PROLOGUE
"So we are a schizophrenic culture of sorts, a nation of amateurs that can almost magically transform itself into a culture of professional killers."
- Victor Davis Hanson
"The situation... in Central Asia is similar to that of all civilized states that come into contact with half-savage nomadic tribes without a firm social organization. In such cases, the interests... of security always require the more civilized state have a certain authority over its neighbors... The state must therefore make a choice: either to give up this continuous effort and doom its borders to constant unrest... or else to advance farther and farther into the heart of the savage lands... where the greatest difficulty lies in being able to stop."
-Chancellor Aleksandr Gorchakov
" We're Americans, and we'll never surrender. They will."
- John McCain
---
Outside Parachinar, Pakistan
December 2001
"We are not supposed to be here. So make every shot count."
Just a few hours ago, America had almost come away empty handed from Tora Bora. Now, watching the surviving Taliban escape across the border, the President and CIA had decided they would not squander any second chances. The Special Forces in the hills and mountains had met the enemy, but they were not theirs.
A column of slow moving Toyota trucks, braving the fierce mountain winter, had received the militants not far from the border. Once they were in Parachinar proper, they would be impossible to reach without even more severe diplomatic consequences. What was about to happen would be bad enough, acceptable only because of what victory might bring.
Nobody reached Parachinar that day.
.50 caliber rifles proved adequate for stopping the vehicles. Caught in the crossfire, the rest of the Americans advanced under cover to bring their full firepower to bear. Thousands upon thousands of tracer rounds riddled everything within the valley. Here there would be no air support, and they could move no faster than the enemy - everything worth engaging had to be stopped in the valley.
Now the teams were within range of personal arms and a proper firefight began, with the Americans leapfrogging through the remnants of the column. When the shooting finally began to quiet, the Americans began cataloguing their spoils. The caravan, at first, appeared unexceptional - truck beds of Islamist fighters and supplies. Then the video cameras were found. In the truck behind it, a dying man with an old Army-pattern woodland camouflage jacket and a AK-74SU. Some pair of classified American eyes traced its way up a long, blooded beard to meet his face, widening in surprise. The soldier took out camcorder and started taping, signalling to his comrades, with a smile of grim satisfaction. It was a macabre scene, but what little empathy for their enemies these men usually had could not have existed after what happened three months ago.
If they found some way to explain this, the American public would get an early surprise for Christmas.
"So we are a schizophrenic culture of sorts, a nation of amateurs that can almost magically transform itself into a culture of professional killers."
- Victor Davis Hanson
"The situation... in Central Asia is similar to that of all civilized states that come into contact with half-savage nomadic tribes without a firm social organization. In such cases, the interests... of security always require the more civilized state have a certain authority over its neighbors... The state must therefore make a choice: either to give up this continuous effort and doom its borders to constant unrest... or else to advance farther and farther into the heart of the savage lands... where the greatest difficulty lies in being able to stop."
-Chancellor Aleksandr Gorchakov
" We're Americans, and we'll never surrender. They will."
- John McCain
---
Outside Parachinar, Pakistan
December 2001
"We are not supposed to be here. So make every shot count."
Just a few hours ago, America had almost come away empty handed from Tora Bora. Now, watching the surviving Taliban escape across the border, the President and CIA had decided they would not squander any second chances. The Special Forces in the hills and mountains had met the enemy, but they were not theirs.
A column of slow moving Toyota trucks, braving the fierce mountain winter, had received the militants not far from the border. Once they were in Parachinar proper, they would be impossible to reach without even more severe diplomatic consequences. What was about to happen would be bad enough, acceptable only because of what victory might bring.
Nobody reached Parachinar that day.
.50 caliber rifles proved adequate for stopping the vehicles. Caught in the crossfire, the rest of the Americans advanced under cover to bring their full firepower to bear. Thousands upon thousands of tracer rounds riddled everything within the valley. Here there would be no air support, and they could move no faster than the enemy - everything worth engaging had to be stopped in the valley.
Now the teams were within range of personal arms and a proper firefight began, with the Americans leapfrogging through the remnants of the column. When the shooting finally began to quiet, the Americans began cataloguing their spoils. The caravan, at first, appeared unexceptional - truck beds of Islamist fighters and supplies. Then the video cameras were found. In the truck behind it, a dying man with an old Army-pattern woodland camouflage jacket and a AK-74SU. Some pair of classified American eyes traced its way up a long, blooded beard to meet his face, widening in surprise. The soldier took out camcorder and started taping, signalling to his comrades, with a smile of grim satisfaction. It was a macabre scene, but what little empathy for their enemies these men usually had could not have existed after what happened three months ago.
If they found some way to explain this, the American public would get an early surprise for Christmas.