The Mahdi's Pathogen: Part 1

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Prologue

CAMP BAHARIA, IRAQ

APRIL 2004

U.S. Army Ranger Captain Nick Mosby and Senior Staff Sergeant Monty Lopez sat motionless in their camouflaged combat uniforms listening attentively to their senior commanding officer, Lieutenant General James Burton outline the mission objectives of the planned assault on the city of Fallujah. The briefing was being conducted in a stark makeshift conference room at Camp Baharia, also called Forward Operating Base (FOB) Volturno, located two miles southwest of the city of Fallujah in the Iraqi province of Al Anbar. The camp sat beside a large palm-tree-lined artificial lake and was a former Baath Party resort and opulent fortress, frequented by Saddam Hussein’s sons, Qusay and Uday before the fall of Iraq. Camp Baharia was often referred to by U.S. soldiers by its original nickname, Dreamland, because the lake sported a waterside amphitheater from where Saddam’s sons reportedly watched boat races, and there was an artificial island connected to the shore by a stone bridge with white lamp-posts, which sat in the middle of the lake.

Captain Nick Mosby and Sergeant Monty Lopez were fortunate enough to be lodged in cement bungalows fitted with plywood windows, however the rest of the personnel stationed at Camp Baharia were housed in tents.

The Iraq city of Fallujah was located roughly 43 miles west of Baghdad on the Euphrates River. Once a vibrant and thriving city, it had been one of the major Baath Party religious retreat centers under Saddam Hussein, but was destroyed with the invasion of Iraq in March 2003. Dubbed Operation Iraqi Freedom, the coalition of armed forces comprised of U.S, the U.K, Australia and Poland had decimated its infrastructure.

One year after the invasion of Iraq the nine square mile city of Fallujah with a population of 300,000 people was in utter chaos. It was overrun by al-Qaeda Sunni insurgents and Sunni Wahhabi extremists, coupled with local militia rebels, who regularly attacked the Coalition forces on patrol with IED’s, RPG’s and automatic weapons - with the occasional suicide bomber thrown in for good measure. It was spinning out of control. Intelligence sources and interrogations of captured al-Qaeda insurgents revealed the attacks were planned and orchestrated by an emerging and mysterious clever Shiite mujahidin leader named Yusef Abdul-Muttalib and his vicious brother Jabar.

The Muttalib brothers were inseparable, their most favored methods of attack against coalition patrols, were using women and children as human shields, and firing their automatic weapons and RPG’s at U.S. troops from inside elementary schools, mosques and hospitals.

Yusef Muttalib was reported to be a strategic genius and had recruited thousands of new al-Qaeda insurgents to repel the western invaders. He thrived on developing innovative and devious ways to kill coalition forces and had even organized a Committee of the Faith to plan their coordinated anti-occupation attacks. Yusef was described by many as the intellectual, but his brother Jabar was characterized as a vicious animal – nothing but a dull-witted thug – large in stature, ape-like, squarely proportioned, muscular, ruthless and brutal. While Yusef was clearly the military strategist and visionary, Jabar was the operational executioner, the coldhearted killer, who enjoyed maiming his opponents and intimidating others. It was reported he especially loved torturing women, forcing them into submitting to his carnal desires, then physically brutalized their bodies such that they were either maimed for life or died.

++++

West Point graduate General James Burton was every bit of six and one half feet tall, bald, a large imposing man who didn’t mince words - with cold blue piercing eyes that seemed to stare through others - he radiated intensity, confidence and intimidation. He quickly summarized the objectives of the upcoming campaign to capture Fallujah and to re-establish security, directing his key points to the jam-packed room full of soldiers. The makeshift conference room was standing room only and overflowed with senior officers and various fighting force disciplines from the Army 82nd and 101 Airborne Divisions, 2nd, 3rd, 4th Marine Battalions, the 75th Army Ranger Regiment, the Army 5th Special Forces Group, and new formed Army Asymmetric Warfare Group (AWG). There were even a few CIA specialists present.

