Chap 6 Operations Revelations: It's a Go!

 

 

 

 

SHORT IN HEIGHT, TALL IN COURAGE

Chapter 6

Operation Revelations: It's a Go!

Dedicated to the men of Gothic Serpent in 1993.

 

     Mark pulled out his guitar during the flight and led everyone in singing. It soothes the nerves. It is common to suffer from jittery nerves just before a battle. Our upside was our praying, faith, and singing. It helped to dissolve a lot of the fear anyone might be experiencing. Mark, Mabior, Samuel, and I talked calmly and soothingly with the men throughout the flight. As best we could, we answered their questions. The plane's crew complimented The Team for their politeness, godliness, and brotherly attitudes toward one another.

     The plane slowed its airspeed on landing approach, and my body was pushed to the side. The Master Sergeant signaled to us the coming landing. He emphasized our hanging on due to the unpaved runway, if you could call it a runway. Fearing this rough landing could frighten the men, I explained the normality of the violent landing. I should have known; they cheered like on an amusement park ride.

     Mark and Mabior barked out orders to insert ammo clips, lock a round in the chamber, then set safeties. We did this as a team with a unified motion. Command for phones on vibrate. Each man checked out the equipment of those next to him to see if anything had been forgotten. The pilot came over the loudspeaker with the weather at the op-site. At the same time, my phone went off. Without any intro, Leah Abulafia blurted out, "All assets are in place. It's a go, Mr. Patterson. God be with all of you. We are here for you."

     When I announced Leah's info, The Team took in collectively several deep breaths as they had been taught. Mark called out The Team's roster one by one. Upon hearing their name, the men gave a thumbs up and a firm "For God." There are some unspoken words to that pledge, "For God even to physical death."

     "Who knows a bad joke?" That was another way of loosening the men up. I didn't want them too tight before the action. Tightness adds to stress and can sap a man's strength prematurely. It had been a long night, and we had no real idea of what the day might bring.

       The plane rolled to a rough stop. Above the intense roar of the plane's motors, we received the crew's verbal and visual signal to release our seat belts and stand up. The ramp at the tail end opened downward slowly. At my hand gesture, we marched off the plane. Walking down the plane's ramp into the dark landscape of Somalia, it seemed like any other landscape. We climbed into the vans offloaded from the other C-130. Those three old-looking vans had been armored inside and refit mechanically. If we had arrived in Mogadishu in swank new vans, everyone would have known immediately that something was up. The vans transported us to and from the hostage rescue site and Michail Gusev with the plutonium. We had been fortunate that Mr. Gusev was invested in the building behind the Nigerian schoolgirls held by the Al Qaeda-Al Shabaab group. We found no connection between AQ and Gusev. Still, it was strange those vermin being next door to one another.

     As we climbed into the vans dressed in our robes and head coverings, we were a strange sight. Thon thought the fact of no enemy showing up to meet us strange, remarking, "Where are all the angry Somalis? Have they become numb to invasion?"

     Deng, with his grave expression, let everyone know, "These Somalis who allow all these criminals to live unobstructed lives here will soon feel the holy wrath of our God. I am honored to be a part of this." All nodded affirmation.

     The vans were windowless for security. The darkness surrounding us dimmed even the driver's view of the structures beside the road through the rural area. Our vision improved slightly as we came into the more populated urban settings. South Sudan has its vile and filthy urban slums, but Somalia was a step-down. We Americans need to realize that we have an overabundance of wealth and should be much more thankful to God.

     What could not be seen out the front windows, we could smell. It was an overpowering stench of garbage, untreated raw sewage, and death that assaulted our noses. How could animals survive in places such as this, never mind humans? As we arrived in the high-rise areas of Mogadishu, we took to the alleys to keep out of sight of prying eyes. Our vans rolled slowly and quietly down the trash-filled alleyways till we reached the POC, point-of-contact. As the vans came to a quiet stop, the men slid the doors open quietly while quickly deploying to their assigned stations. Mark, Mabior, and Chan went to the north building where Mr. Gusev allegedly stayed. The remaining team members went with me to rescue the Nigerian schoolgirls from the AQ group holding them. On the horizon, the sky began to lighten. Few city lights lit the surroundings. Streets were as filthy as the alleys, and, like I said, the stench was overpowering. A city that was filthy but sterile as to ordinary sewage and utilities. All the evidence I would expect to see in a failed state such as Somalia in the Horn of Africa.

