The Case Officer (2 page)

“This is the situation. There are
around two hundred souls left in this compound. Most of them will be evacuated
by Marine CH-53 helicopters to the
Trenton
by the end of the day. Diplomats
from twenty-nine countries, including Great Britain, Turkey, and the Soviet
Union, and all of our non-essential personnel. That will leave a skeleton
embassy staff of about thirty officers, a few locals, and your Marine security
guard detachment. How many people do you have here at the moment, Captain?”

“Sixteen, including myself, Mr.
Ambassador.”

“So we will have around forty-six
Americans, and what, another six or seven essential Somali Foreign Service
Nationals, and what remains of the local embassy guard force, another dozen or
so people. Around sixty-five people. Is that about right, Spinelli?”

“That’s what I have, sir. And I
don’t think that number will change much if we stay, because the last local
guard who decided to desert was shot by Aideed’s men moments after he left the
compound. That’ll deter anyone else from trying to leave by the gates. The only
way out of here now is by one of those helicopters.

“Satellite imagery indicates an
attack is forthcoming. Aideed’s troops are moving up into positions around the
compound. We’ll need to take all the remaining FSNs and security guards with us
when we leave. We are burning and shredding all classified material as we
speak. Commo gear and encryption tapes will be the last to be destroyed.”

MacMurphy sat silently, but his
mind racing. He saw where the ambassador was heading and knew that any further
delay in the evacuation would end in disaster. He couldn’t let that happen. If
Spinelli wasn’t going to confront the ambassador, he was going to have to do
it.

“Sir, the security situation
absolutely dictates we evacuate everyone today.” He leaned forward for emphasis
and locked his eyes on the ambassador’s. “If we don’t, Aideed’s men will be
coming over the walls and we’ll have to start shooting people, and I don’t have
enough Marines or ammunition to hold off such a large force.”

Sweat dripped down the
ambassador’s face, his eyes locked evenly on MacMurphy’s. “You’re not going to
shoot anyone,” he spat. “I will not have any shooting in this compound, no
shooting, none, and that’s final.”

MacMurphy leaned back and stared
at the ambassador incredulously. “You want us to let them into the compound? Is
that what you want? They
will
come over the walls, you know.” His eyes
refused to let go of the Ambassador’s.

“There will be no bloodshed. Not
while I’m in command of this embassy. No one is going to be shot.”

Spinelli leaned forward over the
table, “But sir, what do you expect us to do? We have to either leave or defend
ourselves. We can’t just sit here and be captured. Not by that mob. We’ve got
to get out of here while we still have the chance. That mob will hack us up
like animals if we stay.”

The ambassador trembled with
rage. He wagged a boney finger at them and declared, “This is a fortress. We
will remain inside until help arrives. When State sees our situation, they will
understand and come to their senses. We cannot abandon this embassy. We will
not. Not as long as I’m in charge.”

Spinelli slumped in resignation.
MacMurphy shook his head.

“Let me get this absolutely
clear, sir. You intend to remain in the embassy with your staff, and you are
ordering me and my Marines
not
to defend the compound
when
, and I
don’t mean
if
, Aideed’s men attack. Is that correct, sir?”

“That is correct, Captain. Absolutely
correct. Our country will not abandon us. We will hole up in the chancery
building until help arrives. We will force our government to come to our aid.
Those are my final orders.”

The ambassador abruptly rose from
his chair, knocking it against the plastic wall,  and hustled for the door.
With his hand on one of the plastic handles, he turned and glared at the two
officers. “When the non-essential people and our friends have been evacuated,
you will assemble the remaining people in the chancery with enough food and
water to last for as long as necessary. Then you can batten down the hatches, Captain.
Is that understood?”

Then he was gone, leaving the
door of the bubble open behind him.

MacMurphy and Spinelli remained
seated, joined in disbelief, for several moments. The silence blared. Finally
MacMurphy spoke. “What are you going to do, Mr. Spinelli? The ambassador has
lost it.”

