Down to One
Disclaimer: Same as before. If I go off on tangents it's to explain Martin's character. Whoever can guess the significance of Lili Marlene, you're a smart guy.
~ ~ ~ ~
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0915 Local Time
As a cleanup crew, carrying M-16s at their sides and escorted by a squad of Israeli combat troops, started their work a jeep pulled up carrying four more Israeli soldiers and one K-9. They all wore olive drab fatigues, like Martin and the only sign they were Special Forces was the fact that they wore sand brown berets bearing the winged dagger insignia of the Mobile Command Teams, the most elusive and lethal of Israeli Special Forces.
They walked up to the group clustered near the hole in the building and approached Martin who turned around and faced his four old comrades. Mac and Harm looked at them, they were young men, barely out of their teens, eyes and faces already hardened by months of feral war and demanding training.
"Did anyone else make it out?" Martin asked.
"We hoped you'd know." Another Israeli replied. He was a wiry, olive skinned fellow with black hair growing into a recently shaven skull. Beside him was a German Shepherd, his K-9 partner of all the three years he'd been in service.
Rahim Al-Batani was another Arab-Israeli, the son of an Algerian expatriate and an Israeli female police officer, he was a big hearted fellow who would gladly give his life for his team mates. He was from the Attack Palga, or the attack dog unit of the Israeli Special Forces. His former unit, Unit 7142, had been deployed on numerous search and destroy operations against terrorists in Gaza, Lebanon, and other areas of Israel.
"Amit, Jacob, and Mgambe have been monitoring the radio for days. The only transmission we heard was from an F-15 fighter that said it heard a garbled transmission from an Israeli patrol. It lost contact somewhere in the Sinai desert."
Because the conversation took place in Hebrew, neither Harm or Mac understood it. "What are they saying Ilsa?" Harm asked.
"They're talking about Martin's patrol. If anyone else made it out of the Sinai they'd want to know first because it's a tradition in their unit. If any one of them died in combat, the unit always wants to inform the family first before the support services do." Ilsa replied.
"How do you know that?" Mac asked.
"Because, ma'am, they told me my father died in Lebanon when I was six years old. He was a former member of their unit." Ilsa replied.
Mgambe, an Ethiopian born Christian whose parents had come to Israel because his father had found a job there when he was eight, ran for them, "They've found one of the patrol!" he shouted, practically out of breath, "The Egyptians returned him."
"They're bringing him over!" Jacob added.
About ten minutes later, an Israeli jeep pulled up to the compound. After it was let in, Mac and Harm went to interview the witness.
"Commander Harmon Rabb, US Navy JAG Corps," Rabb said to the Israeli driver, "Can we see the witness."
The Israeli soldier looked at the two Americans curiously. Harm looked at the chubby teenager wearing olive fatigues and sunglasses, "Listen soldier, can we see the witness, we have orders to."
"Sir, forgive me. But I am unaware that Americans have ways of communicating with the dead." The Israeli soldier replied.
As he did, he opened the door and pulled back a tarp. Under the tarp, frozen in rigor mortis, was the half frozen body of an Israeli soldier. His eyes were frozen open and there were four bullet holes in his chest. His weapon was missing, and so was his ammunition. He was a large, muscular fellow in his late twenties with Arabic features.
"Egyptian dogs!" Jacob cursed angrily.
Martin glanced into the jeep and was overcome by a horrible feeling of guilt. "Damn yourselves to Hell you Egyptian bastards! We're coming back for the rest of them!" Martin shouted angrily. Avi's face was frozen with a determined stare. He had obviously gone down shooting, if the bullet wounds in his chest were any indication, and the Egyptians had obviously stolen his weapon and ammunition.
The Israeli driver handed them a sealed envelope, "For the most senior man."
Martin took it and opened it. The other three Israeli soldiers were two privates and one lance corporal, "The figures of Egyptian dead. All told our patrol killed 278 Egyptian soldiers and hospitalized 148 more. Our casualties are five prisoners and three dead."
"We're going in to get them, right?" Jacob, the young Israeli lance corporal, a child of Jewish settlers from the frontier of Lebanon, asked.
"We will." Martin said.
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Va 8 May 2003 0830 Local Time
"Egyptian intelligence has released further reports that an additional fifty Egyptians were killed by Israeli Special Forces in the Sinai Desert." Stuart Dunston's voice droned on ZNN. Every eye in the bullpen kept their eyes glued to the volatile Middle Eastern situation where two of their co- workers were in the midst of.
AJ Chegwidden knew Harm and Mac could handle anything thrown their way. But this growing Middle Eastern brushfire was most worrying. Harm had called yesterday, informing Colonel Danilov his nephew was still alive. He said Mac was alright as well, and he hoped that they would be alright.