     The men stationed themselves under holes covered by cloth in the building's sides that passed for windows. Samuel and I walked cautiously up the alleyway to the street-side corner of the dark, silent, dilapidated building, scouting the street fronting the structure we were to assault. Gesturing for me to follow him across the street. We headed directly to a young man leaning against the building. My thoughts were, "Oh, Samuel, the last thing we want to do is to have contact with locals."

     Surprisingly, the man didn't act concerned by our stealthy and sudden appearance. The young man was attired in the typical Somali robes, macawiis, and head covering, benadiri kufi, but the earbuds plugging his ears weren't standard. Samuel had noticed this from a distance. Observation is one of the keys to survival.

      Samuel walked brazenly up to the man. The young man immediately pulled the earbuds from his ears and scanned us with suspicion. In Somali, Samuel asked the young man what music he was listening to?

     The young man was dumbfounded by the question. As he regained his composure, he answered the question with questions, "Why are you asking? Are you the Islamic religious police?" We all stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity.

     Finally, Samuel patted the young man on the back, rebutting his questions, "No, but I thought you were. Now that we are cleared, My name is Samuel. What's yours?"      

     The young man lightened up at that and told us that he was listening to American Rap Music and that his name was Shermake.

     Lowering his face covering, Samuel hit Shermake with his disarming smile. This seemed to seal the deal with Shermake. He was young, his early twenties. Samuel's smile had opened him up like a can of sardines. Shermake began to talk to us as though we were his best friends. Samuel used this to his advantage.

     "Shermake, have you ever dreamed of escaping all this?" as he swept his right hand around the scene before us. "Perhaps - going to America?"

     "America? That's everybody's dream. Of course, I would go today if the opportunity arose," Shermake had a faraway look in his eyes as he said those words.

     Samuel saw his chance and dropped the bomb, "Shermake, if you will help us, you will be starting the journey you have dreamed of to America, this very day."

     The poor kid's eyes popped wide open. "Don't joke about something like that. You don't look like men who have the riches required to do such a thing - America - I long to go there. But do not joke about my dreams, Mr. Samuel."

     "I'm not joking, Shermake. Take a look at this." Samuel opened his robe to reveal his Scars rifle. "We are here to rescue the young school girls taken by some evil men in that building over there. If you help us, you will be flying to America on the American plane that brought us here."

     Shermake stared at us for a moment, then asked, "How are you two going to rescue those girls when those evil men over there number many and have RPGs and powerful AK47s?"

     Samuel turned to me, saying, "Show him, Chief."

     I looked around to make sure nobody was watching, then opened my robe to expose the small satellite TV-Phone connected to the armed drone circling overhead. He saw a live shot of the three of us standing there talking. Shermake looked up at the sky and then down at the phone's picture several times.

     "Have you brought the entire American army with you?"

     "Not quite." Pausing, Samuel put his hand on Shermake's shoulder then asked, "Will you help us?"

     "For a chance at America? You better believe I will. I've been practicing my English! What do you need me to do?"

     Samuel pointed at the building across the street, asking, "Have you ever seen the men in that building?"

     Shermake grinned, "In about twenty minutes, I'll walk over there and knock on that door to see what they need for food today. That, my friend, is my daily routine for money. When I deliver the food, all seven of them will be sitting in a circle on the floor waiting for that food; in my estimation, that would be the ideal time for the kill shots. The girls are kept in a locked room huddled in the left corner to the rear in the back. There are two windows on the other side of the building with only cloth curtains hanging loosely over them. There is one window with the same covering on the side that is closest to us. Nobody occupies the second floor because the floor is rotted and very dangerous. There are seventeen girls in that room."

