Jihad
6.10 Saudi Arabia
by Red MacDonald
Copyright © 2013 Red MacDonald
All Rights Reserved.

Author’s note: Jihad is a novel of war, which, by definition, is violence in extremis. So far in this story, thousands have died, tens of thousands have been maimed, injured or harmed. Yet, this brutality has been impersonal, therefore, tolerable. In this chapter, violence becomes horrific, real and very personal. This chapter is not for the squeamish, yet is a necessary part of this story of heroism, sacrifice, and redemption. Proceed with caution.

The Faithful, North African and Middle Eastern Islamic nations, are plotting to seize the oil resources of the Middle East. By controlling the earth's oil and its major trade routes, they plan to bring the world to its knees. Then, when the entire world is kneeling, the Faithful of Allah will read to them from the Koran, preaching the message of Islam, the True Faith. The Faithful will stop at nothing to achieve their goal. But how far will they go? And how many lives will it cost?

6. World War

6.10 Saudi Arabia

* * * * *

6.10.1 The Broadcast

The special royal broadcast had been announced every half hour for several days. It was fifteen minutes after noon. The mid-day prayers had ended, and the entire Saudi kingdom had gathered before their television sets.

The nation's TV screens went blank for a moment. Seconds later, they were filled with the image of two elderly men sitting on a tan settee before a light green and beige wall. The slightly older man on the right leaned to the second man and whispered in his ear. The second man nodded and began to speak.

"There is no God but Allah and Mohammed is His prophet. Subjects and citizens, you have been commanded to see this broadcast, because the future of this kingdom, of Islam, and perhaps of that of the entire world is at stake.

"In order for you to fully understand the reality of the dangers we face, we will now show to you a film. This film was shown on Iraqi television. It is intended to frighten us into surrendering. Instead, we are angered. Please do not turn away from the horrors you are about to see. Your king will talk to you later about these images."

The nation's screens flickered, and a news video appeared of the once picturesque city of Al-Jubayl. The first footage showed a pair of tanks driving down a street. They were firing their cannons into tall buildings. Great gaping holes appeared, and smoke filtered out from the ruins.

A small car veered into the street in the near foreground. The driver crouched low, barely seeing over the steering wheel. Several other people were in the car, bent over as though to hide. A huge pile of belongings wrapped in a sheet was tied to the roof. The small car darted down the street. A tank turret swung towards the car. A blast knocked the camera askew, but not far enough to avoid seeing the result. The car was blown to pieces, and the bundle of clothing scattered over the street.

Scenes changed rapidly showing tanks and armored vehicles firing into buildings as they roared past. The scene changed again. Four men in Iranian uniforms were carrying objects from a building. They had made a pile of bedding, and atop it were televisions, recorders, a VisiPhone, picture frames, and an odd assortment of clothing.

An old man, a civilian, rushed out of a doorway and grabbed one of the pictures from the pile. One of the soldiers raised his machine gun and fired. The old man reeled and fell, blood seeping onto the pavement. Other soldiers turned towards the camera, laughing and pointing at the dying man. Then, they turned around, cocked their weapons and emptied them into the rebounding corpse.

The scene shifted again. A young woman, clutching a child to her bosom, raced down the sidewalk. A soldier sprinted after her. He caught her, and ripped the child from her. The baby bounced onto the street's hard pavement. The soldier clawed at the woman with both hands, ripping her chador from her body.

A second man, dressed in a white shirt and brown pants, rushed up and knocked the soldier down with a single blow. He grabbed the woman. She tore way from him, rushed to her child and lifted it up. The man reached for her hand, but his legs were cut out from under him by a stream of bullets.

The man lay on the street, crying out, his hand reaching for the woman, while the soldier tore her clothes off and raped her. When the first soldier had done his evil work, another soldier laid upon her and a third.

The first soldier laughed into the camera and pointed at the man. He strutted over to the child, lifted it in one hand, and threw it against the side of a building. It resounded like a small watermelon falling to the ground.

The woman screamed repeatedly. A soldier slapped her, but still she screamed and struggled. One of the soldiers lifted his gun, and tore her apart with a spray of bullets. The wounded man cursed them, before they shot him in the head. The scene shifted again, but as it did, the screen went blank, returning to the two old men.

