Combat Alley (2007) (4 page)

Excuse me, Dirk Wallenger said. Since my cameraman and I are both experienced horsemen, perhaps we could be of some assistance in the instruction.

How very kind of you, Sidiqui said.

Chinar Janoon, the interpreter, spoke up. I am not familiar with many things in English for riding a horse. I would like to be a student, please.

I see, Sidiqui said. In that case, we shall break down into He thought a moment. seven groups of three. You will practice on one horse at a time with the rider assigned to it doing the work. When he is able to perform the function correctly, move to the next horse.

Senior Chief Buford Dawkins, in his role as detachment chief, moved into action. Alright! Fall in by threes.

We officers will be together, Brannigan said.

Aye, sir! Dawkins acknowledged. The rest of you form teams and do it quickly! Within two minutes the first bridles were being slipped over horses' heads.

AFTER three hours of hard work, the SEALs had not only mastered bridling and unbridling but also learned to stand to horse. In this bit of drill, the rider is at the horse's left, standing at attention, grasping the reins six inches from the bit. It was simple enough, but now and then a nervous mount would toss his head and the SEAL was forced to gain control of him.

After this, they learned to lead out, which is the manner in which the riders a courtesy title since none of them had yet ridden their mounts actually walked the horse from one point to another under the command of Lieutenant Sidiqui.

This latter exercise was expanded to actually taking the animals from the riding hall through a door to a corral outside. Then they were ordered back inside, going to various places within the large building as well as returning to the corral several times. This was more than just the practice of leading out; it was an opportunity for human and equine to become better acquainted and begin to bond together.

.

1600 HOURS

THE SEALs had gathered in the shade next to the building in the corral. The officers and chief petty officers were inside with Lieutenant Sidiqui and the two newsmen to discuss the week's coming events. In the meantime, the lower rankers and their interpreter enjoyed a rest after the day's work.

Y'know, Pete Dawson said, I'm really developing an affection for that horse. It's like the dog I had when I was a kid.

Yeah, Guy Devereaux said. I'm thinking of naming mine.

I already did, Joe Miskoski said. I'm gonna call him 'Lightning.'

That's a good idea, Doug MacTavish said. I think I'll call mine 'Traveler.' That was Robert E. Lee's horse during the Civil War.

Listen to this, Pech Pecheur said, I'm gonna dub my horse 'Silver' like the Lone Ranger.

You can't call him that, Matty Matsuno said. Your horse is brown. If you're gonna name him 'Silver,' he's gotta be white.

I don't care what color he is, Pecheur said. I like the name and I got dibs on it.

Miskoski looked at his buddy Puglisi. Hey, Bruno, what're you gonna call your horse?

I already thought that up, Puglisi said. I'm gonna name him 'Ralph.'

There was a stunned silence, then Miskoski asked, What kind of name is that for a goddamn horse?

It's a good name, Puglisi argued. I'm naming him after my favorite uncle.

Well, Arnie Bernardi said. I guess that makes sense.

Sure it does, Puglisi said. I'm gonna send a picture of me and Ralph to my uncle as soon as he gets out of solitary.

He's in prison? Matty Matsuno asked. What'd he do?

There was a misunderstanding, Puglisi said. It was something about four bodies found buried in a junkyard over in Jersey.

Garth Redhawk asked, So why did he get thrown in solitary confinement?

Another misunderstanding, Puglisi said. There were some stab wounds in his cellmate. They couldn't prove nothing against Uncle Ralph, but when they learnt him and the guy had been crabbing at each other the day before, they used it as an excuse to put him in the hole. He's been in there for almost six months now.

Further conversation was interrupted by a shout from Senior Chief Dawkins at the door. Inside! On the double! Fall in by teams and sections. The SEALs hurried back inside and formed up properly with the officers off to one side. Lieutenant Sidiqui took the formation.

Good job today, men, he said. We could do more, but it might make the horses nervous. Therefore, for the next half hour I want each of you to go into your mount's stall and spend some time with him. Stroke him a bit and talk in a nice, soothing tone of voice. That way you will develop a friendly rapport with him. You may report to your horses.

The Brigands turned to, going to their assigned animals. When Puglisi walked into the stall, he began to gently stroke the animal's cheek. Hi, ya, Ralph, the SEAL said softly. How's it going, big guy?

Chapter 3

SHARIF GARRISON, PAKISTAN

14 OCTOBER

1430 HOURS

DIRK Wallenger stood with his microphone across the road from the post's riding hall, mentally readying himself for his presentation. This would be the first taping of this assignment to be sent back to the Global News Broadcasting's home office. He was dressed in his khaki safari suit, complete with epaulets. He also sported a Kevlar helmet and body armor as he waited for his cameraman, Eddie Krafton, to prepare the equipment for recording. To further enhance the impression he was on the field of battle, he stood at the edge of a grove of babul trees that blocked any views of buildings, streets, or other manmade objects. On TV screens all across America, the journalist would appear to be in the wilds of Southwest Asia.

Wallenger and Krafton had spent more than a week getting shots of the SEALs' riding activities, along with an interview with Lieutenant Bill Brannigan. Now Wallenger would make his first intro into which all the previous taping would be edited at the Global News Broadcasting's Washington studio. The presentation was for the series to be aired over the GNB to their subscribers of independent local stations. Wallenger had titled his programming Somewhere in the War. The idea came from recent research he had done on war correspondents and their reports in past conflicts. Most of the newspaper and magazine accounts written during World War I began with the words Somewhere in France. Wallenger thought the intros gave an aura of urgent secrecy in a dangerous environment, so he adapted it for his own presentations.