     Suspiciously, I inquired of Shermake why he had compiled all this info? He proudly answered, "I have been trying to figure out how to rescue those poor girls myself. I watched them dragged in kicking and screaming, and it touched my soul as it would any real man. I have been trying to find a sensible way to attack them. I know the girls' mothers and fathers must be sick with worry about them. But I have no weapons or army to do this rescue. And one of the men has an explosive belt on him. He always sits with his back to the far wall. I think you should make sure you kill him first. I noticed that he always deactivates the pressure switch on the belt while eating. I know this because, when the door opens, he fiddles with a switch, then sets it down beside him."

     Samuel and I discussed the info. I phoned all the men to make op adjustments and update the time.

     Samuel began his instructions, "Shermake, I want you to get their order and deliver the food. Observe the situation just as you normally do. When finished, close the door as you normally do. After that, if anything changes from what you told us, let me know. Then, crouch down against the wall behind where we will be standing. We have men all around the building. They will kill all the men at once. Then we will enter and secure the building, rescue the girls, and take them out the back door to waiting vehicles. I will walk back out during this to bring down God's wrath upon these buildings surrounding us. Just before I do this, you must enter the building to go with our men to the vehicles. You will be transported to the waiting planes for the trip to South Sudan and America after that. Can you do this?"

     "You are Christians, aren't you?"

     "Yes, Samuel answered.

     "Will I be forced to become a Christian?"

     "No, becoming a Christian is something that cannot be forced upon a person. Our Lord will ask you, but it is your decision whether you become a Christian or not."

     "I'll do all that you asked, Mr. Samuel, and when your Lord asks me if I want to be a Christian, I will answer yes. I know about your Lord. He is the God that has Love for his children. Mr. Samuel, as Americans say, 'Let's Roll!'" Cooly, Shermake strutted up to the door and knocked.

     Samuel and I had our Scars under our robes with safeties off. We both uttered silent prayers. Those men inside that building are some of the worst of the worst; Afghanistan AQ veterans.

     Shermake entered the open door and took the order. Afterward, he exhibited no outward nervousness whatsoever. "An exceptional young man," I thought to myself.

     Shermake headed off to get the ordered food. He was only gone for about thirty minutes. Upon arrival, he was carrying the food in an old cloth bag. At this point, we gave our men the countdown signal and gave Shermake the go-ahead nod. They opened the door to a kowtowing Shermake. The man grabbed the bag then rudely tossed several coins in the street. After that, he slammed the door in Shermake's face. I grabbed Shermake by the collar and threw him behind Samuel and me. Violently reopening the door before it could be relocked caught the attention of the Al Qaeda boys.

     At that exact moment, flash-bang grenades went off simultaneously from the opposite end of the building. The men opened fire from all the windows. Thanks be to God that those evil men were exactly where Shermake had indicated. Their lives were instantly extinguished. As The Team flew through the doors and windows, our first priority was the man with the explosive belt. He was dragged out the door and into the street as a precaution. Alek applied a small amount of C4 explosive to the locked door where the hostages were being kept. Before setting it off, the men yelled, "We're Christians. You are safe. Stand away from the door. We are going to blow the lock.

     The girls were screaming in a panic as the C4 destroyed the old lock. Alek yelled again, "We are Christians here to rescue you. Do not be afraid. You are safe. The men who took you are all dead. We are taking you home. Follow us to the vans outside. You must hurry."

     It was understandably difficult for the girls to calm down. All were shaking and crying. The Team performed chivalrously, giving the girls comfort while asking questions about their medical conditions. We had doctors live on the phones, and video connections made it possible to do real-time medical analysis. The girls were furnished with a personal vital sign recorder placed on their arms before boarding the vans.

     As we exited through the back door, Shermake entered through the front door and calmly assisted the girls in the vans with gentle words. Outside we could hear Samuel yelling in Somali to the people that were gathering in the streets, " Run for your lives, for I am about to bring down the wrath of God upon you godless heathens." The Air Force had deleted the bomb extravaganza due to the extreme danger it might pose for our men, especially Samuel. What did come down was a solid stream of red light, similar to a laser. It was thousands of 25mm rounds from the Gatling gun on the AC-130J Ghostrider at 1800 rounds per minute. As Samuel pointed his shaft at each building, the wrath of God struck with holy fury. Samuel had been correct in his assessment that the streets would be totally deserted when he reached the third building. Upon finishing his Moses act, Samuel headed for the vans. He did not forget to tell the Ghostrider crew over the phone, "Excellent job, my brothers and sisters. God Bless you all for the lives you saved this day."

