. Unlike their commander, however, they wore web belts with standard issue sidearm’s. Muntasir however wore a leather riem with two holsters patterned after the ones seen in the old western cowboy movies. In those holsters he carried antique revolvers with mother of pearl grips. Seated at the far end, Nasir watched the proceedings silently.
“Admiral,” Muntasir said, “Tomorrow, u will take the Palang here,” he pointed to a spot near the northern tip of the country. “At what used to be the Naval Submarine Base in Groton, Connecticut where u will anchor offshore. From there u will dispatch a kust-, oever party who will investigate the remains of the facility.”
Muntasir turned to face the table. He was a tall man, over six feet, and solidly built. His eyes, shockingly blue in his darkly tanned face, speared Dawoud. “Remember, under no circumstances is anyone other than the squad to go ashore. While u are anchored there, u will post a double guard.” Dawoud nodded his acknowledgment.
“Captain Fateen,” Muntasir said, indicating the junior officer to the left of Dawoud. “You will take the Jamaran around the southern tip of the country, and proceed across the Gulf of Mexico to here,” He pointed to a spot on the map. “To what was the Naval Air Station in Corpus Christi, Texas. Your orders are the same as Admiral Dawoud’s. Anchor offshore and send a team to investigate. u are also not to approach closer than one nautical mile from shore.”
Both Dawoud and Fateen began to speak. Fateen, the junior officer, deferred to his commander. “Colonel Muhanned,” he began, “I do not understand the need for such security. To anchor that far away seems unnecessarily cautious. It will make it meer difficult to disembark and retrieve the men who will be going ashore.” volgende to Dawoud Fateen nodded his head vigorously. “After all this time, what do u expect to find?”
“You will find nothing,” Nasir, who had been watching the proceedings with mounting rage, broke in. “If any Americans exist at all, it will be in a few small, scattered tribes of savages. I am afraid our commander’s obsession with the American’s legendary military prowess has blinded him to the truth of our ancestors overwhelming victory.” Satisfied, he sat back in his chair, with what almost passed for a smile.
The men around the tafel, tabel were shocked and angered door this intrusion. To a man they respected and admired Muntasir. Even Admiral Dawoud, technically the Colonel’s superior, had managed to reign in his pride when he saw what a competent officer Muhanned was. But while they respected the Colonel, they feared the cleric, and so remained silent.
Muntasir took no offense at the interruption; in fact he was pleased. Major Ubaid, Muntasir’s friend and seconde in command, opened his mouth to protest but the Colonel cut him off with a glance. An experienced officer knew that a soldier’s two worst enemies were uncertainty and complacency. In any operation, men had to have a clear goal and an accurate understanding of the risks involved. While it was easy to keep a man performing at his peak efficiency physically, it was an ongoing process to keep his mind sharp for a possible combat situation. Muntasir’s understanding of this was what made him a superior soldier and leader of men. But it was always tricky trying to broach the subject. Nasir’s clumsy attempt to undermine his authority was exactly the opening he needed. Besides, any opportunity he had to tweak the cleric was not to be missed.
“Imam, with all due respect to your knowledge in these matters,” Muntasir began with a smile, “In my experience the expected is easy to prepare for. It is the unexpected that one has to be careful of. It has been almost a century since the destruction of the Satan, and I pray that Allah wills for the success of our mission.” With a sweep of his arm, he indicated the men seated at the table. “But on the Earthly realm, I am responsible for the well being of all these men. And that includes you. I would be remiss if I did not take into account all possibilities.”
“And what possibilities are those?” Nasir sneered, “Their country was utterly destroyed. Nothing of significance could be left.”
Muntasir nodded, as if considering Nasir’s point. “That may be true, Imam. But consider this. There is a distinct possibility that large sections of the country may have escaped the worst of the destruction. In the aftermath of this catastrophe, what do u suppose would happen? “
“I wouldn’t know.”
“No one can,” Muntasir conceded, “but ask yourself this. There is a large group of people, living on a piece of land with limited resources. There is little to no likelihood of aid; in fact, an attack from outside would be meer than likely. Faced with this difficult situation, who would be the most likely to perish.” There was silence around the table. Even Nasir was quiet. “The answer is-the weak, the unwilling and the unable. The people best able to adapt to this new, harsh environment would be the ones to survive. These would be the hunters, the soldiers, people who possessed the skills to wring a living off the land. These people would form communities dedicated to survival. They would hoard food, guns, whatever practical technology remained.” Muntasir paused for a moment to let his words sink in. Several sat with heads bowed, digesting this new information. “Now consider this. A society comprised almost solely of hunters and soldiers, with the weak and compassionate weeded out, breeding for five generations. Gentlemen, we may have created a predator the likes of which the world has never seen.”
Nasir spoke up. “This is absurd. Why would Allah allow this happen? For what possible reason would he spare the infidels?”
“Who can say,” Muntasir replied. “A man’s mind is finite, while God’s mind is infinite. We cannot hope to understand all aspects of his grand plan. This is where our beliefs, yours and mine, diverge. To you, Allah is a bloodthirsty avenger always seeking to destroy the corrupt. But to me, he is a wise and just God, who looks kindly on all his creation. For if Allah created the world and all within it, then are not the Americans his children too?”
