A Desert Called Peace Part 37

"And the Salafi are growing out of hand. We had thought the Americans would have curtailed their influence once they defeated al Qaeda. It didn't last.

"We have to advance yes, like the West and we cannot when every forward step we take is blocked by the Salafi."

The king's hand reached up to stroke his beard. "So you think if we give up the stone, this one of sixteen hundred and fourteen, then some sizable number of the Salafi will simply pack up and leave? Remember the disaster on the first colonization s.h.i.+p."

Bandar nodded. "They were mixed. We shall hire, perhaps even build or, more likely, have built, a s.h.i.+p or s.h.i.+ps to take the Salafi away. Will they go? Yes, and quite possibly a large number of them. And if we can get rid of a sizable number initially, we can change this country enough to make it uncomfortable for the rest so that they they leave too. Oh, Brother, I am leave too. Oh, Brother, I am telling telling you; this Donya al Jedidah is the answer to our prayers." you; this Donya al Jedidah is the answer to our prayers."

The king chewed on his lower lip and then reached up one hand to stroke his beard, contemplatively. "You know, there's another potential advantage here, Brother. What if we used our influence to set aside an area for the Zionists on the New World. Surely some would go; they've got to be as tired of the constant fighting as the Palestinians are, if not more so. They've got to be tired of the taxes, the constant military duty. If we can entice away some numbers of Jews, the burdens on those who remain will grow greater still. That might well make even more leave. And each who leaves makes it more likely, just as with our own fanatics, that more will leave. Get enough to go and the Zionist ent.i.ty falls."

"You're dumping our problems here on the people we send out," Bandar objected.

The king shrugged eloquently. "So?"

Bandar considered. He rocked his head back and forth for a few moments. Finally, he shrugged to match his brother. "Indeed. 'So?'"

Chapter Twenty-one.

Military necessity admits of all direct destruction of life or limb of armed enemies, and of other persons whose destruction is incidentally unavoidable in the armed contests of the war; it allows of the capturing of every armed enemy, and every enemy of importance to the hostile government, or of peculiar danger to the captor; it allows of all destruction of property, and obstruction of the ways and channels of traffic, travel, or communication, and of all withholding of sustenance or means of life from the enemy; of the appropriation of whatever an enemy's country affords necessary for the subsistence and safety of the Army, and of such deception as does not involve the breaking of good faith either positively pledged, regarding agreements entered into during the war, or supposed by the modern law of war to exist. Men who take up arms against one another in public war do not cease on this account to be moral beings, responsible to one another and to G.o.d.-The Lieber Code, Section 15

Ninewa, Sumer, 22/2/461 AC The sand tore at Amid Amid Adnan Sada's face. He didn't mind, not in the slightest. Adnan Sada's face. He didn't mind, not in the slightest.

Keeps their d.a.m.ned planes and attack helicopters away, at least, and so, Allah, for this I thank You.

Sada, an Amid, Amid, or brigadier general, in the Army of the Republic of Sumer, wore desert battle dress with insignia of his unit, rank and branch sewn on. A khaki colored cloth was tied over his mouth and nostrils; breathing was nearly impossible otherwise. or brigadier general, in the Army of the Republic of Sumer, wore desert battle dress with insignia of his unit, rank and branch sewn on. A khaki colored cloth was tied over his mouth and nostrils; breathing was nearly impossible otherwise.

But, Allah, Sada amended, Sada amended, I would I would really really have appreciated it if you had brought the wind and the dust earlier so I could have brought in enough to feed my men. have appreciated it if you had brought the wind and the dust earlier so I could have brought in enough to feed my men.

"And that's the problem, Amid, Amid," Sada's supply officer had said. "I have the ammunition, building materials, fuel and all that. But food? I have ten days' supply, or maybe fifteen on short rations. No more."

The supply officer, Major or Raiid Raiid Faush, was one of the good ones, Sada thought. Faush, was one of the good ones, Sada thought. Another man might have sold the lot, or stored it to sell to the FSC when their forces arrived. Faush I can trust. Faush I can count on. And he isn't even a clan member. How often does that happen? Another man might have sold the lot, or stored it to sell to the FSC when their forces arrived. Faush I can trust. Faush I can count on. And he isn't even a clan member. How often does that happen?

In fact, in Sada's brigade it happened more often than not. He had his ways.

Sada's cell phone rang, sounding loudly even over the roar of the howling wind. He answered it, saw that it was a text message, and began to laugh.

