The Long November, page 11
“Yeah, Mom,” her youngest, Aniyah, asked. “We’ve been waiting for hours. Why did you do this to us?”
“Sorry, girls, but something came up. With my job, you know your mom can’t just leave whenever she wants. But I’m here, and there’s still time for you to pile up tons of candy before people run out. So, rather than standing here fretting about it, let’s go.”
The words were scarcely out of her month when the girls blew by her and out the door.
When they returned home, it took some time for them to go through their stash and go to bed. Once they had done so, Washington picked up the phone and made a call.
It was answered after the fourth ring. “Mom?”
“Oh, hi, Bea,” her mother responded. “Hadn’t expected to hear from you tonight. Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, no problems. The girls and I are okay. But I need a favor.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“The entire division’s being placed on alert status.”
“Oh? And what does that mean?”
“Maybe nothing. But it might mean a great deal. The president’s not ready to intervene in Pakistan quite yet. Still, he apparently doesn’t want to get caught unprepared. If he needs to send units, he wants to be ready. Should it come to that, he’s selected the 10th Mountain to be a part of that force.”
“You’re going to Pakistan?”
“No, Mom. At least not yet. And there’s a good chance we never will. But you never know how these things are going to turn out. That’s why I called. If they tell us we have to go, we’ll only have twenty-four hours to get all of our equipment and every soldier onto trains to head for Bayonne, New Jersey. Once there, we’ll be loaded on ships and on our way.”
“But Pakistan. I’ve been watching what’s going on there. It’s horrible. I don’t want you anywhere near that place.”
“Neither do I, Mom. But I’m a soldier. I fly helicopters. I command people who fly helicopters. It’s what I do. You know that…. Look, it’s probably not going to happen, but if it does, can you jump on a plane and get here as fast as you can? The girls will need you.”
“Of course, dear. Just as long as when you get back you don’t get upset if your daughters seem more than a bit spoiled. ’Cause you know my rule: what happens with Grandma stays with Grandma.”
“All right, Mom. I promise to bite my lip and say nothing about what’s happened while I was away.”
“Then it’s a deal, Bea. Just let me know if you need me and I’ll be on the way.”
“Thanks, Mom. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
19
3:24 A.M., NOVEMBER 1
ALPHA COMPANY, 3RD BATTALION, 6TH MARINE REGIMENT, 2ND MARINE DIVISION
NEARING EMBASSY ROW, CONSTITUTION AVENUE
ISLAMABAD, PAKISTAN
The ominous world surrounding them as they walked down Constitution Avenue was beyond frightful. With the roaring flames devouring the city, it was as if the unyielding fog were on fire.
Behind the fleeing thousands, the Marriott’s ferocious inferno soared. Arriving scant minutes after those within the Marines’ care disappeared, the initial insurgents to reach the location had seen to that. The first thing the wary force found were their countrymen’s bodies scattered far and wide across the eerie grounds. And a modest gathering of wounded two hundred meters west of the hotel. The precise composition of the malignant force their comrades had encountered, and exactly what had transpired, the struggling injured were unable to say. Americans, some of the survivors thought. But none was certain. They were positive of one thing, however. Whoever the attackers had been, they were extremely proficient. And quite lethal.
The rampaging peasant army, their victories without end, had seldom demonstrated caution as the weeks passed. Yet, after surveying the Marriott’s gruesome scene, the stunned gathering hesitated. Even though the arriving revolutionaries were vast in number, none was eager to wander into the night in search of a similar fate. So they justified staying where they were in order to explore the distant corners of the hotel. Once their languishing efforts were complete, they set the multimillion-dollar structure ablaze. No one made the slightest attempt to do any more than remain where he was and gleefully watch the hypnotic flames.
* * *
• • •
The Marines had anticipated an unrelenting enemy onslaught as they shepherded the struggling masses’ toward the embassy. Each was convinced they’d be embroiled in one vicious fight after another. But, to their surprise, it didn’t happen.
They were nearly there. Scant minutes remained before the harrowing journey would reach its end. Still, the company commander knew he couldn’t let down his guard. Until the undetermined moment, untold hours distant, when he and his men stepped onto the final departing King Stallion, it was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Even so, he had to admit they’d been lucky. Only a few half-hearted marauders had appeared through the mist to challenge the Marines’ efforts. Each had been spotted well before they could reach the critical caravan. The highly mobile Humvees had rushed out to brush their attacker aside without suffering a single casualty among Erickson’s charges.
As they neared the end of their march, the plodding line reached the first of the abandoned embassies. The company commander motioned for Lieutenant Ambrose, twenty yards behind, to join him. Ambrose hurried to the front of the formation.
