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<blockquote data-quote="The Shaman" data-source="post: 2541080" data-attributes="member: 26473"><p>The stars to the east are dimmed by the approaching sunrise when Sgt. Yazid returns with his scouts. <span style="color: sienna">“They are continuing south, lieutenant, as surmised.”</span> the veteran <em>tirailleur</em> reports. <span style="color: sienna"> “They broke camp and deployed for a march – no patrols.”</span> Ahmed nods but says nothing as Yazid waits, imperturbable. Saleh shifts from foot to foot expectantly, like a small boy, unable to contain his nervous energy.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: sienna">“Sgt. Boupacha, you will lead the column along the <em>oued</em>. Get your men up and bring in your observation post. We move in ten minutes.”</span> Ahmed’s orders are clear once they come/ <span style="color: sienna">“Sgt. Yazid, your platoon will be second in line, and Sgt. Kaci, your men will be our rear guard.”</span> His gaze bores into Kaci’s watery eyes. <span style="color: sienna">“The security of the column will depend on you and your men, sergeant. See to it.”</span> Sgt. Kaci salutes, and excuses himself to ready his platoon. Saleh has gone as well, not waiting for additional instructions, perhaps mindful that Ahmed could change his mind.</p><p></p><p>Only Sgt. Yazid waits. <span style="color: sienna">“Sergeant, was there something else?”</span> Ahmed asks. The old soldier purses his lips slightly, as if carefully considering his choice of words. <span style="color: sienna">“Lieutenant, sir, traveling in the <em>oued</em> – we’ll be blind, sir. We’ll need scouts, on our flanks,”</span> he says at last, quietly, so that just the two men can hear.</p><p></p><p>Ahmed looks up the high walls of the wash. <span style="color: sienna">“We’ll check periodically, sergeant,”</span> he replies, <span style="color: sienna">“but I don’t want to risk men getting separated from the column or exposing themselves to observation.”</span> He looks veteran hard in the eye. <span style="color: sienna">“Surprise is our only opportunity, Yazid, as you know.”</span> <em>Attack with a sure blow</em>. <span style="color: sienna">“If we can set up an ambush, Saleh will lead the assault with Kaci in support – I will need you to prepare to cover our withdrawal. Our escape will depend on you, Yazid.”</span></p><p></p><p>The former <em>tirailleur</em> studies Ahmed for a moment, unabashedly, without regard for rank or responsibility. Another man might find the look insubordinate, but Ahmed stands quietly, his face blank. <span style="color: sienna">“Yes, sir,”</span> Yazid replies at last. The sergeant salutes, and turns on his heel, to see that his sections are ready to advance.</p><p></p><p>Ahmed looks up to the ribbon of sky above the <em>oued</em>. The shade will keep the men cooler during the long march, and make the <em>katiba</em> harder to find, and yet.... <em>Yazid is right, of course</em> he thinks. <em>We must cover this ground quickly.</em> Again he hears Mao’s words in his head. <em>Advance at a steady pace</em>.</p><p></p><p>The <em>moudjahiddine</em> rise from their hasty bivouac among the shrubs in the wash, shouldering their gear. There will be no coffee this morning, no halts for prayers – either there will be time to beseech forgiveness later, or there will be the gates of Paradise waiting. Ahmed readies his own equipment, shoulders his rifle. When Saleh reports that he’s deployed scouts ahead of the column and that the rest of the platoon is waiting, he orders the march.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center"> - / -</p><p></p><p>The day grows warm as the column snakes its way along <em>Oued Baraba</em>. The sandy and rocks alternately tug at the men’s feet or deflect them in odd directions. There is little conversation – a sense of expectancy hangs over the <em>moudjahiddine</em> and <em>moussebiline</em> as they march, and the weight of it seems to stifle even nervous conversation. Ahmed moves along the column, head to tail and back, checking with his sergeants, watching the men. Fatigue is settling in just behind his eyes, making his feet feel heavier and larger, but it is nothing like the weariness that settled in his bones like molten lead at Dien Bien Phu, so Ahmed simply opens his mouth and clears his ears, and forces himself to lift his feet a little higher as he walks.