General Algarro and the Saudi Chief of Staff had been sitting off to the side, waiting their turn. Algarro had seen the entire film once, and had been forced to excuse himself part way through it. He had seen the reality of war, and knew death. However, this passed beyond all sensibility. He leaned over to the Saudi, "Who are those two? Is the one on the right the king?"

"Yes, my friend, that is His Royal Highness, King Fayd. The man to his left is his brother, the High Chamberlain. The king seldom speaks, as it may lessen his dignity. Therefore, except in the most extreme emergencies or in the highest of official acts, the king rules through his brother, who is his dearest friend, spokesman and heir."

Algarro, consumed with curiosity, was about to ask more, when the Chamberlain began to speak again.

"The program you have just seen was televised last night by the Iraqi government. It illustrates the destruction of Al-Jubayl. The Iraqis warn us that this will happen throughout our kingdom if we continue to resist.

"Yet, Al-Jubayl did not resist. Our King, in his wisdom, relied upon our common faith in Allah to protect his subjects. It is written that the warrior shall not desecrate the Holy Places, nor despoil the persons or property of those who accept Him. We believed that Al-Jubayl would suffer no harm at the hands of our Islamic brethren.

"We now know them, for they have boasted of their transgression, and revealed themselves to us all. Yes, we know them! They are the Infidels of whom we were warned. They dress themselves in the manner of the Holy, and they proclaim themselves for all to hear. But, when Allah tested them, they fell below the level of the animals. They have failed Allah's great test and have failed to abide by the laws of Islam as given to His Prophet, Mohammed, may his name live in glory forever.

"Therefore, we must defend ourselves. We must arise as we have not done in centuries. We must arise to defend the Holy Land and the Holy of Holies from the Infidels.

"The King would speak to his subjects. Attend!"

The Chamberlain sat back and folded his hands upon his lap. The camera slowly panned to the King's wrinkled but kindly face.

"My subjects, I declare a Jihad in defense of the Holy Places of Islam. I declare that my kingdom is in a State of Siege. Therefore, to defend Allah's Kingdom, the Holy Places and this, His Holy Kingdom, I declare that a State of Martial Law exists within the boundaries of my kingdom. All of my subjects and even I, your royal master, will partake in this Jihad. My subject, General Mahumaddi el Sayd a-Fayd, will address you now. Attend to him. His words are my words."

The camera facing the two generals snapped on, and the director pointed at General a-Fayd.

"Thank you, my king. Blessed be the name of Allah and of his servants here on this Earth.

"Our king has declared martial law. Until he shall lift this burden from our shoulders, we shall fight the Infidels, alongside our true friends, the Americans who sit even now at our sides.

"The subjects of the king are hereby under military law. Each of you will report to the nearest military district commander or station of the police. There you will be assigned to work, which will be according to your abilities rather than your station or wealth.

"Some of you will be drafted immediately into military service. You will be assigned to military units and you will be under military discipline. Some of you will be called upon to build barricades. Others will make and prepare food. Others will serve in hospitals, or other activities as needed in the defense of our kingdom.

"Those of you who are able will serve either with the Saudi army or with the American army. If you serve well, you will be rewarded. If you die in battle, you shall be rewarded with eternal life in Paradise.

"For those of you chosen to fight alongside our American friends, allies and benefactors, beware! They are different from us, neither good nor evil. They are simply The Unbelievers who are helping to deliver us from the Heretics. Because of this Allah's face shines upon them.

"Know one other thing about them. American women live in high esteem amongst their people. High officers and others in authority amongst the Americans are female. It is their way, and we respect it just as they respect our ways.

"If you are assigned to an American unit, remember, the word of your officers and those placed in command over you are the words of your king. To disobey a lawful order, whether given by a man or a woman, is sufficient justification for you to be shot summarily. If you attempt to desert, you will be shot, and buried in a common grave in Unholy ground with a swine as your companion!

"Understand this also: There will be no evacuation of any city or town. If necessary, you will fight and die defending your home, your street or your village. Civilians found attempting to evacuate will be summarily shot and burial will be denied to them and their families.

"Go, subjects of the king. Go to your police station. Go to your military headquarters. Seek those our king has commanded to lead us in this Holy War, and serve your king and Allah!"

The camera shifted back to the King. "These are my commands, my people. Go now, serve me. Serve Allah! It is Jihad!"

