IC - Desert Conflict

[Gunslinger]

Esteban Santiago lay flat on his stomach in the hard pan of a sand dune. He was wrapped in a guillie suit made up of sticks and loose brush so as to break up the form of his profile amidst the horizon.

Below him, lay the nearly endless expanse of Gaza. Back in the mid twentieth century until now, the area was still bitterly contested. Though now defaulted onto the Israelis, they were unable to keep control in the area and dangerous guerrillas flooded in and out of the land.

"El Huracan", as he was so called by notorious reputation, scanned this particular crossroad in Gaza with a set of binoculars. Sweeping far and wide, the ex-Green Beret had little hopes of spotting anything or anyone. The Arab Liberation Army were, for the most part, competent enough to make use of desert cover. And they were wise enough to learn their lesson.

Just two days ago, Esteban and two SpecForces commandos had ambushed a party of ALA guerrillas at this very same crossroads. They had managed to route the small band of fighters, capturing one as they retreated. One of the SpecForces commando had CIA training in interrogation and had made the guerrilla sing for two days with the fine point of a KABAR bayonet. And what they had learned raised the stakes in the desert war even higher.

Apparently, there was a good deal of explosives hidden in the wide expanse of Gaza, just laying their waiting for the wrong hands to get a hold of them. A plastique explosive cache big enough to level an entire city, the dying ALA soldier had told them. Esteban and his commandos had stopped this particular party from recovering the explosives but others were more likely to go after them. And with no other knowledge than that the explosives were hidden in an area of over three hundred kilometers, the task of stopping the ALA was next to impossible.

Fortunately, there were Special Forces commandos in the area and they specialized in the impossible.

Esteban had relayed the information to all those who needed to know. He had sent a telegram to Gidon Barak, head of the Nahal militias, who he knew personally and the taciturn commander had sent additional militia to Kodesh, the closest settlement in Gaza and the most likely target for the bombing. Naturally, he had also notified his CIA superiors back in America but contact was very limited between the American government and SpecForces, who were fighting secretly and on an unofficial level for their country.

And of course, Esteban had alerted Colonel Andrew Gates of the UN Peacekeepr forces but he doubted the old, senile fool would be much help.

Worrying about the task ahead put El Huracan in a foul mood. He wrapped up the guille suit into his knapsack and stood up, shaking the sand out of his desert fatigues. With another helpless glance at the impressive scope of Gaza desert awaiting him, Esteban returned to camp.

The trip was uneventful. He followed the internal map in his head, using land marks as a guide. It wasn't long before he came upon a camp of four canvas tents and a low burning fire in the middle of the desert. Typically, SpecForces commandos rarely set up camp and were always on the move. But with a lot of land to cover in Gaza, every commando had been called in to work together.

Esteban walked into the camp unconcernedly, knowing that a fellow commando was probably aiming a scope with a high-powered rifle at him from the shadows. But everyone knew his face and he was not shot, which was always a good way to end the day for El Huracan.

The sixteen or so Special Forces commandos lounged all around the camp, doing what they felt was most important. Some endlessly cleaned their rifles, mostly army-issued Armalite variants, with the same concentration as a meditating guru. Others checked their gear, readying themselves for the excursion into the desert.

Esteban dropped his gear next to a tent and sat closely to the fire, warming him against the icy desert breeze. One of the SpecForces commandos walked over to him shortly and tapped his shoulder.

"Got a new guy, Esteban," the commando said, pointing to a figure sitting in one of the tents.

"Yeah?" grunted Esteban.

"Yeah. CIA recruited him and sent him here just today. Ex-SEAL boy, looks competent to me.'"

"I guess introductions are in order," said Esteban, as he wandered over to meet the new addition to the Special Forces.

OOO - This is your opening, Miles.

 

[Gunslinger]

Colonel Andrew Gates sat uncomfortably behind his desk at the UN Peacekeeper Headquarters in Jerusalem. In front of him rested a recently arrived telegram from the American diplomat of Israel.

He reread the contents again, agonizing over the details. A fresh lance of pain suddenly flared up around his stomach ulcer as he read the offending words.

"Goddamn Arabs will be the death of me," muttered Gates as he popped an antacid into his mouth. At his age, he should be comfortably retired or at least babysitting one of the piss-poor African nations. But someone from the higher-ups had made him administer of Israeli, most likely as a cruel, cruel joke. And to top all these indignities, now his stomach was revolting against him.

He slammed his hand over the telegram, as if he could physically destroy the information within. The telegram was full of foreboding news that would make his life much harder than it already was:

A cache of plastique explosives somewhere in the middle of Gaza. The damned Nahal militias concentrating in Kodesh to defend their commnunity. Anglo mercenaries on the loose in Gaza. ALA troops moving freely about the area.

Just fucking great.

The colonel rested his old brow on the mahogany surface of his desk, feeling as old as time. He was dealing with a boiling pot of trouble that he just couldn't handle. This was a job suited for a younger man.

Momentarily, Gates fixed his composure and depressed his intercom system. "Bring Sunders," he barked at his secretary.

The door opened suddenly and a young man marched into the room, dressed in fatigues and sporting the robin egg's blue beret of the UN.

