Rogue Forces

“I am sorry, sir,” Ozek said. “I take full responsibility. But will we ever learn how many PKK terrorists we killed tonight? And if the Americans or Iraqis leading this so-called investigation ever told us how many terrorists were eliminated, will we ever get the chance to tell the world what they did to innocent Turks?” Hirsiz did not respond, only stared at a spot on the wall, so Ozek stiffened to attention and turned to leave.

“Wait, General,” Hirsiz said.

“You’re not going to consider that idea, Kurzat!” Prime Minister Akas said, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

“The general is right, Ays¸e,” Hirsiz said. “This is yet another incident for which Turkey will be vilified…” And at that, he reached down, grasped his chair with both hands, and toppled it over with a quick thrust: “and I am sick of it! I am not going to look into the eyes of Turkish men and women and make more promises and excuses! I want it to end. I want the PKK to fear this government…no, I want the Americans, the Iraqis, the whole world to fear us! I’m tired of being everyone’s patsy! Minister Cizek!”

“Sir!”

“I want to see a plan of action on my desk as soon as possible, outlining an operation to destroy the PKK training camps and facilities in Iraq,” Hirsiz said. “I want to minimize noncombatant casualties, and I want it quick, efficient, and thorough. We know we’re going to get blasted by the entire world, and the pressure will be on to withdraw almost from day one, so it will have to be an operation that is fast, effective, and massive.”

“Yes, sir,” Cizek said. “With pleasure.”

Hirsiz stepped over to Ozek and placed his hands on the general’s shoulders, this time not afraid of looking him in his badly injured face. “I vow,” he said, “never to have one of my generals take responsibility for an operation I authorized. I am the commander in chief. When this operation begins, General, if you’re up to it, I want you to lead the forces that will strike at the heart of the PKK. If you’re strong enough to get out of a crashed plane and then come here to Ankara to confront me, you’re strong enough to crush the PKK.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ozek said.

Hirsiz turned to the other advisers in the room. “Ozek was the only one who spoke his mind to the president—that’s the kind of person I want advising me from this day forward. Put a plan together to defeat the PKK once and for all.”

CHAPTER FOUR

An argument needs no reason, nor a friendship.

—IBYCUS, C. 580 B.C.

ALLIED AIR BASE NAHLA, IRAQ

TWO DAYS LATER

Voices in the Tank were much more muted than before; no one spoke except to make a report or observation. If they were not otherwise occupied, the department heads, operators, and specialists sat straight up in their seats and stared straight ahead—no chatting with comrades, no stretching, no sign of idleness.

Colonel Wilhelm entered the battle staff room, took his seat at the front console, and donned his headset. Without turning to face his staff, he spoke over the intercom: “We’ve been ordered to suspend all operations except logistics, reconnaissance, and intel. No IA combat support until further notice.”

“But all that stuff is done by the contractors, sir,” someone remarked on intercom. “What are we going to do?”

“We are going to train in case the shit hits the fan with Turkey,” Wilhelm replied.

“Are we at war with Turkey, sir?” the regimental executive officer, Mark Weatherby, asked.

“Negative,” Wilhelm replied tonelessly.

“Then why are we standing down, sir?” the regimental ops officer, Kenneth Bruno, asked. “We didn’t fuck up. We should be blasting hell out of the Turks for—”

“I asked the same questions and made the same comments,” Wilhelm interrupted, “and I was told by the Pentagon to pipe down, too, so now I’m telling you: pipe down. Listen up and pass the word to your troops:

“We are permanently on Force Protection Condition Delta. If I see you in the sunshine without your full battle rattle, and you’re not already dead, I will kill you myself. This base will be sealed up tighter than a flea’s poop chute. Woe befalls anyone who is seen without ID visible and displayed in the proper location, and that includes the senior staff and especially the civilians.

“As of this moment, this base is on a wartime footing—if we’re not allowed to defend the Iraqi army that is living and working with us, we’ll sure as hell defend ourselves,” Wilhelm went on. “We will not be sitting idly around with our thumbs up our asses—we’ll continue training as much as we’re allowed until we rotate out. Next, the Triple-C will be turned over to the IA as soon as—”

“What?” someone exclaimed.