Nasir was the only one in the room to meet his gaze. “There is one thing u have overlooked. The Americans had no faith, no belief to guide them. They would destroy themselves with petty squabbles. There is no force in the world that could have held them together.”
Muntasir smiled. “There is one, O Lion of God.”
“And what is that?’
Muntasir turned and walked to the door. He paused, his hand on the knob, and faced the men gathered there.”The one power in the universe that is almost as strong as your faith- the simple human need for revenge.”
It was just after sunrise three days later that the ship came into sight of land. The men crowded the rail, hoping for a glimpse of the fabled land that had bedeviled their kind for so many centuries. But Muntasir had ordered that the ship was not to proceed any farther, so all they could glimpse was a long dark line lying low on the horizon.
The rest of the morning was spent preparing the helicopters for their long flight. Electronics were checked, gears were greased, supplies were loaded and fuel tanks were filled. While this was going on, the men of the expedition prepared their packs and field stripped their weapons. They worked mostly in silence, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. While on military duty, the men were excused from the obligation of daily prayers. Muntasir, who in his own way was as devout as any, never kept a man from prayer who asked to go. Even so, the call to prayer had been sparsely attended through the whole trip. But on this morning, there was not a man who did not take the time to ask his maker for forgiveness of his sins.
By early afternoon the expedition was ready. The officers had spent the morning on one last check of the maps, radios and global positioning system units. Muntasir called the men to formation and had his officers personally inspect each mans gear and weapons. Once satisfied, they gave the signal and the helicopter turbines whined to life. The men hustled aboard, counting off as they went; an officer assigned to each helicopter checking off names to make sure no one was left behind.
There were three helicopters, whose design was based on the Russian Hind, one that had been used extensively door the Soviets in their late 20th century war of aggression in Afghanistan. One of the largest aircraft ever built, they nearly covered the entire deck of the destroyer. The model had been updated to a troop transport and carried a minimum of weapons. The designers had been mindful of the way a single Mujaheddin had been able to bring down the Soviet version with a shoulder mounted SAM missile, and had added heavy armor to the bottom and sides. This made the aircraft slow and unresponsive, so the tactical approach was to fly as high as possible using advanced radar technology to determine the best place to set down. Once a suitable spot was found, they would swoop in and land as quickly as possible.
The helicopters ascended sluggishly, the backwash from their blades so strong that several sailors were swept off their feet. With a heavy roar, they angled west toward the distant shoreline. They disappeared from sight long before the howl of the engines died away. Each sailor to a man uttered a silent prayer as they vanished over the horizon.
The trip to the debarkation point was long and uneventful. The men crowded the windows, hoping for a brief glimpse of the ground, but in this they were disappointed. After they flew over a narrow stretch of beach, the canopy of the forest closed in blanketing the ground from view. It was not until several hours had passed that the drone of the engines changed and they could feel the helicopters begin their descent.
They landed in a large grassy field that lay near the eastern foothills of a towering mountain range. It was the perfect place for a bivouac. A small stream bisected the field, and after it was checked for radioactive contamination the water was pronounced fit to drink. With the naked cliffs to their back, and the line of forest over a mile distant, it offered a clear field of brand in case of attack. Half of the men immediately began to set up defensive positions and machine gun emplacements, while the other half put up the tents and meal stations. Soon the smell of cooking meat and the quiet laughter of the men filled the air.
After the evening meal, Muntasir took a walk around the encampment, his stated aim to check on the sentries, but really just to enjoy the night air. Their instruments had detected no trace of radioactivity of toxic poisons in the air of soil. In fact, they found no pollutants of any kind. The air was as pure and clean as any on Earth. This area had either escaped the worst of the devastation, of had healed itself with amazing rapidity. A deeper thinker than most, he was both fascinated and put on his guard. Off in the distance, the row of trees that marked the edge of the great forest stood silent and mysterious. Tomorrow they would enter that forest. The thought that, even now, hundreds of pairs of eyes could be studying them filled him with foreboding.
Wrapped in these thoughts, he didn’t hear the soft tread of a foot from behind him. It was only when a hand was placed on his shoulder that he realized someone was there. He whirled around quickly to find Nasir staring at him, his face impassive.
“Good evening, Colonel,” Nasir said, his voice silky and controlled. “I demand to know what your plans are for tomorrow.”
“There’s no need to demand,” Muntasir zei wearily, “If u would bother to attend the strategy sessions, u wouldn’t have to sneak up behind people to find out what’s going on.” He took the cleric door the arm and led him back towards the encampment. “The plan is this. u and twenty of my men will stay behind to guard the helicopters. The other 100 men and myself will enter the forest…“ He motioned toward the boom line. “…Here, where we will proceed west for 2 days until we reach the bron of the radio signals.”
Nasir spoke. “Your plan sounds good, except for one small detail. I will be accompanying you.”
They had reached the officers tent, where a map lay on a table. Grid lines had been marked on it in yellow ink. Muntasir pointed to a spot on the map indicating a large valley. “This will be a difficult and dangerous march, through a possibly hostile territory. It is no place for a holy man.”
“Nevertheless, I am going,” Nasir said. “Tell me, why did u land the helicopters so far from our goal? Why not just fly in and land there of even better, examine the spot from the air?”
