So Kaseem and his team were sent out, along with several others, to find the Aussie soldiers and eliminate them before they got any bright ideas that might put a crimp in the operation that would serve notice to the entire world that though the war on terror went on, the `terrorists’, the men like Kaseem who would fight and die for their cause, would never stop.
“You see anything, Abdul”
Kaseem’s lips curled.
Not even if he was forced to work with infidels who’s causes were not his own. He shook his head, “No, Joseph. Nothing.”
He pronounced the name of his `comrade’ with the `I’ of the old way, rather than the western `J’, mostly because he knew it would irritate the man almost as much as being called `Abdul’ bugged him. Kaseem knew that, with the American attacks on the faithful, and other anti-imperialist groups the world over, it was perhaps inevitable that enemies come together to face the greater evil, but he would be glad when he could return to his home and be free of those whom he had been forced to associate.
“You think they’re gone”
“Probably.” Kaseem hissed back, still examining the chopper through the imager. “We take no chances, however. Give me the radio.”
“You got it,” The man said, pulling one of their special frequency radios from a pouch on his tactical vest and handing it over.
Kaseem took it and keyed it open, “Command, this is squad three. We have a landing site in view, request artillery to the following coordinates.”
Kaseem’s squad pressed in closer to the buildings around them as their squad leader recited off a series of numbers from the readings of his imager.
“What the hell are you doing, mate,” Trooper Eddings asked himself softly as he watched the man speak urgently into a radio through the imager, his rifle laying just beside him.
The squad, and Eddings had no doubt that it was exactly that, had stopped when they came around the graduated bend in the road which had been blocking the blackhawk from their view, immediately moving to cover while they examined the chopper from a distance. There had been a conversation of sorts there, but he couldn’t tell what it was, then the leader had begun murmuring into a radio.
That meant that the Tangos had pre-arranged some clear frequencies and had solid communication.
Not good.
A faint sound in the distance distracted him from that thought, however, something he almost recognized but couldn’t quite place. Not at first anyway. When the sound was replaced by a soft whistling Eddings’ eyes widened and he cursed as he rolled back and scrambled to his feet just as the first explosion roared around him.
Heat and concussion pushed him off his balance, slamming Eddings back into the rooftop but he just rolled with it and came back to his feet running. The sound of the wind rushing around the guidance fins of the incoming mortar shells was now lost in the general chaos of the moment, but he knew that it was still there.
It felt just like training suddenly, and he kept moving just like training.
A fireball to his right told him that the Helo, with its tank of fuel, was gone now and he barely had time to recognize that fact as splashes of liquid fire rained down around him. Eddings would never know if it was miraculous that he wasn’t incinerated by the burning fuel or not, but for the moment he didn’t stop to think about it, he just ran.
The edge of the building came up fast, but he didn’t stop. Eddings jumped from the roof of the four story building, grabbing at the concrete monorail structure as another flash of light and heat shook his world and he lost his grip and felt the sickening lurch of free fall take him.
“What the hell was that!”
Gwen’s shocked cry was echoed in Anselm’s face as the unfortunately familiar sound of explosions rolled over them and a plume of black smoke and fire rose into the sky ahead of them.
“Mortar fire.” Malcolm said grimly. “Bastards.”
“Mortar.They’re BOMBING my city!” Gwen raged, face reddening as her fists clenched.
“Fuckers came loaded for bear, Major.” Trooper Tavish said softly, his hand shaking slightly as the barely controlled rage in his voice gave his emotions away.
“Yeah. So did we.” Malcolm replied quietly. “Let them have their fun, Tavish. It’ll be our turn soon.”
“Too bloody right.”
Pierson’s computer link died when the Black Hawk went up in flames, and piecing the loss of signal together with the thunderous explosion that blew out the storefront’s glass windows didn’t take a genius.
“Incoming!”
The single word, screamed over the sound of the explosions, might have seemed to be a little late but it triggered an automatic ingrained response in those who heard it, slicing through the residual shock of the moment like a bayonet blade. Soldiers scrambled for cover, hugging low to the ground as they unslung their weapons and put whatever they could between them and the street.
“They’ve got artillery, Colonel!”
Pierson’s lips curled up in a derisive scowl as he bit down on the immediate scathing comment that came to mind, and he just nodded curtly and let out a yell himself, “Watch for tangos! They may come in on the tail of the attack!”
Men nodded, moving more calmly now as they had orders to occupy them, even though the rolling thunder of explosions still passed over them. One of them crawled over to the smashed out windows, grinding the glass on the floor beneath the padded armor on his knees and legs, and peered outside.
“They got the chopper, Sir!”
Pierson didn’t bother to tell the man that he already knew that, just nodded in response, “See anyone!”
“Some of our guys out in the street, Sir.they’re not moving!”
“Sir! Permission to.!”
“Hold that thought, Trooper!” Pierson ordered, scrambling forward himself. “No one goes out there yet!”
“But sir!”
“I said HOLD!” The Colonel growled out in a tone that brooked no argument.
He made it to the windows himself, crouching down in a corner where he could peer out on the burning wreck that had been a Black Hawk helicopter, and watched the punding fire come down from above.
“They’ve got the chopper, if they’ve got ground spotters nearby they’ll redirect the fire to anyone they see.” Pierson hissed, motioning his hands to tell everyone to get down and out of sight. “If they don’t see anyone moving.ahh.there we go.”
The bombardment slowed, finally trickling out as a last few shells erupted through a nearby building, sending chunks of cement and glass spraying out into the street, and then stopped. Smoke and dust began to settle into the street, obscuring the view of everything but the flickering of red and orange light from the burning helicopter.
“Now Sir”
“Quiet!” Pierson hissed in response.
The men fell silent, some almost afraid to breath as they waited. The silence grew oppressive, consuming the instants between each breath like a hideous monster, making each man shiver as their own heartbeats began to thunder through the silence, stalking them. Then, finally, through that hideous silence, there was a scrape of boots on loose concrete and a curse that echoed down the streets.
“Get into position!” Pierson hissed quietly, his tone urgent as he waved his men forward.
They moved quickly, but as quietly as they could, relieved to have something to do. They took up positions in the window and doorframe, leveling their XM-90’s down the street as they peered into the dust.
When they appeared, it was like the movies almost, dark figures just melting out of the smoke and dust, moving cautiously toward one of the fallen soldiers who still lay out in the middle of the street. The men looked to Pierson, waiting for the order, as the seconds began to weigh on them, but the Colonel held his hand out flat in the order to hold.