Harriet, Bud, Sturgis, and Danilov were clustered around the coffee pot. "So Martin was a cadet at the Coast Guard Academy and was going to be commissioned in the Israeli Defense Force, sir?" Bud asked.
"How does that work, I mean isn't that a sea service, sir?" Harriet asked.
"It is. But we do have seaports. Martin was to pick up everything he could learn on port security and pass this knowledge on to our personnel. Then he was going to get commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant in the IDF." Danilov replied, "Almost all his summers were to be spent in Israel doing military training and he was being groomed to join the Sarayet T'zanhanim, the reconnaissance element of the elite T'zanhanim brigade, the Israeli Airborne division."
"Didn't you say he was a Georgetown student, sir?" Harriet asked.
"I did. But that's what I usually say when asked where my nephew was being schooled. That was to confound anyone who might be too curious about our Israeli port security. At any rate, paranoia is a common personality trait in Israel." Danilov replied, with a wry smile, "That was his cover story."
"What about the murdered cadet?" Sturgis asked.
"Her name was Diane or Diana I believe. She was a good friend of his at the Academy. I think, wait I know, Martin fell in love with her. She was on a Coast Guard ship that was touring Israel for part of her summer training when she was kidnapped by terrorists and subsequently murdered." Danilov replied, "His father didn't approve of her, because she wasn't an Israeli, and my brother, a good man though he is, is very traditional and closed minded. He had already tried to cultivate a romance between Martin and another girl in his kibbutz, but Martin refused it. They've barely spoken for seven years. That's when Martin left and joined the Golany brigade. That picture of Martin in uniform beside his father was the last time they ever really spoke as father and son. Now they address one another as sir and corporal depending on who speaks to whom. Sadly it was the issue of romance that has driven a rift in an otherwise perfect father-son relationship."
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0945 Local Time
Mac and Harm got back to the business of talking to their only living witness to the incident. "Corporal, your uncle said you were a Georgetown University student, but you yourself mentioned being a Coast Guard cadet, which is the truth?" Mac asked.
"Ma'am, when I was sent to America, I was issued with a cover story by the Moussad. The sole reason I was sent to the Academy was to learn American methods for port security. Our seaports are convenient ways that sympathizers for the PLO and HAMAS smuggle weapons into Israel. Myself and a half dozen young Israelis were sent overseas to the Academy to learn these techniques and once we were done we would be commissioned into the Israel Special Forces to teach these techniques to our fellow servicemen." Martin replied.
"How many made it through?" Harm asked.
"Myself and two others left the Academy to fight Arafat's dogs." Martin replied, "The other three remained behind."
"Back to the matter at hand, what happened to Benjamin?" Mac asked.
"We were out of the mountains, but still in deep over our heads when we happened upon a lone Egyptian goat herder ma'am." Martin replied.
Sinai Desert 3 May 2003 2000 Local Time
Hiding in a ditch by the roadside, Martin and Benjamin watched warily, one sleeping lightly while the other kept an eye for any Egyptian soldiers. Martin was on watch when an Egyptian goat herder walked toward the ditch to relieve himself. He grabbed them lad by the neck and pulled his knife.
Neither man spoke Arabic so Benjamin and Martin used hand signals to interrogate the boy. Benjamin portrayed running figures and mimed running figures when he asked the boy if any Egyptian soldiers were around.
The boy shook his head. Benjamin then asked if there were any vehicles nearby. The boy nodded.
"Perfect." Benjamin asked.
"What?" Martin replied.
"There's a settlement nearby, maybe I can find a vehicle and we can drive out of here." Benjamin replied.
"Benjamin are you INSANE!" Martin hissed, "That's an Egyptian village if I recall and they do not like Israelis in the least."
"I'll try to look less aggressive." Benjamin said, taking off his webbing and putting his Minimi down with his camouflage smock.
"No you idiot! If you want to look less aggressive, leave your webbing and smock that's fine, but take your weapon." Martin replied.
"I don't want to look hostile." Benjamin replied
"Take your weapon." Martin insisted, "If you're not back by 0100 I'm going to leave."
"Right." Benjamin said, "If I get caught I don't want to have to get you captured as well."
"Don't talk like that, you've got 200 rounds in the drum to rock n' roll any Egyptians that get into your way." Martin replied.
Martin waited, hiding behind some rocks, his 203 at the ready; he left Benjamin's webbing and a couple extra grenades he got from Avi. He waited, and then waited some more, until he heard shouts in Arabic and bursts of gunfire. He looked over the dune and saw two trucks full of Egyptians, maybe a platoon at the smallest. He could see Benjamin limping along, firing his Minimi as he went. He could already see at least half a dozen dead Egyptians on the ground.
