CHAPTER 5 SO BEGINS THE WALK INTO HELL!

 

 

 

SHORT IN HEIGHT, TALL IN COURAGE

Chapter 5

So Begins the Walk into Hell!

 

     I sat on the old wooden bench in front of our team offices while writing home to my parents. Mom and Dad thoroughly enjoy the handwritten letters that few people communicate through today. It is much more personal. What a beautiful day God has given to us. It put me in a writing mood. Come afternoon, sweltering heat would overtake all of Yei. What a lazy morning, perfect for dreaming about my home. So few of these mornings anymore due to our hectic schedules. The missions through WCPN have grown in size and complexity, just as the ruling Committee and we projected four years ago. The world had been screaming out for an organization similar to ours. Thus we formed this ultra-secret and worldwide organization of Christians and Jews to protect our disciples against the mounting threats.

     Suddenly, the peace was interrupted by a very noisy motorcycle flying around the corner of the compound south gate to my left side. Its nauseating exhaust quickly replaced the breathable air. Waving my hand in front of my face to make room for oxygen, I managed to make out the partially obscured forms of five-foot Samuel driving and six and a half-foot Chan riding shotgun on the back while both laughed uncontrollably.

     Two dirt-covered and disproportionate men with tears running down their cheeks, creating rivers of mud on their faces, came to a sliding halt in front of me. The stop brought a cloud of unwanted dirt with it.

     Samuel waved his open left hand from the front of the cycle to the rear, saying, "Look Chief, 6500 SSDs (SSD = South Sudanese Pounds, about $50 U.S. dollars). Ain't she a beaut?"

     I was unsuccessful at suppressing a smile due to the comical image of the duo confronting me. Just as I was about to say something witty, another loud motorcycle slid around the same corner with smoke pouring from it, too. It had Thon driving and Bol as shotgun with both laughing as hard as the last two nincompoops. Typically, I have trouble repressing smiles when looking at Thon due to his constant humor barrage, but it was now impossible.

     While shaking my head, I remarked, "I suppose, if I were to make fun of all of you, I would be making fun of myself for recruiting you." At that moment my phone went off.

     "James Jefferson, how can I help you? Uh-huh. Yes, no problem. Uh-huh, I guess. For a while - about a year. What! Are you sure? Nigerian? Russian? Nuclear! Do you think The Team is capable of this? Well, bring it on, and we'll listen." After disconnecting, I sat staring but seeing nothing while everyone stared at me for answers to questions unasked.

     "Organize The Team for a 3pm meeting this afternoon. The only thing you tell them other than the time is Somalia."

     Chan stood up with the cycle between his legs, remarking, "Ain't no boys going there - men, only. Let's go spread the good news, my brothers. Jalma-jalma Dinka bade ka Somaliland, aranjeunna!  Dinkas tripping off to Somaliland, they are! Hope you all have been taking our Somali language lessons seriously, my brothers? We knew it would come in handy someday."

     Bol piped up in the Somali language, "Waxaan dhadhansiineynaa soo dhaweynta Soomaalida. We are gonna get a taste of Somali hospitality." Then all four took off in a cloud of dirt and exhaust fumes while yelling The Team slogan, "Willing to march into hell for a Heavenly cause."

     That afternoon, all of us sat quiet and anxious as we waited for Leah Abulafia, the Israeli Mossad agent, to begin her outline of the new Mission. She was tall and had the look of a gym rat. She was not possessed of great beauty, but she came across as extremely intelligent and focused in talking with her on arrival. The Team liked dealing with focused people during mission prep.

     She began, "Do not be nervous or fearful. As a fellow member of our WCPN, World Christian Peace Network, we are united, Christians and Jews, in taking on any mission God assigns to us. While many in the world seek our downfall, they have no idea the power of our God and His divine focus on carrying out his will on this earth. We sacrifice our life for eternal life. We are sworn to secrecy to keep our organization from the ears of the non-believers. We pray to God almighty for his wisdom, strength, and courage to accomplish his will for his glory - not for ours. Non-believers would refer to our organization as extreme. I suppose we are, but -" Leah seemed to be looking at something mystical and mesmerizing, "but they have no idea just how extreme we are capable of becoming to accomplish our missions. It is an honor to be here with all of you. Your devotion and sacrifice to our Lord are almost frightening. I have been given the privilege of introducing The Team to WCPN's new Mission for you. As I look at the men assembled here, you affirm with certitude that we only work with the best, the brightest, and the most devout. Consider yourself chosen. You are held to a standard that is on a much higher level than others. Keep your prayers focused. Listen intently to God's words. Be open to God using uncommon communication mediums, like the burning bush, when speaking to Moses. Pay close attention to what I tell you. We Jews have thousands of years more experience communicating with God than Gentiles.

