.
ZAHEYA BATTLELINE
LESS than half an hour had passed since Brigadier Shahruz Khohollah gave the attack order via his communications system, sending the suicide bombers over the barricades and down into the valley. Five minutes later, Sikes Pasha and the Arab Storm Troopers, along with Captain Naser Khadid and the Iranian Imperial Lions, scrambled from their fighting positions and rushed downward to the valley floor to trail after the human bombs. The young Arab zealots followed previous instructions by taking advantage of the cover and concealment in no-man's-land. They scampered awkwardly forward to get nearer to the American MLR. The mandates given them were simple: Get as close as possible to the infidels, then blow themselves up.
The Arab and Iranian rifle units behind the martyrs were spread out in skirmish formations, firing upward at the enemy. This tactic would most certainly attract attention and bullets their way, but it also would give the bombers a better chance to get close enough to detonate their explosives and take out a greater number of Americans.
Sikes Pasha saw yet another explosion erupt, spreading a brilliant millisecond of light over the scene. "Poor bluddy sod," he muttered to himself, then he spoke into his LASH. "Amkammal rimaya--keep firing!"
As the Storm Troopers continued to send up their fusillades, the Imperial Lions followed suit. The suicide bombers, now at the base of the slope leading to the SEAL positions, were just about in position to begin the ascent under the cover of the sweeping gunfire from their Islamic brethren behind them.
.
THE BATTLE
THE sun was nearing the apex of the eastern mountains, and the light of day was increasing measurably. Along the line in Three Section, SCPO Dawkins and his SAW gunner, James Duncan, kept busy going after targets of opportunity, sometimes making guesstimates as to where some individuals might come back into view after rolling or diving into the covering vegetation.
Dawkins spotted one guy emerging from between a stand of boulders and fired quickly at him, scoring a direct hit. He watched in amazement as the guy exploded, a small, dark object flying straight into the air from the center of the detonation. Both Dawkins and Duncan watched the thing, worried it might be a large grenade or a mortar shell. It arced toward their position, then began a downward plummet. The two SEALs dived for cover as it hit the ground near them, rolling along the ground until coming to a halt. They looked at it, then each other, then back at the gruesome object.
The head of a young Arab, his eyes open wide and his mouth grinning eerily, lay against a sandbag a couple of yards away.
Dawkins rose to a crouch and went to it, grabbing the severed cranium by the hair. He heaved it over the side of the fighting position toward the ground below. Duncan shuddered. "That's the damndest thing I've ever seen! I'll be having nightmares about that son of a bitch for the rest of my life."
"Well," Dawkins allowed, "it was kind of weird, alright."
ONE of the bombers, a sixteen-year-old who had left school to martyr himself for Islam, had done a good job of getting close to the American positions. He was a skinny little Saudi Arabian, and he used his slight physique to remain out of sight in the scrub brush as he scrambled across the valley of no-man's-land. His mind-set was such that he scarcely noticed all the firing, with bullets clipping the air around him and zinging off rocks. The kid's entire concentration was on staying alive long enough to get up the slopes right under the infidels and yank the firing cord of his explosive vest. When he reached the far edge of the natural growth of thorn bushes, the determined boy stopped and flung himself to the ground.
The sun hadn't cleared the high country to the east, but it had risen enough that the dark orange of dawn had disappeared from the sky. The kid thought of how proud his parents would be, especially his father when they told all the men at the mosque of this great sacrifice made in the name of Allah the Beneficent. Now the night's coolness was gone, and as the day grew brighter, it seemed like the lights of Paradise shined down on the scene. The lad felt a fierce joy grip his heart, and he hollered, "Allah akbar--God is great!"
He leaped to his feet and rushed into the open toward the slope. When he reached it, he clambered upward, tears of joy in his eyes. He managed to go only five yards before the bullet struck his shoulder, twisting him around and causing him to fall face first into a painful slide down the rugged slope to the base of the mountain. An instinctive realization that he had received a mortal blow swept through his fading consciousness. Blood was in his mouth, and he could barely breathe. His life and the time to end it gloriously were fast running out. It took all his waning strength to grab the detonation cord and give it a weak pull. The battery-powered detonator sparked, the cap flashed, and five pounds of C-4 plastic explosive were set off.
The kid's upper torso was vaporized, and the concussion of the blast killed a rabbit in a nearby thicket.
THE SEALs were now fully aware that the attackers--at least those in the direct front of the assault formation-were suicide bombers wearing explosive vests. Everyone concentrated on singling out the crazy bastards, and shooting them down as they charged out into view. Those who escaped the initial incoming rounds ducked back when the volleys of fire from the Americans built up. Occasional explosions still occurred, sending natural and human debris flying upward, along with shock waves that bounced off the hard ground.
Brannigan now issued instructions that all machine gunners, grenadiers, and SAW gunners were to fire hot and heavy, sweeping the areas near the base of the slopes. It was obvious that the bombers' forward momentum had stopped there, and the fanatics were only waiting for half a chance to rush upward toward the SEAL positions. Meanwhile, the enemy backup force of riflemen had been discovered just past the midpoint of the valley. They were undoubtedly waiting for the bombers to disrupt the defenses enough to allow a decisive charge that would carry them to where they could close in for the kill. If they accomplished that, it would pretty much bring Operation Battleline to a halt, with the Iranians being the big winners.
The combined fire from machine guns, SAWs, and grenade launchers was an awesome, rolling thunder of continual destruction. Both human beings and vegetation in the area were smashed and sliced by the incoming slugs, which cleared them away as if some roaring giant weed whacker were being swung through the area.
CAPTAIN Naser Khadid both crawled and rushed from squad to squad among his Iranian Special Forces troops, checking them out. The Imperial Lions had a couple of men lightly wounded, but Khadid knew that when the Americans were satisfied all the suicide bombers had been blown up, they would begin turning 100 percent of their firepower onto his unit and Sikes Pasha's Arabs.
"This is Khadid," the captain said in English over the LASH to Sikes. He spoke in that language so none of the Arabs or Iranians could understand him. "I have lost track of how many of the martyrs have exploded, but I am beginning to feel they may be all dead."
"Right," came back Sikes. "Poor stupid bastards! It looks like they sent themselves to hell without accomplishing a single fucking bluddy thing."
"They did not go to hell, Sikes Pasha," Khadid said. "They are in Paradise this very moment."
"Right, mate," Sikes said. "But it looks to me like all that's melted away to our front. We're gonna end up being out here on our own with them Yanks having a jolly good time shooting the hell out of us."
"I am in total agreement," Khadid said. "It is time to withdraw. And we must do it fast."
"Right," Sikes said. "Are you listening to this, Brigadier?"
Now Khohollah's voice could be heard.
"Yes, Major Sikes. I shall order the support section to begin heavy fire with the grenade launchers and machine guns. As soon as they start, I urge you and Captain Khadid to withdraw from the valley with all haste."