“Satellite afbeeldingen toon that this is the closest area large enough to land the helicopters,” Muntasir explained. “Besides, the best intelligence is gathered from ground level. This march is necessary to accurately determine the enemies’ strength and capabilities. That is why untrained personnel such as u cannot be allowed to accompany us.”
Nasir pursed his lips and looked intently at the map. “So, u still think you’ll find those supermen of yours,” Nasir sneered. “No Colonel. I will be with u when we leave tomorrow.”
“If u so desire. But be aware that if u fall behind, u will be left behind.”
“I would not want to give u that pleasure,” Nasir said. “If u will excuse me, I have to go and prepare.” He turned and headed for his tent.
Muntasir watched him go, amazed at the arrogance of the fellow. It was going to make it much easier to carry out the seconde part of his mission.
Early the volgende morning they received a meld that the Palang and the Jamaran had reached their destinations. Muntasir gave them the authority to proceed. Now it was time for his part of the operation. With final instructions to the men who were to be left behind, he ordered his men to fan out in a picket line formation. Each man carried a pack with enough supplies to last for a week, an AK-47 geweer-, geweer with 5 hundred rounds of ammunition, and handguns with several loaded magazines. They carried only the water that was in their canteens, expecting to be able to refill them on the way.
Muntasir was amused to see Nasir among their numbers, still wearing his cleric’s robes and struggling under a heavy pack. They marched across the plain, stopping when they reached the boom line. Their objective was to enter the forest in a horizontal line, each man within sight of the one volgende to him. Muntasir hoped to strike upon a game trail heading west and proceed from there. He signaled them forward.
Entering the forest was like entering a different world. It had been hot and humid on the plain, but the forest was a hell that most of his men had never experienced. Those soldiers from the Asian countries seemed to handle it best. But the Arab soldiers, used to the dry heat of the desert, struggled mightily. Muntasir made a mental note to make sure that they took adequate supplies of salt.
Within a half an hour, a signal from one of the men proved that Muntasir’s plan was a sound one. A soldier had stumbled upon a small watering hole from which a well worn game trail led west. They assembled at the spring, and after testing the water, Muntasir ordered them to drink their fill. Water was going to be a problem under these conditions, and he wanted them as hydrated as possible.
With the break in the trees, the air was slightly cooler. A welcome breeze blew softly down the game trail, bringing new vigor to the men. After a few minuten the Colonel had them re-shoulder their packs and verplaats forward. He kept them at a leisurely pace, slowly bringing it up faster as the men became acclimated. door mid-day, they had marched over half the first days distance. This would give them plenty of time to find a good place to bivouac for the night.
They had not gotten far when they came upon the remains of the town. To Muntasir this was not quite unexpected. He had seen small bits of concrete and asphalt lining the path, and had deduced that the trail had once been a road. So when word came down the line that the point man had come around a turn in the trail and discovered a large open area with hundreds of tumbled down buildings. The men hurried forward, each anxious for a look at the town.
They were mostly disappointed. u could barely tell it had been a town. Vegetation had grown over everything, its roots and tendrils infesting every square inch of space it could find, the weight taking down the rotting buildings. Green lumps that were all that was left of concrete and metal structures had fallen under the inexorable assault; small chunks of asphalt were all that remained of the road. Metal had rusted to nothingness and the feel of emptiness, the absence of what had been resonated in the air.
Muntasir ordered a search. The men scoured the open space, poking into piles of rubble, kicking aside scrap metal, watching the bugs scurry away as their homes were disturbed. For almost an uur they searched, scouring the side streets, never alone, always in pairs, their guns at the ready.
“Nothing to report, sir,” Major Ubaid zei when they had finished, snapping off a salute. “The town looks deserted.”
“I see,” Muntasir zei thoughtfully. “Did u find the remains of any bodies?”
Ubaid pulled off his pet, glb and scratched his head. “No sir,” he replied at last. “Not even a single bone. But is that really surprising? The remains were probably carried off door animals. They might even have crumbled to dust after all this time.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Major” Muntasir conceded. “But there must have been people living here with artificial hips, pacemakers, things like that. It’s strange that there is nothing left.”
“Could it be that they were all evacuated?”
“That’s possible,” the Colonel said, “But even so, I find it strange that we found nothing. Well, we won’t find out anything standing around here. Let’s verplaats out.”
After hours of marching, Muntasir called a halt. They had come upon a small river flowing off to the East. Past flooding had cleared out a stretch of land on the southern embankment. The Colonel would have preferred meer distance between the camp and the forest, but all in all, it was a far better set up than could reasonably be expected. After the rough start, his men had adjusted to the conditions well, and some of their good humor had returned. All except Nasir, that is. He had staggered into camp well behind the others, and thrown himself upon the ground in complete exhaustion. He was snoring loudly while Muntasir directed Major Ubaid to set up the perimeter guards.
Ubaid designated ten men to take the first watch. They were stationed in pairs, within sight of each other, and about ten feet away from the boom line. After the day’s grueling march, his plan was to rotate the sentries out every two hours. This way they would remain fresh for the volgende day’s journey.
