resupply flights into Shelor; the latest issues of all aerial and satellite photographs of the OA to include the highlands to the north; stockpiles of 5.56-milimeter ammo along with 7.62- and .50-caliber armor-piercing rounds; authorization to draw fuel and lubricants from the Army transportation company stationed at Shelor; two AS-50 .50 -caliber sniper rifles; and finally, the exchange of the eighteen HK-416 carbines for the same number of M-16 rifles with six M-203 40-millimeter grenade launchers.
The changeover from the HK-416s was not because of any inferior characteristics of those weapons. This was something Brannigan had to do if he wanted to add the half-dozen grenade launchers to his arsenal.
With those logistical issues dealt with, the Brigands turned to keeping tuned up and ready to respond to any combat situation that might arise in the OA. They performed rigorous PT and ten-kilometer runs every morning before chow. After eating, they headed for the desert to conduct combat drill, while every third night was spent in mock war against each other to sharpen their night-fighting skills. Interspersed with this were live-fire exercises and a friendly competition on a hastily laid-out KD range to see which guys were the best shots. This latter activity was always won hands down by Bruno Puglisi and Joe Miskoski. Both were naturally accurate shooters. And that was the main reason they were issued the sniper rifles with scopes. No one else came close to the accuracy they demonstrated with the weapons. Puglisi shrugged it off, saying, Me and my buddy Joe are natural-born hit men. Guys like us are just blessed with certain talents.
The routine was demanding and exhausting, and Petty Officer Chad Murchison summed up everyone's feelings one evening while the detachment was enjoying some well-deserved cold beers after a long, energy- sapping day. My mood will be most jocund when we're back in combat and can enjoy a bit of enervation.
Yeah, Puglisi said. Me too. Then he leaned over to Miskoski and whispered, What the fuck did he say?
He was telling us how he felt, Miskoski said in a low voice. Ol' Chad is something-or-other about combat where he'll be something-or-other while he's enjoying himself.
Oh, yeah, Puglisi said. That's what I thought he said.
.
PASHTUN STRONGHOLD
GHARAWDARA HIGHLANDS
1000 HOURS
THE Pashtun lookout on the mountaintop had spotted the small column of men wending their way up the trail toward the natural fortress. He was not alarmed by the sight as he studied them through his Soviet field glasses. The newcomers were expected and, in fact, would be joining the rebel group as permanent residents and fighters. He turned to the Iranian Special Forces officer sitting nearby on a rock. They are in view, effendi.
Captain Naser Khadid got up and walked over to the man, pulling his own binoculars from the case on his belt to study the sight below. Ho, I can see the Angrez who leads them.
They are dressed like Arabs, the lookout said, still studying the men moving slowly toward them.
That is because they are Arabs, Khadid said. Give the signal that they are in sight and all is well.
The lookout picked up a large Soviet banner lying at his feet. The red color was fading with age, but still made a dandy signal flag. He waved it back and forth to catch the attention of another guard farther down on the other side of the mountain. This was a prearranged procedure that would alert the stronghold that the anticipated reinforcements had arrived. Although the Pashtuns had field telephones and radios, they used flags near their home area for security reasons. Telephones required the laying of wires that intruders might discover, and radio transmissions could easily be picked up and the source located by electronic warfare elements of unfriendly intruders, such as the Afghan Army and Coalition forces. For this reason only, the Iranian SF officer Khadid operated a radio, but he neither transmitted nor received long enough to allow vectoring on his exact location.
CAPTAIN Arsalaan Sikes walked directly behind the Pashtun guide who led them upward along the steep, rocky path toward their destination. His twenty Arab mujahideen the survivors of the two battles with the Americans on the desert followed, their AK-47s at the ready as the highly disciplined men maintained alertness in their assigned areas of observation. Everyone was loaded down with a heavily laden rucksack, extra ammunition, and web gear. Under those circumstances, the trip was arduous and demanding, but Sikes had always maintained a strong daily PT program for his unit. This activity consisted of demanding calisthenics and punishing five-mile runs. He would have liked to have been able to use weight training as well, but Brigadier Khohollah's TA didn't include barbells and/or dumbbells. At any rate, his men were in as superb physical condition as any unit in the British Army except, perhaps, the SAS.
Sikes glanced back past Warrant Officer Shafaqat Hashiri at the men. He was pleased by their appearance. They showed no signs of suffering under the stress of the march, and they seemed enthused about this new phase in their jihad. The fact that they were going into a new aggressive stage of fighting took a lot of the sting out of the ass-kicking they got earlier from the Americans.
When they reached the top of the hill, Sikes saw both the lookout and Iranian officer. The latter stepped forward with his hand outstretched. We have been waiting for you, Captain Sikes. I am Captain Khadid, Iranian Special Forces.
Right, Sikes said. Brigadier Khohollah told me you was the bloke I was to see when I got here.
Come on, Khadid said. I shall take you down to meet the Pashtun leader. You will be pleased to learn that he speaks excellent English. By the way, they are serving Iran, but Pashtuns will always be Pashtuns no matter what. Certain sensitive situations can always arise most unexpectedly. You will find it wise to be diplomatic at all times.
I understand.
YAMA Orakzai, the Pashtun leader, was on a walking tour of the stronghold, making the usual inspection he did three or four times a week. His deputy, Khusahal Shinwari, walked at his side. They had gone first to the fighting positions to make sure the hand-constructed rock fortifications were still in place and any necessary camouflage was being maintained. They found the mujahideen manning the sites all well armed with extra bandoliers of ammunition along with sets of three Soviet RGD-5 defensive hand grenades. The men on duty were, as always, very diligent in their vigilance. This was not only from a sense of duty, but because their wives and children were nearby.
Now, with the defenses checked out, the two men strolled through the living areas to see how the wives and children were getting along. Besides caves, there were simple, traditional houses skillfully constructed of rock in which families lived along a sunken area below the grottos. At that time of the year, cooking was done outside and now, as was customary in the morning, the women were beginning preparation of midday meals. Orakzai and Shinwari responded to the females' friendly greetings with polite nods and big smiles.
Shinwari leaned toward Orakzai, speaking under his breath. You must admit our women are indeed beautiful, are they not, wror?
Ho! Orakzai agreed enthusiastically. But I would hate to be a wounded enemy who fell into their hands.
Surely, Allah has a special place in Paradise for those wretches the women would dispatch into eternity in the slow, painful manner they prefer.
Orakzai laughed. Perhaps even infidels who die under their knives are also allowed in Paradise, na?
.
1130 HOURS
ARSALAAN Sikes's men, winded and tired, settled down along the mountainside next to the Pashtuns' main cave. Some unveiled women had brought them hot coffee and samosas fried pastry pies filled with spiced vegetables for refreshments. The Arabs, as good Muslims, politely kept their eyes from their hostesses' faces while being served, even though the women gazed in curiosity at their keffiyehs and uniforms.
Captains Arsalaan Sikes and Naser Khadid were conducted into the cave's interior by a Pashtun guard. They were taken back to the chamber where Yama Orakzai maintained both his living area and headquarters. He was seated on a carpet-covered chair, and did not get up when Sikes presented himself with a proper British salute and stomping of his boots.
Cap'n Sikes reporting!
We have no ranks, Sikes, Orakzai said while displaying a friendly smile. We are all wruna brothers here. He nodded to Khadid. Hello, wror.
Hello, Orakzai Mesher, Khadid said. He turned to Sikes. This is the Pashtun leader. His name is Yama Orakzai.
