The Chosen One
But for another soldier caught in this suffocating war, the anguish was about to increase tenfold.
29
5:53 P.M., OCTOBER 19
ODA 6333, CHARLIE COMPANY, 3RD BATTALION, 6TH SPECIAL FORCES GROUP (AIRBORNE)
CAIRO
For half a century the burgundy-bereted soldiers of the 82nd Airborne Division had shared Fort Bragg, North Carolina, with the green-bereted members of American Special Forces. Throughout their history, there’d never been any love lost between the two organizations. In the tough bars of Fayetteville they’d battled for as long as anyone cared to remember.
A bleak October day may have been the sole time in the two units’ histories when Special Forces soldiers were glad to see the appearance of a burgundy beret.
It hadn’t been long after Alpha 6333’s retreat into Old Cairo that the welcome word had come—help was on the way. The 82nd Airborne’s soldiers would soon be loading onto commercial airliners for the ten-hour flight to the Middle East. And as the news spread, even the despondent Egyptian army rallied. The Egyptian infantry company scheduled to support Alpha 6333 was twelve hours late in arriving. Yet arrive they finally did. Without them, the Green Beret detachment would’ve had no chance of surviving the night.
Late in the morning, the first of the airliners appeared. Carrying two hundred men and as much equipment as their jammed cargo holds could contain, the planes landed one behind another throughout the afternoon and well into the evening.
Close to sundown, nearly thirty hours after the A Team’s abandonment of Rhoda Island, a company of burgundy berets showed up in the section of Old Cairo being held by what remained of the detachment. After an infinite black night and torturous gray day of house-to-house fighting, the Special Forces team and their Egyptian support had fallen back even farther into the heart of the city. And the Americans’ numbers had dropped from ten to eight. They’d left the bodies of two of their countrymen, victims of a direct hit from a Pan-Arab mortar shell, in the bombed-out skeleton of an ancient marketplace.
Not one of the team’s survivors had escaped the long hours unharmed. Each had suffered the indignities of fierce combat. Their wounds ran the gamut from light to severe. In time, if they survived to the war’s conclusion, their physical injuries would heal. The damage to their struggling psyches, however, probably never would. Yet each fought with every ounce of courage and strength he could muster. And finally the burgundy berets appeared. Battered and staggering, but still unbeaten, the Green Berets prepared to temporarily turn their sector of the city over to the airborne company.
There was one task remaining before leaving for a welcome respite and their first sleep in three days. Captain Morrow agreed with the 82nd Airborne company commander’s assessment. Further demolition needed to be performed to secure the area from enemy tanks.
Morrow found Sanders sitting in the shadows of a crumbling building with his rucksack and equipment packed to leave. Beneath his tattered beret a trail of blood, thick and coagulating, peeked through the soiled bandages on the right side of his skull. A solid red line reached down the brash sergeant’s neck, staining his uniform’s collar.
Sanders looked up at his commander and smiled. “So when are we leaving, sir?”
“Shortly. Just a few loose ends to tie up and we’ll be on our way. How’s your injury?”
“I’ll live, sir,” Sanders replied. “I’m still a little groggy from the blow I received from that falling beam. And this headache won’t stop.”
“Even so, you were extremely lucky. If Donovan hadn’t screamed a warning, you’d have been a goner for sure.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I wouldn’t sweat the headache too much. I’ve been assured by the team medics it’s nothing more than the lingering effects of the slight concussion you received.”
“The Chosen One’s ‘gift’ isn’t going to stop me, sir. All I need are a few days of sleep and a pretty woman or two to whisper words of love and adoration and I’ll be fine.”
“I’m afraid,” Morrow said, “that before we find those soft beds and adoring women, I need you to do something for me.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“Pan-Arabs have succeeded in building some makeshift bridges over the Nile. Despite our air support knocking them out as quickly as they erect them, a handful of tanks have crossed the river and joined Mourad’s infantry. More are sure to follow. Something has to be done to counter the enemy’s actions. We’ve got to blow a few of the buildings in front of us to block the tanks’ paths. That will force them to enter the city through some traps the 82nd’s setting up. That’s where you come in. Still got plenty of explosives in your rucksack?”