</p><p></p><p>Every twenty to thirty minutes, he orders one of the platoons to deploy scouts, to scramble up to the rim of the <em>oued</em> and peer out across the desert for signs of activity. Each time the report comes back negative. It is during the interval between scouting parties however, as the column marches past a bend in the wash, that first two, then three sets of eyes, camouflaged and practically invisible in a thicket on the rim overlooking the floor of the <em>oued</em>, see the <em>katiba</em> pass.</p><p></p><p>The ALN warriors continue toward El Aboidh, the legionnaires unnoticed in the scrub.</p><p></p><p>Ahmed marches near the head of the column for a time, with Saleh. <span style="color: sienna">“I’ve been talking with that one man from the village,”</span> Saleh informs his lieutenant. <span style="color: sienna">“I believe we can separate the paras and destroy them in detail if we stop the column as it climbs up the far side of the <em>oued</em>. There is a bend, he says, not sharp, but enough to force them to slow down on the steep bank. We’ll use grenades to take out the lead truck, then hit the trucks in the middle of the column at the bottom of the <em>oued</em> with the machine gun.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: sienna">“Assuming we actually reach the crossing before the paras,”</span> Ahmed replies, <span style="color: sienna">“and assuming they actually come that way to fall into our ambush.”</span></p><p></p><p>Saleh waves a hand impatiently. <span style="color: sienna">“We will, we will,”</span> he answers. <span style="color: sienna">“I have ten men, hand-picked, to move ahead of the column in a couple of hours, to scout the crossing and the approaches. A couple of them will move into El Abiodh as well, to make sure the garrison there hasn’t been strengthened.”</span> He glances at his wristwatch, a cheap Spanish timepiece on a worn leather strap. <span style="color: sienna">“The scouts will be deployed in about three hours, and should be in position an hour before we reach the crossing.”</span></p><p></p><p>Ahmed nods his head. <span style="color: sienna">“Will that give us enough time to withdraw if necessary?”</span> he asks. He looks closely at his friend, his face deadly serious. <span style="color: sienna">“We must be able to retreat undetected if we don’t achieve surprise, Saleh. This is not open for discussion.”</span></p><p></p><p><span style="color: sienna">“There will be enough time, but it will not come to that,”</span> Saleh replies, a hint of edginess in his voice. <span style="color: sienna">“Ahmed, you must not hesitate when the time comes, or we will be lost.”</span></p><p></p><p>There is no tone of rebuke in Saleh’s words, only a candid assessment of his commander and friend that nonetheless hits Ahmed hard. The lieutenant knew he was right, that Saleh’s fearlessness had saved their platoon from the viets on more than one occasion, that though he urged Saleh to be more temperate, it was perhaps Ahmed that erred too far on the side of caution. <em>If we are sure to win, fight to the end.</em></p><p></p><p>Along the eastern wall of the <em>oued</em> a gap appears, a slight ramp carved by a small streambed entering the wash from the desert above, to carry the infrequent rain. It would be easier for the scouts to access the rim from here, and with a tap on Saleh’s shoulder, Ahmed stops and allows himself to drift back through the column to Sgt. Kaci’s platoon, bringing up the rear of the <em>katiba</em>. He finds the sergeant, orders him to deploy scouts to the rim – <span style="color: sienna">“Send a runner to report to me with Sgt. Yazid’s platoon when you’re done here, sergeant,”</span> he orders, then turns and moves forward with the rest of the column.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">- / -</p><p></p><p>Sergeant Kaci receives the orders and motions to one of his section leaders, then to the rim of the <em>oued</em>. The section leader, an Arab from named Yusef from Äin Sefra, takes his small formation and clambers up the side of the wash. As they near the top of the wash, scampering between shrubs, there comes a noise, faint at first, then louder and clearly mechanical. Yusef raises his hand to cover his eyes as he searches for the source – his men, heedless of their surroundings, search for the source of the sound as well.