Strike Force

…a laser-straight streak of orange-yellow fire zipped across the sky directly on, then directly through the gunship’s engine compartment. Buzhazi at first thought he had imagined it, because the gunship didn’t seem to be affected at all, even though he thought the fire had hit the helicopter. But seconds later the entire engine compartment ripped apart like an overfilled balloon and exploded in a cloud of fire, and the stricken helicopter — minus its entire engine compartment, main rotor, and most of the top of its fuselage — simply dropped straight down out of the sky and exploded in a brilliant burst of flames, showering them with still more smoke and burning debris.

Buzhazi remembered seeing those exact same streaks of light at Qom and knew who his unseen benefactors were. “The angel of death has come to Doshan Tappeh, my friends,” he told the horrified Pasdaran soldiers holding him. “Better get out while you still can.” He found he didn’t have to break the Pasdaran soldier’s grip — he and his comrade were already running off toward Doshan Tappeh Air Base as fast as they could negotiate the stranded cars and burning debris all around them. The crowd cheered as the soldiers ran off.

About a hundred eager hands steadied him as the crowd surrounded him, thumping his back happily. “Who are you people?” Buzhazi shouted. “Where did you come from?” But he couldn’t make himself understood from the cheering and celebrating. “Everyone, get out of here, now!” he yelled. “There are more Pasdaran troops on the way! They’ll mow everyone down if you don’t get away now!”

And just as he shouted that warning, he looked south toward the airbase and saw exactly what he feared — all of the Revolutionary Guards that had been waiting for his battalion to try to escape to the south were now streaming north across the double runways of Doshan Tappeh Air Base right toward them! There were at least four companies of infantry heading his way, probably less than two kilometers away now, along with scores of armored vehicles. Farther to the east, he could see three more Mi-24 helicopter gunships flying in echelon formation, slowly advancing toward them as well. They were sending over a thousand troops out to mop up what was left of Buzhazi’s insurgents, and they would undoubtedly cut down these protesters too because they had helped him. There was going to be another bloodbath…

…or worse. As he scanned the area farther east, he could see three tiny fast-moving dots on the horizon, rolling in and lining up right down the middle of Setam-Gari Avenue — Pasdaran attack jets! They looked like Russian-made Sukhoi-24 close air-support bombers, laden with bombs on both wings. The bastard Zolqadr was actually going to bomb the city from fast-movers! There would be nothing left of this entire avenue for the Pasdaran infantry to clean up after this attack was over! He looked to the west and saw another attack formation, this time of two more Su-24 bombers. “Run!” Buzhazi shouted. “Get out! Get away from here! The Pasdaran will attack any moment…!”

Seconds later, the jets attacked…but not on Setam-Gari Avenue. At the last second the jets peeled away, banking hard…and lining up on the advancing Pasdaran forces.

The jets to the east attacked first, launching radar-guided air-to-air missiles on the helicopters and shooting them down nearly simultaneously before peeling away. In a precisely coordinated attack which left almost no time for the men on the ground to react, seconds later the jets to the west swept over the Pasdaran infantry formations, dropping anti-personnel clusterbomb canisters. It appeared the entire air base lit up with thousands of flashbulbs, but Buzhazi knew that each “flashbulb” was a half-kilogram explosive charge that sent metal fragments out in all directions, killing or maiming anyone within ten meters.

“Hoseyn, you bastard,” Buzhazi said aloud as he watched in relieved fascination at the scene of destruction right before him, “you finally got off your ass and decided to do something.”

Just as quickly as it began, it was over. The airbase was obscured with thick smoke from the clusterbomb explosions, exploding vehicles, and from the burning wreckage of the attack choppers. Soon the terrifying sounds of injured and dying soldiers reached the crowd’s ears, and they turned away and started to quickly leave the area.

“Who are you people?” Buzhazi asked anyone within earshot. “Where did you come from?” But the jubilant masses said little that he could understand.

Buzhazi returned to the Bank Sepah building to look for survivors, where he found members of Second Company already searching the rubble. “Not much left, sir,” the sergeant in charge of Lion Two reported. “I guess the air force decided to get into the fight after all, sir?”