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?

8. Counter-Attack

8.2 Saudi Arabia

8.2.1 24th Arrives

Captain Thomas Rudman was excited, as he stepped from the forward ramp of the flying monster called the C-5 into the heat and fetid smells of Riyadh. He hadn't been in Saudi for over two years, even though he'd tried several times for a posting to the Middle East. It wasn't that there was a lot of demand for service in that area of the world, it was just that there were few positions in these relatively closed societies.

He had kept in touch with his old college roommate, Hamal el Sayd a-Fayd. His VisiPhone bill showed it! Then the war erupted, and, try though he might, Tommy just couldn't get through to Hamal or anyone else in his family.

Then Tommy read about the disaster at Suffaniyah and understood the security problem. Hamal was in the Saudi First Armored Brigade, which had been right in the thick of it. At first, after reading the stories of the incredible defeat, Tommy had thought that Hamal was dead. However, after reading several Saudi newspapers, he saw Hamal's picture along with that of his father, the Chief of Staff. Hamal was a hero of the battle. Tommy had sent two congratulatory messages to his old friend, but neither of them had been answered.

There was a shout behind him, and he turned just in time to see an Abrams M1B4 emerge from the gaping maw of the transport. Slowly, it crept down the ramp, followed closely by his M2C3 Bradley fighting vehicle. Those two machines, along with the Abrams' crew of four, the Bradley's crew of three and the eight dragoons that rode to war in the fighting vehicle were the plane's entire load. One plane had flown literally half way around the world to deliver one tank, one armored vehicle and fifteen men. It was an enormous waste of resources, requiring over one thousand such flights to get the entire Twenty-Fourth over here. Bravo Company alone would take eight flights, not including the spare equipment, food, supplies ammo and everything else that would be needed to keep his company in operation.

The ground crew seemed to know what they were doing, which was wonderful, because Rudman didn't. Nobody had met his flight, and he wasn't sure which way to go. As the tank lumbered by, he clambered on and hitched a ride. Half-way to wherever the tank was going, a HumVee raced by him, slammed on its brakes and screech to a halt.

"Captain, Major wants to see you."

"Where?"

"Hop in, I'll get you there."

Tommy jumped off the slowly moving tank, and ran over to the HumVee. No sooner had his tail bone hit the seat than the driver punched his foot to the floorboards, spun the wheel and peeled out to go back in the direction from which he had come. The driver either knew what he was doing or had a suicide complex. They flirted with a tank, zipped around a corner almost running into a fork-lift and barely avoided a group of three men standing near a building. After just a few minutes at that break-neck pace, the driver squealed to a stop in front of a barracks' door. Tommy entered the relatively cool darkness and stood listening to the sounds of people talking and keyboards clicking as his eyes adjusted from the outside glare.

"What the hell you doing standing there?" Major Brower's controlled alto bellowed at him.

"Can't see a damned thing, Major. Got a seeing-eye dog around here?"

"It's OK, nothing in your way. Come on, Captain."

Sure enough, he didn't trip over anything as he walked towards the Major's voice. A shadow appeared, and it turned out to be her. "Well, come on, Rudman, we've got a big meeting. The division's almost half here. We're beginning to act like a real unit rather than just a bunch of isolated Yanks in the land of the camel jockeys."

She led him around a corner, up a hallway and through a door to a second hallway. After two or three more turns, he was totally lost. "Here we are," she declared, "Home, sweet home, until we get on the road that is." She opened a door and stepped through. He followed into a brightly lit room, filled with computers, a huge screen and a bunch of people.

A noise to his left caught his attention. Colonel Dominic Swatze, CO of the 1st Regiment addressed them from the dais, "Glad you two could make it. Rudman, you're the last from this regiment to arrive, so let me officially welcome you to Saudi Arabia.

"At this point," he continued addressing the crowd of officers, "all of First Brigade has arrived. We could go operational if we had to. Instead, we're waiting until the entire division gets here, which'll take two or three more days.

"In the meantime, we're going to be training cooperatively with units of the Royal Saudi Army. We're going to be fighting right alongside of them, so the idea is to get used to each other's style. We're gonna settle any command, communication or tactical differences before we're in battle. I, for one, think it's a damn good idea. So do you!