The General concluded his briefing with a piercing stare directly into the eyes of each soldier in the room and said, We will capture or kill Yusef Muttalib and his brother Jabar, along with all of the enemy combatants in Fallujah. Above all, we will avenge the deaths of our four fellow American Blackwater USA contractors who were ambushed and killed last month by the heinous mob of insurgents – who burned their bodies and then dragged them through the city, and finally hung their corpses from a bridge over the Euphrates River. I want the jubilant and ignorant bastards who did this to pay. It is clear to me our kind and gentle strategy of less aggression and close cooperation with local Sunni leaders is not working worth a shit, and we’ll have to clear the city of enemy combatants, guerillas and militias, by brute force – am I totally clear on our objectives, people?

There was a collective raucous shout of, Yes Sir! from the entire group.

General Burton quickly turned his steely glare to the front row and stared directly at Captain Nick Mosby and Sergeant Monty Lopez.

He said Our intelligence folks need an ‘eyes on’ report on what the enemy forces are up to in Fallujah. I want you two Army Rangers to figure out a way to infiltrate the city by tomorrow morning, conduct reconnaissance and intelligence and then report back. Within 72 hours, I want a full first-hand report of enemy force vulnerabilities, strengths, weaknesses and any tactical preparations they are taking. You two bring back the best intel possible so we can plan our assault assets accordingly – we want to minimize our Coalition casualties and maximize resources. Can you do this?

Mosby nodded his head and replied, Yes sir, we have a method to get around in the city unobserved, without being discovered by the enemy - it’s risky - but we’ve used it before our troops invaded Iraq in 2003. All we need is some sort of diversion so we can insert ourselves.

And tell me, Captain Mosby, what method do you anticipate using? Turning yourself into a ghost perhaps? the General snapped.

Without hesitation, Mosby replied confidently, Sergeant Lopez and I will dress up as two village women in burqa’s and walk the streets to conduct surveillance. I did it in Bagdad twice, prior to our invasion last year, it worked wonderfully. All Lopez and I need is a diversion, like a large explosion in another part of the city to distract the enemy, in order to get in unnoticed.

Chuckles were heard around the room as someone asked jokingly, You two like dressing up as hajji women?

Yeah, you ought to try it sometime – beats being a faggot, blurted Mosby in response, holding up his middle finger at the guy. The entire room roared in laughter.

Done, said General Burton grinning. When can you two be dressed and ready?

Tomorrow morning at 0500 hours, Sir, answered Mosby.

Outstanding! I’ll expect a full report within three days. This briefing is concluded, declared General Burton.

As the room emptied, the General turned to Mosby and asked, "Is it true you’re related to the famous Civil War Confederate General, called ‘The Grey Ghost’ – General John Singleton Mosby?"

Yep, I sure am, sir - why he was my great grandfather, Mosby replied proudly.

"Damn soldier, you must have some good DNA – look, I appreciate what you two are about to do but don’t want any ‘dead folk-hero’s’ – understand? I don’t want you two Snake Eaters playing ‘MacGyver’ if you find yourselves in a Soup Sandwich situation – call three ‘Maydays’ on your hand-held emergency radio and we’ll send in a couple of choppers to get your asses out. Not many men around here would dress up in a burqa and risk getting their throats slit – Godspeed both of you," the General remarked, then shook Mosby’s hand with a crushing handshake, turned and left.

++++

At 4:00 a.m. the next morning, Captain Nick Mosby and Sergeant Monty Lopez finalized their preparations to infiltrate the city of Fallujah. Beneath their black burqas each had two of the Ranger’s primary assault weapons for close quarters fighting: a combat knife – Mosby preferred a deadly 10 inch combat shank knife for slashing and stabbing, while Lopez preferred the vicious 11 inch Night Stalker. Each carried a fully-suppressed Heckler & Koch MK-23 semi-automatic .45 caliber pistol in a shoulder holster, along with four spare magazines. The MK-23 suppressed pistol was capable of accurately shooting 12 rounds of sub-sonic noiseless ammunition, which resulted in a weapon system that was quieter than a snap of fingers. Both individuals then activated their covert two-way radios, which consisted of standard bud type earphones and push-to-talk mics – they would communicate by whisper-talking with each other beneath the burqas without being heard.