Post #3 was manned door Cpl. Hoon and Sgt. Haani. Hoon was Korean, small and quiet, a man who rarely smiled. Haani was the opposite, someone who enjoyed a good joke. But despite the difference in their personalities, the men were fast friends. Ubaid had barely gegeven them their final instructions and marched off before Haani began to complain.
“It’s no wonder they call this country “The Great Satan,” he whined, “It’s hotter than hell here.
And did u see the size of those bugs? I’m glad they’re not smart enough to work together. They might be able to carry a man off.”
Hoon, who had listened to his friend’s complaints all day, shook his head. “I like it here,” he said, “It reminds me of Korea. It’s humid like this in the jungle. I like it much better than the dry heat of Baghdad.”
“I don’t care what u say,” Haani grumbled. “I don’t see how people can live under…” he stopped talking, his eyes scanning the trees in front of him. The men who were setting up the camp just a few feet away stopped what they were doing and watched the two men intently. Hoon, always alert, had un-slung his geweer-, geweer and was holding it loosely in both hands.
“What is it,” he whispered, peering into the gloom of the forest.
“I thought I saw something move,” Haani replied, his eyes never leaving the forest.
“What was it?” Hoon asked
Haani shook his head. “I don’t know. But I don’t think it was an animal.” They moved cautiously toward the boom line.
This time both men saw it. A branch was shaking as if something had brushed against it. It was hard to see through the dense undergrowth, but something was definitely there. Hoon chambered a round and brought his geweer-, geweer to his shoulder.
“If there’s anyone in there, come out now and we won’t hurt you,” he hissed. All was silent. “If u don’t come out, we’ll shoot.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, and then a young boy pushed his way through the brush and entered the clearing.
Col. Muntasir Muhanned had never seen anything so beautiful.
Hot and sweaty from the long day’s march, he had gone down to the river to freshen up. He was seated on a large, flat rock, gazing at the forest as he laced up his boots. The late afternoon sun had sunk halfway below the boom tops, casting a greenish haze over the encampment. The men went about their work as silently as ghosts. Behind him, the river murmured softly. It was the most relaxed he had felt since the mission began. Eyes heavy, he stretched out on the rock, the warm sun caressing his face. He took a deep breath of the fresh air, and closed his eyes. The idle thought of giving up his life to live in this new land came to him. He smiled and stretched lazily on the rock. ..
A noise from the camp brought him out of his reverie. He rubbed a hand over his face. He had almost fallen asleep. Shading his eyes, he could see a commotion in the far end of the camp. Men had left their tents and were making their way toward guard post 3.
Haani handed his gun to Hoon and took a tentative step forward. The child had stopped just inside the clearing, and silently watched as Haani approached. He showed no alarm at all. He was very young, no meer than 6 of 7 years old, dressed in a tattered overhemd, shirt and grimy pants. His blond hair hung in dirty curls to his shoulder. It looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in a while. This gave the Sergeant an idea.
A group of men were gathered about ten feet behind the two soldiers. Haani turned to Cpl. Hoon and motioned him forward.
“Get me some food,” he whispered. “I’m going to try and lure him in.”
Hoon shook his head. “We need to alert the officers. They’ll know what to do.”
“By the time the officers get here, he’ll be gone,” Haani said, never taking his eyes off the boy, “Just do what I say. If we can capture him, maybe we can get some useful information out of him.”
Hoon hesitated. He would prefer to let the officers handle it, but Haani had a point. The child would probably be gone before they arrived. If he bolted, they would have to pursue him into the forest, and Hoon had no illusions how such a chase would turn out. They would be lost within minutes, easy prey for any animal that stumbled across their path. Maybe Haani had a point.
He turned and walked swiftly over to the men gathered behind him. “I need some food,” he said, “We’re going to try and capture the child.”
A young lieutenant reached into his overhemd, shirt pocket and pulled out a piece of candy. He handed it to Hoon. “This ought to do the trick.”
Hoon thanked him and walked slowly over to where Haani was standing. Neither the man nor the boy had moved. They stood stock still, eyeing each other. When Hoon gave Haani the candy, the boys’ eyes shifted to the Sergeant’s hand.
Haani inched slowly forward, holding the candy in his outstretched fist. The boy did not move. He stared as if mesmerized. Haani was almost within reach when a shout came from the encampment.
Muntasir had a clear field of vision as he rounded the bend and saw what was happening. He raced forward, praying he would not be too late.
Sgt. Haani heard the shout and turned his head to look. When he did this, the child reached back with both hands. Alerted door this movement, the Sergeant turned back to the boy. The last thing he ever saw was the glint of metal. The boy fired, the bullet catching Haani in the forehead and spinning him to the ground, the candy falling from his outstretched fist.
With the gun in his other hand he shot Hoon twice in the chest. The Korean fell without a sound. To the men watching, it happened so fast that they had no time to react. Guns blazing, the boy fired into the crowd. The bullets ripped through flesh and bone, blood spraying in crimson jets. Three men were down before they could move.