"General?" questioned Faush.

Instead of answering, Sada just pa.s.sed the phone over. Faush read.

"How did did they get our personal cell phone numbers?" he asked, after reading. "I mean, there ought to be they get our personal cell phone numbers?" he asked, after reading. "I mean, there ought to be something something private in life; private in life; something something sacred." sacred."

The text message on the phone was an invitation to surrender from the FSC's Office of Strategic Intelligence.

"I don't know, Faush," Sada answered, still laughing. "h.e.l.l, it will probably work for nine out of ten of our top commanders."

"No matter, Amid Amid; it won't work here." Faush sounded more confident than perhaps he felt. Not that Sada would surrender easily. That That was never going to happen, Faush was certain. Why, in the Sumer-Farsia war of sixteen years before Sada, then a captain commanding the rump of a cut-off and undersupplied infantry battalion against uncountable and fanatical Farsian human wave a.s.saults, had refused to surrender for weeks. He'd held the Farsians off, too, until relief got to him. There was not a man who survived that ordeal but didn't wors.h.i.+p the ground the was never going to happen, Faush was certain. Why, in the Sumer-Farsia war of sixteen years before Sada, then a captain commanding the rump of a cut-off and undersupplied infantry battalion against uncountable and fanatical Farsian human wave a.s.saults, had refused to surrender for weeks. He'd held the Farsians off, too, until relief got to him. There was not a man who survived that ordeal but didn't wors.h.i.+p the ground the Amid Amid walked on, at least when they thought Allah might not be looking. Faush was one of those survivors, as were most of the key leaders of Sada's current command. walked on, at least when they thought Allah might not be looking. Faush was one of those survivors, as were most of the key leaders of Sada's current command.

Achmed Qabaash, Sada's operations officer, observed, enthusiastically, "We'd better fight like h.e.l.l. Everyone says the enemy coming from the south doesn't take prisoners." Qabaash liked a good fight. He was odd that way.

"I wonder if that's true," Sada said. "I know they've make no secret of not taking prisoners if the men concerned are with a unit that violated the western laws of war. But there was a division's worth of men in towns to the south of us. I doubt they killed them all."

Highway One, eighty-seven miles south of Ninewa Dusty, tired, hungry and miserable Sumeri POWs trekked under armed guard southward, directly into the wind.

Soult, his face like his chief's handkerchiefed against the biting wind and sand, looked at the prisoners with a degree of contempt. He couldn't really understand surrendering, even on the promise of good treatment. Better to die like a soldier.

"Are they all cowards, boss?" he asked Carrera. "We offer to take prisoners and they surrender. We kill everything moving and they still try try to surrender. I just don't understand it. Seems chicken to me." to surrender. I just don't understand it. Seems chicken to me."

Carrera, sitting on the canvas seat next to Soult took a moment before answering, simply, "They're no more cowardly as a people than anyone else. Cowards don't fly airs.h.i.+ps into buildings. Cowards don't load themselves with explosives and try to get close enough to do us some harm before detonating themselves. No, Jamey, they're not cowards. But they have some problems. It's the problems that account for most of the violations of the laws of war they engage in."

Seeing from his eyes, the only uncovered part of his face, that Soult didn't really understand, Carrera continued. "The sociologists call them "amoral familists." What that means is that they are raised in such a way that they cannot really conceive of legitimate loyalty to someone who isn't a blood relation. For that matter, when it is a question of loyalty to two blood relations the one with the closer relations.h.i.+p is the one who gets the loyalty. Religion counts to them, too, and a lot, but that makes very different demands on them. Nation? Means nothing to most...or less than nothing, often enough. The family is where their important loyalties lie, the family is what will protect them from a hostile world, the family is their law and their guide."

"Yeah...but so?" Soult plainly didn't understand.

"It means they're completely alone, Jamey, completely alone in the most terrifying place man can exist, the modern battlefield. They can't trust their squad mates, they can't trust their officers, unless those are also blood relations. For any given soldier in a Sumeri or Yithrabi, Jahari or Misrani unit under serious duress the only questions are, "Can I run or surrender before the rest do? Am I going to be stuck here, alone, to face the enemy while the rest run?" It's a self-fulfilling prophecy, true. But the way a prophecy becomes self-fulfilling is by being destined to be fulfilled." Carrera sounded sad.

"You actually like them, don't you, Boss?"

"Jamey..." Carrera hesitated, "I used to like them a lot. It's...harder now.

