Buckle up for a fast-paced ride of military confrontation, cloak and dagger subterfuge, and assassination attempts. A contemporary scenario where fact and fiction collide. Jackals of Samarra was written in the period immediately preceding the Gulf War. It was just as contemporary then as it is now, as borne out by today's headlines of naval vessels falling victim to terrorist bombs. The Gulf region is a perpetual cauldron, ready to boil over at a moment's notice. The book sets up shop here and uses a scenario of fact and fiction that wends its way back and forth from the Middle East to the West.

Jackals Of Samarra
by Benjamin Roberts, 2006

An Excerpt

Chapter 12

LIEUTENANT COLONEL SPURLOCK SAT STARING, mesmerized. She could not believe what she was witnessing. Across from her, in the passenger seat of the Kiowa helicopter, Outlaw looked just as shocked.

Earlier that morning they had left the make-shift camp with Barzhani and his men. Both she and Outlaw were above in the Kiowa, while he and a contingent of his fighters were on foot, visible below them and in radio contact. The were combing the hilly, desolate terrain, looking for any clues of Iraqi military presence.

Outlaw was the radio operator and look-out, in contact with Barzhani at the time he radioed they were at the place where his boy's body was found.

It was then Spurlock spotted the small caravan of olive green army trucks winding its way through the hills. Fortunately, the helicopter had not been seen because it wasn't at a high altitude. In search mode, whenever she came to a hill or any such obstruction, she extended the bulbous ET dome and let the electronic eyes peep at what was beyond view before venturing forward. That was how she saw the convoy.

Grabbing Outlaw's shoulder, she pointed it out. Instantly he cut through Barzhani's transmission and ordered him to take cover. The convoy was practically upon him.

Barzhani, probably distraught at the situation surrounding his son's death, wanted to set a trap and wipe out the convoy. However, Outlaw firmly ordered him to remain out of sight and let the convoy through so they could follow it. Reason reigned, and he unwillingly complied.

They did not have to follow the convoy for long. Safely ensconced in shadow on the lee side of a steep hill, its blades whispering quietly, the Kiowa was peering into a flat valley. They watched as the convoy came to a halt near the base of the towering mountains where they rose up from the clay-red valley floor.

Pressing a series of buttons, Spurlock zoomed in with the camera lenses as both she and Outlaw watched the onboard monitor. The driver of the lead truck got out and spoke into a walkie-talkie. A few seconds later three well-armed men emerged from the shadows into the sunlight and walked towards the convoy.

At first they did not see where the men had suddenly appeared from, and probably would have missed it had not the camera been zooming in. Behind the men, the monitor revealed what appeared to be a fluorescent-lighted cavernous background that seemed to get higher and higher. It was a metal door opening up like a home garage door, partially revealing some kind of military installation! Dumb-founded, they stared as the convoy snaked inside and disappeared from view.

Spurlock stabbed her finger at one of the men on the monitor who had come from the shadows. He had a mean, hard-looking face and wore a white bandage around his left forearm. "I'm not as bad at forensics as I think I am," she chuckled. "There's the man who Barzhani's son fought with."

They were expecting the door to close immediately, but for some reason it did not. Instead, a fighter plane emerged from the opening into the sunlight, slowly it trundled down the valley a short way, then stopped. Running up its engines, it rolled down the runway, ever-increasing speed, and disappeared quickly into the clouds. Then the door closed.

Neither Spurlock or Outlaw spoke immediately. Both were shocked by what they had seen.

It was Spurlock who spoke first. Looking around she asked, "Where is Barzhani?"

Outlaw pointed below them, and she saw them. They were a little to the left, not far away, crawling slowly forward towards the shadowy cliff face. Curious as to how the installation was protected, she hit a button marked `IR DETECTOR' to see if it was protected by an infrared system. The vicinity of the door showed nothing.

However, on the IR screen she saw something that made her hair stand on end. There was a red arc stretching across the screen. Immediately she stabbed a button that transferred the radio communication from Outlaw to herself. "Barzhani, don't move! Repeat, don't move!"

The radio crackled. "Barzhani here. What is it?"

"Don't you or your men move another inch. The whole hillside is ringed with infrared sensors. Another arm's length and the whole Iraqi army will be after you. Head back to camp. We want to look around a few more minutes, then we'll join you. This is no place to be. It's hot!"

Barzhani bristled, his voice crackling over the receiver. "No one tells me what to do, especially a wom-"

Outlaw punched the same button re-establishing radio control. His voice was calm and matter-of-fact as he cut in. "Barzhani this is your turf. But it is a bad place to be right now. You saw the fighter take off. The Iraqi army will defend this place to the death. You and your brave fighters would be wiped out if you try to take them on. We can call in a missile strike and make this place disappear, but before we do that we will return to camp and go over the details with you."