The cameras went blank, and regular broadcasting resumed. News personalities rehashed, restated, replayed and reiterated the words and pictures that the nation had just heard and seen. The productions were carefully stage-managed. In a typical group, one person had been selected to play the dove, to call for surrender and appeasement. Others took the king's side. As they debated, the moderator would interject, often showing scenes from the Iraqi film that had not been seen in the earlier telecast. In two instances the scenes were so horrific that when the cameras in the studio were turned back on one or more of the panel was missing. In one case, not stage-managed at all, a man was sick to his stomach in front of the entire nation.

Within the hour, lines began to form at each police station and military installation. Regardless of sex or station, each citizen was stripped of their headgear, and a military cap was placed solemnly upon their heads. Above the bill were a silver crescent and a gilded star. The identical solemn message was given to each of them in turn: "You are now in the service of Allah and your king."

The recruits were directed to small tables where they were interviewed. As their skills, age and physical condition were discovered, each was assigned to a new task according to their skills and knowledge, without regard to their age, sex or social position.

The final defense of Saudi Arabia had begun. The kingdom would never again return to its ancient ways.

* * * * *

6.10.2 Call Up

The same kind policeman knocked upon the door of the shop before entering.

‘How odd,’ Rahil said to herself. ‘This is a place of business. Our door is open to all. Why should he knock upon the doorway?’

“I would speak with your father,” he said, formally.

Rahil rushed into the back. “Father! The young policemen is back. Something is wrong.”

Ahmed looked up, and a worried look crossed his face. They had spent a day and a half restoring the shop for business. Had Ma’sum reconsidered his gift? Had the Imam adjudicated against him? “Yes? How can I assist the King’s servant, today?”

The policeman blushed. “I am not sure how to say this. Your daughter must come with me. She and all other adults have been called to service by the King.”

“What? How can this be? The King...the King has called my daughter into His service?”

“Indeed. He has declared martial law. Under these provisions, he has required all young and able bodied subjects into His service. He will address the Kingdom later today. However, in the meantime, your daughter must come with me to the police station, where she will receive her orders.”

As Ahmed drew a breath in preparation to answer the policeman, Rahil touched him on the arm, and looked up into his face. “Father, it is the will of Allah. I am called to a greater service than even that of the King.”

She turned to the policeman. “Let me say goodbye to my mother. I will join you in a few minutes. Allah be praised!”

* * * * *

6.10.3 Partings

Tamir had been a policeman for only a few months. As a very junior member of Zahran’s sectarian police force, he had been assigned to the market district. It was a quiet district with little crime. As a new police officer, his job was to get to know the area, become known to all the merchants, and learn as much as he could of their ways. In this manner, he would learn who belonged in the market, how shoppers acted, and who might be less than honest. During his first week, he had arrested one pick-pocket and one thief of money from a woman’s open till. His honesty, his respect to all, and his arrest record earned him the respect and trust of the merchants. In spite of his youth, the people of his small beat had come to expect his presence and were comforted by it.

He had stood by, embarrassed, as Ahmed and Sefina embraced Rahil, covering her with kisses. Rahil had thrown off her burka to hold her parents close, weeping with them, and kissing their faces. He heard their shared prayers for her safe return. Then, as though on cue, the family stood apart from each other, and seemed to take a collective breath. He saw the identical looks of resolve on their faces, a testimony to their familial relationship. He watched as Rahil covered herself, turned on her heel, and marched from their store and into the street.

Tamir was taken by surprise at Rahil’s sudden departure and hurried to catch up to her. For a while, they walked together in silence. Although he was a man, and one of authority acting for the King, the tenets of his faith demanded that he refrain from speaking with a woman who was not of his family, lest he dishonor both himself and her. Yet, it was most difficult. He had seen the young Rashid at work, wondering how a boy could look so feminine. He had watched the men gathering across the street from Ahmed’s market, watching the youngster. He had heard the imam speak to Ahmed regarding his ‘daughter,’ and had seen the abrupt transition from boy to girl. Yet, it was not his place to say anything. The imam and the religious police had addressed this situation, and, with Allah’s guidance, had determined the child’s proper path in life.

Yet, how could he not speak with her? She had been torn from her family. She would be sent among strangers, perhaps to die, or worse. How could he, in good conscience, not say something to attempt to allay her fears or his fears for her?

