Rogue Forces

“First things first, Sadoon,” Azzawi said. “Set up perimeter guards in case their patrols come back.” Salih ran off. To the second squad leader, she said, “Bring the officer to me,” as she wrapped a scarf over her face.

The captive was a captain in the Turkish army. He was holding his left hand over a gaping wound on his right biceps, and blood was freely flowing. “Get a medical kit over here,” Azzawi ordered in Arabic. In Turkish, she asked, “Name, unit, and purpose here, Captain, and quickly.”

“You bastards nearly shot my damned arm off!” he shouted.

Azzawi raised her left arm, letting her hijab sleeve roll down to reveal her makeshift prosthetic. “I know exactly how it feels, Captain,” she said. “Look at what the Turkish air force did to me.” Even in the semidarkness, she could see the soldier’s eyes widen in surprise. “And this is far better than what you did to my husband and sons.”

“You…you are Baz!” the officer breathed. “The rumors are true…!”

Azzawi removed the scarf from her face, revealing her dirty but proud and beautiful features. “I said name, unit, and mission, Captain,” she said. She raised her rifle. “You must understand that I don’t have the desire or the ability to take prisoners, Captain, so I promise you I will kill you right here and now if you don’t answer me.” The officer lowered his head and started to shiver. “Last chance: name, unit, and mission.” She raised her weapon to her hip and clicked the safety switch off with a loud snap. “Very well. Peace be with you, Captain—”

“All right, all right!” the officer shouted. It was obvious he wasn’t a trained or experienced field officer—probably a desk jockey or lab rat pressed into service at the last minute. “My name is Ahmet Yakis, Twenty-third Communications Company, Delta Platoon. My mission was to set up communications, that’s all.”

“Communications?” If this was just a communications relay site, it might explain the lax security and ill-preparedness. “For what?”

Just then, Azzawi’s assistant squad leader, Sadoon Salih, ran up. “Commander, you have got to see this,” he said breathlessly. She ordered the prisoner to be bandaged up and secured, then ran off. She had to hop over a lot of cables strung throughout the camp, and she saw a large truck carrying what appeared to be a large steel container to which most of the cables were attached. They followed a bundle of cables up a slight rise to a large enclosure covered with camouflage netting.

Inside the enclosure, Azzawi found a large transport truck with a squat, square steel enclosure on the flatbed, along with two antenna masts lowered onto the deck of the truck and folded up in road-march configuration. “Well, here is the communications antennae the captain said he was setting up,” Azzawi said. “I guess he was telling the truth.”

“Not entirely, Commander,” Salih said. “I recognize this equipment because back home I guarded an American convoy of these things being set up to guard against an Iranian attack into Iraq. This is called an antenna mast group, which relays microwave command signals from a radar site to missile launch sites. That truck back there is a power generator…for a Patriot antiaircraft missile battery.”

“A Patriot missile battery?” Azzawi exclaimed.

“They must be the advance team setting up a base station for a Patriot missile battery,” Salih said. “They’ll bring in a huge flat-screen radar and a control station and be able to control several launchers spread out over miles. It’s all very portable; they can operate anywhere.”

“But why on God’s great earth are the Turks setting up an antiaircraft missile site out here?” Azzawi asked. “Unless the Kurdish government in Iraq somehow built itself an air force, who are they guarding against?”

“I don’t know,” Salih said. “But whoever it is, they must be flying over Turkish territory, and the Turks shot at them last night. I wonder who it was?”

“I don’t really care who they are—if they’re fighting Turks, that’s good enough for me,” Azzawi said. “Let’s take these vehicles back home. I don’t know what value they have, but they look brand-new, and maybe we can use them. At the very least, we won’t have to walk as far to get home. Good job tonight, Sadoon.”

“Thank you, Commander. It’s a pleasure to serve under such a strong leader. I’m sorry we didn’t do that much damage to the Turks, though…”

“Every little cut weakens them just a little bit more,” Zilar said. “We are few, but if we keep on inflicting these little cuts, eventually we’ll succeed.”

ÇANKAYA KÖŞKÜ, ANKARA, REPUBLIC OF TURKEY

LATER THAT DAY

“The initial reports were true, sir,” General Orhan Sahin, secretary-general of the Turkish national security council said, running a hand through his dark sandy hair. “The PKK terrorists stole several components of a Patriot surface-to-air missile battery, specifically the antenna mast group, power generator, and cables.”