"Major Mark Su--" the younger man started but Gates cut him off with a weary wave of his hand.

"I know who you are," Colonel Gates snapped. "That's why I specifically called for you. Sit down." He gestured at one of the plastic chairs and the young man sat down on it without a word.

"Now, don't interrupt me, son," the aging colonel continued. "Just listen. The shit is about to hit the fan and we ain't got time to gab away."

Gates slid the telegram towards the major. As the younger man read, the colonel explained the situation. "Some of the higher up men in America have sent us word that a terrorist attack will happen in the near future. Now, don't ask me how they know this. The damned Yankees seem to know everything about this war, even if they have declared neutrality. In any case, they suspect that some Arab Liberation Army guerrillas are looking for some explosives somewhere in Gaza with the intention of blowing up Kodesh, a small Israeli settlement on the border."

"Sir, I can have a military patrol scour the area and secure these explosives right now," said Sunders.

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" barked Gates, glowering balefully at the younger man. "We hardly have enough troops to secure Jerusalem as it is. I can't afford the manpower."

Colonel Gates calmed down. "Instead, I'm making you liasion of all UN forces of Kodesh. That means you're in charge of twenty men. I want you to investigate the people coming in and out of there. We can't possibly hope to find these explosives so we'll just have to wait for the ALA to make their move."

"But I'm a soldier, not a detective," protested Sunders.

"There'll be a chance of fighting and I want someone who can handle the defenses. In any case, you're the only man I can spare. There's a jeep waiting outside to take you to Kodesh. You're dismissed."

Major Mark Sunders prepared to leave the room. As he got up, Colonel Gates called out:

"Don't mess this one up, Sunders."

OOC - This is your opening, Lt. Col. Gonzalez.

 

[Gunslinger]

The two men sat complacently at a cafe in Kodesh, a small border town on the outskirts of the Gaza strip. As they drank their orange juice (both being Muslim and forbidden from heavy drink), a small band of Israeli troops marched down the street. Despite their ragtag apparel and gear, they were obviously Nahal militia.

One of the two men at the cafe, an Arab, smiled benignly at the troops and even waved. The Nahal only returned suspicious glares and some flashed rude gestures back at him as they marched for the city center.

The Arab smiled ruefully at his companion, an American but, oddly enough, a convert and a follower of the liberation. "Do you suppose, my friend, that they know who I am?"

The scar-faced American scoffed, "They could care less. It only matters that you are an Arab. That enough is condemnation in their eyes."

He nodded, perhaps even disappointedly. He was a learned man, even if he was militant, and out right discrimination still pained his heart, no matter how callous he must become. "There is truth in your words, Khalid. Your pale skin is a great boon to our cause yet I endanger you with my mere presence. Even now, I draw unwarranted suspicision on the both of us. I cannot stay much longer."

Khalid Abdul-Jabbar, who was once known as Derek Winters in a pass life, leaned forward from his seat. In here, in the apparently unsophisticated settlement, Israeli ears listened. "Can you not tell me any more of what I must do?"

The Arab shook his head. "I am sorry, Khalid, but to tell you more endangers you and our brothers in the field. Needless to say, you must be prepared for what comes next."

They both knew the reference for they had already discussed the plan in a secured hotel room. Khalid knew that he was to wait at the south gate every night for a shipment of explosives, but he did not know when they would arrive. He knew that he must keep aware of his targets, but he did not know what to choose. He could only pray for Allah's guidance.

"But I will tell you this," the Arab warned. "Make your choice wisely. You will have enough of this...shipment to smite this unholy settlement. But you will not have enough time to level everything."

Khalid knew this. Kodesh was a border settlement, completely surrounded by concrete walls with only two gates, one from the south and one from the north, allowing entrance. It would be hard to make a getaway. He was only provided with vague suggestions: perhaps the local temple, the hospital, or the schools. But he was loathe to attack innocents and he was not disillusioned by dreams of paradise. And he knew that above all else, the barracks housing the Nahal militia in Kodesh would strike the harshest blow against the enemy.

His Arab mentor stood up presently. He pressed his hand against his heart and said, "I will pray for you, brother Khalid."

Khalid stood up, embracing him. "I shall need your prayers."

"Remember, Khalid," spoke the Arab one more time, "it is disgraceful in Allah's eyes to spill the blood of man. But it is honor to let spill the blood of an infidel."

He left abruptly, leaving the scarred American on his own.

 

[Dapper Dan Man]

Setting aside his juice, he nodded to his friend, whispering "Peace be to you, brother". Waiting the requisite 15 minutes, he then left on his own as he left a quite generous tip to the proprietor. Even here, the citizens had a measure of respect for the liberation movement, and few trusted the Israelis much anymore. Strolling out onto the street, he made it a point to scope out the various locations of the patrols and the like, marking them down in his mind. He had developed an almost perfect recollective memory while serving, and indeed it aided him immeasurably in this task when one couldnt even carry a sheet of paper in one's pocket.

Later...

