Chapter 4 "RELIGION ISN'T THE CAUSE OF WARS, IT'S THE EXCUSE." Jasper Fforde

 

Gary's Print Shop

 

CHAPTER 4

"RELIGION ISN'T THE CAUSE OF WARS, IT'S THE EXCUSE."

Jasper Fforde  

 

 

     Mabior stood looking out the window of the entrance door. Watching through my office window, I observed him as his face turned from pensive to horror. Then, the explosive shock blew the windows in as Mabior dove for distance away from the shattering glass. At the same moment, I went under my desk as my office window blew inward upon me.

     Small arms fire erupted in the courtyard as Al Shabaab stormed over the walls of our compound. I crawled to my rifle in the corner while doing a quick inspection of my face and body for wounds. Mabior got my door open and inquired as to my condition. He and I both being only superficially cut by flying glass, crawled out to engage the incoming Shabaabites.

     We let them break through the damaged doors at the entrance. That's when Mabior and I emptied two clips each at the incoming terrorists. It was done to gain the upper hand and surprise the incoming enemy. After that, Mabior tossed a smoke grenade through the entrance that blinded them.

     His phone went off just as he and I were about to do another two-clip burst through the heavy smoke. Tossing his phone to me, he said, "Chief, take care of that while I keep these lightweights busy."

     I could see it was Alek. "Alek, Chief here. Mabior is busy." He had to be hearing Mabior shooting in this enclosed building.

     In an irritated voice, Alek informed me, "Chief, we should have disposed of these idiots while we had the opportunity! Samuel wants me to get permission to fill the courtyard with mortar fire. Do we have any friendlys inside that area?"

     All I said was, "Open fire! Attack!"

     That taken care of, I joined Mabior firing through the smoke. We were receiving small arms fire until mortar rounds began pouring into the courtyard. Then we started hearing small arms fire coming from the top of the compound wall.

     Samuel rang in on my phone. "Chief, you and Mabior okay?"

     "Yes, how about you guys?"

     "Kuol and Ali were doing a leisurely scout outside of town on some intel from Uncle Abdul's team when they were ambushed by these guys. They are wounded, but Uncle's team has them hidden and getting medical attention. With your permission, we're opening up with grenades from our Scar's launchers."

     "You got it, now back to work. Keep updated."

     The sounds of grenades added to the firing and mortars were intense.

     Mabior shouted above the free-for-all, "Chief, let's do a firing back-out down the hall by my office to the back door. It's getting too hot in here - on three."

     The way to the back door went underground and ended up at the printing shop across the street, Uncle Wadood's business. The employees there had already opened fire on any Shabaabites coming around to that area. We had a generous store of extra ammo there. They gave us bottled water to refresh us after the smoke grenades.

     Gary, the head printer, loved that American name for some reason. He wounded two terrorists. Then he proceeded to run out and drag them into the shop with help from three other employees. What heroes!

     In questioning, we found the prisoners were afraid of and forthcoming to Gary. It was discovered afterward that Gary and staff had taped two pieces of fake dynamite, prepared in advance, to each prisoner. Mabior and I had to turn away to laugh at Gary's excellent sham that worked out so well. We would totally embarrass him and his staff after this was all settled by a surprise honorarium in front of thousands.

     Info from Gary's prisoners gave us a good picture of the attack and its plan. Till then, we were not totally sure that this was an Al Shabaab revenge attack. I phoned Samuel with a plan Mabior and I came up with from this info. This was a larger force than I had at first pictured. We would need reinforcements, but from where?

     On the call to Samuel, I ordered him to withdraw his forces from the compound area to the Market's west side, and that we would meet him there. My orders included The Team putting on their orange armbands for instant ID. It was going to be urban combat. The worst job in warfare is to fight in an urban environment. At its best, it is petrifying. At its worst, it is hell on earth.

     With the help of Uncle Abdul's men, we worked our way around the radicals to The Team. In addition to The Team, minus the twins who were wounded, there were about 100 armed men from Uncle's brigade. The key here is that those men were trained, and many were ex-South Sudanese army. I didn't object one bit when Gary walked up to me asking permission to lead Uncle's men. He was well respected by all, and deservedly so.

