The Road to Jahra

By Steven Robert Alexander

Jake Dustin, a British Captain has proudly served Queen and country for 10 years when he runs afoul of politics. Forced to leave the Army, Jake become a fugitive from the Iraqi government. Join Jake as his travels take him throughout Iraq, where convoy ambushes, rockets, and mortars are the norm. Join him on what could be his last journey on the Road to Jahra.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven Robert Alexander
• Release date: Aug 8, 2013
• ISBN: 9781628478792

Steven Robert Alexander

Steven Robert Alexander, Lieutenant Colonel (Retired) U.S. Army has been writing stories and books all of his life. His creativity and imagination allow him to write on all subject matters from ghost stories, military adventure romances, children’s stories, high school sports, and romance stories.Steve served 28 years in the U.S. Army, partly active duty, Reserve and National Guard. He served two tours in the Middle East. In 2004 while serving as a Senior Advisor to an Iraqi Division Command he was awarded the Purple Heart for wounds sustained in a vehicle borne improvised explosive device, VBIED, a suicide bomber in a water tanker filled with explosives, detonated himself in close proximity. Steve has also been awarded the Combat Action Badge. He served a follow on tour late in his career in Kuwait, serving as an Operations Officer. He also served tours in Panama, Japan and Slovenia, sites that will be included in future novels.Steve is also an accomplished broadcaster, having hosted national radio shows on Cable Radio Network out of Los Angeles. He is an experienced talk show host and oldies music show host, most well known for the Major Ripster and the "B Team" Show that ran from 1999-2001. After 911, Steve volunteered for active duty and Iraq and spent the next ten years on active duty until his May 2011 retirement.Steve is an American Civil War and Ancient Greece historian, an Eagle Scout and high school football coach. He lives in Colorado and has five Grandchildren. He enjoys throwing theme parties, songwriting, and acting.

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Chapter 1

UK Headquarters, Basra, Iraq

May 2006, Military Courtroom 2

The prosecutor started the proceedings with a very direct question.

Captain Sutcliff, you were with Captain Dustin the night of the incident, be so kind as to describe for us in detail what you saw.

First off the terrorists we took out that night had just gotten finished directing a load of rocket fire into our base, costing us three good men. Captain Sutcliff, like most of Captain Dustin’s fellow soldiers, was disgusted and dismayed that the British officer had been charged with war crimes against civilians.

Captain Sutcliff, please refrain from expressing opinions. The prosecutor hated the position he was in as well. If not for the seven thope-clothed individuals wearing shemas, he would have already found a way to drop the charges.

This is crock, if not for those people over there, he paused and pointed directly at the Iraqi Minister of the Interior and his aides, this farce would not be happening. The battle-hardened Captain Sutcliff was in no mood to mince words.

A group of Captain Dustin’s soldiers cheered their agreement, which caused the military judge to slam down his gavel.

There will be order in this courtroom, or all distracters, regardless of rank, will be removed! The judge was as frustrated as the rest of the military personnel, but decorum had to be maintained. The judge looked at Captain Sutcliff, Captain, be so good as to tell the court what happened, without any further excursions.

"Alright, then. The insurgents helped launch rockets into our base. We had eye witnesses describe the two vehicles leaving the launch area which was 2300 meters from our base. The vehicles headed south on the Main Supply Route, or Em Ess Ahr between Basra and Um Qsar. Captain Dustin and I were positioned 15 kilometers down that road just north of Um Qsar with a mechanized infantry platoon of the 15th Northumberland Fusiliers. Captain Dustin had already ordered one of the squads to close down the road 7 kilometers north of our position, at a natural choke point. The SUV filled with insurgents and a Mercedes sedan smashed past our hastily constructed road block without pause and then increased their speed, to at least 150 kilometers per hour. After receiving the report that the two vehicles had overran the checkpoint and were speeding toward us, Captain Dustin directed the deployment of spike strips. Our position was fully lit by vehicle headlights and there is every indication that we were fully visible. We were obviously observed from the fleeing vehicles as one of the bounders leaned out of the passenger side of the SUV and immediately began firing an assault rifle at us. On closer inspection, it was found to be an AK-47 of Iranian manufacture.

Captain Sutcliff, you’re making judgments here, just the facts. The prosecuting attorney, who was a Major, was trying to appease the Iraqis who were present.

The Captain elected to frame his response in unimpeachable detail, choosing his words with icy precision and resorting to the verbal fine art of British Understatement to make his point.