Dressed in dark burqas, they would easily blend in with the local population without a hint of suspicion. Both men spoke Arabic and Farsi fluently and felt confident they could understand and respond to any verbal questions directed at them. Moreover, both individuals felt secure knowing even without weapons, they knew 25 different methods for killing individuals with their bare hands, were experts at knife fighting and hand-to-hand combat. Both men wore specially made black combat boots with steel toes which could be used as weapons themselves to smash an enemy’s head, ribs, groin, kneecaps, or feet, with one well-placed kick.

The infiltration and intel-gathering mission commenced promptly at 5:00 a.m., they felt their adrenalin kick in, as the red dawn morning sun crept slowly up in the horizon. As planned, two AH-64 four-blade twin-turboshaft Apache attack helicopters piloted by two man crews, created hellacious diversions by destroying suspected al-Qaeda buildings in the eastern part of the city, with ferocious fire from 30 mm M230 chain guns, AGM-114 Hellfire missiles and Hydra 70 rockets. The noise was earsplitting and pounding in the eastern districts of Fallujah and the explosions lit up the skyline.

Mosby and Lopez were ferried to the opposite side of the city, aboard an armed-to-the-teeth MH-60 Black Hawk helicopter, to an area five miles west of Fallujah, and let out along the main highway. It took the two men dressed in black burqas two short hours to walk into the city. They slowly crossed the U.S. controlled main bridge over the Euphrates River, then walked by the main hospital and finally entered into the Jolan District, where most of the insurgents were speculated to be. Other than a few occasional curious stares, they blended in easily with the morning foot-traffic of poor villagers entering the city to shop for goods and food at the main marketplace.

As a testament to their disguise, when the two men crossed over the main bridge into the city, several U.S. Marine guards with M4A1 automatic carbines, mechanically waved them through the checkpoint.

To the guards, Mosby and Lopez appeared to be just two more ghoulishly cloaked hajji women entering the city. Every U.S. soldier in Iraq had been warned in their social and cultural customs briefings that burqa-covered hajji women were never to be hand searched by a male - the men of Iraq could grope them all they wanted, but they were off-limits to U.S. soldiers.

Lopez whispered into his mic to Mosby, "Fantastic! Even our own guys didn’t recognize us in these black bedsheets."

Yeah, answered Mosby, but now the fun is about to begin…we have to stay on our toes…here are the rules we follow: keep your profile stooped a little to make yourself appear older; the al-Qaeda men treat women worse than animals so get used to it and suck it up; make sure your veil covers your entire face at all times; don’t walk in the middle of the streets; defer to the men and act submissive; if you have to talk to answer someone, speak in a low voice like a whisper; and don’t try to strike up a conversation with one.

So what do we do if we are stopped by their police or one of their clerics, and they get suspicious? Lopez asked.

If it looks like an altercation requiring the use of force, then we slip into the next side ally or a quiet street, where we can control the situation and take them out, quickly and quietly, Mosby replied. He continued, "And I mean take them out permanently - the last thing we need is someone screaming their bloody head off about ‘Western crusaders’ being in their midst - you good with that approach?"

"Agreed, we don’t need any cluster-fucks, this is not the kind of situation where we’re out to win the hearts and minds of anybody," Lopez pointed out.

Yeah – I hear that, smirked Mosby. We certainly don’t want our obituaries to say we died while wearing women’s clothing.

As they slowly made their way through the streets of the city, they could see the typical flashpoints for violence everywhere just waiting for the fuses to be lit. It was chaos, with large numbers of bearded men and boys on the streets, shouting Viva Mujahidin, which loosely translated meant long live the resistance.

They walked slowly past a number of police stations, ambulances and fire departments but couldn’t detect any of them functioning. What was more noticeable to the two was they didn’t see any official emergency or police vehicles cruising the streets or responding to emergencies.