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">- / -</p><p></p><p>Marching along the <em>oued</em>, Ahmed sees Abraham Sfez, the Jewish section leader at the head of his men. The lieutenant picks up his pace slightly to catch up to the veteran when the desert quiet is shattered by a cascade of rifle and machine pistol fire from the rear of the column. Ahmed’s head whips around as a cold hand suddenly grips his heart.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="The Shaman, post: 2541080, member: 26473"] The stars to the east are dimmed by the approaching sunrise when Sgt. Yazid returns with his scouts. [color=sienna]“They are continuing south, lieutenant, as surmised.”[/color] the veteran [i]tirailleur[/i] reports. [color=sienna] “They broke camp and deployed for a march – no patrols.”[/color] Ahmed nods but says nothing as Yazid waits, imperturbable. Saleh shifts from foot to foot expectantly, like a small boy, unable to contain his nervous energy. [color=sienna]“Sgt. Boupacha, you will lead the column along the [i]oued[/i]. Get your men up and bring in your observation post. We move in ten minutes.”[/color] Ahmed’s orders are clear once they come/ [color=sienna]“Sgt. Yazid, your platoon will be second in line, and Sgt. Kaci, your men will be our rear guard.”[/color] His gaze bores into Kaci’s watery eyes. [color=sienna]“The security of the column will depend on you and your men, sergeant. See to it.”[/color] Sgt. Kaci salutes, and excuses himself to ready his platoon. Saleh has gone as well, not waiting for additional instructions, perhaps mindful that Ahmed could change his mind. Only Sgt. Yazid waits. [color=sienna]“Sergeant, was there something else?”[/color] Ahmed asks. The old soldier purses his lips slightly, as if carefully considering his choice of words. [color=sienna]“Lieutenant, sir, traveling in the [i]oued[/i] – we’ll be blind, sir. We’ll need scouts, on our flanks,”[/color] he says at last, quietly, so that just the two men can hear. Ahmed looks up the high walls of the wash. [color=sienna]“We’ll check periodically, sergeant,”[/color] he replies, [color=sienna]“but I don’t want to risk men getting separated from the column or exposing themselves to observation.”[/color] He looks veteran hard in the eye. [color=sienna]“Surprise is our only opportunity, Yazid, as you know.”[/color] [i]Attack with a sure blow[/i]. [color=sienna]“If we can set up an ambush, Saleh will lead the assault with Kaci in support – I will need you to prepare to cover our withdrawal. Our escape will depend on you, Yazid.”[/color] The former [i]tirailleur[/i] studies Ahmed for a moment, unabashedly, without regard for rank or responsibility. Another man might find the look insubordinate, but Ahmed stands quietly, his face blank. [color=sienna]“Yes, sir,”[/color] Yazid replies at last. The sergeant salutes, and turns on his heel, to see that his sections are ready to advance. Ahmed looks up to the ribbon of sky above the [i]oued[/i]. The shade will keep the men cooler during the long march, and make the [i]katiba[/i] harder to find, and yet.... [i]Yazid is right, of course[/i] he thinks. [i]We must cover this ground quickly.[/i] Again he hears Mao’s words in his head. [i]Advance at a steady pace[/i]. The [i]moudjahiddine[/i] rise from their hasty bivouac among the shrubs in the wash, shouldering their gear. There will be no coffee this morning, no halts for prayers – either there will be time to beseech forgiveness later, or there will be the gates of Paradise waiting. Ahmed readies his own equipment, shoulders his rifle. When Saleh reports that he’s deployed scouts ahead of the column and that the rest of the platoon is waiting, he orders the march. [center] - / -[/center] The day grows warm as the column snakes its way along [i]Oued Baraba[/i]. The sandy and rocks alternately tug at the men’s feet or deflect them in odd directions. There is little conversation – a sense of expectancy hangs over the [i]moudjahiddine[/i] and [i]moussebiline[/i] as they march, and the weight of it seems to stifle even nervous conversation. Ahmed moves along the column, head to tail and back, checking with his sergeants, watching the men. Fatigue is settling in just behind his eyes, making his feet feel heavier and larger, but it is nothing like the weariness that settled in his bones like molten lead at Dien Bien Phu, so Ahmed simply opens his mouth and clears his ears, and forces himself to lift his feet a little higher as he walks. Every twenty to thirty