"Sometimes they can break out of that self-fulfilling prophecy, by the way," Carrera added, perhaps only to change the direction in which the conversation had turned. "Some of their tribally based units aren't bad, though they've got problems when the tribal chain of command and the military one don't mesh. They've also got problems in that the tribe, while it might fight well, has a very finite tolerance for casualties.

"The other way, and it has happened occasionally, is when some outsider is in command who refuses to have any truck with tribes. If he can a.s.semble a group that has no tribal majority, preferably if he can a.s.semble one where each member has no tribal link with any other, sometimes he can make a good unit. Sometimes. It's harder than h.e.l.l to do."

Ninewa, Sumer, 22/2/461 AC Sada walked from building to building, inspecting the positions his men were preparing as they made ready to defend the town. It was a relief to go inside, if only to escape from the dust. Some of his boys were digging up the streets to excavate trenches to connect the buildings. That would, Sada was sure, come in handy.

The lieutenant in charge of the platoon was new. Sada searched his memory. Lieutenant Rashad is from the Bani Malik tribe. His platoon sergeant is one of my old boys, from the Farsian War, an Al-Hameed. Squad leaders are... Lieutenant Rashad is from the Bani Malik tribe. His platoon sergeant is one of my old boys, from the Farsian War, an Al-Hameed. Squad leaders are...

"Sergeant Major?" Sada questioned.

"Sir," began the sergeant major, "no two members of the same tribe in this platoon." Sada's brigade sergeant major, and McNamara would have approved, had grown very good at reading his boss' mind over the preceding decades.

The units of Sada's brigade were organized in one of two ways. About a third of them were strictly set up along tribal lines, the only caveat to that structure being that the leaders.h.i.+p of the unit and the leaders.h.i.+p of the tribe within within the unit had to match. The the unit had to match. The Amid Amid had run off more than one sergeant, senior in the tribe's hierarchy, who had thought to ignore his captain, who was junior. had run off more than one sergeant, senior in the tribe's hierarchy, who had thought to ignore his captain, who was junior.

The other two thirds, roughly, Sada and his right hand man, the sergeant major, went out of their way to ensure had no no tribal ident.i.ty. It seemed to Sada that one of the problems and he understood them even better than Carrera did was that extra-tribal loyalty couldn't tribal ident.i.ty. It seemed to Sada that one of the problems and he understood them even better than Carrera did was that extra-tribal loyalty couldn't grow grow wherever there was a focus for tribal loyalty, but could, potentially, where there was none. The toughest part had been the officers, whom one could ordinarily have expected to loot their units if the men in those units had no blood ties. wherever there was a focus for tribal loyalty, but could, potentially, where there was none. The toughest part had been the officers, whom one could ordinarily have expected to loot their units if the men in those units had no blood ties.

Give the dictator this much, thought Sada. thought Sada. He kept his own tribe out of my brigade, excepting only a couple of spies, and didn't mind how many men from other tribes I had shot for corruption. He kept his own tribe out of my brigade, excepting only a couple of spies, and didn't mind how many men from other tribes I had shot for corruption.

Sada had shot a few of them personally. He still smiled sometimes at the memory of Faush's predecessor, caught with his hand in the till. Sada had simply drawn his pistol and shot the man at point blank range. That was how Faush had inherited the job.

Pity what the blood did to the books though, Sada thought regretfully. Sada thought regretfully.

The lieutenant of the platoon misinterpreted the look on his amid's amid's face. "Sir, the men are working as hard as they can..." face. "Sir, the men are working as hard as they can..."

"Show me your hands," Sada ordered.

Still uncomprehending, the lieutenant held up clean hands with unbroken nails.

Sada smiled indulgently. He leaned over to whisper in the young officer's ear. "You're new, my son. So I'll forgive you...this once. But officers in my brigade work. work. Officer in my brigade Officer in my brigade lead lead. You You will work if you want to continue to will work if you want to continue to lead lead. Or would you prefer to go to the penal platoon, minus your rank, now?"

Eighty miles south of Ninewa The sun was setting on a desolate scene, made all the more so by the dust which covered everything in swirling, choking eddies. Red leaflets, prepared by the Psychological Operations Century and dropped by Cricket recon plane ahead of the legion as it advanced, also blew in the breeze. The leaflets proclaimed the list of Sumeri violations of the laws of war, to date, and the legion's b.l.o.o.d.y-handed response to them.