He also knew there was nothing he could do. Even two men couldn't stop fifty angered Egyptians. Two tired men had even less of a chance. With a heavy heart, he slipped away from the fight, feeling as though he had abandoned the boy to his death.
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 1055 Local Time
"So what happened when you were alone?" Mac asked. "Ma'am, I can't honestly recall every detail. I ran into a pair of Egyptian soldiers and killed them at close range with my knife so as not to alert more of their number lurking nearby. I also remember walking across miles of open desert at night, hiding during the day to evade detection and avoid dehydration." Martin replied.
"How did you survive?" Harm asked.
"Luck I guess sir. Also in my lonely state many ghosts from my past visited me." Martin replied.
"How so?" Harm asked.
"I saw memories, faces of people I knew and loved. And they kept me on the march despite the pain, the exhaustion, the cold, heat and fear that plagued me." Martin replied.
Sinai Desert 4 May 2003 0130 Local Time
Martin had been walking miles for hours, but they were largely in a zigzag, box or other pattern to throw off search dogs and box around Egyptian settlements and troop movements. He was hiding in a drainage ditch at one point when an Egyptian vehicle stopped and an Egyptian soldier stepped out to urinate, not more than a foot above where he currently hid.
Martin walked up and down the dunes, through hill and dale, hiding whenever he spotted Egyptian soldiers. He regretted not placing more rations on his webbing, as he felt like he could barely carry his rifle. He knew his body was eating up all the muscle he had put on in the past six months. Six months ago he started weight lifting with Avi and his frame grew more muscular.
"Damn, six months of hard work down the drain." Martin groaned.
As every step carried him closer to what he hoped was safety he could see faces from his past. The first one he saw was Diane. Her smiling face, kind brown eyes framed by her short chestnut hair looked as if not a day had passed in the seven years since her death.
"C'mon Martin," she said, "What happened to the cadet who wouldn't be fazed by physical training?"
New London, Connecticut 11 June 1996 1030 Local Time
Swab year. The first year in the life of a Coast Guard Academy Cadet was over. Summer training was set to start and Martin would put to sea aboard the USCGS Barque Eagle. He was waiting in line to check in for summer training. He saw a very familiar face walking down the passageway and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of his own Lili Marlene.
"Hi Martin." Diane said.
"Hey Diane." The nineteen year old said shyly. Since he had arrived from Israel and finished the summer training for swabs, he remembered Diane befriending him from the first day of class.
"Where'd they send you for training?" Diane asked.
"I've got Eagle cruise first, then I'm going to learn tactical security at the New York Port Authority." Martin replied.
"I got my cruise. I'm going to Haifa aboard the USCGS Bloodhound." Diane replied, smiling.
Martin returned her smile with one of his trademark toothy grins that would grow rarer as they years passed, "Israel's a good place to visit. Much of our history is rich, though turbid and violent. Always make sure you don't travel alone."
He remembered it was when he was home for the Christmas break and training alongside soldiers from the Givati Infantry Brigade he realized he loved her. Her bright smile, kind eyes, and caring personality melted his self built defenses around his heart like butter.
He then saw her walking with Chris Lartin, a friend of hers. He felt his heart start to harden again. He knew that he had no chance. A slim, small boned Israeli teenager had no chance competing with the American for Diane's heart. He knew he couldn't say what he felt though. He desperately wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything in his heart but she had Chris, and didn't need him.
"Martin, have you met my boyfriend, Chris Lartin." Diane replied.
"No, I haven't." Martin replied, managing a smile and a shake of a hand, "Well I must be going."
Sinai Desert 4 May 2003 0200 Local Time
Diane was gone. That much he knew for certain. She had died visiting his homeland, wanting for so long to visit the land where Jesus had once walked. He never even got to tell her he loved her. She was taken away from him by cruel and vengeful men, a victim of the senseless violence that plagued Israel.
He lifted his rifle as he walked along. He could still see Diane, in her dress blue uniform standing atop the next dune. "What are you waiting for Martin? The sun's coming up in another two hours. Come on, just a few more miles and you can rest."
Martin smiled, despite himself. Though he never knew how Diane really felt toward him, he still loved her even seven years after she had died. "I loved her more than you ever did Chris." Martin growled into the desert night, "My heart won't let me love another, while you just jumped into the arms of the next one."
New London, Connecticut 19 September 1996 0930 Local Time Cadet Diane Lynch's Memorial Service
"Diane was a wonderful, vital, alive young woman taken in the prime of her life." Chaplain Roberts began, "She lit up the lives of all those around her with her kind words and gentle nature. She could put a smile on the face of the moon. Perhaps the Lord saw it fit that she was needed in heaven."