“Are you frightened?” he asked. He saw the top of her burka move. Her eyes, still glistening with tears, spoke volumes.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yet, it is my fate. I have known all my life that Allah would call me upon some great adventure. My life would be changed, and, because of that, the lives of everyone in the Kingdom would also be changed.”

As she turned away, he gasped, “You have known this? You have foreseen?”

“Yes,” she whispered, “I have. I am still frightened, but I know that, regardless of the trials and tribulations which I must suffer, Allah will lead me into a new and better life. I do not know how I will do this, or the path that Allah has place before my feet. I know it is my journey, and I must travel this road and overcome the impediments that I shall meet. Then, through my suffering, all the people and especially the women of this land will rejoice. Such is my fate, but I am still frightened that I will fail to fulfill Allah’s mission for me.”

Tamir was taken aback by the bold assertions of the young woman Under other circumstances, he might have considered the girl’s words to be blasphemy, yet, upon hearing them, he was convinced that she was correct. Somehow, she had been sent upon a Holy Mission. She was with Allah in her spirit, and because of that, the Kingdom would be shaken to its core.

Although he wanted to hear more, to talk with her, they had arrived at the police station. He quickly guided her through the main door and to the great hall, where all the people were gathered in preparation to serve their King. As he ushered her into the hall, he leaned to her, and spoke quietly into her ear. “Blessings be upon you, Rahil of Zahran. May Allah lead you to your destiny.”

Quickly, he turned on his heel, and returned to his usual beat in the strangely deserted and quiet market district.

* * * * *

6.10.4 The Police Station

Rahil was quickly ushered into a side room by a nurse in a white, Western-style uniform. Her bright smile did much to relieve Rahil’s grown anxiety. “Come in here. This is where the women are being assembled. Remove your burka and hold it in your hand.”

Rahil recoiled. Not only was it against Wahhabi teachings, but it was also a form of protection. Rahil knew this body did not match her soul. Therefore, the more that was between her and discovery the better. However, as she looked around, she saw that the other women had removed their burkas or chadors, and stood about dressed in indoor clothes with hijabs covering their heads. If she did not remove her burka, then it would draw attention to her. So, with great reluctance, she slipped it over her head, folded it carefully, and tucked it under her arm.

The nurse smiled her approval and pointed. “Now, you stand in this line. You will be going to the table you see just ahead of you. When you get there, an Army officer will ask you questions. It is permitted for you to answer these questions, since he is a King’s officer. So, don’t be frightened. Just answer his questions as fully and as honestly as you can. OK?”

She nodded, and the nurse departed, leaving Rahil standing in a line of four other women. Next to her on either side were other lines of women. Each line was heading toward a King’s officer. She could see that the officer was seated at a small table and was asking questions of the woman standing in before him. As she answered, the officer made small notations on a form in front of him. After a few minutes, the woman was led away by a nurse. Rahil observed that the women were divided into several groups. Each group slowly disappeared into one of the side rooms. That is, they went in, but they didn’t come out. That thought was a disturbing one.

“Next!” A man’s voice interrupted her musings. “Come! Come!” the King’s officer beckoned to her.

As she approached, he slid a form in front of him. “Name?”

“Rahil”

The officer asked for her address, father’s name and other sundry information. Then, he asked, “Can you read?”

“Yes,” she replied.

The officer glanced up at her, fixing his gaze on her. “Really?” he asked, sliding another form towards her. “Read this.”

Rahil picked it up and read it.

“Aloud, please!” the officer chided her.

Rahil nodded, and read aloud, “The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is one of the largest countries in the Middle East in land area, yet is one of the smallest in terms of its population.”

She was about to continue, when the officer took the form from her, saying, “Good, good. That’s enough. Now can you add and subtract numbers?”

“Yes,” Rahil replied, “I work in my father’s market, where I help him with his accounts.”

“Aha!” the officer replied. “Can you speak any other languages?”

“Yes,” Rahil replied, “I speak Farsi, French and some English.”

“Where did you learn these things?” the officer asked, a note of suspicion in his voice.

“I learned from my father, my mother, my brothers and my sisters. We are merchants. We buy and sell throughout these lands, and must be able to speak with our suppliers and our customers.”

“Hmm...,” the officer replied, seemingly placated. He looked directly at her, and then said, “So, you speak English, do you?” Except that he said it in English!