minutes, he orders one of the platoons to deploy scouts, to scramble up to the rim of the [i]oued[/i] and peer out across the desert for signs of activity. Each time the report comes back negative. It is during the interval between scouting parties however, as the column marches past a bend in the wash, that first two, then three sets of eyes, camouflaged and practically invisible in a thicket on the rim overlooking the floor of the [i]oued[/i], see the [i]katiba[/i] pass. The ALN warriors continue toward El Aboidh, the legionnaires unnoticed in the scrub. Ahmed marches near the head of the column for a time, with Saleh. [color=sienna]“I’ve been talking with that one man from the village,”[/color] Saleh informs his lieutenant. [color=sienna]“I believe we can separate the paras and destroy them in detail if we stop the column as it climbs up the far side of the [i]oued[/i]. There is a bend, he says, not sharp, but enough to force them to slow down on the steep bank. We’ll use grenades to take out the lead truck, then hit the trucks in the middle of the column at the bottom of the [i]oued[/i] with the machine gun.”[/color] [color=sienna]“Assuming we actually reach the crossing before the paras,”[/color] Ahmed replies, [color=sienna]“and assuming they actually come that way to fall into our ambush.”[/color] Saleh waves a hand impatiently. [color=sienna]“We will, we will,”[/color] he answers. [color=sienna]“I have ten men, hand-picked, to move ahead of the column in a couple of hours, to scout the crossing and the approaches. A couple of them will move into El Abiodh as well, to make sure the garrison there hasn’t been strengthened.”[/color] He glances at his wristwatch, a cheap Spanish timepiece on a worn leather strap. [color=sienna]“The scouts will be deployed in about three hours, and should be in position an hour before we reach the crossing.”[/color] Ahmed nods his head. [color=sienna]“Will that give us enough time to withdraw if necessary?”[/color] he asks. He looks closely at his friend, his face deadly serious. [color=sienna]“We must be able to retreat undetected if we don’t achieve surprise, Saleh. This is not open for discussion.”[/color] [color=sienna]“There will be enough time, but it will not come to that,”[/color] Saleh replies, a hint of edginess in his voice. [color=sienna]“Ahmed, you must not hesitate when the time comes, or we will be lost.”[/color] There is no tone of rebuke in Saleh’s words, only a candid assessment of his commander and friend that nonetheless hits Ahmed hard. The lieutenant knew he was right, that Saleh’s fearlessness had saved their platoon from the viets on more than one occasion, that though he urged Saleh to be more temperate, it was perhaps Ahmed that erred too far on the side of caution. [i]If we are sure to win, fight to the end.[/i] Along the eastern wall of the [i]oued[/i] a gap appears, a slight ramp carved by a small streambed entering the wash from the desert above, to carry the infrequent rain. It would be easier for the scouts to access the rim from here, and with a tap on Saleh’s shoulder, Ahmed stops and allows himself to drift back through the column to Sgt. Kaci’s platoon, bringing up the rear of the [i]katiba[/i]. He finds the sergeant, orders him to deploy scouts to the rim – [color=sienna]“Send a runner to report to me with Sgt. Yazid’s platoon when you’re done here, sergeant,”[/color] he orders, then turns and moves forward with the rest of the column. [center]- / -[/center] Sergeant Kaci receives the orders and motions to one of his section leaders, then to the rim of the [i]oued[/i]. The section leader, an Arab from named Yusef from Äin Sefra, takes his small formation and clambers up the side of the wash. As they near the top of the wash, scampering between shrubs, there comes a noise, faint at first, then louder and clearly mechanical. Yusef raises his hand to cover his eyes as he searches for the source – his men, heedless of their surroundings, search for the source of the sound as well. [center]- / -[/center] Marching along the [i]oued[/i], Ahmed sees Abraham Sfez, the Jewish section leader at the head of his men. The lieutenant picks up his pace slightly to catch up to the veteran when the desert quiet is shattered by a cascade of rifle and machine pistol fire from the rear of the column. Ahmed’s head whips around as a cold hand suddenly grips his heart. [/QUOTE]
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