Martin listened to the sermon. Diane's burial had been months ago, her funeral was one that he was unable to attend because he was in Israel with the Sarayet Golany doing field exercises. He was there for the wake, and broke down in agony when he saw her for the last time. Her face looked composed, almost as though she were asleep and was set to wake at any moment. But he knew otherwise. She had died of trauma and massive internal injuries and had been dumped in a canal somewhere in the streets of Jerusalem.
A terrible resolve filled Martin that moment, a desire for revenge. All he wanted was to kill the dogs that did this to her.
West Bank 19 September 1997 0800 Local Time
The Palestinian shopkeeper raised a weapon to the Israeli patrol. He thought that the Israelis were distracted and were moving on, but one young boy soldier turned quickly and fired a burst of three rounds into his chest.
The shopkeeper, an old man in his sixties, felt his breath shorten as if a hammer had struck his chest. He gasped for air as the rounds tore into his lungs. He was a HAMAS sympathizer. He hid their people from the Israelis, let them store weapons in his shop and use it as a way station to attack Israelis everywhere. And now he was paying for it. His grown son tried to rush to his side only to be kicked over by the Israeli patrol and held down at gunpoint.
He couldn't speak, gasping breath the only thing he was capable of doing. He could here the Israeli patrol leader's order to the young soldier who had shot him.
"What are you waiting for Danilov, shoot him." The officer ordered.
He could see the young man clearly. His dark brown eyes were clouded with agony and rage, perhaps the HAMAS group had taken some of his loved ones away. The Israelis that had this happen were especially vengeful, but this one was young, different. He looked remorseful, having shot an old man down, even if the old man held an AK-47.
"What are you waiting for soldier, that's an order!"
"Yes sir." Martin said, he hesitated for a minute, then he remembered that men like this had taken Diane away from him.
The old man noticed a change. The Israeli soldier's visage took on that of an avenging angel as he squeezed the trigger.
Martin wiped the blood from his weapon, in that instant a gentle boy had been transformed into a man in the age old tradition of warfare.
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 1215 Local Time
Sitting on a well worn loveseat whose upholstery had seen better days, Harm and Mac discussed everything they had heard from the Israeli soldier. His story about his unit, his flashbacks of previous battles and the memory of a tragic love, seemed to give depth to who had appeared to be little more than an emotionless robot.
Harm could see the pain of seven years etched into the Israeli soldier's face. Vengeance had taken its ghastly toll. Harm could sympathize with the man for his loss. He had lost a once great father son relationship, never got to tell his love how he truly felt about her, and only lived to fight. Harm had a compulsion to tell Mac how he felt about her, before she wound up sharing the fate of the woman their witness had once called "my own Lili Marlene". Or Jordan or his own Diane's fate, which was very possible in their line of work...
"Harm?" Mac said, elbowing him, "Are you alright?"
"Huh. Oh, yeah Mac, I'm good to go." Harm replied.
"Are you sure? You've been spacing out for the past ten minutes." Mac replied.
"Yeah, I'm sure, my own Lili Marlene." Harm replied.
Mac looked a little confused as she turned around, "Harm, did I just here you right? Did you just call me your own Lili Marlene?"
"Oh. I must've not been thinking." Harm replied.
"OK. Maybe I should have you see a psychiatrist before you start singing German marching songs in your sleep." Mac said, with a weak attempt at humor. She somehow knew that Harm hadn't just slipped when he called her his own Lili Marlene. Mac knew, from her own historical interest, that Lili Marlene was a classic German infantry song that transcended all nationalities, about a soldier thinking about his lost lover.
Harm knew about the song, because when he first fell for his own Diane she was seeing someone else. The song Lili Marlene helped him express his grief that she loved someone else at the time. Though it was sung by German soldiers in North Africa in World War II, its lyrics about the soldier's longing for a faraway love really had its meaning. For Harm, there were only two women in his mind that had the name Lili Marlene in his mental imagery. The first was Diane, long since dead. The other was Mac.
He inched closer to her, ostensibly to put a little more of his food on her tray. Mac surprisingly didn't pull away. She inched closer in and Harm smiled at her. This was yet another of their subtle attempts at flirting.
Martin watched them and smiled, despite himself. 'I hope, sir, that you act on your feelings for the colonel before you lose her. Like I lost my own Lili Marlene.'
~ ~ ~ ~
Coming next, the fate of Red Witch patrol and the accounts of the other survivors...