Scenes from a massacre:
Muntasir racing toward the boy, hands fumbling for the guns in their holsters;
The men, stunned door the surprise and savagery of the attack, scattering as they try to escape the hail of death that is raining down upon them;
A young soldier tumbles to the ground, a bloody hole where his eye socket used to be;
Another man turns to run but catches a bullet in the back, snapping his spine and sending him hurtling face first into the side of a tent;
Another, slower than his comrades, takes a round just above the right hip that exits out his back, but not before it tears his liver in half;
And super imposed over everything else, the image of a child barely old enough for school, legs braced and firing round after round into the fleeing knot of men.
Muntasir pulled his pistol and fired at the boy. The shot was an impossible one; he was out of range and at a dead run. The bullet whizzed harmlessly over the child’s head and into the forest. But his maneuver served its purpose. The boy turned to him and fired. The colonel felt the jarring impact as the bullet creased his thigh, knocking him off his feet. He rolled as he hit the ground. Another round passed so close door his head he felt the rush of air as it went by. This low the boy didn’t have a clear shot. Tucking one of the guns into the waistband of his trousers, he held the other one with both hands. Aiming carefully he started towards the Colonel, walking his bullets along the ground, each shot coming closer and closer.
Muntasir was dead and he knew it. Wounded and on open ground, it was only a matter of time before a bullet found him. He was considering making a mad dash for the trees when his salvation arrived. The men of outpost four, having gotten over their initial surprise, raced towards them, weapons chattering as they fired at full automatic. A volley of rounds impacted on the ground near the boys’ feet, raising a choking wolk of sand and dirt. When the dust had settled, the child was nowhere to be found.
In his tent, the doctor had Muntasir on a table, tending to his wound. volgende to him, Nasir Al Din paced nervously back and forth.
“Your wound is superficial,” the doctor pronounced. “Under different circumstances, my advice would be to stay off of it, but I realize that is impossible. In any case, u should take it as easy as u can.”
“Thank you,” Muntasir grunted, “But it would be better if u took care of my men instead of fussing over me.”
“There is precious little to take care of, Colonel,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “We have six men dead, another with half his head blown off who will undoubtedly die door morning. The little demon was a remarkable shot.”
“I couldn’t match him,” Muntasir replied. “If not for the guards, I’d be dead too.”
Major Ubaid entered the tent. He saluted the colonel sharply. “Sir, the men have completed their zoek and found nothing. No body, no blood, nothing. It looks like the child escaped.”
Nasir Al-Din stopped pacing. “You should be happy Colonel.” He said. “It looks like your supermen theory was correct.” He spoke with his usual haughty demeanor, but there was an unmistakable tremor in his voice. He had slept through all the action, but the six covered bodies and the agonized cries of the wounded man had shaken him badly. “I would assume our volgende verplaats is to pack up and head for the helicopters.”
“You assume wrong,” Muntasir snapped. “Regardless of the circumstances we have a duty to perform. We will continue on our mission to the bron of the radio signals.” He turned to Ubaid. “Major, double the guard and prepare our dead for burial. I don’t want any meer mistakes.”
“What,” Nasir almost shouted. “This is insanity. One child kills half a dozen men and u want to continue on this…this suicide mission. I will not allow it.”
“The decision is not yours to make,” Muntasir said. He slid off the tafel, tabel and gingerly tested his leg. “Major, I gave u an order.”
“But it is suicide,” Nasir whined. “There could be thousands of those savages out there. We won’t stand a chance. It is certain death. If u don’t order a retreat, I will.”
Muntasir and Ubaid exchanged smiles. “Go ahead and try,” Muntasir said. “We’ll see how far u get.”
Nasir turned to Ubaid. “Major, I am ordering u to put Col. Muhanned under arrest.”
“Oh, shut up u fool,” Ubaid snapped. “I will do no such thing. Colonel, I will have the men ready to verplaats out at dawn.”
Nasir grabbed the major’s arm. “But it’s certain death. Can’t u see that?”
Ubaid gave him a stony look. “If Allah wills that we die, then we will die. Until then, Colonel Muhanned is in charge.” He turned and walked out of the tent.
It was a subdued group that headed out the volgende morning. In the interests of speed, most of the equipment was left behind. Men nervously handled their rifles, their eyes never leaving the leafy green walls that lined the trail. Muntasir took the point. He hoped to inspire the men door his example.
The events of the night before had been transmitted to the other ships in the fleet. They all reported that there had been no similar incidents in their areas, but that they would remain on highest alert. If anything were to occur, their orders were to weigh anchor and sail to the prearranged meeting place.
The condition of the trail was a cause for concern. It had widened to the point that two men could walk abreast, and was worn smooth door the passage of many feet. Whether this was caused door animals of men was impossible to tell. He looked for the marks of boots of shoes but the ground was baked hard door the sun and there were no obvious signs. The only wildlife they had seen all dag was a flock of large birds that circled endlessly several miles ahead.
Directly behind him came Nasir and the three volunteers. The cleric had made the argument that he should stay behind with the men left to guard the encampment, but Muntasir wouldn’t allow it. The Colonel had told Nasir that he considered the holy man his responsibility and would feel better if he kept him in sight. Nasir knew it was a lie, but his arguments had fallen on deaf ears. Major Ubaid had made it clear the dag before that his wants and desires carried little weight here.