     Fred, bless his heart, brought coffee and snacks to all of us. I told him to keep a tally on everything, so he could be reimbursed. He was insulted by my request. Samuel, Mabior, and I all gave Fred a brotherly hug. I think we all fought back tears.

     Uncle came walking up with a big smile on his face that reminded me so much of his nephew, Chan. Our beloved Chan, how we would always miss him and Mark. Uncle had an announcement, "The women are busy cooking meals that can easily be distributed and eaten by hand. You will have no worries about food."

     Fred interrupted, "Or coffee, Uncle."

     Everyone cheered while Uncle put his arm around Fred, honoring him with these words, "Fred, what man does not live each day for a hot, strong cup of your life-giving coffee."

     A runner came breathing heavily into the middle of our group. He brought word about the combatant's movements toward our area. It was time to put our plan into effect.

     Samuel took this point to order all of us to our knees for prayer. Dut, our future in leadership, wanted to lead the prayer, and he did, beautifully.

     The Team would spread out to appointed firing positions that covered the entire main open Market area. Uncle's men lined along the way up to the Market would funnel the combatants using shoot-and-run tactics purposely into a gradually narrowing path to The Team's deadly field of fire at the Market.

     After the men trotted off to their assigned areas, Mabior and I climbed to the top of the building where his famous battle with the Iranian Assassination Squad occurred. We sat on that high point with a 360 view of the imminent action. As we sat there, I turned to Mabior and asked, "Does it bother you that I've stuck my nose into your command?"

     Without looking at me, he answered, "Chief, you gave me a quote by Galileo, 'You cannot teach a man anything. You can only help him discover it within himself.' I miss you being around to help me discover what's within me."

     I didn't know what to say. I just stared at him, till he turned to me.

     "Did you really kick that sergeant in the butt at the academy?"

     "Unfortunately, yes."

     We both chuckled and smiled.

     Mabior sighed, "Chief, you had all of us worried till you told that story. It's nice to know you're human. We respect you for that."

     Wow, I think Mabior just taught me something. He taught me the importance of being human and not so self-righteous. Thank you, Lord.

     I gave the signal, and Alier and Jok, our two computer wizards, launched our newest weapons into the air. Up went our two new DJI Pro drones with excellent live cameras and twenty-minute flight times. We saw them go up and climb to a thousand feet out of sight. We received the feed on our phones. There were the enemy, walking nonchalantly like out on a Sunday stroll.

     About five minutes had elapsed when Uncle's men began to enfilade the enemy from the front and sides. It was performed just as we had rehearsed it last summer. Quick shots, then fall back to another sheltered firing position. The object was not to engage in a protracted battle, but to force the enemy in a direction and path of our choosing.

     Mabior commented, "It's like watching a professional army. My countrymen are showing themselves to be very capable."

     The entire Team had the feed on the running battle. Cheers were going up here and there from The Team's assigned positions as they watched Uncle's men calmly and efficiently herd the enemy right down the path to us. As the Shabaabites attempted to take cover and stall, Uncle's men worked into firing positions based on their knowledge of the area that would hopefully put pressure on the enemy to keep moving.

     Though cumbersome and not highly trained, the enemy had twice our numbers. We couldn't run if things went south. The local population was in danger of being executed, raped, enslaved, and every other horrible end if we were to be unsuccessful.

     Mabior gave the order to get ready. The enemy was upon us. We let them think they were escaping into the open Market area. Mabior held back the fire order till all combatants were inside the Market area. Mabior called out in Somali on the Market loudspeaker system, "Put down your arms. You are surrounded!"

     The enemy immediately began firing as we opened up on them in return.

     The fight became intense. The enemy fired RPG rounds at all the surrounding buildings. The Team was mobile. A few rounds were fired before the men moved to a new position. The battle was going on too long. We were in danger of losing. The enemy was not surrendering and were working their way behind us. I ordered mortar and grenade fire. I hated to destroy the buildings, but things were getting out of hand.