Disclaimer: Same as before. If I go off on tangents it's to explain Martin's character. Whoever can guess the significance of Lili Marlene, you're a smart guy.
~ ~ ~ ~
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0915 Local Time
As a cleanup crew, carrying M-16s at their sides and escorted by a squad of Israeli combat troops, started their work a jeep pulled up carrying four more Israeli soldiers and one K-9. They all wore olive drab fatigues, like Martin and the only sign they were Special Forces was the fact that they wore sand brown berets bearing the winged dagger insignia of the Mobile Command Teams, the most elusive and lethal of Israeli Special Forces.
They walked up to the group clustered near the hole in the building and approached Martin who turned around and faced his four old comrades. Mac and Harm looked at them, they were young men, barely out of their teens, eyes and faces already hardened by months of feral war and demanding training.
"Did anyone else make it out?" Martin asked.
"We hoped you'd know." Another Israeli replied. He was a wiry, olive skinned fellow with black hair growing into a recently shaven skull. Beside him was a German Shepherd, his K-9 partner of all the three years he'd been in service.
Rahim Al-Batani was another Arab-Israeli, the son of an Algerian expatriate and an Israeli female police officer, he was a big hearted fellow who would gladly give his life for his team mates. He was from the Attack Palga, or the attack dog unit of the Israeli Special Forces. His former unit, Unit 7142, had been deployed on numerous search and destroy operations against terrorists in Gaza, Lebanon, and other areas of Israel.
"Amit, Jacob, and Mgambe have been monitoring the radio for days. The only transmission we heard was from an F-15 fighter that said it heard a garbled transmission from an Israeli patrol. It lost contact somewhere in the Sinai desert."
Because the conversation took place in Hebrew, neither Harm or Mac understood it. "What are they saying Ilsa?" Harm asked.
"They're talking about Martin's patrol. If anyone else made it out of the Sinai they'd want to know first because it's a tradition in their unit. If any one of them died in combat, the unit always wants to inform the family first before the support services do." Ilsa replied.
"How do you know that?" Mac asked.
"Because, ma'am, they told me my father died in Lebanon when I was six years old. He was a former member of their unit." Ilsa replied.
Mgambe, an Ethiopian born Christian whose parents had come to Israel because his father had found a job there when he was eight, ran for them, "They've found one of the patrol!" he shouted, practically out of breath, "The Egyptians returned him."
"They're bringing him over!" Jacob added.
About ten minutes later, an Israeli jeep pulled up to the compound. After it was let in, Mac and Harm went to interview the witness.
"Commander Harmon Rabb, US Navy JAG Corps," Rabb said to the Israeli driver, "Can we see the witness."
The Israeli soldier looked at the two Americans curiously. Harm looked at the chubby teenager wearing olive fatigues and sunglasses, "Listen soldier, can we see the witness, we have orders to."
"Sir, forgive me. But I am unaware that Americans have ways of communicating with the dead." The Israeli soldier replied.
As he did, he opened the door and pulled back a tarp. Under the tarp, frozen in rigor mortis, was the half frozen body of an Israeli soldier. His eyes were frozen open and there were four bullet holes in his chest. His weapon was missing, and so was his ammunition. He was a large, muscular fellow in his late twenties with Arabic features.
"Egyptian dogs!" Jacob cursed angrily.
Martin glanced into the jeep and was overcome by a horrible feeling of guilt. "Damn yourselves to Hell you Egyptian bastards! We're coming back for the rest of them!" Martin shouted angrily. Avi's face was frozen with a determined stare. He had obviously gone down shooting, if the bullet wounds in his chest were any indication, and the Egyptians had obviously stolen his weapon and ammunition.
The Israeli driver handed them a sealed envelope, "For the most senior man."
Martin took it and opened it. The other three Israeli soldiers were two privates and one lance corporal, "The figures of Egyptian dead. All told our patrol killed 278 Egyptian soldiers and hospitalized 148 more. Our casualties are five prisoners and three dead."
"We're going in to get them, right?" Jacob, the young Israeli lance corporal, a child of Jewish settlers from the frontier of Lebanon, asked.
"We will." Martin said.
JAG Headquarters Falls Church, Va 8 May 2003 0830 Local Time
"Egyptian intelligence has released further reports that an additional fifty Egyptians were killed by Israeli Special Forces in the Sinai Desert." Stuart Dunston's voice droned on ZNN. Every eye in the bullpen kept their eyes glued to the volatile Middle Eastern situation where two of their co- workers were in the midst of.
AJ Chegwidden knew Harm and Mac could handle anything thrown their way. But this growing Middle Eastern brushfire was most worrying. Harm had called yesterday, informing Colonel Danilov his nephew was still alive. He said Mac was alright as well, and he hoped that they would be alright.