**He slowly wrapped the headdress over his face, concealing most of his features. He lowered his eyes, making sure ONLY the eyes showed. It wouldnt do to be seen by the patrols, even here in what he assumed was the more sympathetic populace. He would leave once again for the South Gate as he had done many times past, most people accepting him there with the flimsy pretext of "meditation" outside the city walls. After all, he was a supposed mercenary (as it was inconceivable an AMERICAN would support the ALA. There were also rumors of a task force of Americans near the city). It was in this dual role of spy and soldier of fortune that he was allowed into more sensitive parts of the city with only a minor delay. In truth, he waited for the signal that the courier was arriving. A day before he was to arrive, a small caravan would pass through, giving the signal to await the next night and the explosives stored outside of town. Then, and only then, would the wrath of Allah be upon the oppressors.**

 

[Gonzalez]

Major Sunders left the building with his gear and luggage and headed to the jeep. Once he got there he began to load his stuff into the jeep. "What the hell you think you are doing?" a voice from behind the Major called, as the major turned to see a sergeant with wearing a dog face. "I am Maj..." "I know who you are, just because you are Major don't you think you run the joint, I run it. Your driver will be with you shortly, he is having lunch now". The sergeant walked away. "And they spec me to protect a whole town with this kind of soldiers? I am going to have to institute some discipline here" Said to self.

After a jumpy jeep ride he reached the town, then the jeep stopped at the south gate. A UN guard checked them out "Sir, you may pas trough sir." "Do you know me personally soldier?" "Sir?" "Why aren't you asking me for my papers soldier?" "Uh... may I see your papers sir?" "Here you are son" The guard checked the papers. "alright, they seem okay" "And my orders solider" Sunders handed his orders to the guard. "You are here to take command sir?" "That's right trooper, don't you do this check we just made as an standard procedure?" "No sir, not with our soldiers" "Well, start to" "Yes sir." Sunders gestured the driver to move on.

The jeep stopped in front of a building with the UN flag in front of it. Sunders entered the building and asked directions to the commander office.

"You must be Major Sunders, we were expecting you sir, we just received a radio message" Captain Muhelhoff said as Sunders entered the room. "You mean you just decoded the message, right?" "No, no, It wasn't coded" "Captain Muhelhoff, I am here to take command, as you and any other poor dumb bastard listening to our frequency had already found out. And one of my first orders will be to code all the transmissions out and into this town, so go to the radio room or wherever you have the radio, and tell the radio operator to begin to do it, as well as communicate my intentions about radio messages to any other that have to communicate here. Did I made myself clear?" The captain looked at the Major with a look of disconcert face, like saying: What the hell is going on here? and said: "Uh... yes sir..." "After you have done that gather the men in the mess hall square or whatever you got here, so I communicate my orders to them as well as tell them about the changes that will be made. "Yes sir!" "Oh and, Captain? Move your stuff out of this room, I am making it my office." "Yes sir..." The captain walked away in disconcert. The UN in this town had been a bit lazy until the new threat appeared and Sunders was to take care of dealing with it.

OCC: There is more, but Im kinda running out of time for today. Will continue it tomorrow.

 

[Miles]

5...10...15...20...30. counting mentally while he sat on the ground just outside the firelight Gordon Drake looked up watching the commander of the camp arrive. The satisfying click of each round into the magazine was almost soothing to him. Standing up the wiry red head pulled his hat on and adjusted the sling on his carbine, walking over to greet his new commander.

Standing at an easy parade rest Drake looked over the boss. Once the time came for him to address him he looked up and smirked "Nice to meet you skipper, Names Gordon Drake usually called Miles. So what shall we do in the name of democracy and freedom today" Grinning wolfishly Drake sipped from the tube attached to his webgear.

 

[PyroPhoenix]

Ahkmed smiled heartily as he waved goodbye to his customer, a spy for the ALA who had just left him a message, and dropped the paper container of orange juice that had been "forgotten" by the spy in his wastebasket among a jumble of other small items with coded messages held inside. It was nearing dusk and he decided it was a good time to pack up his shop......

**A few hours later**

Akhmed straightened his back after an hour of work decoding and logging the reports regarding the locations and schedules of UN soldiers, and where his contact, a whiteman, was to meet him to tell him the location of the plastic explosives. On a side note of equal importance a dozen men from local ALA cells had agreed to rendezvous anywhere at anytime as a sort of minute man militia to aid the cause. This would be a tremendous help for retrieving the explosives. Ahkmed rubbed his eyes and went to his extravagent silk bed for a good sleep. After all..........he deserved it considering all he was doing.

 

[Gonzalez]

All UN officers that weren't at duty at the time gathered to listen Major Sunders at the mess hall.

"Okay people, listen up!" "Major Sunders begun the speech" "This morning a telegram was received at the headquarters. Apparently the ALA have stashed in the dessert enough explosives to blow up the whole town of Kodesh, and they intend to use them... in Kodesh" Some whispering was heard among the gathered after they listened that. "Now, listen. I do not intend to let them do that and I'll see that they don't, but you'll have to follow my orders to the letter. First: the sifts will be reorganized, you will all have to work at full time, there will be a max of six hours sleep to everyone except the guards in the gates that will sleep eight hours to stay awake to perform inspections. Everyone is to be checked at the town gates, even the locals no matter they come in or go out trough them. No heavy vehicles, like trucks are to be allowed to enter the town, any cargo carried inside them is to be unloaded outside and then carried inside, all this supervised by United Nations authorities. All vehicles entering or exiting the town are to be searched for explosives. I want guards patrolling the outside walls at all times, no civilians are to be allowed to wander around, you will ask them what are their business here and then to move along. I want at least four snipers circulating around the roofs of the town at all times. And remember, the UN buildings here are perfect targets for them, so, making sure those explosives never make it in here is also a good way to stay alive, have this in mind. That is all... dismissed."