     Nervously waiting for the building to be cleared of all personnel, I received a thumbs up from Samuel. At this point, I heard someone yell, "Al Qaeda!" Afterward, I was made aware that it was Shermake calling this out. That shout was closely followed by a shot,  a loud scream, and a three-shot burst from what I witnessed was Alek in van three. I saw two people fall in all the confusion. All three vans opened with scars pointed all around our tiny convoy. Alek shouted, "Hold your fire! I have the situation under control. This man, I don't know his name, is badly wounded, and the man back there that shot him is probably Al Qaeda."

     I shouted to Alek, "The man in question is Shermake. He's a Somali going with us. Everybody, get him in Alek's van. We've got to move!"

     As the men loaded Shermake, Alek told me that the young man had most likely saved several lives when he shouted the warning and dove at the man taking the bullet in his chest. No time for assessments just yet.

     With everybody reloaded, we took off down the alley and began the journey to the planes. With no idea what was going on with Mark, Mabior, and Chan and their capture of Mr. Gusev, I called Leah to report the girls were loaded and get news about the Gusev op. Our game plan was to go on if the Gusev op-team was not at the vans when ready to leave. Our thinking was that the girls were the priority. But we did have a plan to provide emergency transport for the Gusev op-team, if necessary. 

     As it turned out, upon entering the POC, Mark's unit had talked to a resident who informed them that Gusev had just run out the front door in a big hurry - game change. Mark, Mabior, and Chan flew out the front of the building to find a vehicle to hotwire for a chase. While they were accomplishing this, Mark called the drone team to see if they had a fix on the escape vehicle. Indeed, the race was on.

     Chan was driving, Mark talked with the drone team, and Mabior scanned backward for any danger. In talking with Mabior on the flight home, I found out that the old passenger car they had commandeered would have been rejected as scrap metal in any other country. It smoked and coughed like a chain smoker. The trio was not making up time on the fleet SUV of Gusev. After thirty minutes and fuel running out, the trio came to Gusev's abandoned SUV in the middle of the road. "Seemingly, he had abandoned his vehicle and ventured into the trees and large rocks beside the road. Info from the Drone operator told them that it looked like Gusev was carrying a rifle with a large scope on it." A man with his level of skill meant that was terrible news.

     Chan brought the car to a stop about two hundred feet short of Gusev's SUV. They were leery of a trap. Just as the Team was about to open the doors and step out, a bullet shattered the windshield, hitting Mark in the forehead and killing him instantly. Chan, not hesitating, jumped out of the driver seat and began running in a zig-zag pattern toward the perceived sniper location while firing short bursts. Mabior shouted, "No, stop, Chan. He is a dangerous man." Mabior lay down covering fire for Chan the best he could. Chan was fast, and he was close to reaching the tree line when the bullet impacted his head. It put him down on the ground with a heavy thud. Chan was gone.

     Mabior took in a deep breath. After a few seconds of hunkering down beside the car, he devised his next move. As if shot from a cannon, Mabior ran for the tree line on the opposite side of the road from Gusev. As he neared the trees, he dropped the rifle to the ground. That action told anyone watching that he was finished.

     Waiting what he thought a prudent amount of time, Gusev, dressed in green camo, slowly meandered out of the trees carrying his sniper rifle at the hip position. Walking cautiously, he came to Chan's lifeless body kicking it and rolling it over face up. Gusev let out a loud chuckle. Continuing on, he strolled toward Mark's vehicle, his rifle at the ready. Arriving there, Gusev inserted his rifle through the shattered windshield to crudely poke Mark's body for any life. With the assurance that he was dead, the evil man let out another loud chuckle. He wasted little time at that scene. His attention now turned to his SUV. At a trot, he quickly arrived at the rear of that vehicle. The rear hatch was lifted. A yellow case that measured approximately two feet by eighteen inches and eighteen inches high with unmistakable international radiation stickers on every side was checked. Hurriedly, Mr. Gusev walked to the driver's door, opening it and throwing in his rifle as he slid onto the seat. The vehicle was started, and the driver-side window rolled down. Mr. Gusev checked the rifle's safety and adjusted its position for easy access. He reached for the shifter to put the SUV into gear.

