Desert Operations by Fulinn28

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Story Notes: Life in the Military 03: Season: None

Content Warnings: None

Spoilers: None

Status: This story is complete

Challenge: None

Sequel / Series: Part 3 of "Life in the Military"

Copyright: (c) 2004 bonnie rose

Authors Notes: All feedback and suggestions welcome and will be answered. my muse has many more stories in store for us. Thank you to my beta's Su Freund and Carolyn Faulkner, the best betas an author could ask for! This story is so much better for their efforts and suggestions. All remaining errors are mine and mine alone.

Desert Operations

I arrived in Iraq at 11:14 local time. Looking around the air terminal, I noticed the lack of activity in the immediate area. I knew from my previous visits to desert environs that activity is generally scheduled in early /mid morning, with a break from 1100-1500, with action resuming during the afternoon and evening hours. I shouldered my pack, bedroll and briefcase and headed towards the arrivals desk. The sergeant there directed me across the compound to the operational command tent.

Once inside, the stench of insect repellant, sweat and coffee rolled over my senses, bring back vivid memories of other operations such as this. I found the General in charge and approached. Waiting for him to acknowledge me, I said "Sir, O'Neill Jonathon Colonel, USAF Special Operations Team, reporting as ordered, Sir!" I held my salute until the General's answering salute released me.

General Tyler studied me for a moment, "Your name's familiar, Colonel, why would I know you?"

I met his gaze. "I was here in '91 running Special Ops missions, behind the lines." I hoped this would be enough information to satisfy him.

"Fine, see my aide for billeting information, familiarize yourself with the area and report here 0600 to meet your team and receive your orders," instructed the General, his attention already turning to other matters.

I snapped off a salute "Yes, Sir!" executed a perfect about face, and went in search of the man in the know. In the military it's the lower ranks that keep everything moving smoothly and it was no different here. The General's aide provided me with directions to a tent that, for tonight, I'd have to myself, but would soon be sharing with my team. Also, I was handed a stack of paperwork to read through in preparation for tomorrow morning's briefing.

I wondered across the compound, heading for my assigned living quarters, when movement caught my eye. I stopped walking; the movement ceased. I took a couple of steps; more movement out of the corner of my eye. A couple of fast steps, walking backwards, and I could see them; six large spiders following my every move. It's a very eerie feeling, being chased by four-inch spider like creatures. The camel spider is not really a spider but a solifugids - kind of a cross between a spider and a scorpion. I tried to remind myself that, like most creatures, they prefer to hide from me, rather than attack me. Hard to remember when you are being chased by one (or more) of them!!

I watched them follow me as I continued walking backwards. They are very fast - capable of traveling up to 10 mph when hunting for prey - however, in this case, they were simply following my shadow. As I moved, so followed my shadow, giving the spider camel the appearance of chasing after me.

Finally arriving at my quarters I set my gear down on the cot, grateful that I didn't have to sleep on the ground tonight. The room had two sets of bunk beds, each with a single blanket and a roll of insect netting. I chose a lower bunk, dumping my gear on it. A table with four chairs completed the furnishings of my new home. "Oh well," I thought, "I won't be here long anyhow." I was planning on about two weeks to get acclimated to the desert environment, and form up the team; learning who they were, their experiences and weaknesses. Knowing your team weaknesses, in my opinion, is more important than their strengths. Being surprised by an unknown skill is cool, but an unknown weakness can deadly.

First order of business was to find the small rest and recreation area. I was looking for a computer to send Sam an e-mail. I asked the first airman I came across and was directed towards the mess tent. Just past it was the R & R tent and an empty terminal just waiting for me. I brought up outlook and opened a new e-mail form.

For a while I just sat looking at the empty page. I missed my family so much, it was a physical pain. Soldiers in the field are kept constantly busy to avoid just this problem. Too much free time allows a man to dwell on all the things he's missing out on, all he left behind, and he soon finds he is unable to accomplish his mission. I shook my head and wrote off a quick note telling her I'd arrived safely and missed her and the boys terribly. After sending my note off to Sam and the boys, one followed for Daniel, Janet and Cassie and Gen. Hammond; begging each of them to remember to write me and send through care packages to help keep up my moral.

I grabbed a snack from the mess hall and headed back to my tent to start reading up on the mission. I knew that the actual mission wouldn't be assigned to me until tomorrow. However, I'd been around long enough to know that all the information that would ever be available to me had already been given me, and was now sitting on my bed. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening reading through all the information given me by the General's aide. Eventually my eyes began to blur, and exhaustion caught up with me as I turned out the light and settled down to a couple of hours of sleep.

0600 ** Command Tent

I entered the tent, saluting the general, then looked around at the other personnel there. Here in the theater of operations, no dress uniforms were required, the only highlight I could think of at the moment. The briefing began and I found that this one was long on words and short on facts. We basically covered all of the same information that was in the papers I'd read last night. The major conducting this meeting had an impressive amount of slides, maps and figures to impart to us. We ended the briefing in time for lunch and, as I was preparing to leave, Colonel Thompson took me aside. "O'Neill? I thought you'd like to know your team has been assigned and are waiting for you in your quarters." I looked at him for a moment, knowing that he'd go far in this military as long as he didn't have to get dirty. "Thank you, I'll meet up with them."

I entered my quarters, noting that the two men and one woman rose quickly to their feet, saluting me. I returned the salute and gave my first order. "No saluting me. In the field this could be a critical mistake, giving away the man in charge to a watching enemy. To forestall any habits taking root, there will be no salutes." Each nodded to me. I quickly ran down my qualifications to run these types of missions. Then each of them stepped forward and introduced themselves to me. It was a small team, but then that's what I'm used to; three men or women and myself. The team was made up of a geek, he'd be running all the techno gizmo's the unit had; a demolitions and weapons expert, she'd be in charge of breaking us into or out of locations; and an interrogations expert, well versed in Arab culture and language. All of us spoke the native dialect Arabic and could converse quite readily if necessary.

Over the course of the next two weeks we spent all of our time going over the dos and don'ts of desert warfare. We would be working mostly within urban settings or small towns and villages. Towards the end of the second week of training we entered a local village dressed in Arab robes. This exercise was to help us feel at ease among the Arab population should we find it necessary to hide in plain sight. I found it very disconcerting to watch men in general, and uniformed soldiers in particular, walking down a street holding hands! However, I needed to remember that I was the stranger here, and among the locals this was perfectly normal and simply indicates that they are good friends with no sexual overtones.

I sat with my team in a small open-air café, enjoying the strong coffee, laughing as my youngest team member reached the end of his coffee to discover only what can be described as "sludge" coating the bottom of his cup. "Don't drink the sludge, you'll be sick for days." I cautioned him. I watched my team carefully passing each item around using our right hands, as the left is considered unclean. We finished our meal, being careful to leave the last bite of each item on our plates as a sign of a good meal. Thanking the owners profusely for his hospitality as we left.

Finally word came that a target had been identified for my team. We were to be ready to move into an area just outside of Tikrit as soon as possible. As my team loaded our gear into the hummer, I exited the command tent with our final orders. We had one prime mission objective: Capture Saddam Hussein, dead or alive.

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