     Mabior had gone to the back of our building to ward off the combatants climbing up the stairways on our rear. We were in real danger of losing.

     I ordered everyone to pull back as the opportunity arose to a secondary and easier-to-defend area. I knew we had several wounded. In the end, the entire Team managed the withdrawal. The wounds were not life-threatening but took two men out of combat, Alier and Jok by an RPG nearby hit.

     We had two top-notch doctors who insisted on staying with us during the battle. Those two saved several lives that day. Our wounded were adding up.

     I began crawling through the old destroyed building that gave us good protection while tallying the men about our options. Nobody would agree to the option of surrender or running.

     Crawling up to Mabior, I took a deep breath, telling him, "They're gonna wish they'd never come here. I told everyone to load a grenade round in their Scars rifles. We'll tighten up shortly to really pack a punch. The severely wounded are refusing to leave - along with the doctors. I gave the Docs pistols. Anything you want to add?"

     Mabior smiled and patted me on the back, "Chief, these terrorists are going to regret doing this by the time The Team finishes with them! I can't think of a better way to die than with all these fine men and you. What is Samuel's take on all this?"

     "Come to think of it, I haven't seen him since we fell back here. I'm calling him."

     Samuel answered my call with not a hello, but a command, "Chief, under no circumstance do you surrender or go into last-stand mode. I'm coming for The Team! Hold on, and pray!"

     I looked at Mabior who said, "Samuel told you he's on the way?"

     "Yeah, said not to go into last stand mode. What's he up to?"

     Mabior and I crawled to every man rescinding my previous orders. No time for explanations at this time. All I said was, "Samuel's coming." And that's all I needed to say.

     The incoming RPG and small arms fire was fierce. The leaves on the few trees came down like fall at home or one of the frequent hail storms. The dust stirred up by the bullets and explosions made breathing difficult. Conversations were few, but hard to make out except by lip reading. We returned fire when safe, but seldom was it so. Others, me included, were cut by bullets ricocheting off the rubble. I tried to get a look at The Team when the opportunity arose. Never did I get sight of anyone sequestered in the ruins. I just wanted to get a sense of their mental state. It was impossible to lift my head high enough. I had been with men who buckled under such incoming fire. The bravest among men have lost the fight for their sanity under such conditions. Though they were unseen, I could hear the men praying out loud and unashamedly to our God who always has time to talk and to give comfort. Our God is mighty.

     Mabior glanced over at me through the dust-filled air with this remark that he had to literally yell at the top of his voice, "Chief, the first time I was introduced to General Patton it was through a book you were reading about him. When you left the room, I picked it up and it was open to this quote by him, it made me fall in love with the General, this isn't his exact words, but, 'You don't win a war by dying for your country. You win a war by making the enemy die for his country.' Next to the Bible, it was one of the greatest and truest words I have ever heard. You and I will not let The Team die on this particular day. We're gonna make the other poor souls die for their false beliefs."

     Looking through squinted eyes surrounded by skin caked in dirt, all I could do was smile and give a very assertive thumbs up. I prayed silently, "Dear Lord, take me, but keep these brave men safe to carry out your toughest missions faithfully without considering their life and safety, amen."

     My memory is foggy on time, but to the best of my efforts, It was two minutes later that we began to make out sounds of small arms fire coming from what we could make out to be from behind the Shabaab units. The sounds gradually picked up in intensity. Added to that came the distinct chest-penetrating sound of military choppers combined with their 7.62 Mini-Guns. All of a sudden began the sound of familiar to my ears Hydra 70 Rocket Pods firing with their whoosh sound and the following explosions. The small arms and RPG fire previously aimed our way, quickly slackened, then died altogether.

     Mabior climbed carefully to the formerly untenable high point of rubble and stood up with his binoculars to his eyes. "Chief! Three Blackhawks are landing soldiers then lifting off and pouring rockets and mini-guns into the Shabaabites who are attempting to flee eastward. I can see American markings on the choppers, but the troops look like...I can't tell, but they are tearing up the enemy. Those boys know what they're doing."