The volunteers had been picked that morning. Muntasir had selected the men he felt were the most suited for the job ahead. The expedition was too large to approach the target area quietly, so he would send these scouts ahead to reconnoiter. To a man they were small and wiry, perfect for climbing trees and working their way through brush. Each man carried a radio to meld back with. If they spotted anything, they would hold their position and direct the rest of the squad to the objective.
It was early afternoon when they reached the staging area. Muntasir gave the scouts their final instructions and sent them off. They disappeared into the forest without a sound. The Colonel signaled for the rest of the men to assemble. He stationed them at various places on the trail, giving each group a clear field of fire. With the ambush set up, Muntasir, Ubaid and the radio operator retired to the shade of a huge oak tree.
The scouts had been instructed to leave their radio’s on with the sound muted. That way the radio operator could monitor their carrier waves. They were not to contact the camp unless they spotted something. Likewise, separate bands were set up to keep in constant contact with the other ships. What the scouts found would determine the future of the mission. If they found nothing, Muntasir would direct the captains of the other ships to continue with their operations. If they found something, then further consultation was in order.
That afternoon was a nightmare. As the minuten stretched slowly into hours, the men sweltered in the heat and humidity. Stinging flies buzzed fiendishly. Thick clouds of mosquitoes hovered over the trail. The forest was a crawling hell of insects that attacked any exposed skin. Unable to defend against the bugs unwavering assault for fear of attracting attention, they passed the time in silent misery.
In the west storm clouds were building. The distant rumble of thunder came at regular intervals.
The oppressive air did little to lessen their tormentor’s assault. Muntasir was idly considering shooting himself when the call came in. Three clicks of the transmit button was the signal. The operator handed him the field phone. His answer was two clicks, followed door a pause, then followed door two meer clicks. The whispered voice of the scout came over the radio. Even at this subdued volume, he sounded nervous and scared.
“Base, this is scout two.”
“Scout two, this is base,” Muntasir replied. “What is your position?”
The scout gave him the GPS coordinates. He was about 3 thousand meters northwest.
“Sir,” the scout said, the words coming out in a rush, “I’ve spotted something. I am situated in some rocks overlooking a small valley. Colonel, I can hardly believe what I am seeing. There’s an entire camp here, with structures and roads, built right into the middle of the forest. They have camo netting stretched over the tops of the trees to hide them from the air. Sir, from here it looks like a military base.”
“I need u to calm down, soldier,” Muntasir zei sternly, “Is there any activity?”
There was a short pause and when the scout came back on, his voice was calmer. “Yes sir, the place is swarming with men. There are a number of large trucks. They are aan het uploaden crates into them approximately 20 feet long and about 3 feet wide. “
Muntasir felt like ice water had been poured into his veins. “Soldier, this is very important,” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm, “I need to know what is printed on them. Can u read it?”
“Yes sir. It says TLAM-BG-109”
Muntasir turned to Ubaid, who was listening over his shoulder. “Those are Tomahawk cruise missiles. They have an effective range of about 2500 kilometers.”
“They must be planning to attack the ships,” Ubaid said, “We must warn them.”
The scout’s voice came back on. “Sir, there’s something else. There’s also a symbol printed on the boxes.”
“Can u describe it?”
“Yes sir. A cirkel on a yellow background, surrounded door three blades…” the radio went dead.
“Get him back,” Muntasir commanded. The radio operator checked his dials. “There’s no signal sir,” he answered, ‘he must have turned his radio off.”
There came the sound of thunder, much closer than before.
“Send a message to the other ships,” Muntasir snapped, “Tell them to break off and head for the rendezvous point.”
The operator turned the dial to the other channels, only to be met with a high pitched electronic squeal. He switched through all of the usual frequencies, only to be met with the same sound on each of them.
“Sir, our transmissions are being jammed! We can neither send nor receive!”
Muntasir grabbed Major Ubaid door the arm. “Get the men ready to verplaats out. I want all non-essential equipment discarded. Have them take only food, water, weapons and ammunition. We leave in five minutes.”
“What about the scouts?” Major Ubaid protested. “We can’t just leave them behind.”
“Those men are dead,” the colonel shouted. “Don’t u see? This has all been a trap. Those radio transmissions, we were meant to intercept them. It was a trick to lure us here.”
Major Ubaid shook his head. “I don’t understand, sir. Why would they go through all that trouble to destroy a few ships?”
“That symbol on the boxes. It means that those missiles are carrying nuclear warheads. They wouldn’t use them on that small a target. Ubaid, they’re not trying to destroy our ships, they’re trying to capture them!”
Major Ubaid and several men were sent ahead to alert the men at the encampment and to salvage whatever food and weapons they could find. The colonel would take the rest of the men along the game trail where they would rendezvous with Ubaid at the helicopters. Their only option was to travel as swiftly as possible and hope to reach the ships first. Muntasir knew the chances of this were slim, but he had to try. If they were to die here, it would be as proud soldiers of Allah. At least their place in heaven would be assured.
When, after a quick march they reached the encampment, their hopes sank. It had been completely destroyed. The wreckage of tents and equipment were scattered over the area. Muntasir didn’t linger. He urged his men along faster. Their only hope was that the helicopters had been spared.