After the speech Sunders meet with Captain Muhelhoff outside the mess hall. "Captain, prepare one jeep to go out in patrol, I also want two of your best man. The americans would not have been able to gather the information they gave us without special forces out there, I am going out to patrol the dessert and try to find them or the locations of the explosives, you stay here and see that my orders are carried. I won't take long, I don't expect to find anything out there so quick and without the necessary men, but at least I want to take a look of the field. And, Captain, the Colonel does not need to find out about this, Ill be back in a couple of hours.

 

[Gunslinger]

Esteban nodded to Miles. "Good to have you aboard, hermano. We could use about all the help we can get." He patted the new SpecForce commando on the shoulder and gestured outside. "Let's meet the other guys."

They returned to the camp fire and Esteban waved for everyone's attention. "Attention, guys!"

Everything was dropped and all attention was on Esteban. The sixteen SpecForces, all from different organizations, returned the greeting with their standard ho-ah grunts. Most of them were Airborne, and those who weren't were tough enough to grunt like Rangers.

"Settle down" Esteban said. He unrolled a map of Gaza on top of several overturned ammo cans. "Gather around, guys. I got some explaining to do." The map of the Gaza strip was divided into lines and four quadrants. Certain areas were marked with bright red question marks.

"Alright," said Esteban, "the bosses at Command have their balls in a vice and, like always, we've got to do the work." He pointed to each of the marked off quadrants of Gaza. "Somewhere in the middle of this motherfucking desert are enough explosives to kill at least one, or even TWO SpecForce boys."

They laughed at the added editorial. And it was okay to laugh because, after all, they were the best.

"But seriously, we're talking about enough boom powder to level Kodesh, the town closest to the border of Gaza. Therefore, Command has ordered that most of us go in search of them. Earlier, we captured a ALA guerrilla and made him squeal everything 'cept for the location. So that means we got to comb almost every inch of these deserts."

He pointed at the red question marks. "Fortunately, Intelligence thinks that these are the most likely parts for explosives to be hidden. We're talking about cool, dry areas, mostly hidden under some rocks or in a cave. You never know with these ALA boys."

"Expect heavy resistance. The ALA will probably send in a crack squad in to gather them. To cover the most land, we'll be breaking up into four squads of four commandos. Each squad will cover one of the marked quadrants."

He broke them up into four groups, designating them Able, Baker, Dog, and for his own squad, Fox. "Able, you'll be taking the northern part of Gaza. Baker, the quadrant below Able. Dog, the quadrant in the middle. And us Fox boys will be taking the bottom quadrant closest to Egypt." The men nodded their heads in agreement.

"Alright guys, I want fire and radio discipline. Carry ammo, frags, and radios. Leave everything else here. Move quickly and lightly, and call in at the first sign of enemy encounter. God be with you, hermanos."

The men began dispersing and the camp was broken up. The commandos donned their vests and webbing, packing away magazines and frags into pouches and strapping on helmets. The fire was put out and the tents were dismantled. Surplus supplies not needed in the upcoming march were wrapped in canvas and buried in the sand to be reclaimed latter. Soon, there was no vesitge left of there ever being a camp.

Esteban picked up his M16 and slipped four magazines into his LBV. He taped down the priming handle of his frag grenades before slipping them into hip pouches. Nodding to the other two men of his squad, Thodie and Cullins, he prepared to move out.

He spotted Miles and called him over, "New guy, you're with us!" The ex-SEAL waved with his Colt Commando and joined them.

Soon, all sixteen men were on the move, ready to wreak havoc.

 

[Gonzalez]

Major Sunders scanned the horizon with his jeep, moving quickly trough long distances in shot periods of time, and stopping here and there to observe any movements sighted in the dessert.

"We are going to find the explosives, the terrorists, their mothers names and the color of their underwear before finding any special forces here. I would really wish to know what those guys are up to, and I hope they are on our side in this one." Mark said to the two other soldiers that were with him. "Okay let's go, we are done here, continue to east. Scan that horizon troopers, anyone traveling trough the dessert to a not particular or known location must surely be the terrorists, we'll get them when the try to go and get their explosives, they will lead us to them... I hope."

The jeep started the run to the east at max speed. Even trough being visible because of the dust raised by the jeep, they were quick enough to catch a terrorist traveling party with their pants down.

 

[Gunslinger]

Taysir waited on a beach in Gaza for his men to make contact. His prayer rug was laid out in the sand, the surf gently licking its tassels, and he was bent over, prostrate. In his mind, he intoned the greatness of Allah.