Barzhani did not respond, but Outlaw smiled as he watched the resistance fighters begin retreating. He returned radio communication to Spurlock, as she grinned shaking her head and got busy on the radio.

Raising the USS Fury somewhere in the Gulf, she identified herself by the assigned code-name, "Bonnie and Clyde." Outlaw thought this was funny. Who the hell thought up the operational and code names? It reminded him of the CIA.

They were expecting to hear from her, ordered by the Pentagon to leave a priority channel open in case she made contact. She was a bit surprised by this, but Outlaw was not. He grinned. Jack Lazslo was to be commended for being a mover and a shaker. He could see his hand in things. Hell, he probably even picked the code name.

Spurlock inquired as to whether or not they could get a fix on her radio transmission. The ship's captain informed her that they had her pin-pointed to within twenty-five yards. Could they destroy her? He assured her that if she were to keep transmitting they were capable of obliterating her with a direct Tomahawk cruise missile strike by homing in on the radio signals during the last seconds of flight. If she stopped transmission, but stayed in the same position, it would not be a direct hit, but it would be so close that she would be destroyed nonetheless. She joked that that was the reason she always tried to keep on the U.S. Navy's good side.

Finally, she explained to the captain what she had discovered and instructed him to log her exact location.

This was a special mission. Ordinarily, Spurlock would report to the Incirlik Airbase Commander, but she had received a direct order from Washington authorizing her to contact the U.S. Navyspecifically the USS Fury if anything turned up. She reminded the ship's commander of that fact, and he did not seem pleased. But there was nothing he could do about it. She suspected that the special procedures had to do with Outlaw.

Once he told her they had her position locked in, she attempted to explain the difficult terrain, informing him that the target was down in a valley and surrounded by high mountains.

There was a pause as the commander conferred with someone nearby for a few seconds-probably his Missile Specialist. When he came back on he asked if she could get pictures of the target itself, then if possible climb to about two hundred feet to get an overview of the immediate area. With these pictures, he said, the microchip in the head of the Tomahawk would make sure Iraq would be less one airbase.

Spurlock thanked him and ended the transmission. The whole thing had been scrambled, so anyone trying to listen would have heard a bunch of gibberish. Also during transmission, the channels automatically changed every five seconds, both from the Kiowa and on the cruiser. This way no one could get a fix on the origin of the radio message-no one except the Fury.

Zooming in on the cliff face, she commenced taking a series of photos of the location. Then she panned the valley itself, getting some good pictures of the area. Before lifting effortlessly and turning away from the scene below to head back in the direction from which she had come, Spurlock climbed to two hundred feet, heading a little south of the target, and commenced flying in a circular pattern. Off to the right, she could see Barzhani and his group about to disappear from view around the side of a low hill.

Deciding she had gotten as many photos as she would need, she was pulling the Kiowa into a climb, intent on heading back to the camp high in the mountains, when it happened. Instinctively she veered to the left, barely avoiding a mid-air collision with a Mil-24 Hind!

She was shocked, practically staring straight into the eyes of the Hind pilot. His face registered total consternation. Her blood ran cold, and she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as the Hind veered sideways to avoid the collision. As it did so, she saw its underbelly loaded with weapons it was ready for action.

In spite of extensive training, nothing had prepared her for this encounter. She had seen photos of the awesome chopper, had seen it in action on film and had even battled against it in the chopper school simulator. But the real thing was thoroughly intimidating. The chopper looked larger than life-like an airborne M-1 army tank, she thought.

The pilot was recovering quickly, and the Hind was turning to bring its massive firepower to bear on the relatively fragile Kiowa.

Spurlock's mind raced. There was no way she could fight the monster-instead, she had to rely on her speed and agility to stay out of its gunsights. Make that agility alone. She could run further than the Hind because she had a longer range, but could not run faster.

The Kiowa was only able to deliver six hundred and fifty horses from its single turboshaft. The Hind, on the other hand, could pump out two thousand and thirty horsepower from its twin Isotov turboshafts.

Looking over at Outlaw, she noticed he appeared pretty calm. "This is where the shit hits the fan!" she tried to sound casual, but her voice trembled slightly. "We cannot stand and fight that monster. Our best bet is to stay out of its gunsights and avoid becoming obliterated." She pointed at a gray button. "Whenever you hear the sound of a door chime, that means the Hind has radar lock on us and is about to blow us out of the sky. As soon as you hear that sound, press this gray button. It just might keep us alive. Well, here they come. Now we get to see if this bird can do in battle what the manuals and instructors have claimed it can do. Get ready for a rough ride!" Spurlock shouted as she took the Kiowa down to ground level and went to full power.