“The turnoff to the diplomatic enclave’s just ahead,” Erickson said. “That’s going to be your platoon’s destination. Grab three of the machine-gun–mounted Humvees without wounded in them and one of the two equipped with TOW missiles. You’ll also take a number of the evacuees. No matter their nationality, the fifteen hundred at the end of the line will be sheltering within the enclave’s apartment buildings. Include at least a hundred of the civilians carrying AK-47s. Make sure each is given enough ammunition to last for at least a couple of days. Leave any women with children under five, along with their siblings, with me. After we unload the food the King Stallions are bringing, I’m going to put those women and children on the CH-53s and get them out of here.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t put up with any objections from those you’re handling. Threaten to shoot anyone who refuses to follow your orders. I’ll take the remainder of the evacuees, retrace our earlier steps, and lead them into the embassy grounds.”
“I’ll get right on it, sir.”
“The XO will be waiting for you. While we were gone, Scott’s been creating the stoutest fortifications possible to tie the embassy and the enclave together. He’ll show you where he wants your men and the civilians in your group carrying rifles. He’ll have your share of the antitank stuff. We’re allocating each platoon two Javelins and one TOW tripod with six missiles.”
“Got it, sir.”
“We don’t have a handle on what forces the enemy has in the area. But intelligence reports indicate the Fedayeen overran a number of Pakistani armored units while sweeping across the country. While they destroyed hundreds of tanks, they captured a number of them intact. There could be dozens, armed and ready, in the northeast portion of the country. They probably have at least as many functioning armored personnel carriers. So we need to be alert for not only the possibility of significant infantry attacks but also for the sudden appearance of armored forces.”
“We’ll do our best to be prepared for anything, sir.”
“All right, Jeff. Good luck.”
“Good luck to you, sir.”
* * *
• • •
When they reached the enclave road, Ambrose ordered his men to stop and wait to receive the last fifteen hundred evacuees. He rushed to the rear to identify those who were being placed in his care.
Erickson continued on. Ten minutes, no more, and the first of the anxious thousands would enter the embassy’s shielding walls.
The enemy, no doubt, wouldn’t be far behind.
20
5:20 A.M., NOVEMBER 1
ALPHA COMPANY, 3RD BATTALION, 6TH MARINE REGIMENT, 2ND MARINE DIVISION
UNITED STATES EMBASSY
ISLAMABAD, PAKISTAN
When the company commander had arrived with his charges, he found Scott Tomlin and Eric Joyce had done a magnificent job in creating strategically layered defenses on all four sides of the embassy and enclave. While awaiting his return, the eighty-seven Marines who had remained had dug their own foxholes between the rows of trees that surrounded the embassy and begun those for their comrades.
The majority of the spreading strongholds were in the north and west. Those guarding the enclave’s eastern side, along with those in the southern woods, were, by necessity, more widely spaced. The sandbagged American Humvees and Marine foxholes reached as far as three hundred meters from both compounds. Two to a foxhole, Ambrose’s platoon would have the foremost defilades to the northeast, protecting the enclave. To their left, in front of the northern portion of the embassy, were the remaining British security forces along with the Canadians and Australians. The small contingents of Japanese, Swedish, Swiss, and Spanish were on the eastern side along with 1st and 2nd Squads from Lieutenant Matt Peters’s 4th Platoon.
The Dutch, French, and Germans held the far south of the combined defenses. The majority were on the edges of the tree-filled field below the American embassy. Beyond them lay the ghostly Kashmir Highway.
Lieutenant Bates’s 3rd Platoon and Marshall’s 2nd Platoon were to the west of the American compound. With them, the Italians were in the southwest corner in front of their own embassy. A single three-man Marine mortar team was assigned to each of the four sides.
Closer in, around both the embassy and enclave, Tomlin placed the civilians who’d arrived from the Marriott holding the conquered Fedayeen’s AK-47s.
Fifty yards west of the embassy’s main gate the command bunker, consisting of Erickson, First Sergeant Vickers, and Radioman Genovese, was soundly reinforced.
Nearest the embassy, Steven Gray’s fifty men waited as the last line of defense. With the exception of the Marines, British, and French, who were equipped with night vision equipment, none of the others had any more ability than the flailing attackers to see twenty yards in the harsh conditions. For that reason, until the layering clouds lifted, the defense of the thousands awaiting rescue would rest primarily upon Erickson’s men.
In all, there were 750 waiting with assault rifles, machine guns, mortars, and antitank weapons to challenge the approaching hordes.
They wouldn’t have long to wait. The first attack would soon be upon them.
* * *
• • •
There’d been no signs of the formidable peasant army for a significant portion of the past hour. That, however, hadn’t been true in the frantic period preceding it. Within minutes of the last evacuees entering the compounds, both had been set upon by a series of probing measures. Each incursion had been larger than the last. The intensifying skirmishes had been followed by a pair of major assaults marked by waves of suicide attacks by explosive-laden zealots.
The explosive response by those defending the grounds had been swift and certain. They tore the subversives apart with astonishing proficiency. Every attack, no matter how passionate, had been brushed aside by the skillful Marines. With the jihadists firing blindly at their fog-hidden foe and the Americans able to see the attackers as if it were the brightest of days, the futile battles had been uneven matches. The entrenched fire teams had spotted the ghoulish figures long before they could get anywhere near the stout barricades. There’d been little more than a handful of minor wounds among the embassy’s protectors. And more than two hundred Fedayeen dead.