“I know, I know…but there’s
nothing I can do other than report this to headquarters and hope they can
prevail on State to talk some sense into the moron. That’s it. That’s all I can
do...”

MacMurphy stood as if to leave,
and then abruptly turned back. “Maybe there’s something I can do.” He paused
and then went on. “Let Washington know about our situation, and meanwhile I’ll
try to buy us some time. Either someone has to bring that idiot to his senses,
or we’re going to have to arrest him and take him out of here in handcuffs.
Please tell your people I said that. This situation is critical.”

“I will, Captain. Just don’t do
anything stupid…”

Chapter Three

M
acMurphy walked briskly through
the deserted halls of the chancery building, his mind moving faster than his
footsteps, which echoed through the marble corridors. Descending the wide
staircase, he hurried through the main entrance, waving at the Marine security
guard on duty as he passed Post Number One. He entered the numerical code on
the cipher lock at the entrance of the Marine Security Guard office and pushed
open the heavy teak door.

Gunnery Sergeant Bradshaw had his
feet up on his desk, talking to his staff sergeant, a short, stocky fellow
named Gillis. Gillis was leaning back in a chair on the other side of the desk.
He spat a wad of Copenhagen snuff into a coffee can he held in his lap and
jumped up as the captain entered.

“At ease, men.” MacMurphy fell into
a chair next to Sergeant Gillis. “We’ve got a problem,” he sighed.

The captain briefed the two NCOs on the events that had
occurred during the two meetings with the ambassador. When he had finished,
Gunny Bradshaw caressed his shaved head thoughtfully and raised his lanky frame
from the chair behind his desk. He turned slowly to his commanding officer.
“You have gotta be fuckin’ shittin’ me, sir! That dumb ass wants us to hunker
down here while the skinnies out there storm the walls and take over this
compound? He won’t let us evacuate, and he won’t let us fight. Is that the
friggin’ situation, sir?”

“That’s about it, Gunny. Those
are his….
orders
. But Spinelli’s sending a message in his channel
outlining the problem and the critical situation, so I think the CIA guys will
intervene with State at the highest level. Maybe that’ll help move’em off the
dime. I certainly hope so…”

“Let’s hope someone grabs that
cocksucker by his goddamn stackin’ swivel and pounds some sense into him,”
growled the gunny, his voice resonating like the Parris Island Drill Instructor
he had once been. He shook his head. “But I doubt it. Those State Department
pogues are all alike. I’ve heard tell that their new hires get their gonads surgically
removed during the junior officer training course.”

MacMurphy smiled—the first light
moment he had had all day, and it felt good to relieve the tension.

Sergeant Gillis, who had been
listening quietly the whole time, flexed his powerful shoulders, spit a wad of
brown juice into the coffee can, and said quietly, “There’s another solution.”

“Yeah, what’s that, Sergeant?”
asked the gunny.

“We can take things into our own
hands. We can’t force him to evacuate like he should, but we can defend ourselves.
We can’t let them bastards blast in here without a fight. And they
will
blast in here if we can’t keep them at bay. But maybe we can slow them down a
bit till the goddamned ambassador comes to his senses or has someone slam his
senses down his throat. Anyway, that’s what I think.”

The gunny and MacMurphy studied
Gillis carefully, each wondering what the other was thinking. They looked at
each other and nodded.

MacMurphy said, “That’s exactly
what I’ve been thinking, but we’ve got to be very careful. It’s mutiny, you
know…direct disobedience of orders. Let’s head on down to the armory for a
little pow-wow.” He turned to Sergeant Gillis. “Assemble the detachment and
meet the gunny and me down there right away. I’ve got an idea, but if we’re
going to act, we need to move fast. It’ll be dark in just a few hours, and if
they decide to attack, that’s when they’re gonna do it.”

“Roger that, sir,” said Gillis.
He was out the door before he completed the phrase.