     At that moment, he felt the cold-steel barrel of a 357 Magnum against the back of his skull. This was accompanied by a calm and icy-cold voice that said, "Mr. Gusev, I have just finished a long and grueling discussion with my Lord. Though I thoroughly disagree with his decision, I will honor it. My advice to you is to get down on your knees and thank him for He has spared your life today. Turn the engine off and remove the keys, sir, so that I do not have to go against my Lord's wishes and do something very pleasing to me." Gusev made a sudden move to turn and grab the pistol at his head. In a flash, Mabior slapped the 357 hard against Gusev's left ear as he fired a shot through the windshield, shattering it.

     Gusev let out a blood-curdling scream exclaiming, "You fool! You broke my eardrum! I'm deaf!"

     Mabior purposely imitated Gusev with a loud chuckle of his own, "You didn't use it to listen, anyway. Mr. Gusev, I'm still not going to kill you, but I cannot guarantee what condition you'll be in after I turn you over to Mossad."

     At those words, Mabior told me that Gusev turned toward him with a look of genuine fear.

     Then a calm and familiar voice behind him said, "Mabior, it's Leah, my friend. Would you please back up slowly to my voice? There are armed soldiers with guns aimed at Gusev. Leave this horrible man to them. We'll help the medevac team gather up Mark and Chan. I know it's difficult." Leah said these words with a voice that was cracking with the pain of the scene. Mabior, I promise you before God almighty, Gusev will feel the wrath of God's holy justice, my brother."

     As Mabior reluctantly backed away, he saw several men in white hazmat suits taking the yellow box from the car. They then carried it to a waiting van. No sooner had the men put the box in the vehicle and jumped into it, the van sped away in a cloud of dust to some mysterious destination far away.

     Mabior told me about watching the soldiers cuff Gusev's hands and feet. It soothed him somewhat to see that the soldiers used excessive force while dragging Mr. Gusev, face down, across the rough road to the waiting vehicle. As they dragged him, he kept up the screaming about his ears. Before the soldiers put him in the vehicle, they stuffed a rag in his mouth to stifle the noise. But it would take much more than that to heal Mabior's broken heart. Healing would take much time and prayer for all of us.

     Leah and Mabior walked over to and kneeled down beside Chan. Four men were placing him gently in a standard black plastic body bag. Before they zipped it up, one of the men put his hand on Mabior's back and said, "Take all the time you need, my brother."

     Mabior took Chan's rifle then wiped the blood from his face with his robe. He silently prayed for a moment, then said, "Chan, my brother, my friend, your death will not have been in vain. My brother, you have saved so many lives this day. God, please, give this holy man a special place in heaven, for he has served you faithfully unto death. Chan, that terrible man is in custody. I will give your rifle to a new team member who will take your place, but they can never replace you, my loyal and loving friend. How The Team will miss you. Remember how we always said they may kill us, but another will always be willing and ready to step into our vacant spot. I will make sure of that. Rest in peace, my brother."

     After zipping the bag, Mabior proceeded to the car beside which Mark's body lay on the ground in an unzipped bag. Mabior knelt down beside the man that had trained and led him to become a valuable person in this cruel world. He picked up Mark's right hand and prayed quietly, then he spoke to Mark, "You will never have reason to regret allowing me to be a part of The Team. Someone will have to drag my lifeless body away to remove me from The Team." Revenge is God's my brother, but if I have the chance to be his instrument for that revenge, I shall atone for your death with an eye for an eye. As Mabior rose to his feet, Leah gave him a soulful hug. The pair walked to the waiting vehicle quietly, hand in hand.

     Meanwhile, as our small convoy raced over the moonscape called Somali roads toward the waiting planes, I received word of Mark and Chan being KIA, killed in action. At this exact moment, the drone team reported sixteen pickup trucks sporting light machine guns and filled with combatants closing rapidly from behind.

