We did get our tires bluddy well shot up, Sikes said. I can't take the comp'ny out till they're replaced.
Our good friend Harry Turpin has been apprised of the situation, Farouk interjected. He has promised a delivery of replacements and extras as quickly as he can arrange it. That might take a few weeks.
That's bad news, ain't it? Sikes remarked. It could be a while before we get another crack at the Yanks.
We shall not be wasting time, Khohollah said. There is an alternative we have that you do not know about, Captain. But it's about time you were brought up to date. In the mountains north of your battle site is a Pashtun force that is strongly allied with the Jihad Abadi.
How big a group are them Pashtuns?
The number varies, Khohollah answered. The leader is a very capable fellow named Yama Orakzai. He calls his force the Pawdz de Peshto Baghane. A literal translation is Army of Pashtun Rebels. That is a bit presumptuous on his part since they are not much more than an armed band.
In actuality, Orakzai is only a warlord, Farouk commented. However, he is a sophisticated and intelligent man with great potential.
Yes, Khohollah agreed. Here in this part of the world, the English acronym of PPB is used when referring to Orakzai's force of mujahideen.
Why the English initials? Sikes asked.
It worked out that way because the main language of Afghanistan is Dari and that of Pakistan is Urdu, Khohollah explained. A common name is necessary when authorities of the two nations discuss them. The Pakistanis use English for their official administration as much as the Indian government.
Makes sense then, Sikes said. Anyway, who the hell are these PPBs rebelling against?
The present Afghan government, Khohollah said. Orakzai wants to establish an independent Pashtun nation in the western part of Afghanistan. He calls it Peshtonkhwa.
D'you think he can do it?
He is a seasoned soldier. He led a band of mujahideen against the Soviets in their invasion of Afghanistan.
Blimey! Sikes exclaimed. He must be an old bloke, hey?
Not at all, Khohollah said. He is in his early forties. He was only sixteen when the troubles over there started. Arrangements are already under way to have him launch a campaign as soon as feasible. His men have very sophisticated weapons looted from the Soviets, as well as what the American CIA gave them during the war.
Having weapons and using 'em proper is two different things, Sikes said.
Orakzai is an excellent commander and trainer, Khohollah said. He is also a proven expert in hit-and-run tactics. He can spring an attack, then immediately withdraw back into his own sanctuary where he and his people enjoy cover and concealment within the mountain caves.
Sikes, pleased, grinned. Wind him up and turn him loose then.
Like I said, Khohollah said, smiling back. Arrangements are already under way for just that.
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USS COMBS
SPECOPS CENTER
1030 HOURS
BRIGADIER General Greg Leroux, U.S. Army, was the disgruntled commanding officer of the SPECOPS staff aboard the USS Combs DDG. He did not opt for a West Point education; take a commission in the infantry branch; go to jump school; qualify for Special Forces; complete Ranger training; serve as a rifle company, infantry battalion, and Green Beret detachment commander in Vietnam; lead a brigade in Operation Desert Storm; then attend the Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, to be eventually stuck aboard a ship. He was a knock- down, drag-out, ass-kicking ground-pounding, profane-spewing, beer-guzzling, fighting son of a bitch who was a professional soldier with the emphasis on soldier. Leroux was neither a sailor nor a seafarer nor a mariner, nor did he possess skills or interest in any other nautical profession. And he likened being confined within the steel plates of a ship to suffering live burial in a metal coffin.
But somebody had to run the show in this brand-new scheme of having a floating SFOB that moved about with the trickery of a wily con man. So he performed his duties impolitely and rudely, having little patience when problems arose, unless they affected troops in the field. This was when he could use the one big advantage he had in this job that he wouldn't have anywhere else: He had direct access to the powers-that-be and could get things done with the proverbial snap of his fingers.
Now Commander Tom Carey and Lieutenant Commander Ernest Berringer sat in front of him in his little enclosed office, having just delivered an oral report on the unexpected battle that had occurred in the OA of Operation Rolling Thunder. Leroux always had a toothpick stuck in one side of his mouth, rolling it from side to side. It was a habit developed over years of breaking an intense addiction to smoking. He never took notes, but the two SEAL officers' report was etched neatly in his mind. After a couple of silent moments, he spoke.
Okay. The first thing we do is get those guys an extra machine gun for their DPVs, Leroux announced. That means they'll have to change their configuration to three swinging dicks per vehicle rather than two. That may cut down the number of them little off-road fuckers, but they'll be better armed. But because of the KIA, somebody is gonna have to work with just one other guy.
Actually, sir, Carey said, Brannigan has one man coming in from furlough. That means the detachment strength will stay with eighteen men. So there will be six DPVs with three-man crews.
That's good, Leroux said. We'll also see that they get armor-piercing rounds for both the fifties and seven- point-six-twos. That'll give 'em a lot of kick-butt capabilities. And that outfit needs run-flat tires. I figure twenty-four to put on right away and eighteen extras on the first issue.
We've had trouble with fuel, Berringer interjected. I'm afraid our commander out there pulled some illegal maneuvering to get his initial allotment.
Nothing wrong with that, Leroux said. A good soldier would sell his baby sister to a whorehouse if it would help the mission. They'll have plenty of fuel coming regularly now. And that goes for chow and other items on the TOA. He glanced down at the supply requisitions and issues. You said they had nine DPVs, but I see another has been sent since they arrived in the OA. What's with that?
We don't know, sir, Carey said. Evidently, the commander worked around us on that one too. He went directly to the Four-Shop at Station Bravo.
Leroux chuckled. It looks like somebody's baby sister is now a bordello inmate, hey? He leaned back in his chair. Okay. Is there anything else before I shove this shit into the pipeline?
I just want to remind the general that the situation on Operation Rolling Thunder is fluid and we expect a lot of changes and contingencies to raise their ugly heads.
So noted, Leroux said. He nodded to Berringer. Now what's this intel item you want to pass on?
Lieutenant Brannigan has sent us information that an Englishman is in command of the enemy armored car unit, Berringer answered.
Leroux frowned. That's some odd shit. How'd he learn that?
He learned about it from the head of the area UN relief group, Berringer replied. This is a Dr. Pierre Bouchier, a Belgian. He stated the individual who ordered him to vacate the area was obviously English, though he used an Arabic first name. The doctor doesn't recall what it is.
Well, that's neither here nor there for the three of us right now, Leroux said. I'll send the info to the Two- Shop at Station Bravo. They'll run with it. Is there anything else? No? Alright then. You gentlemen have a nice day.
With the conference closed, Carey and Berringer made quick exits to get down to the commo center to see if any other messages had come in from Wild Bill Brannigan.
.
SHELOR FIELD
AIRMEN'S CLUB
2000 HOURS
THE club was filled with young Air Force men and women drinking beer and listening to a self-appointed disc jockey playing CDs over the sound system. Loud conversation and laughter competed with the music amid clinking glasses as a celebration that was a nightly event rolled on.
Chad Murchison and Penny Brubaker walked into the place, going up to the bar. Several nearby celebrants
