THE convoy was colorful, noisy, diverse and filled with panic and the loud buzzing and chugging of engines. Vans, pickup trucks, motor-rickshaws and motorbikes made up the formation of travelers. Each was overloaded with people and possessions that made it dangerously top heavy as it rocked back and forth on the bucolic thoroughfare that led them all north to safety.
This was the entire band of Warlord Durtami abandoning their homes, compound and dead male relatives scattered on the eastern slopes of West Ridge. The widows and orphans of the slain mujahideen had been taken in by relatives for this exodus that was spurred on by unadulterated terror. In many cases old men who had years before surrendered their paternal authority to sons and grandsons were once again the masters of their families. The male descendents who died in the battle attacking West Ridge left behind widows and orphans to be taken care of by these dismayed grandfathers. A once settled and secure population had changed from permanent residents of a stable community to homeless refugees in only a matter of hours.
Rampant rumors of the imminent appearance of baby-eating demons who lusted for sex with human women ran through the throng of fleeing people. Those invincible servants of Satan were expected to appear at any moment and fall on the convoy in a frenzy of raping murder and child-devouring.
The fault for this calamity was laid on residents of the compound who were thought to be less devout toward Islam than the more righteous followers of the community. Surely these neighbors' irreverence was what brought Allah's wrath down on the people. This overwhelming fear, generated by a combination of religious myth and folklore, gave impetus to the people's terror. If it weren't for those sinners, their lives would have continued as before. But instead, they now ran like rabbits while mourning the deaths of most of their young men.
A special group of vehicles that included a Russian UAZ sedan led the way. This vehicle had been used by the murdered bodyguards of the lost hostages. It was now part of the entourage and families of Warlord Ayyub Durtami and his chief lieutenant Ahmet Kharani. Their vehicles were the best maintained of the whole group, and the distance between them and the common people increased rapidly as the exodus continued.
The road they followed was not much more than a wide track worn in the hard-packed earth. Parts of it had been washed away during flash floods that followed heavy rains, and the travelers made their way across the barely discernible areas by using a distant mountain peak as a reference for the proper direction of their destination. This was the fortress of the great Warlord Hassan Khamami and the sanctuary he could offer them.
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THE ADANDONED COMPOUND
NOON LOCAL
MIKE Assad and Dave Leibowitz were on the point of the platoon as the SEALs slowly approached the compound. The remainder of the platoon was spread out in a skirmish formation, ready to react to any signs of resistance from the mujahideen community.
When they reached the wall, Mike and Dave were hoisted to the top by Bill Brannigan and Frank Gomez. The two scouts gazed into what was obviously a completely abandoned site. Mike laughed, looking down at the Skipper. 'Sir, there's an open gate just around the corner. Do you want to use it or make the guys climb this wall?'
'The exercise would do them good,' Brannigan said with a grin. 'But I'll give 'em a break today. We'll go through the gate.'
Frank Gomez, with the extra twenty pounds of the Shadowfire radio on his back, grinned. 'Ay, que bueno! I was afraid I was gonna have to heft this fucking thing over the top.'
While Mike and Dave dropped down to the ground inside, Brannigan signaled to the others to follow him as he headed for the gate. The fire teams, along with the two hostages Ibrahim and Hajji, moved toward the community. As soon as they arrived, the hostages immediately attached themselves to Brannigan as if they were under special protection while in his presence. They were uncomfortable in the fortress even though the mujahideen had departed the place.
The two scouts were waiting when the rest of the platoon entered the compound. Brannigan turned to his fire teams. 'Bravos! Check out the village huts. Charlies! See what they've got over in that vehicle park. Deltas! Take a walk along the entire perimeter of the wall. Alphas! Come with me to check out the big building.'
Brannigan led the way into what had been the warlord's residence. Some heavy ornate furniture that the former owners could not carry away sat abandoned throughout the building. Empty wardrobes had the look of having been hastily emptied, leaving discarded clothing lying scattered around the rooms. A look in the kitchen showed pots and pans of excellent quality. Brannigan turned to the hostages. 'What do you make of this place?'
'Very nice furniture,' Ibrahim remarked. 'Maybe some of it is paid for, but most is probably stolen from somewhere?'
'I am thinking so too,' Hajji said. 'This is looking like a country bumpkin was able to get some very nice things.'
'Yes!' Ibrahim agreed. 'Very nice things. Very nice. So expensive it appears to be.'
After making a round of the place with the hostages at his heels, Brannigan took everyone back to the large foyer. 'They sure as hell left in a big hurry,' the Skipper remarked.
'Yes, sir:' Dave agreed. 'Did you notice there isn't a military look about the place? No desks, no file cabinets or computers.'
'These guys were strictly gunmen:' Mike said. 'A lot like the Mafia, I guess.'
'We'll have to ask Puglisi about that,' Dave said with a grin.
'Right,' Brannigan agreed. He turned to Frank. 'There's a ladder there leading to the roof. Take the radio up there and contact SOCOM. Tell 'em we've run off the bad guys and have moved into their garrison area. You might add that I estimate that the surviving mujahideen are not very numerous. However, I have no idea how many women and children got away.'
'Aye, sir,' Frank said, heading for the ladder with the Shadowfire weighing heavy on his back.
Meanwhile, the Bravos carefully went through each but in the village, finding the same things the Alphas had in the residence, except these discarded belongings were fewer and cheaper. Gutsy Olson found a burqa that needed mending and slipped it over his head. Chad Murchison laughed at the ludicrous sight. 'I'll wager you're much more attractive than the woman who belonged to that covering.'
'I always been suspicious that Arab men insist that their women wear these things 'cause they're uglier'n the south end of a northbound mule:' Gutsy said.
Over in the vehicle park, the Charlies had discovered some useful transportation left behind. The government van belonging to the hostages Ibrahim and Hajji was there along with a motor-rickshaw and four motorbikes in various states of disrepair. Joe Miskoski and Kevin Albee gave the bikes a quick inspection.
'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?' Joe asked.
Kevin nodded. 'Does the word 'cannibalizing' ring a bell?' They studied the little vehicles for a few moments more.
'Oh, yeah!' Joe said. 'I figure two damn good bikes could be made out of the four.'
'Sounds like a fun project,' Kevin said.
'Hey!' Lieutenant Jim Cruise snapped at them. 'You guys can fart around with those later. The skipper wants this place scoped out.'
'Aye, aye, sir!' the two would-be mechanics responded quickly and simultaneously. As they turned back to the work at hand, they looked at the motorbikes in happy anticipation of tinkering with them.
Several 100-liter fuel drums were found. One of them had a pump in the top and appeared to be about half full of fuel. Three others were full and unopened. Milly Mills summed it up nicely. 'Three hundred fifty liters of gasoline ain't nothing to sneeze at.'
The Deltas walked along the top of the wall, around to the area bombarded during the attack by the Second Squad. Bruno Puglisi was particularly interested in seeing the effect of the mortar rounds that he and Joe Miskoski had fired at the fortification that memorable night of the attack. He emitted a low whistle of self-admiration, saying, 'By God, me and Joe did some knocking down!'
'I'll say you did,' Chief Gunnarson agreed. 'Looky there! Somebody has been working on rebuilding that section of the wall.'
'Sloppy bastards,' Adam Clifford criticized. 'They wasn't doing as good a job as the guys that built it in the first place.'
The hospital corpsman. James Bradley noted the dried pools of blood. 'These guys took a lot of casualties