The press was...stymied. When no one responded to their charges, except to admit them and insist the reprisals were lawful, they found they had no recourse. There was no blood in the water, no struggling body filled with fear of the righteous wrath of the media. The sharks couldn't go into a feeding frenzy.

On the other hand, admitted Carrera to himself, as he exited his vehicle, admitted Carrera to himself, as he exited his vehicle, while the press is defanged, if the Sumeris had a half functioning chain of command at army level and a couple of battalions of working armor, I'd be f.u.c.ked. while the press is defanged, if the Sumeris had a half functioning chain of command at army level and a couple of battalions of working armor, I'd be f.u.c.ked.

Logistically, the legion was a mess. Carrera had one cohort detached from the line to guard prisoners. There were so many of these that his one century of military police camp guards, even supplemented by the field police century, the walking wounded and as many service troops as could be spared, simply couldn't couldn't guard them all. In point of fact it was more important that he was feeding his prisoners than that he was guarding them. For food, they'd stick around. Guards? Eh? They could be ducked in a thick enough sandstorm. guard them all. In point of fact it was more important that he was feeding his prisoners than that he was guarding them. For food, they'd stick around. Guards? Eh? They could be ducked in a thick enough sandstorm.

The rest of the legion was strung out over forty miles of bad road. The trucks were overtasked, especially given the sandstorm. The helicopters were grounded. Roughly half the armor was stuck, broken down or about to break down and waiting along the side of the road for recovery or repair. And the artillery? It was more disorganized and strung out than any other cohort in the legion.

Thank G.o.d I listened to Harrington and Lanza and paid for the B-300 Dodos. Otherwise we'd have no no means of reliable resupply. As is, the Dodos can drop us enough, means of reliable resupply. As is, the Dodos can drop us enough, just just enough with what the trucks can bring through, to keep us going. enough with what the trucks can bring through, to keep us going.

About the only good thing one could say was that, between the Yezidi taking over security in the towns the legion cleared and the fact that Carrera was taking and holding prisoners rather than letting them go to become a threat to his communications, at least the trucks were getting through. When they didn't break down...or get lost...or crash into something invisible at ten feet for all the dust in the air.

There was a small school house just outside this small, insignificant Sumeri town. Kennison had grabbed it for the legion's command post. All three of the operational staff teams, Operations itself, Logistics and Intelligence, were set up there. The doors were off as were the windows, though actually it was a matter of some conjecture whether the place had ever had doors and windows. In any case, blankets were hung over whatever openings there were. It cut the dust down, but could not entirely eliminate it.

Carrera pushed aside a blanket and entered. Behind him, in the road fronting the school, a column of infantry struggled forward against the biting sand. The men were too tired to even curse. He thought this a bad sign.

Inside, Triste and Fahad the Chaldean were engaged in a low volume but still heated discussion. A Sumeri officer, a captain, Carrera saw on closer inspection, sat in obvious incomprehension on a folding metal chair off to one side.

Looking up, Triste saw Carrera observing himself and Fahad. "Boss, we gots problems," the intelligence officer announced.

Carrera made a give forth motion with one hand.

"The captain here," and Triste indicated the seated Sumeri, "has been most cooperative. He's a supply and transportation type and before we captured him had pa.s.sed directly through Ninewa. He says the commander there is a Sumeri brigadier named Sada."

"I know this man," Fahad interjected. "I know him well. As Tribune Triste says, 'We gots problems.'"

"Where do you know him from, Fahad?" Carrera asked.

"I was his instructor in English at the War College outside Babel. That's one way. But I also know him from elsewhere, when I was medic on the Farsian front twenty years ago. He was my commander."

"Fahad says this guy is really really good, Boss, tough and brave and smart. Says the men love him." good, Boss, tough and brave and smart. Says the men love him."

"Oh, yes," the Chaldean interjected. "Best officer in whole f.u.c.king Sumeri army. Should be in command of whole army, too, but...wrong tribe." Fahad shrugged.

"Does he play by the rules, Fahad?"

"Rules, sayidi sayidi?"

"Laws of war? Treatment of prisoners? Maintaining status of lawful combatancy?"

"Oh. Yes, Legate. Sada is straight up. Tricks, yes. Dirty tricks? No."

Carrera pondered that for a few minutes, standing in the dusty room in silence. When he had thought it through, he ordered, "Get me the PSYOP people. And Fahad, sit down and prepare to translate. Kennison, have we got a Cricket pilot crazy enough to fly in this s.h.i.+t?"