Not to be intimidated, Rahil replied, also in English, “Yes, I do.”

“Excellent!” the officer replied. He checked two boxes on the form, then waved towards one of the nurses. When she approached, he said, “English speaker.”

The nurse seemed to understand. She smiled at Rahil. “Come with me. You will be working with the Americans.”

They quickly crossed the room towards the smallest room. There had been no waiting line, so they entered immediately. Sitting at a desk was an American officer. The nurse approached him, announcing, “Rahil. 16 years old. Local resident. Speaks English. Educated. Reads. Math skills. Arabic, Farsi, French and English.”

The American nodded. “Good!” He glanced at her. “Sit! Sit there, girl.” He pointed to a chair.

Rahil was astonished. No woman sat in the presence of men, especially in unknown men.

“Ah!” the American nodded, “Don’t sit with men? Yes, I get it. However, you’ve been selected to serve with the American Army. That’s different from anything you’ve ever experienced. So, you’re going to wear an American uniform and learn some basic tasks. Then, we’re going to ship you off to one of our divisions, where you will help to defend your Kingdom. Go it?”

He had spoken so rapidly and with such an atrocious accent that Rahil understood very little of what he’d said. However, she did understand the general idea, and nodded, somewhat half-heartedly.

“Good!” the American boomed. “Now, little lady, you just read this, and sign your name at the bottom. After that, we’ll get you a physical, a new uniform, and get you some food.” He shoved a piece of paper towards her and handed her a ball-point pen.

Rahil studied the paper, trying to read it, but, it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t like the English she used when ordering from English suppliers or reading invoices from Australia or Canada. But, she persisted, and, after a while began to understand what it said. Basically, it said she was joining the American Army until the war ended. She would be expected to obey orders, carry out duties, and do anything they told her to do. In return, they would cloth her, feed her, and train her to perform unspecified duties.

Slowly, reluctantly, she took the pen and wrote her name next to the X the American had drawn on the paper.

“Great!” the American said. “Now, you remove your hijab and put on this cap.”

Again, Rahil hesitated. Slowly, incrementally, she was being stripped of everything that connected her to the woman she was, while exposing the man she never wanted to be. She glanced at the American, who nodded encouragingly, while holding out a tan, military cap with a short bill. She could see a silver crescent above a golden, five-pointed star. However, it was the crescent, the symbol of her god that held her eye. This was just another test that she had to pass in order to follow the path He had laid down for her.

With great reluctance and trepidation, she loosened her hijab, and let it slide to her shoulders. She took the proffered cap and placed it loosely on her head.

“Excellent!” the American boomed. "You are now in the service of Allah and your king. You go with this nurse, and she’ll get you to where you gotta be. Allah be with you, little lady.”

The woman touched her on the shoulder. “Come this way. We’ll get you ready.”

She led Rahil through the back door and into the street. They crossed the street to enter another building. Immediately after entering, they turned to their right and entered a large room. Several chairs stood against the near wall. The far wall was closed door and a large reception desk.

The nurse led Rahil to the reception desk. “New recruit, named Rahil.” She slid a folder across the desk to the nurse sitting behind the partition.

The nurse turned to Rahil. “I’ll be going now. You stay here, and they’ll get you ready to serve your King. Allah be with you, Rahil.” With a quick salute, she was gone.

* * * * *

6.10.5 Induction Center

The nurse behind the partition smiled at her, saying, “Come with me, and we’ll get your physical.”

Rahil didn’t understand. ‘Physical? Physical what?’ she wondered, as the nurse escorted her behind the partition, down a short corridor, and into a white room.

“Now, let me help you get undressed,” the nurse said.

“What?” Rahil recoiled, starting towards the door.

The nurse grabbed her arm with surprising strength. “It’s ok, Rahil. It’s just routine. The doctor is going to examine you to make sure you’re healthy. We’re going to take a blood sample and a urine sample. Then, the doctor’s going to examine you. It’ll only take fifteen minutes, but we’ve got to do it. You understand, don’t you?”

“No!” Rahil cried out. “It is forbidden. Allah shall strike me dead!”

The nurse look amused. “No, Rahil, He won’t. The King has ordered this. The King is Allah’s servant. Since, the King has ordered this, has not Allah allowed it? This is just part of Allah’s great plan for the Kingdom and all its subjects. Surely, you understand that you are just a small part of Allah’s great plan for his people, and that you must carry out your part of that mission.”

