“Yes,
family is important, ten years is a long time my friend! I am Adil Abu,” the
Iraqi responded warmly, holding out his hand. Scott took it and was surprised
at the strength of Adil’s grip.
Meanwhile
Will had moved slowly and carefully forward until he was about twenty metres
from the men, which was close enough that a single accurate shot could be taken
on the Iraqi, killing him instantly. Very quietly and deliberately, Will lay
down on his stomach and sighted the M4 at the Iraqi’s chest. A gunshot would
attract attention, but it would guarantee a kill. Will had a bayonet with him,
and even though killing a man with a knife was quiet, it was not as easy as
Hollywood made it look.
When
someone was murdered by a person wielding a knife, they were usually stabbed
well in excess of fifteen times. Contrary to popular belief, this was not
because the murderer was completely crazy, but because the victim was still
alive, struggling, screaming or gurgling, gasping or writhing in agony. To kill
a person with one blow of a knife took a professional who could sneak
soundlessly upon an enemy. Once close enough they would have to inflict a wound
either in their enemy’s throat, cutting the voice box and carotid artery, or
the chest, cutting between the ribs and piercing the heart. Or, if the victim
had been knocked to the ground with their back uppermost, a knife blow to the
base of the skull would severe the spine and cease communications between the
brain and the body. However, one single shot from a safe distance would kill an
enemy and re-establish Scott’s safety if it were compromised.
“What
is your sister’s name?” asked Adil. “I might know her.”
“That
is the reason I am visiting her,” said Scott pausing for a moment, having side
stepped the question. “She has only just moved here herself. She is staying
with someone over the other side of town. She was a journalist in Baghdad, but
fled when the Iraqi army started rounding up Kurds in the city. She wanted to
live in a small town somewhere far away from all that. I have helped her move
what little belongings she had here. We arrived yesterday afternoon. I might
stay another week or so, before I head back home.” Scott smiled cheerfully,
hoping to Christ the man believed him.
“Yes,
the violence has not been good. Still America have given us justice against the
Iraqis, we are only repaying them for generations of oppression. It is not good
that your sister was forced to flee her career, but she will be safe here. The
Kurdish Army has kept the Iraqis at bay and we have seen no violence here yet.”
Scott
nodded. The Kurdish Army, he thought to himself. The situation was far worse
than the UN realised. The Kurds' only intention was to murder Iraqis on mass.
“Do
you think you could spare a cigarette?” asked Scott.
“But
of course, my friend,” responded Adil, reaching inside his clothing.
Will’s
finger took the first trigger pressure gently as he watched the Iraqi reach
into his robe. The hand came out holding a packet of cigarettes and Will
released the pressure on the trigger.
Scott
pulled a cigarette from the packet and placed it in his mouth.
“Have
you got a light?” he asked.
Scott
had a lighter on him, but it was one he had bought in Perth and had English
writing on it. He was not willing to risk being compromised should the Kurd see
the foreign words even in the dim light. Adil held out a lighter and ignited
the cigarette. Scott nodded his thanks and took a long drag. It was the first
cigarette he had smoked in a while. He inhaled deeply and stopped himself from
coughing. It was the worst cigarette he had ever tasted. But he opted for the
bright side, it was a cigarette nevertheless.
“I've
heard that we’re not the only ones to have arrived,” spoke
Scott.
“Apparently thousands are fleeing from the cities.”
“You
are correct in this,” replied Adil. “I know of four different families who have
joined our community in the last month alone.” Adil became animated. “And we
have a celebrity joining our town! An officer in the Kurdish Army has been sent
here for protection, away from our Iraqi enemies.” Adil leaned conspiratorially
towards Scott. “I am one of his guards.” Adil pointed behind his house. “He’s
staying just around the corner from my home!”
“You
must be honoured to be hand chosen for such a task,” responded Scott. “It must
be pleasing to be the guard chosen for this great officer.”
“No,
no, it is not just myself. There are thirty others.”
“I
wouldn’t mind meeting this man before I leave. I depart in a week, do you think
I will get a chance to see him?” Scott inquired.
“Oh
yes, of course. If what we have been told is correct, he should be arriving
sometime later in the morning or this afternoon. We are all very excited to see
him.”
“Yes
I’m sure you are,” Scott replied.
The
men continued to talk for almost ten minutes while Will lay on the cold ground,
his crosshair never leaving the Kurd's chest. Adil eventually bid the man he knew
as Ahmad Dhabi goodbye and disappeared into his house. Scott walked on and
moved around the side of the house, following the road east towards the target
building which, Will knew, would now be in Scott’s sight. He continued to lie
there for another five minutes, making sure the Kurd did not reappear. Having
decided the man had gone to bed he rose silently. His weapon was trained on the
entrance to the dwelling and his finger on the trigger. Moving quietly past
Adil’s entrance, he turned eastward, following Scott. After he covered another
twenty metres, Will stopped, scanning his surroundings. On the other side of
the road, crouched in the shadow of the houses was Scott, who now had his
weapon in hand and was wearing his night vision goggles. He was staring back at
Will. With his left hand, Scott pointed at a house directly in front of them.
It was a mansion that stood almost one hundred metres distant and was situated
on a slight rise. The house was built in such a position that the road came to
an abrupt halt at the front door. It looked new and well built, obviously
constructed with the comfort of someone important in mind. As far as the
intelligence they had been given was concerned, it was intended for General
Hazareen. Will nodded and the soldiers slowly rose and moved forward
deliberately and carefully.
They
stopped regularly but briefly, to look and listen for noises or indications
that they were being observed or could be compromised. In the case of a
compromise, Scott would lay suppressive fire upon an enemy target with the
Minimi while Will sprinted back and covered Scott as he in turn withdrew. Both
men were hoping that would not occur as it would jeopardise their immediate
mission, as well as the patrol's entire operation within the area.
