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?

r>

2 Early Moves

2.3 Iran

2.3.1 Invasion of Saudi Arabia

Brigadier General Tavid Hammedyanni stood on the outskirts of Mina al-Ahmadi looking over a scene of destruction and desolation. A once awesome T-90 main battle tank smoldered partially submerged beneath the remnants of an apartment building’s wall. A woman’s frail body hung partly from the window above the tank, her face burned beyond recognition. Just a few yards beyond, a BTR-80 lay on its side with a huge hole exposed in its armor. The driver hung from the hatch by one foot. He had been charred into a black grotesque. Everywhere the stench of burning flesh, burning hair, burning wool and burning oil hung over the putrefying specter of the once quaint seaside resort.

Hammedyanni saw none of the horrors around him. He only saw that his precious timetable had been utterly destroyed by the Kuwaitis. Unless he could get this army back on schedule, the Saudis would escape his trap. He stormed back to his command BTM, kicked his driver awake, and leapt into the rear. The engine raced, and the 20-tonne monster bucked and kicked its way back down the hill towards divisional headquarters.

The general stood quietly inside the tent flap, waiting for someone to notice his presence. Headquarters was a scene of organized chaos. Men moved quickly from one point to another, carrying messages. Telephones were ringing, computer terminals flashed and blinked. Men and officers stood around a large map of eastern Saudi Arabia and southern Kuwait, pushing little wooden rectangles.

An officer looked up from his desk. "Good morning, General. General Yousoufli is waiting for you. He’s at the mapping table."

Hammedyanni exploded in anger, "Stand up! Have you learned nothing? I am a general officer, and your infinite superior, cur! You will stand at attention and address me properly, or I shall have you court-martialed before the day is out!"

The astounded officer obediently stood at attention, and snapped, "Yes, Sir!"

"What is all this noise?" shouted Major General Yousoufli, disengaging himself from the mob around the maps. "General, I am happy to see that you have returned from the front." Then, he turned to the young officer who was visibly shaking in fear for his life. "What are you doing? Don’t you have work to do? Why are you wasting the general’s time? Go back to work, and no more of this nonsense. We have work to do."

The general put his arm around Tavid’s shoulder, and, smiling broadly, escorted him to the map table. Yousoufli explained, "General, this is the situation in which we find ourselves. First Army has demanded that I get this division going immediately. First Regiment has been knocked about too badly to continue in the lead. We need to bring Second Regiment forward and use First Regiment as our divisional reserves. And, we have to do this quickly. The entire army is backed up for kilometers! It is a traffic jam of monumental proportions. I am surprised that the Saudi Air Force has not already tried to attack us.

"Go forward with the Second Regiment and lead them as you led the First Regiment. Do not concern yourself with losses. We must get beyond the marshes of Al Mishab before the Saudi army can use them against us. We still have time, if we hurry, to get to the line from Suffaniyah.

"You will lead Second Regiment to Suffaniyah and seize the city. Third Regiment will form on your left, and I will hold First in reserve. The rest of the army will move to your right flank between us and Naqirah. It is there that we will engage the Saudis and spring our trap. Push hard, General, you have very little time. Allah be with you!"

Tavid Hammedyanni turned quickly on his heel and hurriedly departed for his new assignment. He didn’t even notice the young officer who was shaking and cowering in fear. Tavid didn’t have time for peasants such as him.

It took ten minutes for Hammedyanni to find Second Regiment’s headquarters. Colonel Rashamani was waiting for him. When they had saluted, the colonel informed Tavid that the regiment was mounted up and ready to roll. Tavid liked that. The colonel seemed to know what he was doing and recognized the need for speed in this campaign. Tavid quickly gave him his orders, "Your objective, Colonel, is the Saudi city of As-Suffaniyah. You will let nothing stand in your way. If a truck breaks down, push it off the road. If a tank breaks down, push it off the road. Crush any resistance ruthlessly.

"The distance from here to Suffaniyah is 140 kilometers. At 20 kilometers per hour we will arrive in seven hours. I shall give you but one hour’s grace. If you are not in Suffaniyah in eight hours, I will have you shot and turn this command over to someone who will carry out my orders. Do you understand me?"

Colonel Rashamani stiffened. Nobody spoke to him in such a manner. His father, Ayatollah Rafsanadi Rashamani, was an important leader of Iran's Ruling Council. Through clenched teeth the colonel replied, "Sir, I hear and obey, but if anyone gets shot, it will not be me. The Ruling Council shall hear of this threat to one of the Faithful. Then my father and your grandfather will seek Allah’s Judgment."