Confused, dejected, and embarrassed, Rahil fell to the floor, weeping and pulling at her hair. Her cap fell off, and she hid her face in the folds of her hijab. “I cannot do this!” she wailed.

The nurse gently helped her to her feet. “There, there, little one. I know. Every woman has the same fears. Have you ever had a physical examination by a doctor?”

“No,” Rahil whimpered. “I don’t know what is meant by a physical examination, and I do not want to know. I want to go back to my home, and help my father and my mother attend to our shop. I want to be with the other women, who need my help.”

“Yes, child, I’m sure you do. That’s all any of us would want,” the nurse replied, holding Rahil in her arms. “But, that is not our lot in this life. Instead, we are called upon to protect this Kingdom, and so we shall. Now, let me help you undress. We’ll preserve your modesty as much as we can. Here, slip this robe over yourself, while you remove your clothes.”

Slowly and carefully, the nurse helped Rahil into the paper and plastic robe. Then, working by Braille, she helped Rahil out of her clothes, folding and stacking them neatly. “You do know that you will be issued an official uniform, don’t you, Rahil?” When the girl shook her head, the nurse continued, “Oh, yes, you are in the United States Army, now. We will provide you with a soldier’s uniform. You will have trousers and a shirt. You will have boots and your cap. We will provide underclothes for you, too. These clothes,” she pointed at the small pile of Rahil’s clothing, “will be returned to your parents. We will take a picture of you when you are all dressed, and send that to them so they will know you are in the King’s service and that of Allah. They will know you are a soldier, and be proud of you. They will receive a crescent on a blue background, which they can place in their window to let others know that their child is serving His Majesty to the best of your ability. Yes, Rahil, you will be a new person beginning today, with a mission from Allah and your King.”

In spite of the nurse’s ministrations and her positive assurances, Rahil was more frightened than she had ever been. Beneath this all too thin robe was the evidence of her lie. Once it was lifted, her life would be at an end. She would be discovered, shamed, and then....?

A man burst through the door.

Rahil screamed, “A man! A man! Allah protect me!”

The nurse leapt in front of her and seized her shoulders. “Rahil, this is a doctor. He is here to perform your physical examination. It’s OK.”

Rahil struggled and screamed, “It can never be right! He is a man! This is against the will of Allah!”

The nurse turned to the doctor. “She is right, though. You are a man. What are you doing here? We need a woman doctor, not you. Besides, you’re not American. Who are you?”

The doctor shrugged. “It’s me or nothing. There are many recruits and few doctors. The King has ordered all doctors to attend to these proceedings. I have come from my surgery to assist, as ordered by the King, and as enforced by his police. I do not wish to be here either, but I obey the orders of the King.” He turned to Rahil, and in a loud and commanding voice, said, “As will you. You are subject to the King’s orders, as am I. Now, let’s get on with this, shall we?”

He reached into his bag, and pulled out a stethoscope. “Now, breathe deeply,” he commanded, placing the instrument on the robe above her heart.

She breathed in and out for a few moments, as the doctor pushed the circular silver instrument against her chest and then her back.

“Good, good...,” he pronounced. Taking a conical device from his bag, he grasped her by the head, plunging the black plastic cone into her ear. He then went to the other side and did the same thing. He unscrewed the cone, attached another lens, and shined the light into her eyes. “Good,” he said. He grasped her by the neck and began to feel both sides from her ears down to her shoulders. He felt her shoulders and arms, and then studied her hands.

The door opened again, startling Rahil. She whimpered, expecting some greater humiliation.

Instead, another nurse poked her head into the room. “Donna, I need you in 12. The recruit is so frightened she fainted and hit her head. She’s conscious, but bleeding. I need help, stat!”

The nurse glanced at the doctor, as though sizing him up. She knew that she shouldn’t abandon the female patient to a male doctor. That was against regs, but this was an emergency. She had a duty to the injured woman as well. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’ll be right back, doctor,” and left with the other nurse.

The doctor sighed, “Well, let’s get on with it.” Picking up two pieces of silvery metal, he instructed, “Put your legs here and here.” When Rahil complied, he lifted them up, installing the stirrups into the table.

