My plan is simple alright. Watching Khalid's men in action back in the tribal camp, I realized that the primary advantage of the pirates is their heavy weapons. In hand-to-hand combat, Khalid's men are just as good…if not better. The militia relies on the strength of their guns, while Khalid's men have years of practice and skill. This fight will be won up close, so that's just where we'll go.
When I think the time is right, I signal to the rest of the men to start slowly moving forward with me through the dunes toward the pirate base. I grow a little nervous when I see a few militiamen on top of the buildings with machine guns, but quickly realize they seem to be more concerned with where they will bed down for the night rather than pulling any kind of security. About a hundred yards from the edge of the base, we pause to gather a little intelligence. My plan relies on getting our hands on a few extra tools. After a few minutes of observing, I see what I'm looking for.
Near the humming generators is a one-story mud-brick building. Two pirates are carrying the last few crates from the back of a truck inside. I've been in the military long enough to know that the only thing that can be inside those distinctive wooden boxes…are weapons.
"So that's their little armory…" I mutter to myself under my breath. "Let's see what toys we can borrow from our new friends." I'm just about to signal for my pre-designated raid team to move up when we're distracted by the sounds of a scuffle coming from the pirate base. I duck back down behind a dune and look back out towards the dimly lit objective.
In the middle of the compound is a mud-brick building much larger than the others. It's two stories tall with a balcony that looks out toward the sea. I can vaguely make out some kind of ragged banner that hangs down from the railing of the balcony gently fluttering in the night sea breeze. Khalid crawls up next to me and we both stare in horror as two pirates kick a woman out into the sand in front of the main door of the building. She's screaming something in her native language that I, thankfully, cannot understand but I see the look of torment in Khalid's face as he hears her pleas for what surely can only be mercy. Her clothes have been ripped from her body and hang in tatters as she struggles simultaneously to support her beaten and broken frame with one arm and cover herself with the other.
A third man walks out of the front door of the building. He is dressed differently than the other militiamen I've seen. Instead of old military fatigues, he wears an olive drab uniform that looks like it could have once seemed neat, but now has lost the cleaned pressed edges that made it look professional. Gaudy gold braids hang down from epaulets on his broad shoulders and he wears a blue beret that looks like it was stolen off the body of a dead European Soldier.
The woman starts pleading with him exclusively at this point, but the blank stare he returns from his dark, mustached face belies the fact that he is not in a merciful mood. Suddenly, he reaches down to his leather belt and pulls out a pistol. The woman's screaming echoes across the sand and fills everyone with dread. Khalid immediately tenses and looks like he's ready to charge straight over the top of the sand dune, but a firm grasp from me pulls him back down.
"We have to do something!" he spits at me in a whisper. "We can't just let him murder an innocent in cold bold in front of us." What I must say sounds harsh, but tragically, it is absolutely true.
"Khalid, if we attack now, we've lost all the element of surprise. She will still die, and the pirates will have plenty of opportunity to make sure we join her. Then, they'll be no one left to defend your tribe and the pirates will continue to starve your families into oblivion. If we follow through with the plan, then we can end these scumbags once and for all and make sure another innocent like her doesn't have to die like that."
The look on Khalid's face is a mix of anger and understanding as he tensely nods in agreement. Suddenly, the sound of single gunshot echoes through the night followed only by terrible silence. Both of us peer over the top of the dune again only to be confronted by the grizzly sight of the two pirates dragging the poor woman's corpse into the darkness behind the building. The man in the uniform, who I can instantly tell must be the militia leader, just smiles before turning and heading back inside the building.
"I swear," Khalid says with a deep anger in his voice that I've never heard from him before, "by everything sacred I believe in, this will be avenged."
"I second that," I say gritting my teeth.
We wait a few minutes for things to calm down before I signal the pre-designated raiding team to join me at the sand dune. Khalid rallies the rest of the men.
"I'll see you inside the compound," I say to him.
"God with God, Hatchet," he says placing a supportive hand on my shoulder. All I can do is nod back to him before heading over the top followed by two other tribesmen.
I picked them both because they seemed to understand the importance of moving quietly better than the rest. Silently, we creep through the dunes until finally we reach the very edge of the pirate base. My eyes are constantly scanning, making sure that no one notices our movements as we dash in between two buildings and creep through the darkness towards our target. Through the mud brick walls, I hear the snores of sleeping militiamen as they toss and turn in their bunks.
"Won't be sleeping for long," I think to myself as we crawl along. We reach the edge of the buildings and stare out the armory.
"Dammit." There's a large open area between us and the door, illuminated by the glow of the electric lights. A lone pirate on guard paces back and forth less than fifty yards away on the rooftop of another building near the headquarters. I can't help but think how easy it would be for me just to shoot him right now, but even a single gunshot would bring swift and disastrous retribution right down on our heads.
"Looks like we're doing this the old-fashioned way."
I watch the guard for a few moments, trying to get his rhythm. He pauses and turns his back just long enough at the end of his steps for us to move. I grab the other two tribesmen and dash out into the open. My heart pounds as I wait for the gunshots, the yelling, any sign that we have been seen, but after the three longest seconds of my life, we reach the safety of the shadows next to the armory.
I'm about to let out a sigh of relief when I see that one of my partners doesn't realize that his back is still exposed in the light. My eyes flash up to the guard and I see he is turning back around. In a flash, I grab the man, cover his mouth to block his gasp of surprise, and pull him into the darkness just in time for the guard to see nothing but shadows. I feel the tribesman breathe heavily into my hand with shock, but I just shake my head slowly back and forth until he calms down enough for me to let him go. He nods understandingly, and I signal for us to creep into the door of the armory.
The interior of the single story building is sparse, but lit brightly. One wall is lined with a long rack of assault rifles while the others are stacked with row upon row of wooden crates and metal ammunition boxes. There is only one guard on duty. He lazily sits in a chair with his back to us, fiddling with his assault rifle and staring off into space. I motion for one of the tribesmen to watch the door while signaling for the other to come with me. We creep along the sandy floor of the building until we're just inches away from our hapless quarry. It's almost too easy when I tap on him on the shoulder. He bolts around surprised, but a blow from my hatchet sends him tumbling to the floor before he can even register my face.
On the table next to him is another bottle of liquor, a pack of cheap cigarettes, and a lighter. On a personal note, the nicotine withdrawal is really starting to hit since my pouch has been empty and I can't help but pick up the cigarettes and lighter and gently ease them into my pocket.
"I'll take these for later," I mutter letting myself have a grin. "Alright, let's get to work." I signal to the other two tribesmen to quickly start searching through the armory. For my plan to work, I need to find something powerful enough. In a few seconds, I've grabbed three hand grenades and enough ammunition to keep my assault rifle fed for a month, but I still haven't found what I'm looking for. I know the militia has them, I saw them carrying them before. Finally, my eyes catch on a long wooden crate resting in a corner. "Help me," I say to the closest of Khalid's men. Between the two of us, we pry open the top of the crate and my search is rewarded. Inside are three long tubes, each tipped with a conical rocket-propelled grenade. "Paydirt."
I grab one of the launchers and hand it the tribesmen. I take another and leave the third one in its crate. After looking at this base, I realize I only need two. We sneak back out of the door and walk about twenty yards into the shadows. From this position, I have equally good fields of fire on the fuel tanks, generators, and the doors to the pirate barracks. Without another word, I hoist the RPG onto my shoulder, set its sights on the four fuel tanks at the far end of the compound, and place my finger on the trigger.
"Payback's a bitch, ."