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

6.8 Iran

6.8.1 The New Assignment

The schedule had fallen apart, and the attack on the Hijanah Salient had not gone off on time. The Jews' planes had bombed them. The Jews' helicopters had swarmed like angry bees. The Jews' tanks had thundered over the open plains massacring everybody.

He had commandeered a staff car and had driven madly north out of Damascus, pursued by the Jews' helicopters. At Adra, he had turned east towards Dumayr, Khan Abu Shamat and safety. Yet, no matter how far or how fast he had driven, the Jews' choppers had dogged him. Twice he had been forced to drive off the road to avoid an aerial attack. Then, a Jew's F-22 had come out of nowhere! He was forced to leap from his moving vehicle as it boiled up in smoke and exploded.

Alone in the wilderness, he struggled on past Bahr Saydahl, in the shadow of Jabal az-Zabaydiyah, and crossed into the high desert of Badiyat. His only hope was a supply convoy, but he knew their schedules all too well. The next convoy was not due for two days. He had no food or water. He had only the clothes on his back. The noonday heat would pass thirty degrees, and at night the temperature could drop to five. He was in the land of Bedouin, scorpions and vipers, all alone.

His companions were hate and hope. He hated Jews. He hated Saudis. He hated all Infidels and mostly the Americans. His hope was Allah. Allah was testing him. He had to survive! He had to survive to fight His enemies and to restore His Kingdom.

Two days later, a supply convoy found him wandering deliriously beside the road. They wondered how he could have survived the extremes of heat and cold, or the need for food and water. Yet, they had a schedule to meet, so they continued westward.

They had traveled almost one hundred kilometers before the wanderer regained his senses. He ordered them to turn about and return to Ar-Rutbah. They were incredulous and refused to listen to his ravings. They had a timetable which determined when and where they should be almost to the second. They dared not violate it upon penalty of death.

Then, he announced who he was. He was Brigadier General Tavid Hammedyanni, son of the Iranian Army Chief of Staff, and grandson of Ayatollah Hammedyanni!

They knew his name and his reputation. They turned back quickly, and three days later returned to their starting point with their imperious leader.

From Ar-Rutbah, Hammedyanni found air transportation to Baghdad. He had been out of contact for six days. He had not worn clean clothes or eaten anything other than stale rations of the road. He had not spoken to his father in seven days, and Tavid knew that he would have already mourned his son's death in battle.

"Tavid, it is you! You are alive!" General Benhamin Hammedyanni's eyes filled with tears as he greeted his son over the VisiPhone. "Your mother has been weeping uncontrollably for the past week, since the news of the Battle of Hijanah. Your grandfather has been to the mosque praying for your entry into Paradise. They will be so relieved to hear that you are alive. Return immediately. There are important things for you to do."

He returned to Teheran the following day and was greeted at the airport by his father and grandfather. They went to their home first. The business of Jihad ranked second to his duty to his mother.

The scene of their reunion would have stirred a poet to new heights. Nothing is stronger than a mother's love, nor more plaintive than a mother's cries for her departed children. When a child is raised from the dead, it rekindles all the ancient bonds thrice over, and their tears of joy flowed even greater than the Tigris.

Their reunion was all too brief. The war, the Jihad, demanded him. He had to obey its siren call. That afternoon, the Chief of Staff brought his son within the war room to hear the great secret. Of all the secrets and plans of this war, this was the deepest, darkest and most closely kept. It was the Western Front; the deception, within the deception within the deception. It was only now that Tavid learned the secret of secrets.

All the attacks, all the feints, and all the losses had been carefully considered. The outcome of the war had been weighed in the finest of balances. They had found that they could not win, except by deception. Therefore, the attack in the east had been weighted heavily, but the full might of neither Iran nor Iraq had been thrown into the contest. Only that amount was used that would defeat the Saudis, forcing them and their lackeys, the Yankees, into a defensive war for the cities, the oil terminals and the ports. The real war was in the west.

Even as they spoke, three great armies totaling fifteen divisions were approaching the city of Ha-Il on the Baghdad-Medina road. A second road terminated in Ha-Il from the east. It led to Buraydah, Unayzah and Ar-Riyadh, the capital of Saudi Arabia!

The route to Ha-Il was long and arduous: a journey of over one thousand kilometers through high desert. A man was needed who was skilled in scheduling and logistics to ensure that sufficient food, water, fuel and ammunition flowed to the army as it penetrated the enemy's last defenses, captured the Saudi capital and ended the war. Such a man was Tavid Hammedyanni, who had already proven his skills in scheduling and in determining Allah's timetable of victory.

Furthermore, the desert army, consisting of Operational Maneuver Groups from both Assyria and Persia, was commanded by an Iraqi. The Iranian Revolutionary Council was fearful that Iranian blood would have been spilled in the East to obtain an Iraqi victory in the West. The Council asserted that a person of high military rank from an esteemed family needed to be appointed to ensure that Persian authority and mastery were not subverted by their allies. Therefore, they appointed Tavid Hammedyanni to the position of Chief of Staff of the Saviors of The Rock and promoted him to the rank of Major General.

Tavid flew to Baghdad on the following morning. He carried a briefcase filled with documents and a special computer terminal that would allow him direct communications with his father in Teheran. Late that night, he landed at the small desert airport high in the plains of Saudi Arabia to begin his mission.

Allah had saved him. He would fulfill the destiny Allah had chosen for him!