"Remember, people, the Saudis are different from us. They eat different, they talk different, they're Moslems, and they're isolated from the world. One huge difference you'll notice is in their attitude towards women, especially female officers. The women officers of the United States Army have been instructed to be courteous at all times, but to take no crap from anybody! We've got a job to do, and both the King and the Chief of Staff of the Saudi Armed Forces have made very strong statements about Americans in general and female Americans in particular. Insubordination will not be tolerated, but that also means we don't go out of our way to pick a fight. Got it?

"OK, let me introduce you the two most important people in this theater. Attention!" Forty officers jumped out of their seats at the unexpected order.

General Algarro and General Mahumaddi el Sayd a-Fayd walked in from a side door and stepped up on the small dais. Algarro stepped forward. "At ease. Be seated." After the chairs had finished rumbling, he continued, "Let me add my welcome. Now, let's get down to business.

"The Saudi's have taken a hell of a pounding, and we're not doing any better. I will state, for the record, that we're losing this war. Right now, we're holed up in the eastern cities protecting what we can.

"General a-Fayd and I have put a lot of thought into this. The only way we can see to turn this situation around is by cooperating even more closely. I have promised him the complete support of the United States to do what has to be done to successfully conclude this war and kick those Iranaqi bastards all the way home and then some. So, to initiate this new era of cooperation, I have asked General a-Fayd to give you your marching orders. General?"

Algarro stepped back as the big Saudi Chief stepped to the microphone. "Welcome, my American friends and allies. Allah be with you.

"As General Algarro has stated, we have entered into a new era of cooperation. By this, we mean that we shall combine all our forces into one, single, overpowering army which will sweep aside our enemies and vanquish them.

"We have been able to rebuild two armored brigades from the disasters of Suffaniyah and Jubayl. You have a mighty armored infantry division. By combining our armor and your armored infantry, we believe we will create a force which will sweep the field of battle and achieve victory, with Allah's help.

"Therefore, beginning immediately, we will begin joint exercises. Each of your battalions will receive into its bosom an armored company of the Royal Saudi Army. They will eat with you, sleep with you, fight alongside of you and accept the orders of your officers.

"Additionally, one Royal Saudi armored brigade will be incorporated in the the Twenty-Fourth Division as its fourth brigade. In this way, we will increase the strength and fighting capacity of each battalion while developing an integrated armored force to act as our spearhead or as our mobile reserve.

"I will now warn our American allies, once again, that we are different from you. We do not eat the same foods as you do. We pray to Allah, bless his name, five times a day. We neither swear, as you do, nor do we drink alcoholic beverages.

"We are an old, and, yes, isolated people. You are a young, fresh and dynamic race. Both of our peoples will learn much from each other. This will take much time and effort on your part as well as on the part of the Royal Saudi Army and the Saudi people. We must be patient with each other. However, we don't have the time to waste learning everything about each other. So, we will work together.

"At this time, each of the battalion commanders and their officers will go to their designated areas here in this room. General Algarro and I will come to you in the next few minutes with the officers who will be attached to your commands. Both you and the Saudi officers have one hour to decide amongst yourselves if you can work together. If not, the Saudi officer will be reassigned. However, we have a limited number of officers who speak English. Therefore, I personally request that neither my own officers nor the officers of the American Army judge each other hastily. That is all."

Colonel Swatze returned to the microphone. "OK, you've heard the General. Find your spots and hang in there until the generals get to you. Attention! Dismissed!"

The room quickly rearranged itself, and Rudman trailed after Major Brower to their designated spot. Surrounding himself with his platoon leaders, he waited impatiently. Finally, the two generals approached, leading a gaggle of young officers towards him.

Tommy studied them carefully, and sure enough, one of them was Hamal! He rushed forward as Hamal ducked out of his crowd and raced towards his friend. They hugged each other like the long-separated, boon companions that they were.

All the officers, except General a-Fayd, were surprised at the boisterous antics of the two young men. They were even more surprised at the language they used to greet each other. The two friends were speaking a hybrid of Arabic and American using the words and phrases from each language that expressed their thoughts most eloquently.

Their greeting was interrupted by a throat-clearing close by. General Algarro laughed, as he asked General a-Fayd, "I take it these two young men know each other?"

"Why yes, General. General Algarro, please let me introduce to you my son, Captain Hamal el Sayd a-Fayd, and my son's friend, Captain Tommy Rudman."