     The circling Ghostrider filled the road in front and on both sides of the pursuing pickup trucks with thousands of 25mm rounds. The intent was to discourage their following, not to kill them. It worked. The Ghostrider crew reported that the combatants jumped off the trucks and ran into the fields and trees while the trucks turned and fled. Another attack turned away. God was with us this day. Some might ask why He took Mark and Chan if He was with us. As far as Mark and Chan, it is God's will, not ours. His will is beyond our understanding, or He would not be God.

     Much thought went into not informing the men about Mark and Chan till we were on the plane. I feared their going off on any civilians we might encounter along the way. Also, I feared I might not be able to hold back myself as well. This is such a dark and evil feeling place, but then God flashes Shermake, a Somali, a Muslim, in my thoughts and displays the fact that he may have given his life to save a bunch of strangers, Christians. Thanks to God for that wisdom.

     We slowed our speed as we neared the planes with their motors roaring and dirt flying. As we pulled to a stop near the ramps of the number one plane, the crews, medical personnel, and the two Nigerian government officials, who had traveled with us in the other plane, ran out to meet us and give their assistance. I instructed the medical Team to load Shermake onto the plane for Nigeria. The capital of Nigeria, Abuja, has a class one trauma center.

     Samuel followed Shermake as he was loaded onto the plane. As his stretcher was secured for the flight, the Med Team worked furiously to save his life. Samuel leaned over the unconscious Somali, telling him, "Shermake, I wanted you to know that our Lord asked you back there if you accepted him as your Lord and savior. You said, yes, by your brave act of putting yourself in front of that bullet that saved many Christian lives. In our Bible, John 15:13, our Lord, Jesus Christ, says this, "There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends." You have no worries, my friend and brother in Christ. Shermake, you are a Christian." Samuel took a small Bible from under his robe and placed it beside Shermake.

     At those words, Shermake had opened his eyes halfway and smiled. That was the sign that Samuel wanted to affirm his hearing the "Good News." At that, he turned to the ramp and walked off the plane to the other waiting plane before he broke down.

     As The Team loaded onto their assigned plane, several SUVs came roaring up in clouds of dirt. People threw open the doors and jumped out. Leah ran to me. "Mr. Jefferson, we have Gusev in our custody. In the end, I can assure you that he will see earthly justice. Mabior, of course, is extremely upset. He needs attention. Thank you all for a job well done. I sincerely wish things could have been different."

     I looked at her and said, "Leah, it's okay. Mark told me, 'Remember, this is what they and we signed up for during the flight here. We are in God's hands, not yours.'"

     Leah gave me a hug. Her voice cracking, she said, "It still hurts." Then she turned and rushed away to her vehicle. Now, I knew there was a warm heart under that cold facade.

     Mabior walked aboard the plane and yelled, "Attention, two lines, Salute!" The Team snapped to attention without questions. The Israelis, three per side, carried the bodies of Mark and Chan gently and respectfully up the ramp and secured them to the floor. This was the first the men knew of this tragedy. They held their composure with stiff military salutes in honor of their fallen members. But tears still streamed down everyone's cheeks.

     Our first losses. Our first men to be sent heavenward. Our beloved Mark and Chan. The men kept to business, secured all their equipment and firearms, and then buckled in for the sad flight home. As the plane reached cruising altitude and leveled off, Mabior, beside me, pointed to Samuel. He had pulled himself entirely into his robe and was crying quietly. Mark and Chan affected all of us deeply, but Samuel took their deaths the hardest. It would be many weeks before he was himself again. Their spiritual leader, Samuel, significantly affected the men, having his spirit laid so low by all this. All of them tirelessly tried to comfort him, but only time and prayer would heal his broken heart.

     Most of the men fell into a deep sleep shortly after takeoff. I tried, but the day's events kept my mind reeling. Thoughts ran through my head that I never wanted to think about once, much less constantly. Landing in Yei brought a slight sense of relief to all but me. Wistfully, I thought about the two funerals to be arranged and attended to in the coming days. The Team would heal, but it would take time and prayer.