Harriet, Bud, Sturgis, and Danilov were clustered around the coffee pot. "So Martin was a cadet at the Coast Guard Academy and was going to be commissioned in the Israeli Defense Force, sir?" Bud asked.
"How does that work, I mean isn't that a sea service, sir?" Harriet asked.
"It is. But we do have seaports. Martin was to pick up everything he could learn on port security and pass this knowledge on to our personnel. Then he was going to get commissioned as a 2nd Lieutenant in the IDF." Danilov replied, "Almost all his summers were to be spent in Israel doing military training and he was being groomed to join the Sarayet T'zanhanim, the reconnaissance element of the elite T'zanhanim brigade, the Israeli Airborne division."
"Didn't you say he was a Georgetown student, sir?" Harriet asked.
"I did. But that's what I usually say when asked where my nephew was being schooled. That was to confound anyone who might be too curious about our Israeli port security. At any rate, paranoia is a common personality trait in Israel." Danilov replied, with a wry smile, "That was his cover story."
"What about the murdered cadet?" Sturgis asked.
"Her name was Diane or Diana I believe. She was a good friend of his at the Academy. I think, wait I know, Martin fell in love with her. She was on a Coast Guard ship that was touring Israel for part of her summer training when she was kidnapped by terrorists and subsequently murdered." Danilov replied, "His father didn't approve of her, because she wasn't an Israeli, and my brother, a good man though he is, is very traditional and closed minded. He had already tried to cultivate a romance between Martin and another girl in his kibbutz, but Martin refused it. They've barely spoken for seven years. That's when Martin left and joined the Golany brigade. That picture of Martin in uniform beside his father was the last time they ever really spoke as father and son. Now they address one another as sir and corporal depending on who speaks to whom. Sadly it was the issue of romance that has driven a rift in an otherwise perfect father-son relationship."
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 0945 Local Time
Mac and Harm got back to the business of talking to their only living witness to the incident. "Corporal, your uncle said you were a Georgetown University student, but you yourself mentioned being a Coast Guard cadet, which is the truth?" Mac asked.
"Ma'am, when I was sent to America, I was issued with a cover story by the Moussad. The sole reason I was sent to the Academy was to learn American methods for port security. Our seaports are convenient ways that sympathizers for the PLO and HAMAS smuggle weapons into Israel. Myself and a half dozen young Israelis were sent overseas to the Academy to learn these techniques and once we were done we would be commissioned into the Israel Special Forces to teach these techniques to our fellow servicemen." Martin replied.
"How many made it through?" Harm asked.
"Myself and two others left the Academy to fight Arafat's dogs." Martin replied, "The other three remained behind."
"Back to the matter at hand, what happened to Benjamin?" Mac asked.
"We were out of the mountains, but still in deep over our heads when we happened upon a lone Egyptian goat herder ma'am." Martin replied.
Sinai Desert 3 May 2003 2000 Local Time
Hiding in a ditch by the roadside, Martin and Benjamin watched warily, one sleeping lightly while the other kept an eye for any Egyptian soldiers. Martin was on watch when an Egyptian goat herder walked toward the ditch to relieve himself. He grabbed them lad by the neck and pulled his knife.
Neither man spoke Arabic so Benjamin and Martin used hand signals to interrogate the boy. Benjamin portrayed running figures and mimed running figures when he asked the boy if any Egyptian soldiers were around.
The boy shook his head. Benjamin then asked if there were any vehicles nearby. The boy nodded.
"Perfect." Benjamin asked.
"What?" Martin replied.
"There's a settlement nearby, maybe I can find a vehicle and we can drive out of here." Benjamin replied.
"Benjamin are you INSANE!" Martin hissed, "That's an Egyptian village if I recall and they do not like Israelis in the least."
"I'll try to look less aggressive." Benjamin said, taking off his webbing and putting his Minimi down with his camouflage smock.
"No you idiot! If you want to look less aggressive, leave your webbing and smock that's fine, but take your weapon." Martin replied.
"I don't want to look hostile." Benjamin replied
"Take your weapon." Martin insisted, "If you're not back by 0100 I'm going to leave."
"Right." Benjamin said, "If I get caught I don't want to have to get you captured as well."
"Don't talk like that, you've got 200 rounds in the drum to rock n' roll any Egyptians that get into your way." Martin replied.
Martin waited, hiding behind some rocks, his 203 at the ready; he left Benjamin's webbing and a couple extra grenades he got from Avi. He waited, and then waited some more, until he heard shouts in Arabic and bursts of gunfire. He looked over the dune and saw two trucks full of Egyptians, maybe a platoon at the smallest. He could see Benjamin limping along, firing his Minimi as he went. He could already see at least half a dozen dead Egyptians on the ground.