The young officers shook hands with the American general, who asked, "Rudman, where did you and the Captain meet?"

"We were at the Point together, Sir. Hamal and I visited my home in Iowa, and I've visited with him and his father, the Chief of Staff, on two occasions. I've tried for a position here a couple of times, Sir, but things just haven't worked out. Come on over, Sirs, and let me introduce you to Second Battalion."

Tommy and Hamal led the way, talking animatedly in their intermix of English and Arabic. Upon arriving at the battalion's area, Tommy began the introductions, "General Algarro, General a-Fayd, our CO, Major Julliette Brower. Major, General Algarro, General a-Fayd. And, Major, this is my old friend from the Point, Captain a-Fayd. Hamal, this is Major Brower. Don't let her glower or her shouting get to you. She's one damned fine officer, and you'll love Second Battalion."

The two generals smiled at each other. General A-Fayd commented, "Well, Gator, it looks as though everything will work out well in Second Battalion." He turned back to Tommy and his son, "If you can tear yourselves away, will you both join me this evening for a light meal?"

"Yes, Father, I would enjoy that."

"Yes, Sir!" Tommy answered enthusiastically. "It'd be my pleasure, Sir. I was looking forward to the time when we can once again sit quietly in your home and enjoy the company of my other family. How, is my other mother, Sir? Has Allah smiled upon her, also?"

"Indeed, other son, she sends her greetings and wishes you good health. She prays to Allah for both of you boys, as do I. Tonight, my young friends. And, perhaps, for one evening, we shall not talk of war."

8.2.2 The King's Concerns

The light rapping on the door frame wouldn't stop. Mahumaddi a-Fayd tried to ignore it, but it persisted. He went quietly to his door and opened it only a crack. "Yes? What can I do for you at this late hour?"

"I have a message from the King!"

"Allah save me from my cousin the King who thinks that because he is the King he knows more than I!", he cried to himself. To the messenger, he replied, "Blessed is he who receives messages from the King, the Protector of all Islam. Hand me the message. I shall read it and draft a reply to my cousin."

"A reply is not necessary, General. The King says that this is for your information and consideration." The messenger handed him a small sealed envelope and left.

The general hurried back to his bed to fetch his glasses. The King's handwriting was small, delicate and almost indecipherable. Yet, this handwriting was large and clear. It was the Chamberlain's hand!

My dear cousin, and Chief of Staff of the Royal Armies, Greetings! I hope that this missive finds you well and that Allah has smiled upon you and your efforts this day.

I leave you with the thought that I read the Koran and seek the insight of Allah. It is my prayer, since you do likewise, that we shall come together in Paradise at His knee and understand His nature and Exalt in His Glory. May the blessings of Allah be upon you, my cousin, and may His Paradise be yours.

The message was sealed with a wax impression, made by the ring of the Chancellor of the Realm.

At first, Mahumaddi discounted the long and wordy letter, but as he tried to relax in sleep, its message resounded in his mind. He wondered who would attack civilians on a Pilgrimage? All Moslems were required to seek the opportunity to go to Mecca and worship at the Mosque of The Prophet. He, himself, had done so on many occasions, and had always found it to be the fulfillment of his deepest religious desires. Others of the Faith were protected by the laws of Islam while on Pilgrimage.

He lay in his bed, thinking, "Only the most foolish, or Infidels, would dare interfere with a Pilgrim, unless they are desperate. What would drive bandits to such desperation that they would attack so many Pilgrims that it would come to the King's attention? Why are they so desperate that they attacked the King's Own Palace Guardians? Could they be killing Pilgrims to hide their nefarious activities? If so, what machinations could be so important that they feared discovery? And, where would they find jet aircraft?"

He sat bolt upright. "Jet aircraft! That is it! Bandits do not have jet-powered warplanes. Countries do. And, what countries would dare to have their jet warplanes within this Kingdom? The same ones that have already dared to have their armies within our borders. Allah! Allah, protect us!"

The general sprang from his cot and raced to his intercom. "Get me my aide, and then get me the American, General Algarro."

His aide rushed into his compartment within the minute, just as a tired-faced and unshaven American appeared on the Saudi's VisiPhone screen. "General Algarro, I am pleased that I did not awaken you, even at this late hour."