     Now, every able-bodied Team member was at the top with Mabior begging for a look. Mabior graciously shared. All were smiling and cheering. Alek called some coordinates out to Diemba over the phone. Soon there were multiple deep whoomps from our mortars.

     I yelled to Alek, "What are you zeroed in on?"

     "The enemy are all in a panic trying to go through a narrow passageway between two buildings. We're putting a constant line of mortar bombs across it till the soldiers catch up to them."

     "Good job Alek!

     Mabior brought the men together. He assessed all of them with the doctor's help, putting the able-bodied men in strategic firing locations in case some of the enemy escaped back in our direction.

     The firing went on well into the night. General Iverson had not been available through the entire battle, however his assistant, Captain Winchell, kept in constant communication with me, though very tight-lipped about details. He kept telling me he wasn't sure about the reinforcement unit coming in. Truthfully, he sounded surprised when I told him about the Blackhawks and the soldiers they brought in.

     We kept a man at the pinnacle of the rubble's high point. Late in the night, he sent word down to us that two figures were making their way through the debris carrying white flags. Shermake kept calling out distance and progress as the two neared. The darkness, even with night goggles made recognition difficult.

     Finally, Mabior and I went out to meet the two strangers. We were dumbfounded to discover it was Samuel and Colonel Petrov. All four of us gave a sincere brotherly hug.

     Colonel Petrov asked, "I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner, my brother. We had to locate Transport. While waiting for our contact to bring up the buses after the Somali mission, some of the men went into the small town to gather some supplies for the trip home. On their way back, the men noticed a large group of what looked to be Somali men gathered in an open area boarding buses with AKs slung over their shoulders. Two men stayed as observers while the others came for me. We talked to one of the Kenyan officers about this. He bravely borrowed a kaftan from a local and proceeded to the buses. With the information acquired, he was able to tell us that the Somalis were Al Shabaab and headed for Yei, South Sudan, for The Team. My men wouldn't hear of our deserting our brothers in Christ. God was with us. General Iverson's chopper scheduled to take him home was delayed in taking off from the LPD Navy Transport. He pulled some strings, and to all our surprise, six hours later, three fully armed American Marine Blackhawks were landing at our doorstep. And that's it, my friend. These terrorists that use their religion as an excuse to make war are covering up their desire for power, for control."

     Colonel Petrov took in a deep breath before telling us this, "We're letting the South Sudanese Army wrap the prisoners up for detention. Then, they'll be interrogated for intel. I fear they will be met with utter brutality at the hands of the Army."

     "You cannot feel guilty about that Colonel." I put my arm around his shoulder, "It is beyond your reach. We have tried mostly unsuccessfully in the past to save prisoners from the army. Any compassion and empathy we display toward prisoners is dissolved by the reprehensible actions of the Army. As Christians, we still deal with them compassionately and lovingly as is our command."

     Samuel had been on the phone during the entire conversation. He returned, walking up to the Colonel, he put on his oversized smile accompanied by a verbal invitation, "Colonel, My wife, Leah, and the other wives of The Team and Mrs. Akech have extended an invitation for a lavish meal and quarters for the night for you and your men. They will not be rejected, sir."

     As we all turned to make our way through the rubble toward a half-destroyed Compound, our homes, Mabior confided in me, "Chief, I told you so." He put on a devilish grin.

     I asked, "Told me what?"

     "Why, I told you just yesterday that we'd get together with these Russians again, soon."

     "Mabior, admit it! You had no idea it would be this soon. And don't try to tell me you can foresee the future like Samuel."

     "Chief, I just proved it. You can't deny what just happened. I have the spiritual gift of seeing the future. And don't go trying to pull rank on me like you did about our women."

     "See! You said it, 'our women,' now you've proved my point about you two. I bet you and Maya are secretly planning your wedding."

     "No way, Chief! You used the term 'our women' when Amira and Maya were coming for the weekend last month."

     The Colonel looked back at us with concern.

     Samuel nudged the Colonel, "Colonel, those two only think they control those two women and their own lives."

     Colonel Petrov let out a hearty laugh, remarking, "I am married eight years. I understand exactly what is going on now, my brother. Those poor deluded men."