“What are you doing?” Rahil screamed. “Help me! Allah, help me!”

“What’s this?” the doctor asked, flicking Rahil’s penis. “You are not a female! You are hiding yourself from Allah. This is forbidden.”

The doctor’s eyes narrowed. Then, his face split in an enormous grin. “So, you wish others to think you are female? I shall show you what it is to be a female. Today, you will become the woman you wish to be.”

He reached for a tube from a tray on the nearby shelf. With a swift movement, he lowered his trousers.

Rahil felt his hard fingers prod her exposed anus. She squirmed, as his finger penetrated her. She screamed as loudly as she could, “Help! Help me! Allah, help me!”

The doctor reached through her legs and slapped her first on one cheek and then on the other. For a moment, Rahil’s mind seemed to leave her body. It was as though she were floating above her own body, watching. She saw the doctor’s swollen penis push against her anus. She felt the pain and screamed, even as she watched herself squirming in the attempt to ward off the man’s organ. But, her thrashing hips seemed only to encourage him. She saw his penis slip inside her. She felt herself splitting in half, as it impaled her. Helpless, she screamed again and again, until he struck her once... twice ... three times.

Rahil’s world darkened and faded. Her last thoughts were, “Allah, I have failed in my mission. Protect me in Paradise!”

* * * * *
6.10.6 Discovery

“Oh my god! Call the MPs.” Donna screamed on reentering Rahil’s room. When nobody moved, she returned to the corridor, shouting, “Rape! Get the MPs. I need a doctor here, stat! Code Blue!” She quickly returned to the room.

She grabbed a handful of dressing and quickly shoved them into Rahil’s anal region, from which the blood was flowing. She carefully removed Rahil’s feet from the stirrups, and threw them into the corner with a loud clang of metal.

A second nurse, and then a third arrived, pushing a crash cart. “What’s happening here?” one asked.

“Captain, this recruit was raped! I had to help Cynthia with another recruit that had fainted and injured herself. When I got back, I found Rahil, here, up in the stirrups, bleeding profusely from the anus. I placed a temporary dressing in the wounded area and removed her from the stirrups. I recommend that we do a swab immediately to get any DNA sample we can, and before this poor child wakes up.

“I can see why she was so afraid, now. She’s got parts that she shouldn’t have. Regardless, she didn’t deserve this. Whoever that son of a bitch is, I want him strung up by his balls!”

Captain Ann Dieter’s face was a dark cloud, her eyes almost firing sparks. “Take good care of this soldier, Donna. I’m going to get help.”

A man burst into the room. “What the hell is so damned important?” he yelled.

Captain Dieter spun to face him. “Rape,” she answered succinctly. “One of your sons of bitches raped this poor woman and left her to die. That’s what. Now, get your ass over there and take care of her.”

“Ok! Ok,” he stammered. He lifted the flimsy robe and looked. “Oh, shit! Is the crash cart here? Does it have a surgical kit?”

One of the nurses said, “Yes,” producing it from within the bowels of the cart and spreading it out on the surface.

“Good. You stick with me,” he said to the nurse. “Dieter, get the MPs. Find that bastard. Whoever he is, he’ll regret what he did here. Nurse, let’s clean this area.”

It didn’t take long to find the culprit. Ever since the scandals of the early 21st century, the crime of rape had been separated from the uniform code of military justice. It had earned a place of its own, outside of the military. A special three judge panel, consisting of two civilians and one military officer, sat as a tribunal to hear and judge the case. Since the crime had occurred in what was technically American soil, the judgment and the penalty were also American.

The doctor’s plea that he had not raped a woman and therefore was not guilty fell on deaf ears. He was stripped of his medical license. He was sent to a maximum security prison for a term of 30 years, without the possibility of parole.

* * * * *
6.10.7 Recovery

“Where am I? Is this Paradise?” Rahil whispered.

“No, this is Zahran Military Hospital. I’m your nurse, Donna White. I was with you in the induction center. I was the one who discovered you, and I asked to attend to you while you recovered. I feel guilty that I abandoned you to that horrid man. Please, find it in your heart to forgive me. I feel so ashamed that I let you get hurt.”

Rahil tried to raise her head to see the nurse, but was too weak. “Water, please,” she croaked.

