Hammer of God

Chapter 7

The first of the oil wars that would end civilization in the year 2021 began soon after its discovery, and even this early action in WWII saw both sides maneuvering to control its supply and delivery. Sergie Kirov had already sent his army through the ‘Rostov Gate,’ into the Caucasus, where they were now besieging the Black Sea port of Novorossiysk, and battling to secure the oil fields at Maykop. Now the British heard the growing dissent in Iraq and saw the rise of Rashid Ali and his Golden Square.

Rashid Ali al-Gaylani was born in Baghdad, of a wealthy secular family, and was active in politics as Minister of Justice, and eventually Prime Minister in 1933. A staunch nationalist, he resisted British efforts to make Iraq an oil protectorate, again becoming Prime Minister in 1940, where he defied the pro-British Regent Abdul Illah, and secretly began to negotiate with both Italy and Germany. Forced to resign, he soon staged a coup to regain power in 1941, and again attempted to rid Iraq of the British pestilence.

Seeking military support, his vision was to now create a combined Islamic state that comprised both Syria and Iraq, wiping out the artificial boundaries Britain had imposed after WWI in the Sykes-Picot agreement. It was that declaration, which drew national boundaries for Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and Iraq without regard to ethnic, religious or tribal loyalties, that would lead to a century of conflict in the Middle East. After the Arab Spring in 2010 and beyond, groups like the radical Islamic fighters of ISIS would again reach for this vision, a Grand Caliphate embracing both Syria and Iraq. Now Rashid Ali hoped to achieve that with the support of the Axis powers, and he thought to trade access to Syrian ports at Tartus and Latakia as part of the deal he was brokering.

For their part, the British Petroleum concerns near Basra had to be protected. And so even as Brigadier Kinlan had been sent to Sultan Apache in 2020, the British already had established bases in Iraq to protect their oil interests there, and guard the facilities and pipelines. It was an experiment put forward by Churchill to hold the country through the application of air power alone. The British had no permanent forces in Iraq, except two R.A. F bases and small detachments of local Assyrian troops to guard them. Yet now they had lost control of the long pipelines extending from the oil fields at Kirkuk, through Syria to Tripoli and Lebanon, and they intended to get them back.

The Anglo-Iraq war that resulted now would not be the last time Western military forces fought for the black gold beneath the sands of a hostile desert. One of the ancestors of a most troublesome man was even now numbered among the conspirators-Talifah Khairailah, the uncle of Saddam Hussein, who was then only a young four year old boy. He and his clan would continue to bedevil the Western thirst for Iraqi oil for decades to come.

The French had already closed the pipelines through their territory, except for local use. Only the long line through the Trans-Jordan, known as the ‘Haifa Line,’ was still bringing oil to the British in Palestine. It was there, at one of the pumping stations labeled H4, (Haifa 4) that the makings of a relief column was being assembled. It was going to cross 300 miles of desert to the Euphrates, a Flying Column of British Cavalry, the 1st Essex Battalion, and some Royal Air Force armored cars that came to be known as Kingcol after its irascible, Brigadier Joe Kingstone. A tall, stocky officer with a burly build and rough disposition, Kingstone was the perfect man for the job. He would drive his force through relentless heat, over barely marked desert tracks, to reach his beleaguered British comrades, but he was about to get some very unexpected help.

The chief British base projecting air power in the central area was at Habbaniyah, between Fallujah and Ramadi, northwest of Baghdad. As such it was also an important air link on the route to British India. Fedorov knew these events were happening a few months earlier than they did in his history, as the whole war seemed slightly off its kilter. He wanted to brief Troyak and the Marines, and let them know what they might be facing.

“The air base is just south of the Euphrates River,” he said, and it is overlooked by a high plateau where the Iraqi army has taken up positions. They have a large force, at least a brigade in strength, and artillery. The base itself is now being held by no more than 2200 men, mostly RAF service personnel, with some British troops and Assyrian and Kurdish levees. Your mission will be to support the British garrison in securing that base.”

“Then we will want to take out that artillery immediately,” said Troyak.

“Agreed,” said Fedorov. “As we will also be getting help from the Argos Fire, they will have three more helicopters. The British also have aircraft, mostly obsolete, but they might suppress those guns.”

“The helicopters should be enough,” said Troyak. “Then we should take that plateau as soon as possible.”

“You’ll have to work with the security detachment from Argos Fire, ” said Fedorov with a note of caution in his voice. They call them Argonauts, a 40 man team to augment yours, all well armed. These are ex-British SAS and commandos from our day, so they will know their business. But will this be a problem?”

“No problem,” said Troyak flatly “as long as they are fighting with us, and not against us.”

“Let’s be certain we keep things that way, Sergeant. I want no incidents here. We left the last war behind us when we came here, and we’re fighting this one now to see that it never happens.” He looked at all the Marines now. “Understood?”

“Aye sir.”