Very well, Sir. They opened fire upon us and, consistent with the rules of engagement, we returned a volume of accurate fire that can rightly be expected from Her Majesty’s Fusiliers. Moments later, the lead vehicle hit the spike strips, immediately flattening the front two tires. Although its speed dropped precipitously, the vehicle nonetheless slid another 40 meters or so. Two of the ‘occupants’ (he yearned to say bastards, but it would not have been proper) were ejected through the windshield, and were later found to have expired from rifle fire. The other two ‘occupants’, were in the back seat and were trapped inside when the vehicle suddenly burst into flames. The intensity of this unusually intense conflagration totally consumed their bodies, leaving only a few smoldering fragments. The Captain thought that the Major would be hard pressed to take exception with that crisp narrative.

Did you try to put out the fire? The prosecutor already knew the answer, but he was playing to an audience – as he had been directed.

"We couldn’t locate any extinguisher right away and by the time we brought one up from the platoon vehicles, the occupants were rather well done. Captain Sutcliff was being as graphic as he could to send the message to the Minister of the Interior and anybody who didn’t think that factions of the Iraqi government weren’t in cahoots with the Al Qaeda and the insurgents.

What about the second vehicle? The prosecutor paused, What happened with them?

Consistent with the Rules of Engagement, we put as many bullets as we could into the windshield and aimed for the tires and engine. Captain Sutcliff smiled, They might have survived had they slowed down, but we saw no sign of that. We shot the crap out of them and damned if the driver didn’t try to swerve and he rolled his car too. Captain Sutcliff was letting all his rage out. I guess none of these people believe in seatbelts, we gathered up the pieces except for what the 3 dogs got and bagged them, anybody see any fat dogs down by the MSR, let me know. He smirked as he made this comment. God, it stunk.

The Iraqi minister couldn’t understand English but his interpreter was doing his job well. The minister rose to his feet and started shaking his index figure at the judge and the witness on the stand. The interpreter couldn’t keep up with the statements being made by the minister. The courtroom was filled with yelling for 20 seconds.

The judge banged his gavel again, Order in the Court. He pointed to the interpreter and told him to tell the Minister to sit down. The minister upon hearing this ordered his followers to leave the courtroom with him. The Iraqi Minister of the Interior and his followers left the courtroom.

The judge smiled as the door closed behind the Iraqi and his followers.

Let’s wrap this up. Captain Sutcliff, well done, now go sit down, you’re dismissed. Captain Dustin, here is what we can offer you, first come sit in the witness chair, raise your hand and say yes. Now the Iraqis are going to have to get something out of this; I mean your actions did kill the Minister’s son.

Sir, your Honor, he had it coming. I wish there would have been more passengers. Captain Dustin spoke matter-of-factly.

Agreed, how’s this, we dismiss you from the army, Honorable Discharge, you’re a civilian in 30 minutes. The judge was hoping Jake would take the offer.

Sir, I’ve served the Queen and the Homeland with honor, I’ve never done anything wrong, can’t you just reassign me back home or to Afghanistan? Jake knew he was asking for something the judge couldn’t give him but he thought it worth the trouble to ask.

Captain Dustin, I would if I could, what the hell, we’ll assign you to the reserves, take you off of active duty, but you keep your ID card.

At that moment there was a ruckus at the courtroom door. The Iraqi Minister came back in with three of his security team. Royal Marines, who had courtroom security, stepped in front of the Iraqi security team. One of the Iraqi security team members moved forward to challenge a Marine guard. In a moment, he was on the floor and his rifle was in the hand of the Marine.

The judge made a quick assessment, The Court finds Captain Dustin innocent but as a matter of international relations, relieves Captain Dustin of all military duty, he is out of the Army immediately, time served will be his sentence. Court adjourned.

The Iraqi interpreter explained this to the Minister who began protesting in a loud threatening voice.

The judge looked at the interpreter, What’s he saying?

The interpreter began yelling, This is unacceptable!

The British Colonel stared at the Minister and his interpreter, You tell him, so is half the government that he represents. The British military judge looked to the Court Sergeant of Arms. I’ll bet I’m gone in 48 hours. He laughed, and then for a second, his mind drifted back to his home on the Isle of Wight.

Royal Marines grabbed Jake and took him through a side door to a private room. Jake knew he would be set free, but wondered what would happen next.

