the Charlies leaped to their feet and rushed back to join them.
This began a seesaw action of withdrawal and covering fire as the squad successfully broke off contact with the mujahideen. At that point, they turned west to meet up with the First Squad at the contact point.
.
THE PLATOON
O215 HOURS LOCAL
THE squads linked up at a point along East Ridge that was two kilometers south of the warlord's compound. The two hostages were exhausted from the quick run down the ridge line and were sitting on the ground breathing hard as the First Squad made its appearance. The fatter one gagged, then rolled over to his hands and knees to vomit.
James Bradley quickly checked him out. 'He's just tired, sir,' he reported to Brannigan. 'I'll give them both stimulants?'
'Do it quickly,' Brannigan said. He looked the SEALs over, glad to note that they had taken no casualties. 'Guys,' he said, relieved, 'this mission has been a piece of cake so far. Everything's going our way, but we've got to stay on our toes. I want everyone to concentrate on their assignments. This is the time that things can really get fucked up.'
Jim Cruise glanced over at the hostages. 'Do you think they can make it all the way back to the CP?'
'Bradley's getting them hopped up on some of his pills,' Brannigan said. 'At least they don't have to hump any heavy gear.' He walked up to a point in front of the platoon. 'Let's get the hell out of here! Platoon column! First Squad on the right, Second Squad on the left. Assad and Leibowitz take the point. Chiefs, each of you put a flanker out:'
Dawkins nodded to Gutsy Olson. 'Take the right flank.' Adam Clifford got the honors in the First Squad as he was ordered out to the left side of the column.
When they were all formed up, Brannigan signaled up to the front where Mike Assad and Dave Leibowitz waited. 'Take us home!'
The platoon, with the officers and hostages in the middle of the column, moved westward into the darkness.
.
THE WARLORD'S COMPOUND
0730 HOURS LOCAL
THE devastation in the southeast corner of the wall was complete. The remnants of that corner of the earthen fortification were no more than piles of dirt with bits of mud brick mixed in. The mujahideen had pulled the corpses of their brethren from the wreckage and carried them back to the village area. Even now the loud keening of mourning women permeated the atmosphere with the intensity of bitch wolves howling in the mountains.
Warlord Ayyub Durtami stood on the roof of his residence with Ahmet Kharani, looking out over the valley between the compound and the ridge. 'I have now lost almost a hundred men in these past days,' Durtami said. 'Who can those infidel devils be? And how many are they?'
'They could be getting reinforcements, Amir,' Kharani suggested. 'Perhaps they grow stronger as we grow weaker?'
'They took the hostages!' Durtami exclaimed. 'How in Satan's power could that have happened? Some of them actually came in here amongst us, killed two guards and took our prisoners away. What sort of demons are they? Do they have black magic to make them invisible?'
'They are not phantoms, Amir,' Kharani assured him.
'Then we must do something or my men's fear will grow to panic! The unbelievers must be crushed as soon as possible. We can no longer tolerate this situation. It will cost many men, I fear, but an all-out effort would surely bring us a victory.'
'Unfortunately, we do not know what part of the far ridge they are on,' Kharani reminded him.
'I have a good idea what their position might be from the place the patrol of young fighters was wiped out,' Durtami said. 'And the mortar section that was massacred also gives us solid evidence of their campsite.'
Kharani glanced over where the dead of the battle were now being prepared for burial. 'You are right, Amir. The men are losing their courage. If we do not score a victory soon, your fiefdom will be lost to the infidel Americans and Europeans. The government in Kabul will send troops here. Your men will run away with their families. They will seek shelter and protection from your brother-in-law Hassan Khamami.'
'I did not think the situation grave enough,' Durtami admitted, 'but now I recognize that I must proclaim a jihad --a holy war--to give the men the will and ferocity to sacrifice themselves for a final victory.'
The words just spoken had an instant effect on Kharani. He was close to tears with religious fervor. 'Praise Allah who is merciful and beneficent! He shall give us a magnificent victory and welcome our dead mujahideen to Paradise.'
'Allah akbar!' Durtami exclaimed. 'God is great!'
.
CP ON WEST RIDGE
1445 HOURS LOCAL
THE platoon, except for the men on watch, was at rest. Those off duty lounged on their foam mattresses, the more thrifty now consuming the final cans of beer they had hoarded from their six-packs.
The hostages were situated in good cover and concealment next to the CP. They were worn out, though revived slightly with MRE meals of spaghetti and meatballs. Now they sprawled in the shade of the camouflage, wrapped in poncho liners lent them by platoon members. The SEALs had been able to learn at least a little bit about their guests.
The chubbier one was named Ibrahim and his skinny buddy Hajji. Both were idealistic about the potentials of a democratic Afghanistan and had been enthusiastic workers for the new government. Unfortunately, at that moment the two were badly traumatized by their latest experience.
The incident of their capture had scared the hell out of them. Their bodyguards had been gunned down without mercy in a roaring metal hailstorm of automatic fire. Ibrahim and Hajji had expected the same, and the experience of awaiting an instant and sure death was something no human can endure calmly, even if he survives the experience. Their captivity had been unpleasant because of more than just bad food. Additionally, they were occasionally paraded through the compound, where the women and children shrieked insults and threw stones at them. With all that, they also had to endure for no apparent reason a good deal of physical punishment by surly guards.
The rescue had been unexpected and welcome, and going over the wall with burly, friendly Americans had given them a realistic hope for survival. But now they were on the top of a rocky mountain ridge, had no idea what was going to happen to them and had begun to seriously wonder if there was a possibility of being recaptured.
Before they fully succumbed to their exhaustion, they forced themselves to take care of one important matter. Using the poncho liners as prayer mats, they prayed to Allah, asking to be taken back to the safety of civilization.
Chapter 9
WARLORD DURTAMI'S COMPOUND
10 AUGUST
1700 HOURS LOCAL
THE Warlord Ayyub Durtami and his chief lieutenant Ahmet Kharani, along with a trio of bodyguards, stood on top of the warlord's residence. They gazed down at the sullen crowd of mujahideen gathered in the open space below. No women were present, as would be expected, but adolescent boys stood at the periphery of the crowd, the expressions on their faces exhibiting confusion and dismay. The youngsters sensed something was terribly wrong.
The dead were buried and the wounded were being taken care of as well as possible by people using basic medicines and bandaging techniques. With the blessings of Allah, perhaps 50 percent of the injured would survive the crude treatment, though some of them could be expected to end up permanently crippled human wrecks. Meanwhile, work on repairing the wall was under way. A trio of vans had driven over to the village of Herandbe, where a dozen unlucky farmers were rousted from their work in the fields to be brought over as a labor crew. Now