The insurgency force strength and control of Fallujah appeared to be far more significant than the Coalition Forces had foreseen – Mosby and Lopez easily estimated the number of Yusef Muttalib followers to be in the thousands, identified by their AK-47 assault rifles, civilian clothes and colorful headscarves.

They also verified firsthand the insurgency forces were using hundreds of mosques in the city for weapons and ammunition storage, and determined the al-Qaeda and foreign mujahidin had prepared fortified defenses and building roadblocks on key streets with burned out vehicles to use as strong points for street fighting. It also appeared that the insurgents had even taken over many of the homes and forced the residents to leave, while many other families who hadn’t yet left were seen barricading themselves in their own homes. Most alarming of all, Mosby and Lopez spied several Iraqi homes that were clearly in the process of being converted into IED bomb factories.

As the two men walked slowly down the dusty, debris strewn unpaved streets and alleyways, they observed tunnels and trenches dug in key places and insurgents burying IED’s in dirt streets, in anticipation of an American led attack.

They spotted numerous spider holes – shoulder-deep, protective, round holes dug into the ground and covered by a camouflaged lid - in which snipers could stand unseen and fire their weapons at Coalition Forces. As they trudged through some inhabited areas of the city, they noticed many of the city’s ordinary population were frantically preparing to leave.

As they walked past other locations, they observed anti-American forces booby-trapping abandoned homes with propane bottles, drums of gasoline, and explosive ordnance, rigging the munitions to remote control garage door openers or cell phone triggers to explode and kill U.S. forces entering the buildings.

The further they walked the more alarmed they became, as they glimpsed more firsthand evidence of hundreds of booby-trapped windows and doors of buildings and vehicles – all wired to grenades to detonate when inadvertently triggered by an unsuspecting U.S. soldier.

To avoid offensive sniper fire against them, Mosby and Lopez saw where al-Qaeda and mujahidin fighters had closed off and blocked entrances to the roofs of high buildings, in some instances even by bricking them up to make them inaccessible. They were especially alarmed when they came upon what appeared to be special heavy barricades strategically set up in streets to steer the U.S. Marines and Army soldiers into pathways and fields of cleverly designed killing zones.

There was no question in Mosby’s mind, this was serious: The insurgents of Fallujah had made some very sophisticated plans for a violent all-out war and a bloody surprise counter-attack against an unsuspecting invading U.S. force.

The whole situation reminded Mosby of the famous quote from George S. Patton: The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his.

The two of them had to get back to Camp Baharia soon and warn General Burton before he completed his mobilization process.

++++

Mosby and Lopez slowly ambled their way into the old part of the city, the Nazal District where the main marketplace, or souk shopping attraction was located. This was their final opportunity where they could pick up useful information.

What they saw surprised them, it didn’t appear at all as if a war was going on.

They were immediately overwhelmed by the sights of the stalls in narrow alleyways, sellers hawking their various wares and the dizzying sounds of the endless crowds of people haggling back and forth for goods. The aromatic and spicy smells emanating from the restaurants, stalls, shops and kiosks, sent their olfactory nerves into instant overload and a blue haze seemed to blanket everything as far as their eyes could see.

They encountered stalls which specialized in lemons, chili peppers, pickles, green, red and black olives. Other vendors specialized in dried fruit and nuts, including dates, figs, walnuts, cashews and apricots. Sellers as far as their eyes could see were hawking handmade baskets, scarves, hats, natural perfumes, Ramadan tea, and shoes made out of alligator and iguana leather. There were also specialized sections of the marketplace that seemed to go on forever, which dealt in gold, silver and fine jewelry, exotic spices, cheeses such as Baladi, Feta and Halloumi - as well as fine fabric shops for traditional kaffiyehs, jalabiyehs, hijabs, niqabs and burqas.

There were a few open air restaurants and shops that served grilled lamb and beef kebabs marinated with garlic and lemon, and Quzi lamb mixed with rice, almonds, raisins and spices, barbequed Masgruf - grilled fish with pepper. Shops that specialized in soups and salads were selling pickled vegetables called Turshi, as well as soups and stews like Fasoulia, made of dry white beans, olive and vegetables.

