Strike Force

“But we’ll have to cross the runway and taxiways,” Buzhazi said. “We could be caught in the open.”

“It’s a risk, sir,” Kazemi said honestly. “But they won’t expect us to go in that direction.” He indicated two dashed lines than ran across the runway complex approximately mid-field. “Men on foot and in smaller vehicles can cross via this tunnel that goes under the runway; the rest have to go across the runway. But we’ll be heading away from the counterattack vector. We can have a platoon set up booby traps and ambush sites to make it appear that’s where we’re headed and to slow down the Pasdaran advance, while the rest of the force heads south.”

Buzhazi thought for a moment, then nodded. “Very well, Ali. I agree with your plan.” He put a hand on his shoulder. “I hate to do this, Ali, but you’re the most senior officer surviving, so I’m going to have you organize and lead the diversion team.” He pointed to Kazemi’s map. “I’ll have you set up ambushes here, at the security center entrance gate. You set up booby-traps along the main road that will funnel responders toward your ambush zone. Will you do that, Ali?”

Kazemi’s eyes widened, but after a moment he lowered his head and nodded solemnly. “Of course, General. Who should I take with me?”

“General Zhoram’s company is scattered across the northern warehouse area in overwatch positions,” Buzhazi said. “You’ll have to find them and get them organized.” He handed Kazemi the radio from the dead security officer’s belt. “They should be monitoring Zhoram’s channel. I’ll check on you before we depart.”

“I’ll get as many as I can, but I won’t waste time — I can set up booby-traps as well as the next guy.”

“Good,” Buzhazi said. “Remember, you’re just a diversion, not a suicide squad. Once the attackers pull back from the ambush zone to regroup and re-evaluate, your job is complete. Head out immediately and we’ll meet up at rendezvous point Delta to the south. No heroics, understand?”

“Yes, sir. You know me: I’m no hero.”

“If you aren’t one today, Ali, I don’t know what else to call you.” The two men shook hands. “Thank you, Ali. You’ve done well.”

“Thank you, General. I won’t let them past me, don’t worry.” He hurried off.

The radios were very quiet in the next fifteen minutes, and only sporatic gunshots were reported around the base. Buzhazi found Kazemi in the second floor of an administration building, just a few dozen meters from the security center entrance. “Are you all right, Ali?” he asked.

“I’m fine, sir,” Kazemi said. He looked over Buzhazi’s shoulder — the general was alone. “Shouldn’t you be leading the battalion off the base, sir?”

“I wanted to check on you first. The rest of the battalion is ready to move. Report.”

“I could only locate a couple of General Zhoram’s men — the rest have been captured, killed, or fled,” Kazemi said. “But we have set up roadside bombs in several places along the road.” He motioned outside. “We’ve got two machine gun squads set up either side of the gate, and two men with a grenade ‘blooper’ that can suppress counterfire out to about a hundred meters. Best I could do on short notice. What’s our situation, sir? I haven’t heard anything on the radios.”

“We’ve been beaten up pretty badly,” Buzhazi said plainly. “We’re going to try to move out along three routes.” He motioned to them on Kazemi’s map, which had already been extensively updated in a very short time. “I want to thank you again for all you’ve done, Ali.”

“It was my duty as well as my pleasure, sir. I’ll be ready for them if they try to rush us, and then we’ll be hightailing it right after you.” He looked at the map. “How many do you think you can take through the tunnel under the runway, sir? I would think most of the battalion can get on the other side that way before the Pasdaran would even be alerted.”

“Ah yes, the tunnel,” Buzhazi said. “We decided not to take the tunnel, Ali.”

“Why, sir?”

“Because frankly we didn’t know it existed,” Buzhazi said. He quickly drew his sidearm and pointed it at Kazemi’s face. “We found it, of course — and we found the Pasdaran ambush platoons covering it too.”

Kazemi’s eyes widened in surprise. “What are you doing, sir…?”

“As soon as I saw the size of the bullet hole in Zhoram’s man’s head, Ali, I knew it wasn’t from a sniper rifle — it had to be from your sidearm,” Buzhazi said, taking Kazemi’s rifle away from him. Two infantrymen came in and pulled Kazemi to his feet. “And I couldn’t figure out why you were drawing such a detailed map of our deployment and cataloging our supply situation so carefully…unless I considered that you were passing all that information along to the Pasdaran. And when you didn’t seem to have any trepidation about guarding the north part of the base, I knew that the Pasdaran had to be waiting for us on the south — the direction you urged us to go.” Kazemi made no attempt to rebuff any of those arguments. “Why, Kazemi?”