He tried to pray but his mind kept returning to worldly matters. He worried over the general fate of the Arab Liberation Army, the growing concern over the missing plastique explosives causing more dissension in the army. Mostly, he worried over his nephew, who had gone searching for the explosives and never returned.

There was no doubt in Taysir's heart that his sister's son had been martyred. This saddened him to no small degree. And the possibility that the plot for Kodesh's holy smiting had been unraveled troubled him greatly.

A great tumultuation was raised at the last meeting of the major clans in the ALA at the news. Many placed blame on Taysir's family for not retrieving the explosives and for alerting foul Israeli intervention. And it was due to family honor that Taysir volunteered to retrieve them, perhaps too brashly in retrospect. There was great danger in the deserts of Gaza, now that the Israeli's were warned, especially with their most dangerous allies.

And the troubles did not come solely from the Jews, either. Sedition was wreaking havoc in the ALA. Other clans had sent their own men to retrieve the explosives. Dozens of small, fiercely armed guerrillas were wandering Gaza, rushing to be the first to claim the explosives and the glory.

Taysir knew it was foolish. Together, banded as one, the ALA would have already driven Israel to its knees. But minor bickerings had held it back. Now, with so many ALA soldiers working against each other, it was doubtful that the plan for Kodesh's destruction would carry through.

But no matter. Taysir knew his duty and he knew that Allah smiled upon his mission. All the same, even with his certainty in divine providence, his mind grew worried.

As he rose off his prayer rug, Taysir heard a burst of gunfire behind him. His heart leapt in his chest and his hands fumbled for the AKM slung at his side. Clumsily, while still kneeling, he twisted his torso around and pulled back on on the Kalashnikov's cocking bolt.

But he stopped his finger from pulling the trigger, seeing a column of Arabs moving towards them. The man at the lead of the column had fired his rifle in the air in jubulation. Anger and relief flooded into Taysir all at the same time. But rejoice at the number of guerrillas joining him overrode the anger.

Eight hearty guerrillas armed with AK-47's and RPG's were a more than welcome sight in his time of troubles. Taysir rose from his prayer mat and met them.

"Greetings, brothers!" he cried, pressing his hand over his heart in the Arab sign of affection. "It gives me much joy to see you all."

The lead Arab bowed his head and also tapped his hand over his heart. "Hail, Taysir! I am Ahkmed. My contact told me that you would need help so I rallied as many men to further Allah's cause."

"True words, Ahkmed," said Taysir. "I have a feeling that our trials have just begun. Gaza is crawling with white devils and misled ALA guerrillas."

Akhmed spat, the spittle hissing on hot sand. "We saw some of our 'brothers' while coming to meet you. They are all fools, wandering the desert in loose groups in the middle of day. They will probably be butchered while we gain the explosives, Allah's fury."

"Speak not so vehemntly, brother," spoke Taysir, "for they only wish to defeat the enemy, misguided though they are. I only pray that they will make a difference."

"No matter," Taysir continued, grinning at the men present. "We must be on our way."

The troop of nine ALA guerrillas moved out into the desert, ready to reclaim the fury of Allah.

 

[Dapper Dan Man]

It was early morning in the desert settlement of Kodesh, the sun a fierce enemy as well as helpful light to those who scratched out existence in this border town. Khalid of course was conveniently resting during the hotter part of the day, reviewing plans in his mind. he had spent some evening near the South Gate, but he knew the explosives coming in THAT early were unrealistic. Hence, he spent at least some of the night scouting the Nahal barracks area, inconveniently seperated from much of the city. A pity, as it made approaching people all the more conspicuous in this time of uncertainty and martyrs for Allah. A pair of well-made binoculars did the trick though, as did miltiary-grade NVG purchased from the black market around these parts, flourishing after the end of the Cold War. He murmured to himself, just random gibberish to most, but acronyms and coordinates hastily converted to military terms, and filtered through the great processor known as the human mind.

Straightening up from the roof of the building, he hastily fixed up his hiding spot. The rubble provdided good concealment for a sniper or observer, but one couldnt take chances with helicopters and the glint of sunlight. It was time to leave, heading back to his hideout near a ruined building. Plenty of them to go around he supposed, and besides, he traveled light. If anyone was going to object to a Middle Easterner owning WEAPONS, they were an utter fool. Especially a supposed "recruit" for the "unofficial" Nahal militia. To him, THEY were the terrorists...no matter if they had a great deal of support. They were the occupiers, given free reign by far too many in this land. Soon however, they would learn the bloody price of tyranny.**

 

[PyroPhoenix]

Ahkmed led his men through the desert with unerring precision towards the coordinates of the cave loaded full of explosives.

A grin spread across Akhmed's face as wide as the setting sun."My friends I think that the black spot out there in the distance may just be our cave. Someone get a compass and check our coordinates on a map."

Things were goings well........yes perfectly.

 

[Gunslinger]

Captain Muhelhoff watched incredulously as Major Sunders and two of his better men sped off into the desert.

"What the fuck?" he said, his mouth agape. The UN liasion had just arrived and instead of preparing Kodesh for bombers, he runs into the desert searching for the bombs themselves. It would take going through each grain of sand with tweezers to find them!