In the Arab world, men always gathered in the cafes for fellowship during the afternoon between prayers to refresh themselves with coffee and tea, even drink a little alcohol if they could get away with it and gossip a lot.

Mosby knew they also showed up to discuss the latest political and war rumors circulating, while they played the game of Taawli – backgammon - the oldest board game in the world.

They slowly meandered past several cafes, glanced inside and saw elderly men smoking Iraqi versions of hookah pipes, called narghiles, stuffed with their flavored tobacco called shisha.

Women were forbidden by custom and religion from entering cafes.

They saw waiters of all ages in dirty aprons hustling for their meager tips, serving the men tiny cups of strong Arab coffee, under-the-table bottles of local beer, or uber-sweet tea called chai – they could even get an aniseed-flavored alcoholic drink called "Arak" mixed with water and ice, if they paid the waiters a special bribe.

It was late afternoon and the two men soon found themselves plodding past a crowded popular open-air cafe, full of swarthy boisterous men drinking tea, coffee and arak, smoking cigarettes and eating Mastaw - a yogurt-like dish served in bowls with ice. Both Mosby and Lopez knew from the men’s lascivious stares and lewd, salacious remarks that trouble was eminent and they had to exit the area fast or face an altercation.

Just as they thought they were home free, they heard a gruff voice call out to them in mangled Arabic - Hey there you two whores from Bagdad! I think I can smell your perfume. I don’t recall seeing you two around here. Come over here!

Uh oh, sounds like trouble – what did he say to us? I don’t understand his Arabic, Lopez whispered to Mosby in his mic.

Mosby angled his body slightly, glanced cautiously through his burqa and saw a large perverted swarthy brute of a man with a wide face, a heavy black beard and dark pig-like eyes, smiling tauntingly back at him from a table. Sitting with the man were his five companions – all similarly dangerous looking – who suddenly ceased their conversation to stare at the two strange women in burqas.

Mosby whispered calmly into his mic, This looks like real trouble Lopez…let’s hope the big asshole with the black beard loses interest in us. I think he’s really drunk and maybe doped up on hashish. From his heavy accent, I think he may be Iranian…pretend to ignore him and keep walking…I see an alley coming up to the right - take it and let’s hope it gives us a way out.

Everyone in the crowded cafe suddenly grew silent. The waiters looked around nervously, even the old men playing backgammon stopped to stare at the two women. Every person in the cafe knew when Jabar Muttalib got drunk and smoked too much hashish, trouble was soon to follow. Just last month at this very same location in public, he had brutally cut the nose and ears off a woman who refused to submit to his sexual advances, to teach her a lesson.

Yusef Muttalib chided his brother impatiently, You’re annoying me again Jabar; once again you’ve had too much arak and you’re drunk! I say to you: Leave these two Sunni women alone! Must we endure more of your silly antics trying to force your manhood into some innocent women? This is becoming tiring, even though you are my brother!

Jabar growled, Shut your mouth Yusef! I am a mujahidin fighter! It is an honor for the Sunni women to please men like me.

Jabar ignored Yusef, pushed his chair back noisily and stood up, swayed precariously, then proceeded in a drunken stupor to walk after the two women in burqa’s.

Exasperated and angry, Yusef turned to a mujahidin fighter and ordered, Abdul, would you go with Jabar and see that nothing bad befalls him? He is so drunk one of the women is liable to cut his organ off and he’ll end up peeing like a little girl!

The cafe erupted in laughter as Yusef shook his head in displeasure.

Jabar heard the laughter, ignored it and turned around nearly losing his balance. He motioned with his hand and bellowed, Yes, come with me Abdul - you can exercise your camel muscle on one of these women too! I have a feeling these wenches are going to be softer than a lamb’s behind! Ha, ha, hurry…Before we lose them!

And how do you know what a lamb’s behind is like? someone shouted to Jabar, and everyone laughed.

Jabar overlooked the comment and stumbled forward, tripping and weaving his way through the crowd after the two women, with Abdul giggling at his side helping to support his huge bulk.

