Jack Terral - Rolling Thunder (2007)

I'll be damned, Turnbull said. They finally figured out that getting their young people to blow themselves up and destroying a generation was not a particularly intelligent thing to do, hey?

Evidently, Watson commented. They want to adopt the more civilized tactic of launching well-planned attacks on their enemy to inflict the most casualties possible while keeping their own losses to a minimum.

Joplin glanced at Entienne. Are we to assume the President is deeply concerned about this?

That would be a correct assumption, Carl, she replied.

I suppose he's worried about the Israelis getting extra antsy about these latest events, Joplin said. They are just about a quick breath away from military action against Iran as it is.

That's been quite apparent, Entienne said. They think we're soft on Tehran. However, as of now, the Mossad knows nothing of this new development. At least, we don't think they do.

Colonel Turnbull was becoming impatient with the rambling conversation when something important obviously needed to be discussed. He glanced at Watson. How about giving us one concise but informative statement to describe this situation before we drown ourselves in details.

Sure, Watson said. The Iranian military or certain elements of same have launched a holy war using foreign, that is, non-Iranian, Muslims to do the fighting. These, of course, would be Shiites, the prevalent branch of Islam in Iran. He paused before speaking again. Now, with the colonel's permission, I will be a bit wordier. Please permit me to say that we know a force of Arab mujahideen has been built up by Iranian Army officers. This outfit is now beyond the cadre stage. There are fully equipped and manned units. However, we don't know the types, number, personnel strength, or equipment. That goes for their training and garrison centers. All that must be found out.

Mmm, Joplin mused. There seems to be no doubt of the existence of this Jihad organization. So what's the CIA's take on this thing?

That it's a very real threat and we've got to stay up to date on what's going on, Watson said.

Colonel Turnbull scowled. Being kept up to date won't get us shit. We got to get one step ahead of the game. If not, we're going to be playing in the dark.

Arlene Entienne spoke up. Carl, who is your Iranian connection?

Saviz Kahnani, Joplin replied. But don't you think it's a little too early for me to make any contact with him?

Agreed, Entienne said. But the President wants you to drop everything and sit tight until you need to have a tete-a-tete with your Iranian friend.

Turnbull snorted at the French expression as sissified. What is this? Bareback Mountain?

It was Brokeback Mountain, Entienne said. And the President has a job for you and your staff, John.

Please tell me in pure unadulterated English, Arlene.

You are to instruct all SPECOPS units in the Middle East to keep their eyes and ears open to glean intelligence on the Iranian connection. The President wants every operation out there to have a secondary mission of scoping out the latest on this developing situation.

Then that's what's going to happen, Turnbull promised. The word will go out to Station Bravo in Bahrain tonight.

Also, Shelor Field in Afghanistan and the USS Combs wherever she might be.

She's in the Arabian Sea, as a matter of fact, Watson said. At any rate, while Colonel Turnbull gets things rolling through SPECOPS, we in the CIA will be using our own organization and various personnel, i.e., agents, moles, and informants, to see what we can dig up.

Who is the central contact for all of us? Joplin asked.

Me, Entienne said. She glanced at Turnbull. Li'l ol' me!

Well, boil me in gumbo and call me Bubba, Turnbull said, grinning.

.

CHEHAAR GARRISON

EASTERN IRAN

1830 HOURS

THE armored cars were aligned for inspection in the proper company formation with the platoons on line. Each vehicle had been carefully and thoroughly washed and scrubbed with the insides vacuumed free of dust and dirt. The machine guns atop the turrets had also been given a complete cleaning after being field-stripped. Light coats of oil were applied to each part as the weapons were reassembled.

The uniforms of the crews were also washed and pressed, and now all stood at parade rest in front of their EE-3s waiting to be inspected. Warrant Officer Shafaqat Hashiri, the company sergeant major, stood to the front. When he saw Captain Sikes step from his Quonset hut, the warrant officer snapped-to, made an about-turn, and called the company to attention. Boot heels clicked together and hands slapped the sides of trousers as the men assumed the proper parade-ground position. Hashiri made another about-turn. When Sikes marched up to him, he saluted sharply. The company is ready for inspection, sir! he barked in English.

Carry on, Mr. Hashiri, Sikes said.

Once more, the warrant officer about-turned, then ordered the men to parade rest. Then he and Sikes marched down to the far right of the platoons. The commander of the armored car in that position called his men to attention. Sikes checked the crew's appearance, then made a walk around the vehicle, carefully noting the condition of the steel exterior. He wasn't so concerned about dust since the wind kicked it up constantly, but he wanted to make sure there was no rust. The nearby salt marshes made erosion a constant threat to vehicles, weapons, and equipment.

When he finished with the first vehicle, he marched over to the second. That commander called his men to attention while the first put his crew at parade rest.

Very precise. Very military. Very much bashing on the square, as the Brits say.

WHEN Arsalaan Sikes, nee Archibald Sikes, arrived at Chehaar Garrison, he was put into an intense training program. It was at this time he learned that al-Zaim was actually Brigadier Shahruz Khohollah of the Iranian Army.

After only a few days of the military instruction, it became apparent to Khohollah that this newly converted English Muslim not only knew more than the Iranian cadre, but was better schooled than they in military science. He was promoted to sergeant and turned loose on the mujahideen. Within a couple of weeks, the mob of Arab farm and city boys was disciplined, drilled, and sharp. Brigadier Khohollah was pleased to report to his superiors that the group would be ready for combat two months ahead of schedule.

Sikes's old pal Khalil Farouk, who had enticed him to desert from the British Army, had come along from Saudi Arabia with his protege. Farouk was not in the military branch of the Jihad Abadi; he was a political officer who conducted propaganda and religious classes to inspire the new soldiers to want to fight for the cause. He emphasized they could serve Islam best by becoming skilled, disciplined soldiers. Allah had blessed the Jihad Abadi, and wanted a logical, pragmatic fighting force able to carry on a prolonged, effective struggle until the final day of holy victory.

Sikes and Farouk roomed together in one end of a hut, and spent most evenings in talk. Sikes sorely missed his British ale and stout, but enjoyed sipping thick, black khawe coffee from tiny cups. That, and smoking an argili water pipe during long quiet hours, brought him new comforts and relaxation. Farouk wanted to use those quiet times to impart further encouragement to his English friend, and he decided to tell him about the Arab Legion. Sikes listened with rapt attention as the Arab's narrative enthralled him, feeding his imagination with new fantasies of glory.

The Arab Legion was a large unit of Arab soldiers commanded by British officers. The Legion was first formed in October 1920 by Captain Frederick Peake in Transjordan from the local gendarmerie. At first, they were undisciplined and uncaring after many months without pay. Most did not bother to wear their uniforms. But Peake went to work, shaped them up, and got the right administrative and supply wheels turning to raise morale. When they were ready for active duty, he dubbed this newly reactivated unit the Arab Legion.