The judge left the courtroom and made his way to the private room where Jake was being held by the Royal Marines.

Captain, I got about 10 minutes till the crap hits the fan. You need to disappear fast. We will do all the orders crap, but consider yourself on indefinite leave. Go back to Manchester; actually forget that, that’s the first place they’ll look. You are a fugitive, go to Africa or stay here in the Middle East underground, but get out of Basra fast. In fact, we already have a plan for that. The British Colonel looked at his senior Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO), the Regimental Sergeant-Major, who gave a small nod in return.

Sir, is this all there is? I mean, am I still in the British Army? Jake’s head was whirling.

Not like you think. You need to go away, grow your hair and a beard, and whatever you do, don’t contact us. If we need to get with you, we’ll send a message to your home of record. I’ll see if we can keep you on the payroll somehow as long as it can’t be traced, I expect we can get away with that. The judge scratched his head, Turn him loose. Sergeant where are the clothes I ordered?

A sergeant raised a bag. In it was a pair of khaki pants, a khaki shirt and a baseball cap.

Start getting dressed now Captain, I mean Mister. The judge looked at another NCO, You got the transportation?

Sir, it’s ready when he is. The Sergeant Major handed Jake an open envelope, it had $3000 in US currency.

Dustin, these guys will get you out of the country. You think where you want to go and tell them quick. Listen, I probably have 24 hours here until they come and get me. Good luck, now get the hell out of here. The judge offered his hand and Jake shook it. The Sergeant Major and the other men had all changed into civilian attire and went out another side door to the two waiting black SUVs. They hustled Jake in and the two vehicles headed south.

The judge was wrong. His superiors had him apprehended in three hours. The orders were cut and executed in seven hours. He was home in his bungalow on the Isle of Wight in seven days, enjoying his early retirement.

Where are we going? Jake had a million things going through his head. He had been advised that his personal gear would be packed and secured for later delivery. His military equipment would be turned in by one of his fellow officers. One of the other NCOs made a point to forget to retrieve his pistol and holster.

Kuwait. We are going to hide you at Camp Arifjan for a few days and see what the Iraqis will do. You’re already on every airport alert list, so we’re not doing any flying for days, maybe more. Have you ever been to Camp Arifjan? The discussion was as much a briefing as it was conversational.

Don’t believe I have, I’ve been to Ali Al Salim airfield a few times, but not Arifjan. Jake was trying to take it all in.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Chapter 2

Camp Arifjan

The two British vehicles crossed into Kuwait on a back road that ran south out of Um Qsar. The sun had set as the Brit convoy made its way through Kuwait City. The civilian vehicles crossed through the Entry Control Point (ECP) into Camp Arifjan. Jake was always observant and noticed that it was civilians who were guarding all the gates. He saw the civilian uniformed clad guards checking vehicles for explosives, bombs and whatever else the insurgents would like to get on base. He was not surprised that military vehicles were screened and inspected as well.

This Arifjan is different, no military guards at the gates, what’s with that?

They put military on duty somewhat, but it’s mostly civilians from various contractors. I don’t think that they make much money. The real money is in security at bases up north. Kuwait is like a tour in south Texas in America, just hot but no danger. The Sergeant Major kept talking, Alright, we’re about to go through an inspection lane. I need ID’s from everybody.

What about me?"

Do you still have it?

Yeah.

I guess we forgot to get it earlier, remind me later. The Sergeant Major laughed. He gathered the IDs and passed them to the gate guard. The young guard looked at all the cards and them matched up the faces while other guards checked under the hood and the car body by using mirrors mounted on poles about the length of any garden tool used for digging or raking. The inspection was completed and the vehicles pulled onto the base. They moved to the billeting area used by the U.S. senior and field grade officers. The vehicles stopped and one of the enlisted Royal Marines ran into a building. He came out a couple of minutes later and got back into the vehicle.

Got the keys, he’ll be staying in K Barracks. The young sergeant handed Jake the envelope with the key, Sir, you’ll like it just fine, private shower and a fridge in your room as well. There may even be a TV set. The sergeant was doing a great job selling the room.

How long will I be staying here? Jake wasn’t sure that anybody really had an answer.

Depends on what the Iraqis do, they’re going to raise holy hell when they find out we got you out of Iraq, and I expect they’ll be demanding you be returned to be tried by the locals. That ain’t going to happen. The Sergeant Major’s attitude and the attitude of everybody who had been part of the court martial circus had greatly impressed Jake. He knew his country had his back and were taking care of him.