Hammedyanni was livid as the blood rushed to his face. His dark complexion turned a ruddy brown, and his hands shook with rage! As his fingers grappled with his officer’s snap-down holster, he noticed the colonel’s Kalashnikov, until now resting lightly in his hands, had moved swiftly to a port arms position. Hammedyanni could see from the position of the colonel’s hand that his thumb rested lightly on the safety. He looked into the colonel’s eyes and saw within them the steady, angry rage of a killer!

Deciding that this was neither the time nor the place for a confrontation, Hammedyanni spun on his heel, and marched back to his BTM. 'Rashamani will pay for this insult,' he fumed, 'but not yet. He still has his uses.'

Second Regiment roared to life, and the leading tanks rolled southward. Behind them came the tracked BTM-60 armored fighting vehicles armed with their 73-mm guns and the lighter, eight-wheeled BTR-50 armored personnel carriers loaded with troops. Just behind these lead elements came the Regiment’s command vehicles with Colonel Rashamani standing tall in the open hatch, with "eyes right," saluting.

Hammedyanni glowered at him, but refused to return the salute. They were enemies, and the general had neither the time nor the inclination to be bothered with him. Hammedyanni didn’t even notice that the colonel held his salute until he had rounded the bend in the road.

Half an hour later, the general was on the road. He had deliberately delayed to wait for Third Regiment. As they approached, he ordered his column onto the road. Third Regiment’s lead tanks were struggling to try and catch up, but Hammedyanni wanted a gap between them and the Second Regiment. He leaned down to his driver, "Proceed at fifteen kilometers per hour. I want the rest of the army to catch up to us."

Morning passed quickly, and four hours later, the army passed into Saudi Arabia. A great marshy wasteland spread from the Saudi border to Al-Mishab and many kilometers to the west. Even in the dry season, the ground was soft and yielding. A man or a camel could easily walk across it, but a vehicle would sink instantly up to its hubs. So, it was vital to get beyond the marsh to Suffaniyah and onto the higher, drier plains beyond. Once there, the army could spread out into a mobile battle front. However, as long as they were in the marshes, they had to stick to the road.

As though in fulfillment of his worst nightmares, Hammedyanni saw black clouds rising on the horizon. Before the sounds of the attack could travel back to him, his radio screamed, "Air attack!" Hammedyanni could see the tiny flecks of light high up in the distance, and he could imagine the effects of the American cluster bombs and Maverick missiles on Colonel Rashamani’s regiment.

But, the general could only enjoy his revenge for a short time. If the Saudis could seal the road with damaged tanks and equipment, they’d stop his column dead in its tracks. Then, they’d be able to return at their leisure and destroy the entire Iranian army with their laser guided bombs and missiles.

It only took one radio call to get results. Within minutes, Iraqi MiG-27s and -29s were hurtling south. Huge Hind-24s and smaller G-9 gunships screamed past a low level. When the fighters had cleared the air space of enemy aircraft, the helicopters used their own missiles and cannons to support Second Regiment’s advance.

As Hammedyanni watched, a missile fell off a wing mount, a blue-white spark erupted from its tail, and it shot ahead followed by a long, dirty gray trail. He saw it arch downward, and, just as it disappeared over the horizon, it erupted in a huge explosion. Two emotions simultaneously seethed in his mind. His first was elation. They were striking the enemy and destroying him! His second was his personal fear of actually coming under fire. His emotions wrestled only briefly. "Pull up over there," he commanded while pointing to a wide spot. "Let Third Regiment move up into supporting position."

Third Regiment rolled by. Behind them came the First Regiment, and General Yousoufli’s command vehicle. The general’s BTM stopped, and he leaned out shouting, "What’s going on up there? Were we badly hurt? Is the road passable?"

"Communications are difficult at this time, General," Hammedyanni replied. "Colonel Rashamani has not reported anything, and I cannot raise him by radio. Since I was unsure of the tactical situation, I sent the Third Regiment on ahead, and was about to follow them when you arrived.

"There has been a great deal of enemy air action, but our fighters drove them off. Since then, our helicopters have been engaging them. I saw one kill a Saudi vehicle just moments before you arrived."

"Yes, Tavid, I was ready for them this time. The moment they stuck their helmets up out of the sand, I was ready to take their heads!

"Lead me towards the battle, and hurry. First Regiment is coming fast. They want to avenge themselves on the Saudis. We do not wish to be trampled!" He laughed, slammed the hatch, and his BTM lurched forward.

Without a hint of enthusiasm, Hammedyanni ordered his driver to follow the general. One must remain calm, he told himself, and be an example to the men. His driver nosed the BTM into the traffic behind a Zu-30, self-propelled, radar-controlled 30-mm gatling gun. Tavid felt reassured. At least if they were attacked, he would have some protection from the Saudi’s air weapons.