Blind Eyes, Black Hearts - A GWOT Story (On Hold)

Chapter 3, Part 2 - Camp Bastion

At 1200 Hours Rodent and other team leaders of TF 105 went over to Major-General Roberts’ Room, which was located in a declared ‘Black’ building- an area that is restricted for people in the Task Force and certain supporting intelligence agencies. They all sat in his room, which has been neatly set with seats, a slide projector and a white screen.

Rodent came into the room with Chief, who was also summoned to the occasion. They took their seats and sat down, as the 12 commanders, that included the leaders of ground units, air units, and intelligence units, looked at the white screen as the lights went off and the PowerPoint presentation began. We’re in a middle of a war and still- a fucking PowerPoint Presentation. But somehow Rodent agreed on PowerPoint Presentations like this; there was no other way to give detailed information easily and as colorful as this. So he sat back and watched, as Major-General Roberts, once a Special Forces Colonel, entered the room and introduced himself.

He was a tall man with a thin build, similar to one of those Nazi Generals in the movies that were cold as hell and could kill people only by looking at them. A cold, deadly stare- everyone noticed his staunch appearance entering the room, so the entire room went up from their seats and stood at attention. The general walked by quickly towards the side of the white screen that was now showing the text ‘FREEZE’ on the top right corner, meaning that the projector was in a state of freeze and was supposed to not transmit any pictures from the computer where the PowerPoint Presentation was.

“At ease, gentlemen.” Like all the men there, he wore his camouflage battledress. He was American, so naturally he was obliged to wear his gray ACUs. Wearing his black beret, he began to brief the bearded and hairy troops of Task Force 105.

Rodent and Chief were looking at the Presentation, that was operated by an Intelligence Lieutenant on the laptop in which the projector was connected to.

“Remember Abdul Razak and Omar Ataf?” Two pictures of the two people who perpetrated the attack three years ago, and planned to release many more in an international scale, appeared. “They escaped. Turns out AQ’s got an inside man in even CIA Black Sites, so you be careful on your left and right. Company’s getting real shitty now, and AQ could be practically everywhere.”

“Everywhere.” He repeated as he looked at the 2 ranks of camouflage-wearing sitting men.

“Any questions?”

“Sir,” Rodent lifted an arm. “They gonna start another WMD program?”

“I was just about to explain that, captain.” He pressed a button on the remote that controlled the presentation. A new picture emerged, showing what seems to be a large supply of bombs- possibly chemical – stored in a sandstone house in a village somewhere. It had a sideways triangle that meant that the video was not played yet. Roberts pressed another button, and the picture moved and the video started.

“This is a recording from a unit of Recon Marines patrolling in Southern Kandahar. After a pretty big firefight they found a warehouse AQ were defending pretty badly.”

The video continued. It was recorded via helmet cam- a cylindrical camera attached to a side of the helmet that could record hour-long videos and combat footage. The marines, along with the man who recorded (who was a marine as well), were stacking up on the house’s entrance, rifle butts on their shoulders. “Go! Go!” A marine shouted, and another opened the door while the others, with their guns pointing forward, poured in to take down anybody – or anything – that was inside. The house, not more than 8 feet tall and a seemingly simple and humble settlement, turned out to be something very different. The marines checked every single room.

As they checked the house, the man who recorded asked the commander. “El-Tee, why the hell are we still here?” His voice was very thick, but not thick enough to be like an Afro-American.

“Just keep searching. Twenty insurgents guarding a house in the middle of a mountain isn’t something you see everyday.” the lieutenant replied.

The house was dark but the HD Quality camera the recorder used had a flashlight and so he turned it on, causing most things to be illuminated and visible to the audience.

After a moment of lifting carpets and opening cabinets, suddenly one of the marines called the others. “Morales! El-Tee! Knox!” The marine’s voice was southern, and when he popped out of the room he was examining, his face was rather pale. The marine could be seen carrying an Mk.16 Carbine (or SCAR-L more popularly) fitted with multiple attachments; a front grip, lasers, a hybrid scope utilizing both an ACOG and an EoTech holographic sight, along with an extended rifle butt that he locked to his shoulder as he searched the house- Marines. Rodent thought. Marines tend to be too proud of themselves, but they deserved that. They were, among the greatest warriors of their time.

“You got something, Winters?” The lieutenant went over and asked. He looked staunch and robust as marines should be.

“I got something. This is fucked up, sir, I swear.” The southerner said. He was the team medic, stating from the square backpack he was carrying.

“Knox, cover the doors.” The lieutenant said to an unseen member of the team, and he followed Winters, along with Morales the helmet cameraman down into a hidden passage of stairs that led to a hidden basement.

Trailing down the stairs in a relatively relaxed state, the three were surprised on what they saw under that humble-seeming house. There were crates. Crates of ammunition, illegal AKs, MP5s, M16s, RPGs, WWII-era bombs, mortar shells for IEDs; but that wasn’t the thing that surprised them. What wasn’t normal was an installment of corrosive-marked weapons at the end of the room. Through Morales’ helmet cam, the audience in Camp Bastion could see the to-be-terrors stashed within that dim basement.

Mortar rounds and artillery shells marked with corrosive stamps were stashed within a large ammunition box at the end of the room. Gas bombs.

Roberts paused the video.

“And you know what that is.” The general said to the surprised audience. “Our operation three years ago didn’t seem to stop WMDs going into Afghanistan. We’ve traced these weapons to a village in Northern Kandahar called Al-Anwari”

“And you, are gonna get relocated there.”

***