Muhelhoff shook his head in disgust. Colonel Gates surely was going senile if he sent a gung-ho cowboy to diffuse a potentially ruinious situation. He briefly entertained the idea of alering Colonel Gates of Sunders disobedience but then thought better. He had more important matters to take care of. Mainly defending Kodesh in Sunders' absence.

As captain, he was the next officer in line of command. Not that he wanted it too direly, considering failure in this situation would surely mean a demotion. But career concerns couldn't override the public's safety. He had to get his ass in gear.

Muhelhoff exited the motorpool, now vacant with its only jeep gone into the desert, and entered the barracks where half of his men waited. The other half were busy patrolling the streets, more as parade duty than as official police duty.

The men remained at rest even when he entered. Muhelhoff scowled. They were a sorely ill-disciplined unit. Not even rugged detail in a border city had toughened them up. That would have to change soon.

"At ready, meat bags!" he barked sharply, grinning as they jerked involuntarily into standing position. "This isn't nap time!"

"What gives?" asked one UN peacekeeper sleepily.

Muhelhoff briskly marched over to him and leaned his face in close, their noses almost touching. "Sir," he whispered.

"Wha?" the tired peacekeeper yawned.

"You address me as SIR!" Muhelhoff roared, screaming the sombulance out of the man.

"Yes, sir," the peacekeeper replied sheepishly.

Muhelhoff hoped he was making an impression. The gravity of the situation demanded complete respect. He turned to face the rest of the bewildered yet ready men.

"Everyone knows that a bombing will happen here in Kodesh." A few men exchanged bewildered glances at that. Muhelhoff continued: "That's right. There is no doubt that this will happen." He paused. "That is, with this current level of soldiering going on."

"Things will change now. You all expected Sunders to take care of the matter. We'll, our liasion is too busy playing cowboy now. So its up to us grunts to keep the home front clear. Which means that every single one of you motherless bastards will be on patrol, day and night."

Muhelhoff waited for the groans to subside. "Shaddap, the bunch of you. You WILL be on patrol on every night. You WILL be alert and prepared. I want EVERY single new person in Kodesh checked out. Every shady figure is to be inspected. Ever dirty Arab, woman, child, or cripple. The bombs will not get into Kodesh."

He looked around, trying to find which one of the more competent men to single out. He pointed. "Mike, you Belgian dog. You're in charge of patrol patterns. Everything will be relayed back to me. I don't care if a pile of rocks suddenly moves from one end of the city to the other. I want to know."

The quiet Belgian only nodded his head. "Yes, sir. It'll be done."

Muhelhoff nodded. "You're dismissed." He watched in satisfaction as the men marched off to gear up and patrol the whole breadth of Kodesh.

Personally, he thought he was doing a fine job as commander. After all, leadership was all about delegating responsibility so that all the blame could not be centralized.

He grinned complacently as he sat down on Sunders' vacant desk, propping his feet on the mahogany surface.

 

[SuAside]

When the CO left, attention shifted to Mike. He had always been uneasy with taking command, but he knew it had to be done.

"Ok, listen up people. we will be pulling 8 hour shifts until this situation is resolved." Mike said.

The men moaned, yet again showing their poor discipline. The standard 6 hour patrols were hard enough in the desert heat or the nights cold. However, this couldn't be helped, resources were stretched too thin. So little men, so much at stake.

"On top of the normal patrol routes, we will be using dynamic patrol patterns." He said as he gestured at the improvised drawing of the small city behind him. "A 2-men patrol will make rounds around the wall of Kodesh as always. 3 men at each entrance of the town will check all incoming traffic for explosives and arms. That means checking EVERYTHING and EVERYONE, gentlemen. Before leaving, Sunders ordered that any truck or heavy transport should be denied entry. Goods will have to be checked one by one & carried in by hand."

"Standard security will remain in place to secure our own base. There will be a 2-men patrol guarding the wall from the inside. Two seperate 2-men patrols will make rounds between the field hospital, the school, the marketplace and the places of worship. All others will be walking dynamic patrols to prevent the enemy from documenting our patrolroutes and exploiting the weaknesses. This however does not mean you have the right to light up a cigaret and stand around chatting. We are shorthanded as it is, we don't have the luxury of not doing our duty to the fullest. Lowest priority are the IDF and Nahal barracks, they should be able to handle themself. Highest priority are the field hospital, the school, the marketplace and the places of worship."

"Do not trust ANYONE. Any patrol has the right to stop & search ANY citizen, may he be arab, white or Jezus himself. Any citizen claiming to be part of the Nahal militia will be escorted to the IDF barracks. Upon confirmation of their identity, they will be marked on their left lower arm with 'NM' in pink magic marker. The marker does NOT come off with water, so check it to be sure. People marked in this fashion will be allowed to patrol the city. Keep this information SECRET, this can easily be used against us, but it is the only way to keep tabs on the Nahal militia. Hopefully, if this secret gets out, the pink magic marker should be hard enough to find to prevent the enemy from using it against us. To our knowledge only one shopkeeper carries this type of markers and he is friendly with the IDF. The IDF will apprehend and question anyone trying to buy this kind of markers."

