Combat Alley (2007) (2 page)

The SEALs as human males weren't good at showing their real emotions, and they shifted their feet and spoke self consciously among themselves. They and their departing buddy were all glad when the approaching Seahawk helicopter coming to pick Assad up swung in off the ocean and begin sinking down to the deck. The roar of the engines and deep whipping of the rotors saved anyone from having to say anything.

Leibowitz stepped forward and tapped Assad on the shoulder. When he turned around the two shook hands and exchanged quick smiles. Now, one by one, the other SEALs presented themselves. It was mostly quick handshakes, but now and then a pat on the shoulder was thrown in for good measure. They were all relieved when the unceremonious ceremony of farewell was over, and Assad trotted over to board the Super Stallion CH-53 helicopter to fly off to his new life.

Lieutenant (JG) Jim Cruiser summed up everyone's feelings very well with a simple remark: The detachment just isn't going to be the same anymore.

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THE REPUBLIC OF TAJIKISTAN

TAJIKISTAN is a former member nation of the now defunct USSR. It is a mountainous, landlocked country bordered by Kyrgyzstan to the north, Uzbekistan on the west, and China to the east, while Afghanistan is on the southern border.

Although Russians make up only 4 percent of the population, their influence and language are still strong even after almost fifteen years of independence. Back in those days of the former Communist glory, the area was a most unpleasant duty station and the Red Army posted many of its troublemakers and undesirables in the local garrisons just to be rid of them. The worst of these sites was an unhappy place located in the Kangal Mountains where the undesirables were isolated and cut off from the rest of the world. This included a particularly notorious military prison where some of the worst offenders of the armed forces were housed. Many were awaiting executions that never happened due to the convicts having been written off and forgotten by Soviet officialdom. They languished within the confines of the place, underfed, ignored, and miserable.

The commandant of the prison was a luckless man stuck in a thankless job. He barely had enough funds to feed his charges and only a small guard staff to look after them. Consequently, the prisoners, though securely locked up, were free to do pretty much as they pleased within the walls and razor wire. As in any criminal group, the toughest of the tough floated to the top in this stew of violence and took over as the uncontested leaders. The top hoodlum ended up being an ex'warrant officer by the name of Luka Yarkov who had been convicted of beating a soldier to death during a drunken rage. He had been awaiting his execution for more than a decade. While this wouldn't be unusual in the United States, condemned prisoners always were shot within a few days of sentencing in Russia.

The commandant, while ignoring the activity within the prison, had managed to make outside contacts among the civilian population. This brought him into touch with local politicians and bureaucrats who had taken advantage of the distance between themselves and the Kremlin to get into extracurricular activities to make money in various dishonest endeavors. This included the black market, loan-sharking, selling of stolen government property, and other nefarious undertakings. Now and then one or more of these entrepreneurs had special needs for muscle. They would bribe the prison supervisor to release a few prisoners to be employed as goons and debt collectors when necessary. The commandant received bribes for providing these services, and he turned to the head prisoner, Yarkov, to furnish these temporary employees who performed the deeds for a pittance and a paid visit to a miserable brothel at the edge of the nearby town of Dolirod.

When the Soviet Union broke up, the Russians simply abandoned the place, leaving the condemned men free to do anything they wished as long as it didn't include returning to Mother Russia. Yarkov was not unhappy about being unable to go back home, since his crime would undoubtedly result in the application of the heretofore forgotten death sentence. In fact, he saw remaining in Tajikistan as a great opportunity to establish a personal seat of power in a country rife with banditry and lawlessness. He quickly organized his prison gang into a small army and equipped them with uniforms, equipment, and weapons left behind by the former guard detachment.

Yarkov knew he couldn't carry on criminal activities from a prison that was so close to civilization, so he took his men up higher into the wild highlands of the Kangal Mountains to establish a base of operations. The Russians were surprised when they came into immediate conflict with the local bad guys who resented their intrusion. These were Tajik bandits who had been raiding in both Tajikistan and Afghanistan for generations. However, it didn't take the exconvicts long to overcome their new neighbors, and after a couple of pitched battles that resulted in a decimation of the bandits amid an orgy of rape and destruction, the surviving victims threw themselves on the mercy of the conquerors.

At that point, the vanquished outlaws became assets and advisors to the Russian newcomers. They taught them the way of the mountains and the value of horses for fast travel in a near-roadless environment. After acquiring the skills necessary to become horsemen, this newly organized gang, guided by their new friends, made raids down on the Pranistay Steppes to the south. Surprisingly, the Pashtun people living in the area had more valuables and possessions worth stealing than Yarkov expected. They also had weaponry and ammunition left over from their fight against the Soviet Army back in the 1980s. And there were times when they had plenty of cash on hand made up of euros, French francs, German marks, and even American dollars. Yarkov couldn't figure out how they came into so much money.

It was easy to prey on them because they lived in a farflung system of small villages and it was only a matter of picking them off one at a time. It was also a good place to get women. Most of these stolen females, after fighting fiercely to protect their honor, were beaten into submission and ravaged by the Russians. A few died from the mistreatment and a couple committed suicide, though this was rare. According to Pashtun beliefs, any person who killed himself would be damned for an eternity of committing and recommitting the act. However, a kidnapped Pashtun woman could not return to her people without having to suffer being murdered in the name of honor by the men of her family. Therefore, if she wanted to live, she would have to become an infidel's woman. Surprisingly, some lasting and tender relationships developed between these women and the rough exconvicts. The children of these unions offered a future to this community of violence and banditry.