“Once the situation is secure, we will arrange to move your force into the main offensive against the Vichy French. At that point you can operate with an ad-hoc force we’re putting together-code named Sabre Force. Brigadier Kinlan has provided three troops of British Scimitar tanks, 24 in all. There will be trucks supplied by the British, and even a few AFVs and light scout vehicles, so you will be mobile. We’ll move supplies of ammo for you in the KA-40, and the food and water will come from the Brits. I don’t need to tell you how important that helicopter is, so keep it safe. What weapons loadout would you recommend for this mission, Sergeant?”

“The 12.7mm Minigun on the gun pod, the 30mm Shipunov autocannon, air-to-air defense missiles, and the 9K114 Shturm pods for some AT defense.”

“I’ll see that it is done. The X-3 helos from the Argos Fire will have good weaponry as well, and that force should be all we need to silence that artillery. After Habbaniyah, you will join with the Argonauts, and become part of Sabre Force. One other thing… Popski will be with you from the outset to act as liaison with the British and serve as an interpreter. He will be regarded as your senior officer, and report directly to me. Any questions?”

“None sir,”

“Very good then.” Fedorov smiled. “Go secure that airbase.”

The Marines were more than ready. After having to sit about in an old truck for nearly 48 hours in Egypt, they were finally getting what they really lived for, a hot combat mission. Troyak selected the weapons, adding auto-grenade launchers, two 82mm Podnos mortars, and the deadly RPGs to the team’s inventory. Kirov put out to sea on the night of March 10, 1941, moving from Alexandria to a point due east of Jerusalem, just off the coast. They lifted off on the 11th of March, making an in flight rendezvous with the three X-3s over the Mediterranean before heading inland. This would cut over 400 kilometers from the distance the helos had to fly, which was considerable. From there it was still another 875 kilometers to Habbaniyah, and the KA-40 could only range out 1200 kilometers.

To solve that problem they planned to make an initial ferry mission to the deserts of Jordan, where a small base designated “Tango-1” was established near the border of Iraq, about 425 kilometers inland, or half the distance to the airfield. The helo offloaded the first ten Marines, containers of aviation fuel, and reserve ammo before returning to the ship to run that same mission again. Zykov pulled the lead team duty with nine other Marines. They would wait for the main mission to land there before heading to Habbaniyah, and in this way they would still have two thirds of their fuel, which was more than enough to operate and still be able to return to Tango-1 to refuel before heading west again. The mission was well coordinated with the X-3s, which also had very long range, but they would need to ferry in ammo and fuel for their teams as well.

The tension that had led to the Iraqi artillery barrage at Habbaniyah had been mounting for some time. An independent “Mechanized” Brigade, with a light tank company, an armored car company, two battalions of lorried infantry, a machine-gun company, and 30 towed artillery pieces had moved to the plateau overlooking the British base some days ago. They vastly outnumbered the British garrison, which was composed of only 300 British regulars of the Kings Own Royal Regiment under Colonel Roberts, who had been Chief Of Staff of the 10th Indian Division, now en-route to Iraq. His small force had been rushed to Habbaniyah by air the previous day, flown in from airfields near Basrah in the south. Now they joined the Number 1 Armored Car Company, 18 old Rolls Royce armored cars and a pair of antiquated “tanks,” which were little more than Mark VIB MG tanks the locals dubbed “Walrus” and “Seal.” A few hundred native levees fleshed out the defense.

The British sent up a light reconnaissance plane to have a look at what they were facing, and soon knew that they were opposed by a force ten times their size, over 9000 men.

“They have at least twelve old Crossley armored cars up there,” said the pilot, referring to the 6-wheeled vehicles dating back to 1927. “And they’ll match Walrus and Seal with a fist full of what looked to be CV-35s.” That was an old Italian tankette, also armed with machineguns.

“What about the artillery,” said Roberts. “That’s our real worry. We’ve only a few mortars to answer them, and one good hit on the water tower or power station and we’re out of business here. We’d have no choice but to give up the ghost when the good water runs dry.”

“Let’s hope they’re just making a show of force, sir,” said the pilot, “and it’s a good one at that!”

Air Vice Marshall Smart was taking the report with Colonel Roberts, his eyes narrowed with the sun, skin browned by long months in the desert beneath his white pith helmet. “We’ll simply have to use the planes,” he said. “We’ll get every plane that will fly ready to go and arm them with anything we can find.”

“Should we hit them now, sir?” Roberts knew he was at great disadvantage here. He could rely on his own men, but the loyalty of the Assyrian Levees was as yet untested. One look at the list of guns noted by the recce pilot gave him a chill, even in the desert heat. “Look, they have at least twelve 18 pounders, a couple of 4.5 inch howitzers and several small 3.7s, but it’s enough to hurt us badly if they get to it.”

Smart was senior officer on base, and the call was his. “No,” he said after some deliberation. “Given our situation, I don’t think it would be wise to provoke them. We’ve a message in hand from their envoy stating this is nothing more than a training exercise.”

“Not bloody likely, sir. That’s a big desert out there, and they came all the way from Baghdad.”