     Leah gathered herself, looking as if she was about to tell us we had died. "Gentlemen, the Mission before you is the most perilous and demanding of any assignment we have ever been asked to pull off. As you can see, we are going downtown Mogadishu, Somalia. We have two main targets: the Nigerian schoolgirls recently kidnapped by Boko Haram and an ultra-dangerous Russian ex-pat operating in the same area. The Russian has weapons-grade plutonium PU-239 in the oxide-powder form. His intention is to swap this with Iranian agents in the area for gold. I'll let you digest what that might mean for a moment."

     Leah picked up an attache case off the floor beside her. As she extracted documents and maps and threw those on the table, The Team noisily bantered with one another about the dangers of Somalia. I think Leah was amazed to see them so excited. The Team looked upon the Mission as a chance to really sacrifice for and thank God for the many blessings He has given us.

     Leah looked over at me, commenting, "I think it would be insulting to ask if anyone wants to back out."

     I declared with absolute confidence, "Never a consideration for anyone, Leah."

     Leah turned on a dime into a drill sergeant; she barked, "Alright then, shall we get down to business? Please, take notes because you will be tested on this material by people with AK 47s and RPGs. Here are the transport assets we have arranged thus far: two Lockheed C-130J Hercules; one for transport of The Team both ways and one for the Nigerian Schoolgirls and any wounded. Top-deck assets: 24-7 security will be two MQ-9 Reaper Drones for hunter-killer ops; for close ground-attack assist, two A10 Warthogs will be on target from beginning to end; for heavy-fire combat assistance, an AC-130J Ghostrider with the new precision package courtesy of the U.S. Air Force Special Ops Command. We do not want any national military force identifiers, patches, or emblems, on uniforms. The vehicles and transport planes will be unmarked. If - things go sideways - and I pray to God that it will not, we have an emergency intervention plan involving IDF and SAS Commandos. Only in an extreme situation will these units be utilized for obvious international reasons. The Committee wants you to know that all involved will take any necessary measures to prevent a reoccurrence of October 3 and 4, 1993, in Mogadishu. We will not abandon you, my brothers! God help anyone deciding to make a stand against you."

     The Team let out a loud and prolonged cheer at those last words.

     Leah blushed at the cheering. She asked, "Any questions, Team?"

     Chan stood up and asked, "What about this bad-boy Russian?"

     Leah smiled at that question. she understood Chan's comment to be a show of self-confidence. "Michail Gusev is his name. Mossad wants the first crack at him after capture. We have many questions for him. If there is anything left, we'll give him to the Americans. Try your best to take him alive. I cannot stress just how important this is."

     We took a short bathroom and coffee break. The room was filled with chatter. Leah, Mark, and I were being assailed with questions. Finally, I shouted, "Sit down, and let's give Leah our undivided attention, once again."

     As Leah shuffled her papers, three men entered the room with a projector and boxes of recon photos and handouts that were all "for your eyes only."

     Leah cleared her throat as the men set up the projector for the presentation, "Team, these men setting up the equipment, I will not identify, but they will be giving you invaluable intel concerning Mogadishu, the location of the Nigerian schoolgirls, and the Russian. These satellite images are current. Each of you will receive copies of these photos for your personal study. Remember, all this is for your eyes only. Two days are all we have to prepare. Concentration is the key. We are officially sequestered till launch. Learn it! Make these photos a permanent part of your memory. You must be able to navigate these urban streets blindfolded while men, women, and children may be shooting at you. This is urban combat on a scale far above any other. Your life is in danger every second you are on Somali soil. It is a failed state. With that said, you have been selected for this Mission because you can pull this off. We need any input you have for the planning session. Getting those school girls out safely will be the most difficult part of the Mission. Getting the girls out of that building and down that street to a safer area will require an ambitious and creative plan. The distance to an area with no high-rise buildings is about 500 yards. Uh - yes, Samuel, a question?"

     Samuel stood up and walked around to the inside of the round meeting table. Picking up a piece of paper and a pen, he said, "Leah, do you or any of these men with you have any idea how long a laser-guided bomb takes to hit a target once it is launched from the A10 at its attack altitude?"

     One of the men spoke up immediately, "Actually, that is an excellent question, Samuel. It takes from 30 to 35 seconds. I'm curious as to why you ask."

     Samuel was in his element. He bent over the drawing. "What if, while we are removing the hostages," he pointed at the satellite image beside a sketch he had made, "I stay outside in my Somali native garb that we'll all be wearing to obscure any non-nativeness. Along with that, I'll be sporting a staff, like Moses. At the right time, I'll yell out in Somali, run for your lives, for I am about to bring down the wrath of God upon you. Now, for the good part, I will strike the ground with the staff three times for added effect. In case you're wondering, the entire time, I'll be talking into a radio microphone, and, upon the words run for your lives, the plane will release a laser-guided bomb or LGB. I will time it, and, at the thirty-second mark, I will point my staff at the high rise next to ours that is being aimed at. The bomb will explode as I am pointing the staff at the building. It will appear to these people as though I am Moses, himself. I will repeat this act four times, but after the second time, the word will be spreading like wildfire, and the population will be in total panic."