Ninewa, 23/2/461 AC The sun was far from up when Faush knocked on Sada's room door.

"What is it?" Sada demanded as he sat up and began pulling his boots on.

Faush hesitated, not because he feared his commander's wrath at being awakened but because he himself was very confused.

"Is that you, Faush?" Sada thought he had recognized the knock.

"Yes, Amid, Amid," Faush answered through the slightly cracked door. "There is something you need to see. Leaflets from the enemy. The streets are full of them."

"Come in then." Sada struck a match to light a kerosene lantern on a table next to his narrow bed.

Faush handed his commander a green piece of paper. On the paper was printing in Arabic script. Sada read: To the defenders of Ninewa:It had come to my attention, from a reliable source, that despite the near continuous pattern of violations of the laws of war which have come to characterize the Sumeri defense over the last ten days, it is a distinct possibility that these violations will not be repeated in your town or by your unit. Thus, although I have previously given orders that no prisoners will be accepted unless they strip completely naked to demonstrate that they have no hidden weapons or explosives, and that because of treachery on the part of men pretending to be wounded to gain an advantage all remotely suspicious bodies, apparently dead or plainly living, were to be shot again for security's sake, I am temporarily temporarily rescinding these orders in your case. rescinding these orders in your case.Those orders will remain rescinded for so long as, and not one moment longer than, the defenders of Ninewa themselves continue to obey the laws of war. It is up to you to police your own. If some of your men pretend to be wounded to gain a treacherous advantage, all of your wounded will suffer. If some abuse the flag of truce, the flag of truce will no longer be honored. If some use the symbols of the Red Crescent Organization treacherously, those symbols will not be respected further. If surrendering men attack, surrenders will not thereafter be accepted. If any of my men who fall into your hands are mistreated, yours will be butchered in return. If you fight from hospitals and mosques they will be obliterated. If you fight from behind women and children, we will take extra casualties to capture you alive so that you can be hanged in front of those same civilians whose sanctuary you will have violated.The choice is yours.You are reputed to be good soldiers. I hope, personally, that you and your commanders choose well.Signed,Patricio CarreraLegate, Legio del CidActing Commander "What do you think of it, Amid? Amid?" Faush asked.

Sada didn't answer immediately. This was a strange development, unique in his personal experience. An enemy lecturing you on the law of war? Bizarre. On the other hand, he's got a point. The conduct of the irregulars...and even the regulars, has been a disgrace to this army. Perhaps here, maybe, we can redeem ourselves and our country's reputation. It will take some thought... Bizarre. On the other hand, he's got a point. The conduct of the irregulars...and even the regulars, has been a disgrace to this army. Perhaps here, maybe, we can redeem ourselves and our country's reputation. It will take some thought...

"I think I need to talk to my senior officers and non-coms," Sada finally answered. "a.s.semble them at daybreak, here. And have a few dozen of these leaflets, enough to pa.s.s out, collected."

Interesting, thought Sada, that my enemy is giving us this chance. that my enemy is giving us this chance.

Surrounded by a dozen men he trusted, Sada's sergeant major listened attentively as the instructor explained to fifty of the Fedayeen as-Sumer Fedayeen as-Sumer, the civilian irregulars ordered raised and armed by the dictator, the finer points of convincing the enemy you were harmless in order to get close enough to them to detonate an explosive belt. The design of the belt, in particular, he thought clever.

When the instructor had finished the sergeant major stood up and asked, enthusiastically, "Are you all prepared to give your lives like this?!?!"

"Aywa! Aywa!" the fedayeen answered, with an enthusiasm to match the sergeant major's own. Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!

"Good," the sergeant major said, calmly. Then he said to his men, "Arrest them and put them in the penal platoon. All except for their instructor. Take that one outside and shoot him."

"Ah," said Faush. "Very clever indeed." The object of the major's admiration was an ambulance bearing the Red Crescent symbol which had had its sides reinforced with plate steel to serve as a clandestine armored personnel carrier. Two others in the hospital bay had been likewise converted, while a fourth and fifth had been made into suicide truck bombs.

"Don't you agree, Sergeant Achmed, Private Omar, that this is a clever set up?"

"Oh, yes, Major," the two submachine gun bearing enlisted a.s.sistants to the logistics officer agreed. "Very clever. Absolutely clever!"

"Yes. Now please shoot the men responsible."