To Nasir Al-Din, death and his ascension to paradise would have been a welcome relief. The heat, the humidity, and the relentless pace-all these drove him to the brink of exhaustion. When his legs failed him, he was half carried, half dragged along with the men. Muntasir had gegeven a strict order that under no circumstances was the cleric to be left behind. Through the night they slogged on, mile after mile, the trail and the forest walls blurring before Nasir’s fatigued eyes.
After a nightmare of endless marching, they reached the spring they had found on the first day’s march. Muntasir was surprised to find Ubaid and his companions waiting there for them.
“What are u doing here?” Muntasir demanded. “Why aren’t u at the helicopters?”
Ubaid turned a grimy and tear stained face toward the north. He pointed at a thin band of smoke that trailed into the sky.
“That is all that is left of them,” he said. His voice threatened to break. “They have been destroyed.”
Muntasir’s stomach turned over. “What happened?”
Ubaid took a deep breath to steady his nerves. “When we came upon the encampment it had been smashed to pieces. We found equipment scattered all over, but no trace of the men we left there. Even the bodies of the dead had been removed. There was nothing to be done but continue on.”
The men had gathered round, stunned door what they were hearing. Even Nasir, as exhausted as he was, stood attentive as Ubaid continued his story.
“We moved as fast as we could, but it was no use,” Ubaid continued. “We were still miles from the helicopter when we heard the explosions. When we reached the area, we found the helicopters burning.”
“What about the guards?” Muntasir asked.
“We found them,” Ubaid said, his face reflecting the horror of what he’d seen. “Or what was left of them. They had taken the heads of our men and stacked them in a pile, even those we had already buried. Sir, I’m not sure we face a human foe. They act meer like demons of wild animals than men.”
Muntasir pondered this information. He turned to face the members of his squad. “Regardless of what our enemy is, we are soldiers of the United Islamic Republics. It is our duty to try and stop them.” He turned to Major Ubaid. “Major, we will take a 2 uur rest and then we will verplaats out. Distribute the food and ammunition equally among the men.”
“Sir,” one of the soldiers said, raising his hand. “Why haven’t they killed us already?”
“I’m not sure, soldier,” the Colonel replied, “Who can tell how these creatures think? All I know is that we’re in danger until we get back to the ships. Now get some rest, we have a long march ahead.”
The men settled down to sleep. For many of them, the last thing they saw as their eyes closed was their commander, standing stock still and staring off to the east.
For the volgende four days, they marched on incessantly. Several times Nasir fell behind, but Muntasir would not let the men leave him. Finally, a makeshift stretcher was constructed. When Nasir could go no more, he was put on the stretcher and carried. This mystified the men, but they knew the Colonel did nothing without reason. So they stoically carried the cleric when he collapsed.
There was no sign of the Americans. Each man had already committed his soul to Allah; not a one expected to see his home pagina again. The promised pleasures of the afterlife were the only hope any of them felt.
The dag before they were to reach the ship, they came upon a small clearing. The men were exhausted, so Muntasir called a halt. He wanted them fresh for the final push to the sea. As they prepared the evening meal, Muntasir and Ubaid planned the volgende day’s journey. The trail they followed angled off to the south, perpendicular to their destination. However, there was an offshoot, little meer than a footpath through the thick forest that headed directly toward the sea. Major Ubaid argued that it offered the swiftest passage to the ship. Muntasir pointed out that the path was very narrow, and that the men would have to travel in single file, often out of sight of one another. After much discussion, it was decided that they would take the path. Security would be sacrificed in the name of speed.
They set out just before dawn the volgende morning. Within a few steps they were swallowed up door the forest. What they couldn’t know was that men had been following them for days, watching as the Muslims wandered into their trap.
If we could take the part of a silent, invisible observer, perched directly over the trail, this is what we’d see.
A line of men making their way down the narrow path, unaware of the dark shapes that follow them.
Shyamal, whose wife had gegeven birth several months before, wandering too close to the path’s edge, unable to see the face painted to match the forest until the American opens his eyes, and door then it is far too late.
Qasim, an experienced veteran chosen to take up the rear, unable to cry out a warning as a razor sharp blade severs his windpipe and carotids, his life leaking out onto the path.
Akram, who, like Ubaid, has been with Muntasir from the beginning, sees a movement just off the trail. Coming vooruit, voorwaarts to investigate, he stumbles over a trip wire and falls headfirst into the forest, never to be seen again.
Barani, who had recently joined the squad, turns a corner and, momentarily out of the sight of the man behind him, feels the noose settle about his neck and kicking and squirming is yanked off his feet.
Mansour, who once killed a Jew in hand to hand combat, rounding the bend as Barani disappears into the leafy canopy above. He runs to the spot, gun at the ready, scanning the branches for any sign of movement, only to be hit full in the face with a douche of blood and viscera, followed almost immediately door a crossbow bolt to the heart.
It is a scenario repeated all through that long afternoon, the line of men dwindling like a candle beneath a steadily burning flame.
It was late afternoon when the men came upon an area where the trail widened out again. Shallow ditches carved out of the earth door years of water run-off bordered it on either side. The men were aware that they were being stalked, and that some of them were missing. Muntasir took a quick count and was appalled at what he found. Fully half his squad-fifty men in all-were gone.