"We are looking for C4 explosives and detonators in particular. Everybody knows C4, but detonators are another matter. Probably we will be dealing with standard radio remote detonators. These are about as thick as a pencil and half the length. They are equipped with a small button or switch and sometimes a little antenna. When you encounter these, do NOT store them on your person, gentlemen. Even without C4, they are more than potent enough to kill or severely injure."

"This will be all. The shifts will change in 1 hour, be prepared. The rest of you, go ready your gear and rest up. We have no idea when the ALA is planning to make their move."

"Good luck." Mike added as the men turned away.

These measures would not be enough to stop a well orchestrated sabotage action. The men were too few, too undisciplined and not trained for this task. Hopefully, with the coordinated action with the IDF and Nahal, we would be able to stop this aggression.

Mike shivered at the thought. In his eyes, the IDF and especially the Nahal were just as guilty in this conflict as the ALA, however for the sakes of the innocents, he would have to set his own morals aside.

 

[Gonzalez]

The two hours passed and the jeep returned covered in dust, running trough the streets of Kodesh until it reached the UN barracks.

The jeep stopped using it's brakes and Sunders jumped out and into the building. The commander's office door suddenly opened making Muhelhoff jumped off from the chair and back on his feet. Sunders entered the room all covered in dust with clean spots where his protective goggles were.

"I knew I found you here. While you where here resting I was out, finding out what the hell is going on. Now, look. I got you a job, I want you to send the helicopter from HQ to search in this areas" Sunders placed a map on the table with marked locations where he spotted movement while scouting. "I don't know how it filtrated but everyone out there seems to be looking for those explosives, and I can't get them all. My orders are to not let anyone coming in from the dessert enter the town, that should increase the odds." Mark paused. "Are you sure my orders are being carried out?" "Yes sir, I got a Belgian Lieutenant supervising the patrols." "I thought I had YOU doing just that." "Uh, well I did..." "Doesn't matter, you just go and get me that helicopter! Be sure it scouts the positions I marked and to report anyone heading this town from the dessert. If we can't get them when they get the explosives at least we'll get them when they try to bring them here." "Yes sir". Captain Muhelhoff was annoyed at this point, with this Major coming in and going out and disappearing as he pleased, just to come back with more orders to be carried out. Hopefully it was for the best.

 

[PyroPhoenix]

After 4 hours of marching the group reached the cave. As it came within 20 yards Ahkmed ran for it and let loose with a praise."Thank you AllaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaahhhhSHIT." He had reached the entrance to the cave and could see all the way to it's back.....not only was it empty, but it was only ten yards deep, and nowhere near what he had expected. Ahkmed regained his composure and when the others arrived he turned and said. "Well where do we go now. This is not the one."

 

[Gunslinger]

Esteban, Thodie, Cullins, and Miles marched to one of the markers on the map showing the possible locations of explosives. There were a total of thirty markers and they had only covered nine since their relentless march.

They started their surveying along the coast, using the inlets for water source. But they hit their wall when they started in land. Suddenly, their mouths were alot more parched and dry. The battle rifles and the hundred rounds of ammunition each man carried increasingly got heavier and heavier as they marched. It was getting harder to stay alert, especially with constant walking and no sleep.

Esteban had no misconceptions of the SpecForces commando. Even if they were the elite, these adverse conditions could take off the sharp edge of any man. El Huracan could only hope that they'd come across the ALA bastards soon.

They were currently ascending a desert dune. Thodie was at point, and the Fabrique National FAL thumping at his side and his heavy footsteps caused sand to pour down the three commandos behind him. Esteban was about to yell at Thodie but he stopped, finding that his dry tongue had caught on the roof of his mouth. Grimacing, he swallowed the limited water from one of is canteens.

"Esteban," barked Thodie's voice urgently.

Esteban looked up and saw that Thodie had already crested the dune but the commando was lying prone on his stomach, peering over the dune.

El Huracan unslung his M16 and held up one fist and motioned low, silently ordering Miles and Cullins to drop in a crouch. They hunkered forward, moving on their haunches, and then dropped down likewise around Thodie at the apex of the dune.

Thodie handed the binoculars to Esteban. "We've spotted the enemy."

Esteban peered through the high-powered optics and saw seven ragheads in a valley, searching through the high build up of thorns and shrubbery. He briefly consulted his map and saw that their location coincided with one of the markers designating a possible explosive location.

He licked his dry lips. "This could be it, guys." He turned to Cullins, their radioman. "Cullins, relay to Able, Baker, and Dog squad that we have made contact and will engage the enemy at these coords."

Cullins slid back down the dune abit so that the ALA could not hear the radio static from his transceiver. There was a brief period of talk, followed by acknowledgements. Then they were ready. Cullins nodded affirmation and crawled back next to Esteban.

El Huracan stroked his stubbled chin. He saw that the valley below the dune was sparsely filled up, not including the sparse shrubbery and thorns. There would be little cover for the ALA guerrillas and they would have to climb out of the valley to retreat.

He turned to his men. "Alright guys, this is going to be a turkey shoot. We've caught them with their pants down." He pointed to Thodie. "We're about hundred or more yards away. Think you can hit 'em from here?"