He also knew there was nothing he could do. Even two men couldn't stop fifty angered Egyptians. Two tired men had even less of a chance. With a heavy heart, he slipped away from the fight, feeling as though he had abandoned the boy to his death.
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 1055 Local Time
"So what happened when you were alone?" Mac asked. "Ma'am, I can't honestly recall every detail. I ran into a pair of Egyptian soldiers and killed them at close range with my knife so as not to alert more of their number lurking nearby. I also remember walking across miles of open desert at night, hiding during the day to evade detection and avoid dehydration." Martin replied.
"How did you survive?" Harm asked.
"Luck I guess sir. Also in my lonely state many ghosts from my past visited me." Martin replied.
"How so?" Harm asked.
"I saw memories, faces of people I knew and loved. And they kept me on the march despite the pain, the exhaustion, the cold, heat and fear that plagued me." Martin replied.
Sinai Desert 4 May 2003 0130 Local Time
Martin had been walking miles for hours, but they were largely in a zigzag, box or other pattern to throw off search dogs and box around Egyptian settlements and troop movements. He was hiding in a drainage ditch at one point when an Egyptian vehicle stopped and an Egyptian soldier stepped out to urinate, not more than a foot above where he currently hid.
Martin walked up and down the dunes, through hill and dale, hiding whenever he spotted Egyptian soldiers. He regretted not placing more rations on his webbing, as he felt like he could barely carry his rifle. He knew his body was eating up all the muscle he had put on in the past six months. Six months ago he started weight lifting with Avi and his frame grew more muscular.
"Damn, six months of hard work down the drain." Martin groaned.
As every step carried him closer to what he hoped was safety he could see faces from his past. The first one he saw was Diane. Her smiling face, kind brown eyes framed by her short chestnut hair looked as if not a day had passed in the seven years since her death.
"C'mon Martin," she said, "What happened to the cadet who wouldn't be fazed by physical training?"
New London, Connecticut 11 June 1996 1030 Local Time
Swab year. The first year in the life of a Coast Guard Academy Cadet was over. Summer training was set to start and Martin would put to sea aboard the USCGS Barque Eagle. He was waiting in line to check in for summer training. He saw a very familiar face walking down the passageway and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of his own Lili Marlene.
"Hi Martin." Diane said.
"Hey Diane." The nineteen year old said shyly. Since he had arrived from Israel and finished the summer training for swabs, he remembered Diane befriending him from the first day of class.
"Where'd they send you for training?" Diane asked.
"I've got Eagle cruise first, then I'm going to learn tactical security at the New York Port Authority." Martin replied.
"I got my cruise. I'm going to Haifa aboard the USCGS Bloodhound." Diane replied, smiling.
Martin returned her smile with one of his trademark toothy grins that would grow rarer as they years passed, "Israel's a good place to visit. Much of our history is rich, though turbid and violent. Always make sure you don't travel alone."
He remembered it was when he was home for the Christmas break and training alongside soldiers from the Givati Infantry Brigade he realized he loved her. Her bright smile, kind eyes, and caring personality melted his self built defenses around his heart like butter.
He then saw her walking with Chris Lartin, a friend of hers. He felt his heart start to harden again. He knew that he had no chance. A slim, small boned Israeli teenager had no chance competing with the American for Diane's heart. He knew he couldn't say what he felt though. He desperately wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything in his heart but she had Chris, and didn't need him.
"Martin, have you met my boyfriend, Chris Lartin." Diane replied.
"No, I haven't." Martin replied, managing a smile and a shake of a hand, "Well I must be going."
Sinai Desert 4 May 2003 0200 Local Time
Diane was gone. That much he knew for certain. She had died visiting his homeland, wanting for so long to visit the land where Jesus had once walked. He never even got to tell her he loved her. She was taken away from him by cruel and vengeful men, a victim of the senseless violence that plagued Israel.
He lifted his rifle as he walked along. He could still see Diane, in her dress blue uniform standing atop the next dune. "What are you waiting for Martin? The sun's coming up in another two hours. Come on, just a few more miles and you can rest."
Martin smiled, despite himself. Though he never knew how Diane really felt toward him, he still loved her even seven years after she had died. "I loved her more than you ever did Chris." Martin growled into the desert night, "My heart won't let me love another, while you just jumped into the arms of the next one."
New London, Connecticut 19 September 1996 0930 Local Time Cadet Diane Lynch's Memorial Service
"Diane was a wonderful, vital, alive young woman taken in the prime of her life." Chaplain Roberts began, "She lit up the lives of all those around her with her kind words and gentle nature. She could put a smile on the face of the moon. Perhaps the Lord saw it fit that she was needed in heaven."