Nasir had walked the last several miles, too terrified to be carried. He stayed as close to Muntasir as possible. The Colonel was his best hope of making it out of there alive. To the cleric, every sound, every moving branch, carried an unspoken threat. As brave as any when on his own turf, this situation had unmanned him.
A strong breeze shook the trees and carried along with it the salty tang of sea air. They were only a few miles from their goal. The men were suddenly restless, anxious to continue. Muntasir turned to Major Ubaid, “Major let’s get the men ready to verplaats out.”
Ubaid’s head exploded, showering the Colonel and the cleric with blood and bits of brain matter. As his body fell, another soldier staggered and went down. Nasir was too stunned to move, but Muntasir dragged him to the ground and into the shelter of the ditch. Now could be heard the hiss of silenced weapons. Shadowy figures moved in and out among the trees, pausing only to fire, every shot landing with deadly effect. Muntasir had his pistols out and fired blindly into the trees, but the heavy shadows made an accurate shot impossible.
Meanwhile, his men continued to die. Bullets raked the loosely grouped knot of men, their numbers wearing away before the terrible onslaught. A rising ululation came from the depths of the forest, the bone chilling howl of the victorious savage.
As quickly as it had begun it ended. The men were all down. None moved, none groaned of called for help. Muntasir and Nasir were the only ones left alive. Muntasir, strangely calm, opened the chambers of both pistols and began to reload.
Nasir clutched at Muntasir’s arm. “You must save me, Colonel. We must make it back and meld on what we have found.”
Muntasir looked at the cleric and smiled. “No matter what happens, u will never make it out of here alive.”
“What do u mean?” the cleric pleaded.
“The council of Imam’s ordered me to kill you,” Muntasir said. “Why do u think u were forced into making this trip? Any low-level Mullah could have done your job. No, u were sent here for a specific reason-to die.”
Nasir’s eyes filled with tears. “Why.”
“You are a danger to the council. Their one unforgivable sin is ambition. And Nasir Al-din, there is no one meer ambitious than you. Why do u think that I insisted u accompany me at all times? To put u in harm’s way. And if that didn’t work to put a bullet in your head myself. But take comfort from one thing, o Lion of God. u will outlive me.” Muntasir placed his guns back in heir holsters and stood up.
“What are u doing? For Allah’s sake don’t leave me here alone.”
“I am going out to face my destiny. Nasir, I know u don’t understand, but I have been waiting for this moment for my entire life. I am finally home.” He reached down and removed a small gun from an ankle holster. He handed it to Nasir. “There is one last thing I need to tell you, cleric. Do u wonder what the Americans plan to do with our ships? And why they left the two of us alive?”
Nasir shook his head.
“I believe that they are planning to load their nuclear missiles onto our ships and sail them back to our home,” Muntasir said. “They will sail right into the harbor and let loose with those missiles. They have enough to destroy the entire Middle East, thus exacting revenge for what we did to them a century ago. But to do this, they will need information. Information they can only get from the last man left alive.” He hitched up his gun belt. “I would rather not be that last man.”
“I will never tell,” Nasir cried.
“But u will,” Muntasir replied. “What they will do to get u to speak will not be pleasant. u will talk, and become the greatest traitor in Islamic history. Or, u can take that gun and kill yourself. Those are your only two options.”
“But if I kill myself,” Nasir pleaded, “I will be denied entrance into heaven.”
“That’s a tough decision to make,” Muntasir zei with a chuckle, “Hell on Earth of hell in the afterlife. Make sure u choose wisely.” He scrambled up the side of the ditch onto the trail. “Goodbye, Nasir Al-Din.”
Muntasir stood silently for several moments, hands resting lightly on the handles of his guns. A small smile played along his face. Then out of the forest walked a man. He was of medium height and wiry build, with a face that spoke of years of living outdoors. He was dressed in roughly made camouflage clothing. A large pistol was tucked into his belt. They stood silently facing each other for a brief instant. The American nodded to Muntasir, a gesture of respect. Muntasir nodded back. Then, in perfectly accented Arabic, the American zei a single word.
“Draw!”
Muntasir reached for his pistols but the American was far faster. The colonel’s hands had barely touched the grips when the man fired. Muntasir fell dead, killed instantly door a bullet in his heart. The American melted back into the forest.
Nasir Al-Din raced down the path, the gun in his hand forgotten. His sole thought was to reach the ships before the Americans found him. He was close. He could taste the salt in the air; hear the slap of waves on the sand. The vegetation thinned out as he ran, giving him occasional glimpses of azure water. Rounding a final turn, he sprinted onto the beach.
He stopped dead in his tracks. All three ships were anchored in the bay. Boxes and crates littered the sand. Men swarmed over the ships, their shouts and curses ringing in the still air. The words were not in Arabic. The gun fell from his nerveless fingers.
Nasir Al-Din, Defender of the Faith, Lion of Allah, saw the world spinning before his eyes. The strength went out of his legs and he fell to the beach. He lay there sobbing until grim faced men came out of the forest and laid rough hands upon him.
THE END
A few notes: “The diary of Ibn Salazar” is based on “The Fatwa of Osama Bin Laden,” published in 1996. A Fatwa is a declaration of war.
The cruise raket designations and nuclear warhead symbol are real. (Thanks, Wikipedia