Yarkov and his men went down into the town of Dolirod to make purchases with the stolen cash or to sell or barter looted goods. And there was also that bordello available for those who had yet to get women. The ex-convicts were welcomed by the eager shop owners who had plenty of merchandise to sell them. There were weapons, military equipment, saddles, clothing, miscellaneous items, and presents to give the women waiting up in the mountains.

It was during one of the visits that Yarkov struck up a conversation with a money changer while trading in stolen currency for Tajik somonis. The subject of the conversation was the amount and variation of cash among the villagers down on the Pranistay Steppes.

It was at this time that Luka Yarkov learned about the opium poppy trade.

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SHELOR FIELD, AFGHANISTAN

3 OCTOBER

0915 HOURS

BRANNIGAN'S Brigands walked down the ramp of the USAF Pave Low helicopter and filed into the hangar behind Senior Chief Petty Officer Buford Dawkins. This was the large, empty structure they always used as a combination barracks and headquarters during stays at the Air Force facility.

The detachment officers Lieutenant Bill Brannigan, Lieutenant (JG) Jim Cruiser, and Ensign Orlando Taylor were gathered off to one side with two staff officers well known by the Brigands. These were Commander Thomas Carey and Lieutenant Commander Ernest Berringer. There were four other men present: an officer in the uniform of the Pakistani Army, a dark youngster wearing native Pashtun garb, and a short, pudgy fellow with a tall, slim man standing beside him. This latter pair was dressed in khaki safari getups.

Senior Chief Dawkins raised his hand to bring the column to a halt. Alright! Y'all got your favorite places to bed down, so turn to. Don't bother to unroll your mattresses. Just dump ever'thing on the deck and get right back here. Go to it!

The SEALs went over to one side of the building where they normally slept during their frequent visits. They were surprised to see a familiar figure already there. This was Tiny Burke, a huge, muscular Tennessean who had been with the detachment during Operation Battleline a few weeks earlier. He grinned at them, speaking in his drawl. It's right good to see y'all again.

Doug MacTavish, from North Carolina, was happy to see his fellow southerner. How'd you manage to get back here, Tiny?

They was fixing to ship me to Iraq when a yeoman come up and said there was orders sending me straight back to Brannigan's Brigands, he explained. They said I was taking somebody's place.

That was Mike Assad, Doug said. He was hauled away somewhere aboard a chopper.

Well, here I am again then, Tiny said happily.

Everybody quickly grounded their gear, maintaining assault section and fire team integrity to keep the equipment arranged in an orderly manner. Then, with Tiny accompanying them, they walked back and formed up in front of the senior chief. Brannigan turned from the officers and strangers, nodding to the detachment.

Okay, guys, he said, pointing to three rows of chairs toward the back of the hangar. You know the drill.

The SEALs walked over to sit down in the rows of chairs with the officers and visitors following. It was Commander Carey who went to the front of the group and took the floor. How many of you guys can ride horses? Everyone stared at him in perplexed confusion, and he repeated the question with a degree of peevishness. Damn it! I asked how many of you know how to ride a horse.

Monty Sturgis, Tex Benson, Garth Redhawk, and Chad Murchison raised their hands.

Brannigan chuckled. Hell! I didn't think any of 'em knew how.

This complicates matters, Berringer muttered. There're only four.

It can't be helped, Carey said.

Bruno Puglisi, wanting to be helpful, held up his hand. I can handicap horses, sir. I used to go out to the racetrack with my uncle Vito all-a-time when I was a kid. I even hit a three-horse parlay when I was thirteen.

Shut up, Puglisi, Brannigan said.

Aye, sir!

Okay, men, Carey said. If you haven't already guessed it, there is a mission in the offing. But before we get into that, let me introduce these gentlemen with me. The first is Lieutenant Barakaat Sidiqui. He is the captain of the Pakistani Army Polo Team.

Sidiqui, a slim, handsome man with lively eyes and a neatly trimmed black beard, stepped forward and gave a snappy British-style salute.

This young fellow, Carey said, pointing to a boy in his late teens dressed in bakesey Pashtun clothing, is Chinar Janoon. He will be your interpreter and guide.

Chinar gave them a wide, pleased grin. How do you do, sirs? I am most pleased to be serving you.

Now the two men in the khaki garb stepped forward, and Carey indicated the short, plump one. You may have seen this gentleman on television back in the States. His name is Dirk Wallenger and the guy with him is his cameraman, Eddie Krafton. They are from Global News Broadcasting and will be imbedded with you on this operation.

Wow! Joe Miskoski exclaimed. Are we gonna be on television?

Indeed you will, Wallenger said. I have requested to be assigned to a unit going on a special sort of mission. Permission was at last granted, so here I am complete with a cameraman.

Welcome, Brannigan said. We hope for some evenhanded treatment in your broadcasts, Wallenger.

I promise I'll tell your story to the American public as truthfully as I possibly can, Wallenger replied. He glanced over at Carey. By the way, I am considered a rather skillful horseman back home. And Eddie rides with me occasionally on weekends.

You two are probably going to come in handy, Brannigan said good-naturedly. There're twenty out of twentyfour of us who will need some pretty basic instruction. But I believe we all know what a horse is.

Wallenger showed a grin. That's a good start, I would think.

Okay, Carey said. Tomorrow morning the whole bunch of us is going to fly over to Sharif Garrison in Pakistan where their army's polo team is stationed. That is where you'll begin your equestrian training.

Puglisi was confused again. I thought we was gonna learn how to ride horses.

Shut up, Puglisi!

Aye, sir!

Chapter 2