     The entire room had been focused on Samuel as he explained his plan. Leah stuttered, "I - I - I think this an insane plan. I'm sorry, but it will never work. This is like some kid playing Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments movie."

     Almost immediately, Mabior stood up and pounded his fist heavily upon the table. "Leah, if you ask Samuel where he comes up with his schemes that appear on the surface as crazy, he will refer you to Jeremiah 33:3 'Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.' Time after time, he performs what can only be described as divine acts, and he has been crowned with success. That success comes from his absolute trust in the Lord, not in man. The famous World War II General, Patton, once said, 'Battles are lost by predictable armies to unpredictable armies.' We know what those Somalis are going to do, but their senses will be overwhelmed by what Samuel shall do."

     I had to put in my two cents worth, "What Mabior said is 100% true. The Team has total faith in Samuel's plans. I know it has a crazy tint to it, but if it fails, we'll turn back to Samuel for his next plan with the greatest of confidence in him."

     One of the nameless men spoke up, "Samuel, we'll be sending through the front door of those particular target buildings a Paveway-II 500 lb LGB packed with an MK 82 Snake eye munition. I feel that the Air Force will modify this to a reduced-strength munition. We will get the same effect with 20 mm or 40 mm rounds. I don't see them refusing that, not now that they have the new precision fire package on the Ghostriders.

     Leah took in a deep breath before looking around the room at The Team, saying, "I came here expecting to talk to men. Instead, I see true warriors of God. You cannot fail. You have absolute trust in God. But only an insane person would not be worried at such plans as you, Mr. Samuel, has introduced. Though I must say, the Mossad will fall in love with you lunatics with your blind courage and kooky ideas." 

     The planning sessions went on 24 hours per day, it seemed for the entire two days before the Mission launch. Sleeping was done in short spurts with prayers laced throughout. We chose to name the Mission after St. John's last book in the Bible, "Revelations." God was coming to Somalia. He would not be stopped. Our Lord was about to send his servants into Somalia, and if they were to be attacked, God would make it seem like the end times to those Somalis living there.

     The time came to transform brave words into brave actions. It is a 1300 mile flight over Eritrea and Ethiopia at below radar level part of the way. In the early morning darkness, the Yei airport looked deserted apart from the presence of our Team and the plane's crew. Yet, a young kid popped out of the shadows and saluted The Team as it passed by. All of us returned the respectful gesture with snappy military salutes. That young man's gesture fired an emotion in all the men in such a way that is difficult to understand if you have never been in battle. The boy ran after us shouting, "The way you are dressed means you are putting your lives in great danger to save other lives. Remember, most of the world is praying for you! You are not alone; God is with you!" Who was this boy? Mabior stopped to get the boy's information for his future idea of The Children's Team.

     With the equipment preloaded, The Team marched onto the plane by the back ramp and took our assigned seats. They did present an exotic picture to a young man. Twenty-one men dressed in long ankle-length Somali Macawiis of different colors and designs with heads wrapped in imamads of various colors and designs. The men all wore a unique light-weight sandal created and crafted especially for the Team by Bol's uncle, a shoemaker, to withstand intense wear and give lasting comfort. Scars-L guns slung outside their clothing from the shoulders for now. This time, all the Scars are equipped with grenade launchers.

     Our landing area had been secured only an hour before by a small group of Israeli Special Forces, Sayeret Matkal. The landing approach will be in the dark, but these C 130s can land on practically any surface under the roughest conditions.

     The engines coughed one at a time before throttling up and setting up a powerful vibration in our bodies. This was first-class travel for the Team compared to how we usually ventured out. Next, we felt movement, and the plane began its taxi out onto the runway. There are no windows, but Mark and I know the routine from hundreds of past flights over the years. Thinking the Dinkas might be nervous about flying, we described what was going on with the motions of the plane. However, Instead of fear, the men talked about how they would love to skydive. The nerves would come just before landing. Right now, this was an adventure within an adventure. As we heard the plane's brakes squeal, followed by the engines going to full rev, we announced the impending takeoff. As we felt the plane's powerful acceleration followed by its losing contact with the ground, the men let out a series of whoops and hollers. The force of gravity pushed them sideways as the C 130 lifted off the runway at a  steep angle. After takeoff, we began our prayers. We would be at the landing site at a cruising speed of about 335 mph in four hours. We would enter Somali hell on landing, and life would get very serious. The past U.S. Army's and Navy Seal's deaths in Somalia kept running through my mind. God bless those brave men who fought so valiantly. I prayed that we could be just as courageous.

     Mark and I had been close friends for many years. He was one of the few people I allowed access to my inner thoughts. Together, we had experienced countless difficult situations in our military careers. His claim was that he could read my facial expressions like a book. So, he must have known the meaning of the far-away look on my face that day because he leaned over to my ear, whispering, "Remember, this is what they and we signed up for. We are in God's hands, not yours." My brain would burn those words into my memory, but they would bring little comfort in the future.