"General a-Fayd, my friend, do not let this casual appearance deceive you. I have been asleep for over twenty minutes now and had set my heart of hearts upon at least twenty minutes more before this war ends. Nonetheless, my friend, I welcome you, in Allah's name and in the name of the Prophet, and invite you to coffee. If you will drink, then I shall also. Since we drink together, it is as though we were together. How may I help you, my friend?"

"It is a matter of extreme urgency, I assure you, Gator, my friend. I will drink with you, for this may, indeed, be another long night for us both. However, what I have to show you and to tell you is of some degree of confidentiality, which I would not wish to discuss over these airwaves. Therefore, I plead with you, my friend, to arouse yourself and to depart immediately to my rooms. It is, as I said, urgent. Coffee awaits you. Allah be with you on your journey."

Six minutes later, Gator Algarro arrived at the Saudi Chief of Staff's "rooms". The American was ushered in quietly, and, as promised, a small cup of very strong and incredibly sweet coffee was pushed into his hands. General a-Fayd was waiting for him, similarly armed. "My heart is gladdened at your arrival, my friend. I see that you are becoming refreshed after your journey."

"Indeed, my friend and brother in battle. Your coffee is excellent, probably the best I have ever tasted, except, of course, that fine blend served by your cousin, the King. Now, of what shall we speak? What is so important that you would disturb the sleep of your friend, ally and brother in war?"

"Do you read Arabic, my friend?"

"Yes, but haltingly. I try to keep up with current events, and I have found that it is always best to read about them from a variety of points of view. One must read a little Chinese and Japanese to understand the eastern perspective. One must read some Latin, Italian and Spanish to understand large portions of this world. I have even tired to master Russian and Swahili, but, I must admit, they are difficult for me. Why do you ask?"

"This letter arrived this evening, and I thought you wiould find it interesting." He handed it to the American, who perused it.

"General, my brother in war, this is from the Chancellor. Should I read a message such as this?"

"Indeed, read it."

Algarro's brows knitted into a scowl as he struggled to unravel the courtly language. It wasn't the Koran, which he had studied, and it wasn't newspaper script either. In fact, it was tough going, and it took him five minutes just to get the general idea. He looked up apprehensively, asking, "My friend, I admit to my ignorance, but I seem to get the idea that His Majesty's brother is concerned about bandits. Yet, he speaks of jet fighters strafing innocent Pilgrims. Would you read this to me so that I can more fully understand His Highness' message?"

The chief of staff laughed. "You are right, my friend! Those are the Chamberlain's exact concerns. Bandits are attacking Pilgrims going to Medinah and Mecca, which is against all Islamic law. He states that bandits are in possession of advanced jet warplanes. Bandits cannot afford such luxuries, nor could they afford to pilot such machines, service them, fuel them or arm them. Yet, they exist in the region of Ha-Il. How would you answer the Chamberlain, who speaks in the King's ear?"

"Whoa! Mahumaddi, are you saying that we have reliable witnesses to a jet aircraft carrying out bombing and strafing missions in the west?"

"Indeed!"

"Jesus Christ! Oh, excuse me!"

"Why should you be excused for calling upon a prophet? I call upon Mohammed regularly, and I find that he is of help to me in my deliberations. He was a great general, as you know."

"Yes, I have studied his battles and his victories. But, to return to our earlier conversation, are you saying that there are enemy forces in our rear? If so, where?"

"Yes, I am saying that," he unrolled a small and very old map of Arabia, and pointed to one road, "and my guess is here.

"These are ancient lands, my friend. Centuries before your ancestors knew how to weave cloth, shape iron or plant crops, we had great trade routes throughout Europe, Asia and Africa.

"One of those trade routes began on the Red Sea, in such ancient places as Mecca and Jiddah, traversed our lands to Baghdad and continued north all the way to China in the east and the barbarian provinces of your ancestors in the west. By such trade we became wealthy and powerful. It is my opinion that it is by this ancient trade route that we have been invaded.

"While our eyes were focused on events in the east, our enemies advanced by this ancient route into our heart, near the timeless city of Ha-Il. Nobody knows how old the city is. Every time one has dug into its past, dating its remains with the most modern means, one arrives at an even earlier time. In our count of the years, it has been continuously inhabited for over ten thousand years. Yet, there is another level below that. If I am correct, our enemies lie less than eight hundred kilometers away, and are now, even as we speak, advancing upon us."

"Jesus Christ!"

"Mohammed!"