“Sir, you’ve got to be kidding. We’re all exhausted, and that certainly includes me. My head’s pounding so hard it’s coming apart. I can barely keep my eyes open. Like everybody else, I’m more than ready to get out of here. And you want another demolition job?”
“That’s exactly what I want, Sergeant Sanders.”
“Why doesn’t the 82nd blow the buildings themselves?”
“We’re being relieved by an infantry company. You know there aren’t any demolition people with them. Most of their ordnance folks have yet to arrive. They’re spread real thin right now. There’s demolitions work all over the city. Who knows when they’ll wander out here to handle this one? The 82nd company commander doesn’t want to sit around and hope they show. That could take hours. Maybe even days. If they wait, it might be too late to stop Mourad’s tanks from smashing through our lines. And you know what’ll happen next. All hell will break loose. Everything this team’s suffered, every horrible attack we’ve beaten back, will’ve been for nothing. Once the armor’s in the clear, there’ll be nothing to stop them. The Chosen One’s forces will reach the center of the city by midnight. If that occurs, you can forget about getting any rest. Tired or not, we’ll be thrown back into the front lines.”
“But, sir, I—”
“Look, Sanders, there’s nothing to it. One simple mission and we’ll be relieved. All I want you to do is blow a handful of buildings at three intersections a few blocks west of here. For someone with your skills it’ll be a piece of cake. You’ll be back in an hour. Abernathy and Porter will go along to provide support.”
“But, sir, everything west of here’s in enemy hands. What if when we get there, the whole place is crawling with Mourad’s troops?”
“Then I’m afraid you’ll just have to deal with the situation. Come on, Sanders, it’s not going to be that difficult. Blow a few buildings and I’ll personally find you the prettiest woman your eyes have ever seen.”
“Sir, what good are women if I don’t make it back? Another mission, even if it’s as simple as you claim, really wasn’t what I had in mind. Isn’t there another way to handle this? Maybe the 82nd could call in a few well-placed artillery rounds to blow those buildings. That might work as well as sending me smack into the middle of thousands of lunatics who’d enjoy nothing more than lopping off my head.”
“Enough already. I know we’re tired and ready to go, so I’ve tried to be more tolerant than usual. But I’m still in command here. I’m the one who gets paid to make the tough decisions. And this one’s been made. I don’t know why I’ve wasted time trying to reason with you. When I give an order I expect it to be obeyed. Is that clear, Sergeant?”
“Yes, sir. Perfectly clear.”
“Then the subject’s no longer open for
debate. This is something that’s got to be done. So you’re wasting your breath trying to get out of it. It’ll be dark soon. The faster you accomplish your assignment, the faster we find those soft beds. Now stop stalling and get up off your rear. Let’s go over what I want you to do.”
30
6:33 P.M., OCTOBER 19
ODA 6333, CHARLIE COMPANY, 3RD BATTALION, 6TH SPECIAL FORCES GROUP (AIRBORNE)
CAIRO
With Abernathy and Porter to watch over him, the fresh-faced sergeant headed into the half-light. The sunset was drawing near. It would be upon them well before they returned to their own lines. Down narrow, twisting streets the silent trio moved. The initial target was three blocks west and two south. The going was cautious and calculated. Slipping in and out of the lengthening shadows, the phantomlike figures made their way toward the first intersection. To all but the most highly trained eyes, their presence couldn’t be detected.
In ten minutes, they arrived. They’d reached one of the main crossroads in Old Cairo. The trio took a careful look around. Their enduring rival was nowhere to be found.
“Okay, this is one the captain wants blocked,” Abernathy whispered. “And there’s no sign of any of the Chosen One’s followers. But that could change at any moment.”
“It’s about time for prayers,” Porter said. “Hopefully, they’re busy fulfilling their duty to Allah, and we’ve got a few minutes to get the job done without interference.”
“Maybe,” Abernathy said, “but I wouldn’t count on it. We need to stay alert. Sanders, figure out what you’re going to do, do it, and let’s get out of here.”