One hundred feet ahead, Mosby and Lopez turned right and found themselves suddenly trapped in a dead end barren alley, about fifty feet long and twenty feet wide, with no way out. Looking around frantically, they saw there was no exit, no side doors to escape through, not even anything they could use as handholds so they could climb up to a second story or a roof level.

The only thing in the ally they could use for cover was a large abandoned wooden donkey cart, which they quickly pushed to the middle, forcing anyone entering to move around it. Both Mosby and Lopez then retreated to the back of the alleyway to face their attackers and ready themselves for close-quarters combat.

Standing ten feet apart at the rear of the alley, they stared in anticipation, their adrenalin pumping. Soon they saw the 300 pound bearded man stagger into the alley, obviously inebriated - he was assisted by another individual holding him upright to keep him from losing his balance. The man was huge and looked as big and strong as a silverback gorilla.

Jabar grinned as if he was about to squash an insect, and jeered, Come my sweet Sunni women, lift up your abaya’s and pull down your undergarments for me. I’m going to bend you both over this donkey cart and take you from behind. When I’m done with you both, Abdul is going to take his turn. You can leave your face covering on – I don’t care to look at faces. Who knows, you may like me better than your husbands!

Mosby whispered quickly into his mic, We’re going to have to waste these two morons and get out of here before any others show up. Turn sideways like you’re cowering and afraid, whimper like a girl…pull out your MK-23 and be ready – do a quick shot to the head and make it count.

Roger that - affirmative, replied Monty. He slowly turned sideways and carefully started to reach with his right hand through a Velcro opening in the burqa to pull his suppressed MK-23 out of his shoulder holster.

You whores! smirked Jabar in slurred Arabic, I’m going to bend each of you over and make you squeal like the unclean Sunni pigs you are – come here to me, and I’ll make it easy on you!

Jabar and Abdul were now within ten feet of their prey.

Mosby and Lopez had their backs to the two mujahidin thugs to give the appearance of two frightened and helpless victims. Mosby whispered almost inaudibly into his mic Watch Abdul’s eyes – I think he suspects something’s wrong…get ready!

Before Mosby could finish his warning, Abdul launched himself at Lopez with incredible speed and closed the distance gap and shouted - Watch out Jabar! She’s got a weapon under her burqa!

Lopez had no time to aim his pistol, Abdul plowed into him with the force of an offensive football lineman, knocking his head violently against the rear masonry wall of the alley. The force of the impact caused Lopez to drop his pistol and he fell to the ground unconscious.

Mosby watched in horror as Abdul quickly pulled a wicked looking ivory handled janbiya – a dagger with a curved blade - from a spiral stitched leather scabbard and raised his hand to stab the unconscious Lopez.

Mosby spontaneously raised his MK-23 pistol and emptied his 12-bullet magazine with a distinct chunking sound into Abdul’s head and chest at point blank range within four seconds, before he could plunge the deadly knife into Lopez. The .45 caliber shots exploded Abdul’s head and spattered cranial debris against the wall of the alley.

Abdul’s lifeless body fell on top of Lopez.

As Mosby reached through his burqa for another magazine, Jabar roared and charged him like a bull, shouting curses and crashed against him, slamming him into the rear alley wall. Jabar then wrapped his huge powerful arms around him in a bear-hug, locked his hands and started to squeeze as hard as he could.

Mosby could feel his ribs popping under the tremendous force of Jabar’s arms and knew he only had seconds to react before losing consciousness – he quickly raised back his right foot and quickly kicked Jabar in his right shin with his steel-toed boot. He heard the shin bone crack loudly as Jabar grunted in pain and relaxed his arm pressure.

It was just the break Mosby needed - he arched his own body backward in an arc, tilted his head slightly downward, clenched his teeth together, stiffened his neck muscles, took careful aim and violently thrust his head into Jabar’s face, crushing his nose, cheekbones and eye sockets, shocking the inside of his brain.

Jabar was stunned from the vicious blow to his face, and Mosby knew he had only temporarily disabled his opponent. He had to think of something and act quickly, or else Jabar would kill him. He had no doubts about that.