Nurse White retrieved a plastic cup with a straw sticking out of it. “Just suck on this, child. Just a little for now. You can have as much as you want, but just a little at a time. You’ve had a rough time, and we’re going to take very good care of you.

Suddenly, Rahil realized that the nurse knew her secret. Waves of shame crashed over her, and she wept bitterly.

“What’s the matter, Rahil?” White asked. “Are you feeling badly? What is it?”

Rahil gasped, “You know! You know of me. You know, and now you will hate me and shame me and call me before the Imam that I shall be punished for my affront to Allah.”

Rushing to her, White raised her and hugged her closely. “No, child, I will not. I’m an American. We understand these things. I will tell no one. In fact, we will help you, if this is really what you want. So, don’t cry. You are a soldier, serving the King and Allah, in the United States Army. We protect our own. And, we can take care of this minor plumbing problem. It will take time, but we will make you whole, if that is your desire.”

“Oh!” Rahil squealed with joy. “More than anything in the world. But, how will this miracle happen? When will it happen?”

“Ah,” White replied, “I’m not really sure of all that. All I know is that we can do it, and have done it for many of our soldiers. That’s really not my specialty. My specialty is getting people well. So, you take a nap now, and I’ll be back later.”

Rahil smiled, asking, “When will I be able to leave this hospital?”

“Oh, in a few days,” White replied. “You were torn up inside, but we patched you up. The IV in your arm is carrying a special healing serum into your blood stream. It speeds healing a lot. So, you should be out of here, feeling almost like new, in two days. So, get some sleep.”

Rahil rolled onto her side, and her eyes closed. As she drifted off, she whispered, “Thank you, Allah. I have taken another step on the road you laid before my feet. The challenge was almost too much for me, but I survived to do your will.”

* * * * *
6.10.8 Training?

Rahel’s departure from Zahran Military Hospital was filled with tears. She wept with her nurse, Lieutenant Donna White. They had become friends, and Rahil had almost come to think of her as a foster mother. And, she shed tears of joy. The doctors had provided her with a series of implants that would help her to mature as a female over the next few months. The doctors had provided her with a set of medical orders so that she could be attended by a doctor at regular intervals, assuming that her assignment permitted. They had assured her that, except in unusual cases, she would simply start growing like other women. However, after a year, she would have to have some surgery to, as they put it, “correct your minor plumbing problem.”

An American soldier presented himself and saluted. “I’m here to bring the recruit to the training center. Here are our orders.”

A doctor and Nurse White read them, thoroughly. Neither of them wanted a repeat performance of what had happened to Rahil. “Looks good,” the doctor replied. He turned to Rahil. “Remember what I told you. Go with this soldier, and good luck. Come back whenever you can.” He saluted her, and she responded, as she had been taught.

“Come on,” the soldier commanded. “It’s not very far, but we have to hurry.” He set off at a brisk pace. Rahil had to trot just to keep up with him.

They had only gone a few blocks, when the soldier slowed, turned to his left and marched up a short flight of stairs. Two other soldiers were standing at the top of the stairs, guns at their side. The young soldier saluted and opened the door. Rahil followed suit, and soon they were in a large room with a high ceiling.

They marched over to a man sitting at a table. The soldier stood stiffly, saying, “Corporal Stevens reporting, with recruit Rahil from Zahran Military Hospital.” He took a few sheets of paper from an inside pocket and slid them to the man.

The man looked up. “Very good, Stevens. Dismissed.” He read the papers for a few minutes, and then looked up at Rahil. “Recruit Rahil, welcome to the US Army training center. I see that you’ve been in the hospital for a couple of days. You should have completed your training and been assigned to your unit already. However, we simply don’t have the time to do this right. So, I’m going to put you through a very short, very fast version of what you should have been learning. Then, I’m going to write you new orders explaining all this to your CO ... that’s your commanding officer, by the way.

“So, let’s get this underway. The day after tomorrow, I’ll assign you to your new outfit. In the meantime, go with Sergeant Holders,” he nodded towards a young woman dressed in combat fatigues. “She’ll get you properly outfitted, and teach you basic military courtesy. She’ll issue you your weapon and give you some basic training in its use.

“I’m sorry your training will be so abbreviated. However, your enemies are at the gates. We don’t have time to do things right, which is a damned shame, ‘cause it might also get you killed. I can’t do anything about that, so good luck. And, may Allah smile upon you.”