"I would go for that. But there are elements of my force which will not."
"The hardcores. What to do with them?"
"Give them to the Kurds for all I care."
Honorable and knew who to be honorable about. I was starting to like this guy.
And so it was done.
I called the Kurds. I told them to tell the guys in Mosul that when the tanks came back they were ours. Don't shoot.
I left most of the prisoners in Khuwaitla with a group of Nepos and, notably, our LOG and wounded. The enlisted prisoners were moved into the shattered houses and given food. They didn't cause problems. The officers did a couple of times. The colonel settled that out. The Nepos were just there to make sure nobody got really stupid. There were a couple of hardcores in the enlisteds. They got stupid. The rest got the hint.
We waited until the next morning then rolled to Mosul.
Don't get me wrong, nobody got any sleep that night. There were hardcores to handle, which is never easy even with blood-thirsty Nepos. Shit had gotten fucked up. It had to be unfucked. I had to spread out units as observation posts and hope they didn't get overrun. There were still some guys moving around that had avoided the sweep. We had to round them up. All the vehicles had to be logged, which since we were spread to fuck and gone took time. I put in a quick call to home. More on that later. There was a probe up towards the pass. It got turned back.
Some of the troops got some sleep, I got none at all and neither did the other officers or most of the NCOs. I'd talk about how tired I was but unless you've been there you just can't know. And if you have, I don't have to explain. But by dawn we were ready to roll.
Creating any sort of "combined action" was impossible. First of all, the Perg Mersha for all their valor were never particularly disciplined. They're great fighters, don't get me wrong, but so were Vikings. Getting them to do anything, though, is like herding cats.
The way to herd cats is to toss treats. The treats were running Iraqi soldiers and Iraqi logistics units that were suddenly unguarded.
Basically, we did what JEB Stuart did at Gettysburg instead of his job. We rolled all the way around the battle. Everywhere we went, the suddenly surrounded Iraqis broke and ran. The guys in the trenches were the least hardcore of any of the units. Getting rolled over by Abrams scared the shit out of them.
As a unit broke, the local Kurds, who kept a close eye on such things and had gotten the rumor that we were in the area, would break out and attack. Raid if you will but when an enemy is running raiders will run just as fast or faster.
Took all day but by the time the sun set the Siege of Mosul was lifted. Link-up was effected with the guys coming down from the mountains. All quiet on the Mosul front.
One tank farm went up. Probably a hardcore. There was still plenty of diesel and gas. Hell, there was enough for us in the trucks supporting the Iraqi forces.
The Kurds did a pretty good job in the aftermath. They'd been civilized, a bit, by dealing with us. They rounded up the Iraqis instead of putting them on stakes or whatever. They used the "special" protocols but that was just sense. They also separated for hardcores. We gave them ours. They still didn't put them on stakes.
We got our wounded under care and the Kurdish doctor (doctors, actually) got medicines from our stores and the Iraqis'. (Which were U.S. medicines, anyway.)
I got with the local Perg Mersha commander. Here's how the Perg Mersha work. They're tribal based. That is, a company, battalion, whatever, will all come from one tribe. When they gather in big groups, one guy is put in charge. There's a lot of arguing about orders at that level. But they all sort of agree as long as the target is clear. Think barbarian hordes. Or, hell, the Confederate Army.
The local guy was the brother-in-law of the president of Kurdistan. (They'd tried a couple of different organizations, politically, and gone with one that is remarkably close to ours. Works for tribes which is what the thirteen colonies really were. And, hell, still are.) Also one of their brighter military lights, by useful coincidence. I looked up his data on the DODnet and DOD agreed. Smart guy, good natural tactician, school trained in the U.S. Fuck, what was it with these guys getting CGSC and I couldn't get a damned slot?
The Kurds got under control fast. They rounded up prisoners. They secured equipment and critical installations. They started counting the loot. All under this Kurd guy.
He had things well in hand. Well, fuck me. I'm supposed to have to do everything!
We parked in downtown Mosul and just fucking crashed while the Kurds had a party.
Chapter Eighteen
Yeah, Son, We Really Kicked Ass
The next morning I got on the horn. I'd sent in a sort of incoherent report the night before but it was late and I was just fucking shot.
We'd been in EMCON, electromagnetic something something, basically not using any of our electronics, for most of the run. All the way since Abu Samak. We'd told home we were going EMCON and approximately when we should come back up. But there was still some "trepidation" on the other end.
Overnight my "staff," Fillup and his XO basically, had done some work. Fine boys. We had a list of the captured stuff from the first battle and it turned out the Kurds had a better one. I called home. BC, being prompted I was going to call, came on. I opened my mouth:
"Have the honor to report have captured Mosul along with over seventy enemy cannon . . ."
Had it all written out and the words just flowed "Nepalese auxiliaries charged forward with great gallantry . . ." "must highly commend Lieutenant Mongo on his fearless assault into the flank of the enemy force . . ."
Look, U.S. After Action Reports are as dry as a fucking bone. If you read the fucking battle of Thermopylae as a U.S. After Actions report you'd be snoozing halfway through. They could suck the life out of the battle of the Alamo.
In the old days these sorts of things were written by quill, put into a multi-layer waxed-linen envelope and sent over seas by way of fighting ships. Who just might have to fight through enemies to bring them home. They were dry and terse but they had a terrible beauty about them. Often they were reprinted, verbatim, in newspapers.
They did not use the term "synergy" anywhere in the report. And they gave fucking credit where credit was due.
The new BC was clearly a history buff. He was grinning after the first sentence and just nodded all the way through. Apparently, despite the wording, he was getting every bit.
"That was a thing of beauty there, Bandit Six."
"Thank you, sir. I practiced."
"I take it you have it written out?"
"Yes, sir. With appendixes."
"Fast work. Send it on. I was copying your verbal. I'm going to send that on as well."
"Yes, sir." (Gulp. Let's hope most of the chain of command had a sense of humor.) "Sir, Mosul and Irbil have airports. Rupert Murdoch got a plane in here, for God's sake."
"Ready to come home?"
"You're kidding, right, sir?"
"Let me get back to you on that," he said. I could see there was something going on but I couldn't know what.
Lord God I wished I'd known. I would have gone and taken a barbarian bride.
But I'm getting ahead of myself again.
The Kurdish general still had things in hand. My guys had been moved up overnight. The wounded were under care and it was pretty good. I checked up on them and the facilities they were in were at least Vietnam era. Compared to everything we'd seen up to that time, it was like science fiction. Hell, they had a functioning MRI! They'd needed medicines but we'd carried in a lot of those.