Martin listened to the sermon. Diane's burial had been months ago, her funeral was one that he was unable to attend because he was in Israel with the Sarayet Golany doing field exercises. He was there for the wake, and broke down in agony when he saw her for the last time. Her face looked composed, almost as though she were asleep and was set to wake at any moment. But he knew otherwise. She had died of trauma and massive internal injuries and had been dumped in a canal somewhere in the streets of Jerusalem.
A terrible resolve filled Martin that moment, a desire for revenge. All he wanted was to kill the dogs that did this to her.
West Bank 19 September 1997 0800 Local Time
The Palestinian shopkeeper raised a weapon to the Israeli patrol. He thought that the Israelis were distracted and were moving on, but one young boy soldier turned quickly and fired a burst of three rounds into his chest.
The shopkeeper, an old man in his sixties, felt his breath shorten as if a hammer had struck his chest. He gasped for air as the rounds tore into his lungs. He was a HAMAS sympathizer. He hid their people from the Israelis, let them store weapons in his shop and use it as a way station to attack Israelis everywhere. And now he was paying for it. His grown son tried to rush to his side only to be kicked over by the Israeli patrol and held down at gunpoint.
He couldn't speak, gasping breath the only thing he was capable of doing. He could here the Israeli patrol leader's order to the young soldier who had shot him.
"What are you waiting for Danilov, shoot him." The officer ordered.
He could see the young man clearly. His dark brown eyes were clouded with agony and rage, perhaps the HAMAS group had taken some of his loved ones away. The Israelis that had this happen were especially vengeful, but this one was young, different. He looked remorseful, having shot an old man down, even if the old man held an AK-47.
"What are you waiting for soldier, that's an order!"
"Yes sir." Martin said, he hesitated for a minute, then he remembered that men like this had taken Diane away from him.
The old man noticed a change. The Israeli soldier's visage took on that of an avenging angel as he squeezed the trigger.
Martin wiped the blood from his weapon, in that instant a gentle boy had been transformed into a man in the age old tradition of warfare.
Israeli Intelligence Field Office Somewhere in Gaza 8 May 2003 1215 Local Time
Sitting on a well worn loveseat whose upholstery had seen better days, Harm and Mac discussed everything they had heard from the Israeli soldier. His story about his unit, his flashbacks of previous battles and the memory of a tragic love, seemed to give depth to who had appeared to be little more than an emotionless robot.
Harm could see the pain of seven years etched into the Israeli soldier's face. Vengeance had taken its ghastly toll. Harm could sympathize with the man for his loss. He had lost a once great father son relationship, never got to tell his love how he truly felt about her, and only lived to fight. Harm had a compulsion to tell Mac how he felt about her, before she wound up sharing the fate of the woman their witness had once called "my own Lili Marlene". Or Jordan or his own Diane's fate, which was very possible in their line of work...
"Harm?" Mac said, elbowing him, "Are you alright?"
"Huh. Oh, yeah Mac, I'm good to go." Harm replied.
"Are you sure? You've been spacing out for the past ten minutes." Mac replied.
"Yeah, I'm sure, my own Lili Marlene." Harm replied.
Mac looked a little confused as she turned around, "Harm, did I just here you right? Did you just call me your own Lili Marlene?"
"Oh. I must've not been thinking." Harm replied.
"OK. Maybe I should have you see a psychiatrist before you start singing German marching songs in your sleep." Mac said, with a weak attempt at humor. She somehow knew that Harm hadn't just slipped when he called her his own Lili Marlene. Mac knew, from her own historical interest, that Lili Marlene was a classic German infantry song that transcended all nationalities, about a soldier thinking about his lost lover.
Harm knew about the song, because when he first fell for his own Diane she was seeing someone else. The song Lili Marlene helped him express his grief that she loved someone else at the time. Though it was sung by German soldiers in North Africa in World War II, its lyrics about the soldier's longing for a faraway love really had its meaning. For Harm, there were only two women in his mind that had the name Lili Marlene in his mental imagery. The first was Diane, long since dead. The other was Mac.
He inched closer to her, ostensibly to put a little more of his food on her tray. Mac surprisingly didn't pull away. She inched closer in and Harm smiled at her. This was yet another of their subtle attempts at flirting.
Martin watched them and smiled, despite himself. 'I hope, sir, that you act on your feelings for the colonel before you lose her. Like I lost my own Lili Marlene.'
~ ~ ~ ~
Coming next, the fate of Red Witch patrol and the accounts of the other survivors...