Hugging the ground, the nimble helicopter raced across the hilltops with the Hind right behind.

Barzhani swore under his breath as they raced by. He had made a serious blunder-he forgot to inform them that whenever there was a convoy, a Hind was usually right behind. So engrossed in what they had discovered in the valley, and at the same time so taken up by the prospect of avenging Idris's death that he forgot all about the Hind. It looked like a sparrow being chased by a falcon crossed with an irate bear. He prayed they would be all right as the Hind's twin-barreled machine gun began chattering, trying to rip the smaller helicopter to shreds.

Spurlock was covering ground fast, but the small puffs of dust kicked up below and to the side from the machine gun bullets told her that the hunter was right behind. She weaved left and then right, disrupting the gunner's aim and keeping out of his crosshairs. The ground appeared to be racing by at breakneck speed.

Topping a craggy peak, Spurlock was relieved to see a dimly lit canyon stretching in front of her. Without hesitation she dove into it, sinking halfway to the floor and wondering if the Hind was having difficulty giving chase. Small stone fragments splattering against the windshield and sides of her bird-churned up by the Hind's twin-barreled machine gun as it sprayed bullets across the whole canyon-told her that her enemy was doing just fine.

Suddenly the doorbell chime sounded, and she yanked up steeply. A loud explosion sounded as a radar-guided missile from the Hind exploded in the chaff cloud produced when Outlaw pressed the button as instructed. It seemed to be right underneath the belly of the Kiowa, and it threw the smaller chopper upward and sideways.

Quickly, Spurlock regained control, pointing the nose deeper into the canyon, which got narrower as it got deeper. She was trying to make life as difficult as possible for the Hind. Since it was a bigger craft, it should have a more difficult time maneuvering in the narrower space.

Glancing sideways at Outlaw, he looked bored-as if he were at home sitting on his sofa watching TV. His demeanor seemed downright inappropriate in such a life-and-death situation. The man seemed to have ice running through his veins!

At that instant she had a totally off-the-wall thought. Would he be so calm and cool if he were in bed and two women were tagging up on him? She shook her head in surprise and confusion, clearing the wacky thought from her mind.

As the Kiowa rushed along, she noticed a steep wall ahead looming larger. Her mind flashed back. This was more like it! It was about tactics and survival. She was in class, and the instructor was explaining the weakness of the Hind. A bullet pinged on the body of the Kiowa. Good! That meant the Hind was right behind. It also meant that, being so close, she was blocking the pilot's clear view of the fast approaching wall.

Increasing speed even more, at the last instant she yanked the column straight up. The Kiowa, being agile and very responsive, adjusted beautifully, clawing its way upward and over the sheer wall.

With the Kiowa out of his view, the pilot of the Hind saw the wall rushing towards him-and panicked. Trying to do exactly what the Kiowa had done, he jerked the huge helicopter up into a steep climb. It was a fatal mistake.

Because of its large size, it was not designed to withstand abrupt directional changes. The G-force caused by the maneuver caused the large rotor blades to flex and slice into the tail boom, instantly shearing it off. The bird spun crazily out of control, like a dying top, and slammed into the wall where it exploded into a ball of fire and disintegrating metal.

Spurlock pulled the Kiowa straight up and over onto its back, then brought it around and hovered as both she and Outlaw watched the Hind crash and tear itself apart.

It was strictly textbook. She could almost hear her trainer drumming into her brain this ideal tactic for beating the monstrous Hind. Plus, she had recorded the whole thing. It would be grade-A material and should make the U.S. Air Force very happy. This was the first instance she knew of where a Kiowa tangled with a Hind.

Feeling pretty good, Spurlock looked over at Outlaw. He was staring straight ahead, appearing nonchalant and unimpressed. She knew it was not logical, but found his demeanor very unsettling and thoroughly annoying. She should be happy that her passenger was calm, rather than frantic under fire, for it made her job easier. But for some reason that was not the case. His nonchalant attitude got under her skin. It was as if she was a child and he was the unimpressed father saying, "Okay, so you rode well on your bicycle.

Now let's take off the training wheels and see how you do."

It seemed silly and trivial, but his attitude gnawed at her. She pulled the Kiowa upward and thundered out of the poorly-lit canyon. Clearing the lip of the steep canyon wall and into bright sunlight, she almost flew headlong into a second hovering Hind. Again, she

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