Thodie shrugged. His FN FAL was a surplus model and good many rounds had gone through it before finding itself in his more than capable hands. The FAL had a nasty habit of jamming in the sandy terrain but it was the only weapon chambered in the superior 7.62 NATO round, compared to the other Armalite variants chambered in 5.56. "I don't have the rifle sighted for that far, boss, but I think I can hit a few. Might take me a few rounds to adjust but its possible."

Esteban nodded. "Alright then. Here's the plan. Thodie hits the ragheads and I provide full auto suppressing fire from the base of the dune. While we're laying down the fire, I want you guys to go down either side of the dune so you can get into range. Once I've emptied one mag, I'm going to displace down to your position while you provide covering fire. Then, once we're at the base of the dune, let 'em have it. Thodie stays up here and takes down any guys trying to run away."

The three SpecForces commandos gave their confirmations. Miles and Cullins slipped down around the side of the dune, hiding behind and at its base, ready ring around it to face the guerrillas on Esteban's command. Thodie made himself comfortable in the prone position, propping his FAL against his shoulder. Esteban rose to one knee, flipping his M16's fire selector to full auto.

He nodded to Thodie. "Whenever you're ready, hombre."

Thodie squinted close one eye, lining up his sights one of the oblivious ALA guerrillas down below. He steady his breathing, his finger tightening on the trigger. He remained in that position for ten seconds before finally firing.

The bullet crashed near the foot of one of the ALA guerillas, throwing up sand. The ragheads stopped digging through the weeds and started screaming in Arabic, their heads snapping in all directions.

Thodie cursed, lining up his rifle sights again. He fired and the round met its mark, catching one guerilla in the stomach. He rapidly followed through with another shot, hitting him in the chest and leaving six more guerrilas to deal with.

The rest of the ALA spotted where the enemy fire was coming from and began firing their Kalashnikovs at the top of the dune. Sand sputtered near the front of the dune but none were close in hitting.

Esteban shouted, "Suppressing fire!" and he began pulsing his fire, shooting off bursts of three. The staccato of gunfire was ineffective, hardly reaching any of the guerrillas but it caused a few to duck their heads. "Move it!"

Cullins and Miles rounded the dune, facing off against the ALA guerrillas. They fired from their hips as they moved foreward, Esteban providing mass covering fire and Thodie issuing authoritive precision fire from his rifle. Though none of their shots were hitting, they were close enough to cause the guerillas to flinch and duck.

Esteban's M16 shortly ran out of ammo just as Miles and Cullins reached the bottom of the dune. There was only a brief amount of silence from any M16 rifle before Miles and Cullins filled it up by letting their guns roar.

"Covering fire!" Miles yelled up to Esteban. "Move it, boss!"

El Huracan immediately began skidding down the dune, changing magazines as he fell. Below him, Miles and Cullins were firing at the guerillas rapidly closing into firing range. Above him, Thodie was changing magazines and trying to draw a succesful bead.

Esteban Santiago could only hope that his men could keep up the fire as he descended down the dune.

 

[Miles]

The hiss and snap of rounds passing by close was mostly ignored in Miles head as he automatically dropped the empty magazine out of his short carbine and slapped a new one home, ratcheting the T handle back with a satisfying metal on metal sound.

Raising the carbine up he continued firing three round staccato bursts into the group of rag heads ahead of him. Another of the six dropped from the aimed fire atop the dune.

Miles dropped the second magazine out of his carbine and slapped another home quickly as Esteban dropped prone nearby and began firing his rifle. One of the enemy reached for a grenade but was caught across the chest by Mile's fire, spinning the man aroundand into the dirt the grenade detonating in between the body and another terrorist. The remaining terrorist charged forward screaming but was cut down quickly by the concentrated fire of the three men laying at the base of the dune.

"Clear Left!" Miles scanned the area as the call of clear right came back. "Alright skipper what do you say we check this place out?"

 

[Gunslinger]

Esteban watched the last man fall, the M16 hot in his hands. As he sat up, empty brass cartridges scattered at his feet.

"What now, boss?" repeated Miles.

El Huracan looked around at his men. "Status check. Sound off."

Cullins, Thodie, and Miles all reported okay. Neither one of them had a scratch on them. All seven guerrilas lay dead before them. These were the elite that the ALA had sent to retrieve the explosives?

"Alright, scour the area," commanded Esteban. "These ragheads were looking for something."

The four commandos began searching the valley. Thodie methodically went through the bodies, picking up three grenades. They left everything else, including the food and water; the ALA were not above poisoning half of their rations to hurt captors.

It took two hours to sift through the weeds and thorns, looking for explosives. Only when the sun had long gone down was Esteban satisfied that the explosives were not present.

El Huracan kicked one of the ALA corpses. "Rookies were just fucking around in the deserts. The plastique ain't here." He looked up at the darkened sky and rubbed his stubbled chin. It was doubtful if the ALA would send more men to this area. He figured that it would be a day or so before they would miss the patrol. "Alright, set up camp for the night."

Thodie and Cullins, who were both carry their fair weight in armaments and radio equipment, dropped their packs with a relieved sigh. Esteban made a fire and kept first watch.

They rested up.