Chapter Four

T
he armory was located behind a
vault door in the basement of the chancery building. The windowless room
smelled of cleaning solvent and gun oil. Its walls were lined with racks of
M-16s, Squad Automatic Weapons (SAWs), a few AK-47s, flak jackets, and various
other weapons and combat gear. In the center of the room was a long, dark wood,
oil soaked cleaning table surrounded by wooden benches. When the last Marine
had entered the room and had settled himself on a bench with the rest of the
security guard detachment, Gunnery Sergeant Bradshaw called the meeting to
order.

“Where’s Corporal Kelley?” he
asked.

“He’s at Post Number One,” a
Marine responded.

“Oh yeah, right. Thanks. Okay,
listen up. I called you all down here to listen to Captain MacMurphy. He’s
going to brief us on the current situation and tell us what he wants us to do
about it. Captain, they’re all yours.”

MacMurphy stood. “Thanks, Gunny.
Have you got something I can write on, a blackboard or something?” One of the
Marines jumped up, pulled an easel with a white pad of paper on it out of a
corner, and set it up next to the captain at the head of the table. “Great.
This’ll do just fine.” He used a black marker to sketch the rectangle outline
of the embassy compound and its relationship to the city and sea to the south
and then turned to the group.

“Okay, here we are. Afgoy Road
runs along the northern side of the compound. There’s not much beyond Afgoy
Road in the way of cover, so I don’t expect much to come from that direction.
The buildings housing the Ministry of Resources, here,” he indicated its
position on the rough map, “and the Highway Department, here, could provide
some cover, so we can’t disregard the north totally, but we should consider it
our least vulnerable side.

“According to our best
information, including the most recent overhead from just a few hours ago,
Aideed’s forces are massing to the south and southwest of the compound, here
and here.” He indicated the positions with his finger on the rough sketch. “As
you’re all aware, to the south we have the ring road that runs around the
compound, then a line of trees—I guess you would call it a windbreak—then the
International Golf and Tennis Club sprawling out along here. Then still farther
south is the heart of the city and then the coast. At the time of the last satellite
pass, Aideed’s main force was concentrated around here, about a half mile to
the south of the club, the area between Jalle Siad Road and the club.” He
indicated the positions on the sketch.

“There also appears to be another
troop concentration here to the southwest, beyond the Somali National
University, and here along our eastern side.” He indicated the positions with
his finger.

“Along our eastern side, we have
another tree line, which runs about fifty meters deep, almost to Digfer Road
here. Backing onto Digfer Road is the Fire Brigade Compound, and in front of
that is a row of low buildings…you know, bars and shops and restaurants, where
you guys
did not
hang out just a few short weeks ago.” His comment drew grins
from the Marines around the table. “There appears to be about a company-sized
unit bivouacked in the area just behind Digfer Road, here.”

The captain moved closer to the
table and rested his hands on its edge. He paused for a moment, making eye
contact with each of the Marines in the room. “So, if they are going to hit us,
they are probably going to do it with their main force coming at us along our
southern flank. I would also expect some activity from the direction of the
university to our southwest, and at least some probes along our eastern flank.”

MacMurphy sat back down at the
head of the table, studied his fingers for a moment, and then looked back up at
the assembled group of warriors. “I see the question in all of your eyes:
So
then why the hell don’t we bug the hell out of here?”

The room erupted in incredulous
agreement. When they quieted down, he said, slowly and pointedly, “Because the
ambassador won’t let us—that’s why. So we will stay until he says we can go, or
until someone at a much higher pay grade than mine, and his, orders him to
evacuate.”

The room erupted again, this time
in moans and groans. MacMurphy considered telling them about the ambassador’s
orders not to shoot at anyone threatening the compound, but decided against it.
Telling a Marine not to defend himself was anathema to him, and he simply
couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he turned to Gunnery Sergeant
Bradshaw.