Quite unexpectedly, at the height of the second notable foray, the frustrated radicals set fire to everything outside the Marines’ defenses. Once they had, they vanished. To where, none of those behind the battlements had any way of knowing. As suddenly as the extremists had appeared, the sounds of battle went quiet. And at least for the moment, there were no signs the surprising situation would soon change. The only movement the Marines were picking up was coming from the untold numbers of wounded jihadists attempting to drag themselves from the battlefield.
For the first time in weeks, the insurgents’ crude approach was catching up with them. Throughout their conquests the strategy employed by Basra’s followers had been simple. No matter their losses, they’d conduct unyielding assaults to overwhelm and destroy. So far, these subjugating maneuvers had worked with incredible success. Brute force had won the day. At least until they’d attempted to replicate those tactics to conquer the well-armed heretics. For this was no dispirited Pakistani army they faced.
Few who led the menacing throngs were quick learners. It’d taken far longer than it should to figure out the fatal flaw in their approach. Like their followers, most were ill-informed illiterates who carried with them no more than the rudimentary perspectives of their backward villages. They understood nothing about conducting modern warfare against a first-rate foe.
All who’d entered the initial fray against the nonbelievers had been convinced by morning their swords would run red. Their conquest would come with ease. Unaware of the Marines’ presence, it had taken far too long for them to realize their style wasn’t working. After so many effortless victories, it was a hard lesson for most to grasp. But in the confounding fog, as they were hideously slaughtered, they began to realize the adversary they faced could somehow conduct their actions with absolute precision despite the conditions. After a heated debate, even the most strident had to admit their misguided attempts were useless. Continuing the hapless incursions was beyond foolish. Each rationalized the decision by professing those behind the high walls could die as easily in daylight as they could in the dark.
They’d withdraw and sleep until the morning sun burned away the fog. Once the blanketing world was gone, they’d attack with relish and fury and bring an end to this.
The Marines couldn’t know it, but they’d have five hours of absolute calm before the renewed offensives would begin in earnest.
* * *
• • •
While the fearful night dragged on, all of the Pakistani government buildings and the abandoned embassies continued to be ravaged by fierce explosions and rising flames. With a satisfied smile, Erickson watched the fires burning in the distance. For by their actions the enemy had done him a significant favor. Each of those locations would have been ideal for emplacing snipers to pin the Americans down. They also would have provided immense cover when launching the vindictive attacks. But the fanatics’ scorn had overwhelmed all other actions. And it had caused them to make another fateful blunder. They put the reviled structures to the torch without giving it a passing thought. Once the fires finished razing the buildings and the trees and grounds around them, there’d be nothing left but hundreds of yards of open ground in front of the Marines’ defenses. In the coming days, the American marksmen would make sure the enemy paid in blood for their mistake.
To the east, little more than a half mile distant, the Chinese and Russian embassies also burned. The bodies of their dead lay scattered across the devastated grounds. Neither embassy had been strong enough to withstand the tides of hatred and vitriol that washed over them. The sadistic cruelty inflicted upon the defeated ones had been extreme. Not one had survived the encounter.
Even dampened by the earth-hugging clouds, the blazes roared, consuming each ill-fated structure. The funeral pyres were there for all to see. The dancing images taunted the dug-in Marines and those they protected. They knew a similar fate awaited them should they fail.
* * *
• • •
Lieutenant Peters approached his company commander’s bunker. With him were the thirteen men from his platoon’s 3rd Squad. With the command bunker’s sandbagged walls to protect them, they crowded around Erickson.
“Matt, the King Stallions should be on the ground in the next few minutes,” Erickson said. “Let’s go over how we’re going to do this one more time to make sure everyone’s on the same page. With each arriving flight, we’re going to attempt to handle things the same. You’re to take 3rd Squad through the landing zone, reinforce the French, Dutch, and German detachments, and determine if things appear secure enough for the helicopters to land.”
“Yes, sir,” Peters replied.
“As soon as you’re comfortable with the situation, radio the pilots and give them the authorization to come in. Same as it was when we landed: first two King Stallions near the southwest corner of the embassy, with the remaining four in the parking area close to the main gate. Once they touch down, our first priority will be emptying them as rapidly as possible. Is that understood?”
“Absolutely, sir. We’ll do everything we can to ensure there are no delays.”
“When that’s completed, we’ll begin filling them with evacuees and getting the CH-53s back into the air.”
“You can depend on us, sir.”
“Good. Before the King Stallions arrive, make contact with Gunny Joyce. His detachment will be escorting the civilians who’ve volunteered to empty the first two and carry the food and water through the embassy grounds and across to the enclave. Don’t be surprised how quickly they grab those cartons of MREs along with the water cans. Within minutes of arriving here, the evacuees from the hotel cleaned out every food store the embassies had. But it wasn’t enough to do anything more than temporarily relieve their hunger. So they’re highly motivated to get those boxes and cans into both compounds. There’ll be tons of anxious folks awaiting the contents. The thousands of pounds of food, even if not the fanciest, should make them happy.”
