Larry Bond - Exit Plan

“Certainly,” responded Jerry, as he joined the other three men throwing dirt into the hole. Ramey was still tense, but his overall demeanor seemed to have improved, at least Jerry thought so. He couldn’t tell if the platoon leader was actually dealing quietly with his grief, or merely keeping it in check, storing it up for release later.

After fifteen minutes of shoveling and stomping, the hole was filled and the remaining sand kicked around the cave. A quick glance by an untrained eye would not see anything amiss. But if a professional did a thorough inspection, the soft spot in the ground would be quickly discovered. And while the SEALs were hoping the distance from the cave to the car would be enough to prevent the discovery of their equipment, burying it was a little extra insurance.

“Okay everyone, huddle around for a planning session,” Ramey announced, as he put on his battle gear. Motioning Phillips toward the cave entrance he added, “Philly, take the watch. I need Doc’s linguistic skills for this. And keep a sharp eye out on that road.” Phillips nodded his head as he grabbed his weapon and went outside.

“I can translate for my husband,” protested Shirin.

“I’m sure you can, ma’am. But we can’t afford any misunderstandings. Doc here will only assist when necessary to make sure Mr. Akbari has a clear picture of what we are trying to do,” responded Ramey coldly. Yousef was not happy with the lieutenant’s tone, and he clearly heard and understood the word “mister” — as opposed to rank — that Ramey used before his name.

Ramey unfolded his map and placed it on the ground. Shining his flashlight on to the map, he pointed to their location. “We are here, in these foothills approximately ten klicks from Bandar Kangan. Our destination is way the hell down here, just shy of two hundred and thirty-five kilometers to the southeast.” His finger swept down the coastline until he tapped the map at Bandar Charak.

“Given our untenable position, we have to start this trek on foot. My intention is to use this dirt road as our evasion and escape route. It parallels Highway 96 and is roughly graded and fairly flat, which will make it easier for us to maintain a reasonable pace. The closest we get to the highway is three hundred meters, and the farthest is one-and-a-half klicks, so we’ll have a good field of view to watch out for anyone coming from the highway. There is good ground to the northeast, with plenty of hills and shallow ravines, so we have excellent cover in case anyone does go off road. My goal is to make Akhtar by 0400, forty-five minutes before twilight begins. There are some hills to the west where we can hide out until later in the evening. Hopefully, we can find a small van there that we can requisition.” Ramey paused as Shirin relayed the plan to Yousef. A frown quickly formed on his face.

“Matt, I’m not all that great with land navigation. What kind of distance are we talking about here?” asked Jerry, noticing Akbari’s reaction.

“Almost fifteen kilometers, XO.”

“That’s a bit of a hike, don’t you think?”

“In eight hours? That should be very doable. I specifically chose a route to accommodate Dr. Naseri’s condition.”

Yousef leaned over and asked Shirin a question. “My husband wants to know what we should do about the car? A Basij patrol has seen it.”

Ramey nodded. “I was just about to get to that. On our way down to the road, we will stop and remove the license plates and then damage the car so that it looks like it has been vandalized. We can’t use it without drawing a lot of attention, and one of the patrols will eventually find it. By removing the identifying plates and damaging it, it will take the Basij and police longer to figure out that the car is yours. They’ll work it out sooner or later, but the longer it takes them, the better it is for us. Are there any other questions?”

“What about the weather, Matt? What do we do if we are out in the open and a shamal hits?” Jerry rarely trusted the accuracy of weather forecasts, and the worst possible time for a storm to hit would be while they were out navigating an unknown route in the dark.

“If the storm hits before we reach Akhtar, we’ll shift to a column formation and everyone will be tied together with a line. We’ll then seek immediate shelter. Anything else?” No one spoke.

Ramey stood up and tucked his weapon under his right arm. “Okay people, diamond formation just like before. Pointy on point, Doc has the backdoor. We move quickly, we move quietly. Let’s go.”

“Hooyah!” responded the SEALs. Shirin and Yousef looked on with confusion, while Jerry felt even more alone.

As they filed out of the cave, Phillips bumped up against Jerry. “Good question, XO. You’re starting to think like a SEAL.”

“God forbid,” Jerry replied with a slight smile. “I prefer my own brand of insanity.”

Phillips shrugged his shoulders as Ramey slashed a “knife hand” across his throat, motioning for them to knock it off. Idle chatter would not be tolerated.

Once out of the cave, Jerry and the Iranians were placed in the center of a loose diamond. Lapointe and Fazel were already scanning the horizon with their night-vision sights. After they reported “All clear,” Ramey whispered over the radio circuit, “Forward.”

If climbing up the hill in the dark was bad, going back down was worse. The loose rock and sand made finding good footing treacherous. Shirin slipped several times during the early phase of the descent. She just couldn’t keep her balance.

“XO,” Ramey’s voice came softly over the radio. “Get in front of Dr. Naseri.”

Jerry did so, while Ramey motioned for Yousef to grasp his wife’s waist. Ramey then grabbed Shirin’s right arm and placed her hand on Jerry’s shoulder. The stability Shirin gained from the two men made the remaining trek down the hill smoother, but it slowed things down. Half an hour later, they had reached the car.

Lapointe and Phillips took watch positions on the crest. They were still a few kilometers from the highway; there were no signs of any Basij patrols. The lights of Bandar Kangan could be seen glowing on the horizon. The sky was overcast, with only a slight breeze coming from the sea.

“No signs of any patrols,” reported Lapointe. “We’re good, Boss.”

“Roger that, Pointy. You and Philly keep a sharp eye. Things are going to get a little noisy in a minute.”

Ramey asked Yousef for the keys. He unlocked the door and quickly put the vehicle in neutral. “XO, Doc, push the car forward a little.”

Jerry and Fazel started pushing, but the car was sitting in some soft sand and it resisted their efforts. Yousef came over and the three were able to get the car moving. After about four feet, Ramey said, “Whoa. Good enough. Doc, get the rear license plate.”

The two SEALs quickly removed the identifying plates and Ramey stored them in his backpack. He then opened the glove compartment and carelessly threw the contents on to the front seat and the floor. He found nothing of particular value, but saved what looked like official documents for Fazel to inspect.

Ramey tossed the keys to Fazel and said, “Doc, force the trunk open. Make it look sloppy.”

The corpsman took the keys and opened the trunk. He found the tire iron, closed the trunk, and then proceeded to pry and bend open the lock. The creaking and screech of torn metal seemed particularly loud. Placing the tire iron back in the trunk, Fazel rifled through and shifted the contents all around. He threw some on the ground as well.

“Sprinkle some sand in the trunk, Doc. Not too much though.”

As Fazel worked on the trunk, Ramey slashed the seats and tore them open. He then found the identification plate on the door and began rubbing it with a handful of sand. A brief inspection by flashlight showed that the vehicle identification number was badly scratched, with parts of the number unreadable, but not totally eliminated. Checking the doors, he made sure they were all unlocked.