Okay, Dirk, the cameraman, Eddie Krafton, said. Whenever you're ready.

Right, Wallenger said. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. Five ... Four... three... Two... One Greetings, everybody, this is Dirk Wallenger presenting the first broadcast in my series 'Somewhere in the War.' As you recall in my last program from our studio in Washington, I apologized for inadvertently releasing an inaccurate news item. This was the result of my being given incorrect information by a previously unimpeachable source. At that time I stated that I was no longer going to sit in a studio and report on the war in the Middle East from my anchor desk. Instead I would be going out where the action is and getting the truth firsthand. So here I am 'Somewhere in Pakistan,' imbedded with a United States Navy SEAL detachment. Their commanding officer is Lieutenant William Brannigan, to whom his men refer as 'Wild Bill.' And the unit itself is known as Brannigan's Brigands, which gives you a pretty good idea of what these intrepid men are like. They are the roughest, toughest fighters around, let me assure you of that, and they are the quintessential United States Navy sailors. However, rather than being at sea, these SEALs are far inland, spending a week learning to ride the horses they will take into a land combat operation. You heard correctly! It is like stepping back in time before motor or armored vehicles existed. They have been transported to the days of the cavalry, the lancers, the hussars, and other elite mounted regiments and legions. This gives you some idea of the primitive environs in which the SEALs will conduct their combat operations. Thus, they are acquiring the skills of equitation to prepare for a secret mission of which I know absolutely nothing at this moment. But I have been assured that I will be allowed to accompany them straight into the middle of the action, where I will have complete access to the deadly battles. I can guarantee you that when that fighting begins, each of my broadcasts will be made under fire while locked in close combat against fanatical mujahideen warriors somewhere in Southwest Asia. All the details and information I will give you will be experienced by me firsthand. He paused, saying, Okay, Eddie, let's cut at this point.

That went well, Dirk, Eddie said. It leads into the scenes of the riding instructions and the interview with Bill Brannigan.

Wallenger grinned. You mean 'Wild Bill' Brannigan. I think using his sobriquet will add to the excitement of our broadcasts.

You bet, Eddie agreed. And referring to his guys as 'Brannigan's Brigands' is the icing on that cake.

Okay, Wallenger said. Now after this intro we just made, they'll show the riding lessons and interview. Then I'll sign off. That's going to be standard stuff since there's not really any excitement going on at the moment. He grinned. But I hope this setup with the helmet, body armor, and trees will provide an ambience of dangerous adventure.

It sure as hell will, Krafton said. Y'know, we can do the sign-off now, if you want, Eddie suggested.

Sure, Wallenger agreed. Okay. He went through the five-to-one count, then said, Now you've met the SEALs known as Brannigan's Brigands. This has been your chance to witness their determination and professionalism. And you're going to see a lot more of them and me in future broadcasts. Let me remind you yet again that this will be the real war, ladies and gentlemen, not sound bites or rebroadcasts from other sources. So, until the next time, this is Dirk Wallenger, 'Somewhere in Pakistan,' wishing you peace in a world gone mad. He lowered the microphone. Okay, Eddie.

Right, Eddie said. As they used to say in the old days, it's in the can. He took the camera off his shoulder. That 'wishing you peace in a world gone mad' makes a great signoff.

You're right, Wallenger agreed. Now ship what we've got back to Shelor Field. I've made arrangements with the public information guy there to see that it will be forwarded on to the Washington studios.

Okay, Eddie said. They've got some kind of pipeline set up for journalists that can get their stuff express shipped back to the States. I'll take care of it.

Alright, Wallenger said. I think I'll go over and see how the guys are doing.

He left Eddie, going across the road to the riding hall. He saw that the SEALs were mounted, seated well in the saddle, going around in a circle within the confines of the large building. Under Lieutenant Sidiqui's direction, they were riding at different speeds from walks to trots, then back to walks, and finally coming to a halt.

Good job, men, Sidiqui said enthusiastically. Remember to keep your center of gravity in the saddle between your knees and heels. Stay relaxed; keep your reins long so your horses can extend their necks and heads. Now let's go another time. Forward, march!

As the Brigands moved out, Sidiqui nodded to Wallenger. They are doing quite well, Mr. Wallenger.

Yes, Wallenger said. They seem to be catching on quick enough.

The journalist was beginning to feel a sense of belonging with the group of SEALs, or at least he was very much at ease among them because of their collective friendliness. These professional fighting men were not like the cadets during his boyhood days at military school. During those unhappy times the other boys bullied him because of their rank and greater physical strength, while the Brannigan's Brigands simply took him as he was, without censure or hostility. He had enjoyed helping to teach them to ride, and they listened to him with good humor and respect when he gave pointers or criticism.

At first Wallenger perceived Bruno Puglisi to be a boorish idiot. But as he got to know him, he realized the SEAL was actually very smart when it came to basic intelligence, i. E., the ability to adapt. Puglisi was the kind of man who could be cast up on a deserted island and within a short period of time figure out which plants were safe to eat, how to trap the local animals and fish, build a comfortable shelter, and survive quite well in the feral surroundings. Wallenger knew of college professors who would die of starvation and/or the elements within a month or so if faced with the same situation.

The reporter recognized Chad Murchison as a social compatriot. They were both from backgrounds of privilege and wealth, had been educated at private schools, and had several mutual acquaintances up and down the eastern seaboard. Murchison seemed out of place in the macho SEAL world, but he had obviously proven beyond a doubt that he belonged there; yet Wallenger perceived him as being in a sort of limbo, as if he were searching for who he really was.