The head butt changed the tide of the confrontation and caused Jabar to bleed profusely from his crushed face, rendering him nauseous and disoriented. As Mosby took a moment to catch his breath and remove the veil that hung down covering the face, he knew he had to neutralize his opponent or he would die.

Mosby quickly extended his arms out as wide as he could reach, cupped his hands, tensed his back and shoulder muscles, then slammed his hands into Jabar’s ears in a brutal clapping motion as hard as he could.

The kinetic force and impact of the strike instantly conveyed pressure waves of 80 psi forced into both of Jabar’s ears, similar to a bomb blast. The strike was used in self-defense and known as the Thunderclap Strike – meant to disable an opponent by bursting his eardrums and causing internal bleeding in the brain. Technically, it resulted in ossicular disruption, which meant horrendous trauma to the inner ear and required surgery and medical reconstruction.

Jabar suddenly released feces, urinated on himself and vomited all over Mosby.

Son of a bitch, this guy stinks! Mosby muttered to himself as he pushed the foul-smelling Jabar away with both hands. He quickly ejected the spent magazine from his MK-23 pistol and replaced it with a new one, aimed his gun at Jabar’s forehead and pulled the trigger.

The weapon responded with a familiar audible metal chunk sound and the back of Jabar’s head erupted in red spray, as the subsonic .45 caliber 230 grain jacketed hollow point bullet exited from his thick skull.

The thud sound of the bullet entering the man’s head and exiting was remarkably similar to the noise a watermelon made when it was dropped to the ground.

Jabar’s one good eye grew large with fright as he tried to open his mouth to shout, he gurgled as blood poured from his mouth and then he dropped to the ground – he started to convulse, his arms and legs involuntarily twitched because the electrical signals his brain sent no longer functioned as they should. Astonishingly, his limbs stopped twitching and he raised his head, mumbled and heaved his immense body up on his elbows; then he began to turn to one side to lift himself up.

Mosby looked down at Jabar in strange fascination and disbelief – Damn! How could a guy still function like this with half his head blown away? Maybe his skull was extra thick due to ages of inbreeding or something, he thought to himself.

He instantly shot Jabar three more times to end things permanently - once in his remaining good eye and twice more in his heart. Well, the big ugly guy got his wish to be a martyr and receive his 72 virgins, he guessed.

Mosby quickly hand-searched Jabar’s lifeless body and frisking him for papers or any other useful information, he found nothing of value in his pockets. However, glancing upward, he noticed a thick leather pouch attached to a strap around his thick neck. He looked briefly into the sack - was utterly stunned at its contents - then quickly removed the leather pouch from the dead body and placed it securely around his own neck.

Mosby looked over to his left and saw Lopez had regained consciousness, was attempting to push Abdul’s lifeless body off of himself – screaming, Get this mother fucking towel-head’ off of me! He’s shit himself all over me!"

Mosby grabbed one of Abdul’s arms and pulled him off of Lopez.

Thanks, exclaimed Monty as he stood shakily to his feet, looking over at Jabar’s lifeless body and large pool of blood. Damn, you did a number on that big fat dude!

Mosby shrugged and replied, I guess he had a bad day…the sonofabitch just wouldn’t die like he was supposed to, so I had to put some extra rounds into him. If we had more time, I’d like to castrate him to send a message to his partners…these are the kind of animals that like to rape women and little girls and boys.

He quickly added, Speaking of animals, Lopez, we need to get the flock out of here before their buddies show up - we’re going to have to put some serious distance between ourselves and these two pieces of shit.

Mosby and Lopez reloaded their weapons, dawned their facial veils, pulled the donkey cart in front of the two dead bodies and rapidly walked unseen out of the alley. It took the two men several hours to trek back through the city and reach the U.S. controlled main bridge over the Euphrates River, where they removed their burqa face veils in front of four startled U.S. marine guards and requested an extraction helicopter.

Over the course of the remaining years of his military career, Army Ranger Nick Mosby never told anyone about the mysterious leather pouch or its contents.