It
took almost fifteen minutes for the soldiers to reach the house and conduct a
slow, thorough perimeter search to locate any sentries on guard. With no
indications of any piquet, the men entered the dwelling. Two rooms could be
seen to the left of a steep stone staircase, which led to the second floor.
What was immediately apparent to the men was the smell of fresh paint. To the
right of the stairs was a large open area that looked to be a living room.
Scott indicated that he would search upstairs while Will was to search the
rooms downstairs.
Will,
weapon in shoulder, moved quietly and carefully towards the open doorway of the
first room, while Scott disappeared up the stairs. The first room was empty,
apart from two sets of bunk beds one against each wall. The second room also
contained two bunk beds and on the bottom bed of each slept a soldier.
Silently, he scanned the room. Leaning against the wall were their AK47s, both
of which seemed well cared for. There was a small cupboard against the wall
near the entrance. Will moved to it, careful not to touch the half open doors
in case they created unnecessary noise. Peering in he saw an ironing board,
iron, and hanging up neatly were the uniforms of the sleeping Iraqi soldiers.
It was hard to see accurate details, but the uniforms looked well ironed. On
the floor of the cupboard were two sets of boots, both of which seemed polished
and well kempt. This spoke of discipline and pride. Contrary to the belief
instilled in most westerners by the media in regards to the Iraqi Defence
Force, these soldiers appeared to be professionals.
Turning
back to the beds and moving closer, Will bent down by the closest bunk and
looked into the face of the soldier. He would have knelt had his left knee not
cracked loudly. Using the photograph of General Al-Hazareen that he had burned
into his memory, he compared it to the face of the sleeping Iraqi. The result
was a negative and he moved to the second man, bending down so that he was a
foot from the man’s face. He gently held his breath so his exhalation did not
disturb the man’s sleep. This was also a negative and with a last, silent sweep
of the room, Will left. He moved quietly out into the living room, looking for
anything that might give them a clue as to when the General might be arriving.
As it was unsafe for either of the soldiers to verbally communicate, Will did
not yet know what Scott had gleaned from his conversation with Adil. He
searched the small alcove behind the stairs, found nothing and made his way to
the front door, where he waited for Scott to finish his sweep upstairs.
It
seemed to Will that the General had not yet arrived and that the mansion that
was to be Al-Hazareen’s was being guarded by a small contingent of the soldiers
assigned to protect him. If the bunk beds were anything to go by then there
would be at least six to eight Iraqi soldiers guarding the General. He assumed
the rest of the soldiers would arrive with the General himself.
It
took Scott another five minutes. As he quietly descended the stairs he shrugged
and shook his head. Their mission complete, the two soldiers departed the house
and made their way slowly back to the observation post from where they had
started. Not wanting to risk coming across Adil again, they made their way back
via a different route. Will once more crouched in the shadows as Scott, his
weapon and night vision goggles safely out of sight, strolled down the road.
*
* * * *
The
sun broke the horizon, painting the few clouds that dotted the sky a vibrant
pink. A bird’s call could be heard echoing in the distance. Scott yawned. He
was sitting on the ground, leaning against his pack for comfort. The desert
camouflage net just above his head, hid the culvert from view.
“Okay,”
he began in a half whisper, skimming over the notes he had written after they
returned from Barzan. The writing was messy, the sentences running almost
diagonal to the page, but then it was difficult to write when the only light
available came from stars.
“Here’s
what went down last night,” he shifted into a more comfortable position and
cleared his throat. Matt was lying on his stomach looking outwards, the Minimi
pulled into his shoulder, watching for movement. He would be given the same
brief after he was relieved from sentry. The others were sitting in a tight
circle, listening to Scott.
“As
you know, me and Will carried out a scouting mission into Barzan last night,”
he spoke so his voice did not travel far. “The goals of the mission were to
enter the town without compromise and locate the house where the target will be
staying. The mission began at 0100 hours this morning and the objectives were
completed successfully.”
“We
had a possible compromise not more than ten minutes after we entered Barzan,”
he continued. “There was a Kurdish villager out having a durry, so I approached
him. Will was giving cover. Given the situation, it would have been more
suspicious of me to ignore him. I spoke to him for some time, however I stress
that our situation and task was not compromised in any way. Now if what this
man said is correct then it sounds to me like thirty local village men have
been paid to protect the General during his stay here.
The
local Kurds think that this Iraqi General is actually some hero Kurdish leader.
Clever concealment by the Iraqi Army. I’m not sure if the yanks have provided
them with weapons, but he was pretty excited that he was one of thirty local
militia posing as the General’s guards. He also stated that the General would
be arriving in Barzan either this morning or this arvo. Either way, General
Hazareen will most likely grace us with his presence bloody soon.”
Scott
took a sip from his water bottle before continuing. “We dribbled shit for ten
minutes or so before he went back to bed. Me and Will continued towards our
target and made a successful and unchallenged entry into the house. It is a
two-storey joint, or to be more accurate it’s more like a fuck’n mansion.
Upstairs I found a private bath, shower and toilet. Alongside this was a master
bedroom, with a pretty fancy looking king-sized bed. I mean fancy, the kind
that would have disappeared if we had a fuck'n removal truck at our disposal.”
Scott
fell silent and gestured to Will who took over.
“Throughout
the scouting mission into Barzan, I covered Scott. When we entered the target
building, Scott searched upstairs while I conducted a recon in the lower story
of the house. There were three compartments to this area of the building. The
first was a large open area, which seemed to be a living room. I have the
feeling that the furniture for this room hasn’t arrived yet. It might turn up
with the General himself. To the left of the staircase was a short hall, which
had two rooms leading off from it, one to the left, the other to the right.