The two vehicles stopped at a remote building that was away from the barracks. Usually there were a couple hundred soldiers remaining overnight. The sergeant major, the young sergeant and Jake exited the vehicle and they went into what looked like a duplex. The area was small but looked like a 5 star hotel compared to the living conditions at Camp Basra.

This will do great. Jake laughed, Really can I just stay here for a month or two?

Don’t laugh, it might be that long. Now listen, in this envelope is a pass that will get you into the dining facility, there’s also a pass for the gym and other Post Exchange (PX) facilities they have here. This is from the General, do not, absolutely, do not contact anybody over in the British area. You need to protect their interests. There will be no catching up with old friends or drawing any attention to yourself - keep a very low profile instead. We would prefer it if you stayed in your room here but we know that’s not practical. Just know Mister Dustin, and I do mean Mister, that a lot of people have put themselves in considerable peril by being a part of this. We all know you did the right thing and the son of the minister deserved what he got, the little craphead. Stay here, lay low, we’ll be in touch with you.

Thanks Sergeant Major and all of you guys. I won’t draw any attention, I promise, can I use my laptop computer here, go online?

No, I would say unless there is absolutely no way that the opposing forces and I mean the enemy as well as the friendly enemy can determine it's you.

I won’t use any military sites. No one will be able to determine who I am.

OK, but give me your email name and I may even need your password.

Do I have to go that far?

Sorry, we do have to go that far to protect you and our country.

Alright. Jake wrote the information on a piece of paper and gave it to the sergeant major.

Good luck Mr. Dustin, we’ll advise you when you can get out of here.

Thanks again. Jake waved as the Royal Marines departed and he closed the door behind him.

Jake was pleased to find soft drinks and some recently stocked frozen food in the freezer part of the refrigerator. He dumped out the helmet bag that one of the Brits had gathered from his holding cell. He had a razor, his toothbrush, toothpaste and other toiletries. He was happy to have a couple of pair of briefs, socks and a change of clothes. He sat down at the small desk and began setting up his laptop computer. He could tell that Colonels and higher ranks stayed in these rooms, so he knew that the room would be hooked up for wireless internet.

As he was signing on, there was a knock on the door. Jake was sure there was no way that his position had already been compromised but pulled his pistol out of his shoulder holster. He went quietly to the door.

Sir, Mr. Dustin, we forgot to give you this when we dropped you off.

Jake, slowly opened the door part way. The first thing the Royal Marine saw was the barrel of Jake’s pistol pointing directly at his gut.

Sir, I’m alone, here’s a bag of gear for you. The sergeant’s voice reached a high pitched sound.

Jake was sure that the sergeant was alone, not being manipulated by having someone’s pistol in his back. Jake opened the door and the sergeant handed the bag to Jake.

Hey, sergeant, sorry about that, but you know the drill. You come to my door and there are weapons pointed at you. I just had to be safe.

Damn sir, what do you mean? The young sergeant was about to learn a lesson.

"Six months ago, we have this LN (local national Iraqi) who did some of the janitorial work. We’ve known him for weeks, he comes to our headquarters as he always did, but this time, he was acting strange. His thope, or man-dress, was not sitting properly on him; it was snagged on something around his waist, low chest area. Fortunately, I saw it and slammed the door in his face about the time the trigger man sent the cell phone signal. I didn’t get hit but two friends, who were standing behind him, did and the poor local, well it took a week and three coats of paint to cover him up. We later found that insurgents had captured his family and told him that they would only live if he blew himself up and killed as many of us as possible. They killed the family anyway and said we did it."

God, sir.

Sergeant, what’s your name, and don’t give the formal thing, what does your mom call you?

Bobby, sir.

Bobby you be real careful up there, sleep under a solid roof if you can, and be careful of all strangers and people you know that start acting different. I see you got a ring so that tells me you have a young wife waiting for you.

Yes sir and an eleven month old baby boy, Eric.

Bobby, you do everything right, take no chances, pray hard and get home, that’s an order.

I will Sir, thanks. The sergeant saluted Jake who returned the gesture, Get going.

The sergeant left but turned and thanked Jake once more for his gesture and wishes.

Jake looked in the bag. It was full of civilian clothes, underwear, socks and some writing materials, pads and pencils.

It wasn’t until the 6th day that Jake had any contact from the outside. He returned from a late night