“Of course, but we can play along for time if possible. They’ve also demanded we cease all air operations, but I’ve told them we have training to do as well, and any attempt to interfere with it will be treated as an act of war. Ambassador Cornwallis in Baghdad fully supported that response. Let’s see if they have the temerity to do anything more with those troops up there, but for the moment, we’ll keep to Middle East Command policy and not interfere with them.”

“Very well, sir, but we may regret our propriety here. They could be merely waiting for darkness before launching an attack.”

“Make any prudent defensive preparation, Colonel. If things take a turn for the worse we can still use the planes.”

“Yes sir, assuming they aren’t all blown to hell.”

Smart gave Roberts a nod, understanding his concern, but willing to give it time. Unfortunately, the situation was not winding down. They received a note from Baghdad stating that a protest had been made to the Iraqi government, and that the “maneuvers” were been looked upon as an act of war, which would require a response if the troops were not withdrawn. Realizing they already had the cat by the tail, the Iraqis would not back down.

A guarded night passed, with the men at the watch for long, sleepless hours. Thankfully, no attack came, but by dawn Air Vice Marshall Smart was having second thoughts. He stood on the tarmac, seeing the trainers of the 4th Service Flying Training School. With them there were three Gladiators, thirty Hawker Audax “fighters,” seven Fairey Gordon light bombers, a number of Hawker Harts and one Blenheim. He had eighty-four planes, but only thirty-nine trained pilots. The rest of the nearly 1000 R.A.F. contingent were service personnel. Yet now he learned that a squadron of Wellingtons had been moved to southern Iraq, and that they had received authorization to launch “air strikes” from Churchill himself!

“Help is on the way,” came the message. “If you have to strike, strike hard. Use all necessary force. ”

With authorization from the Prime Minister in hand, Smart gave the order to begin operations, and the crews were rolling out the planes, the first fitful sputter of the engines greeting the dawn. He could get 56 planes operational, but would fly off squadrons of twelve at a time to try and keep near continuous operations over the enemy positions. The planes were to drop their small 20 pound bombs and strafe the enemy gun positions in the hope of driving them off. As the first planes took off, he got word that eight Wellingtons were on the way to add some real thunder to his planned attack, and he took heart while the troops under Colonel Roberts sat in their positions, continuing to sand bag and dig in.

The morning call of the Muezzin had been answered by the Iraqi troops that day, and many were still bent in prayer when the sound of the engines came rolling on the clear desert air. They were soon shocked to realize that the tiny garrison aircraft were attacking them, and the whole encampment soon erupted with the sound of battle. Men leapt up from their prayer mats and ran for their rifles, tents emptied as bleary eyed officers came out from their breakfast to see what all the commotion was. A troop of camels bolted when the first planes roared in, their small bombs opening what would become a century of oil wars in Iraq and the Middle East. The planes wheeled overhead, Lewis guns rattling and chewing up the dry desert loam as they made their strafing runs.

Men were running in all directions, but soon the officers managed to get crews to their artillery and they began to return fire on the airfield. Colonel Roberts flinched as the first 18-pounders landed on the flat, dry field. Then he saw a salvo land right in the midst of a flight of trainers, the explosions sending one plane cart wheeling up as the rounds came in. He tightened his helmet strap, running past a Vickers heavy machinegun position and down the line to the mortar teams. He had six 2-inch mortars and two 3-inch trench mortars which would seem a feeble reply, but he got them firing just the same.

That same day the news would reach the Grand Mufti in Baghdad, and he was so outraged at the British attack that he immediately spoke the word that would haunt Western powers for decades after- jihad! Hands were quickly on the wheels controlling the valve to the pipeline that stretched all the way to Haifa where the British took delivery of oil from Iraq, and it was shut down, stopping the flow. British pounds sterling would no longer be accepted for this vital resource. It would now have to be paid for in blood and steel. By nightfall the damage was tallied on both sides. The British had lost 22 aircraft, 8 dead, and 32 others wounded by the Iraqi shelling. It was news of this event that came to the fireside meeting with Churchill, Wavell and Fedorov, and galvanized the plans for Operation Scimitar.

“Another few days like that and we won’t have a single plane air worthy here,” said Roberts to Sergeant Jeffers. “To make matters worse, Air Vice Martial Smart drove out to the field last night, headlights off, and ran right into a ditch. He took a hard knock, and will have to be evacuated to India. I’m to assume overall command of the garrison. I hope your men are ready, Sergeant.”

“The men are digging in, sir. But there’s little in the way of timber available for top cover on the trenches, and those damn 18 pounders will be on us again at first light.”

“We took out three yesterday, but the Iraqis are bringing up reinforcements. Damn! We need artillery. What about those two 4.5 inch howitzers outside the Officers Mess?”

“Those date back to the Great War, sir. Haven’t been fired for decades. They’re just for show.”

“Yes? Well, we’ve a new great war to fight now laddie. Get them squared away for action. The Wogs have two bloody divisions in and around Baghdad, and this lot here is already more than enough to finish us off if we just sit here like this.”

“It won’t be the first time a British garrison has stood up under tough odds, sir. Shall I have the men tear down that old shed for wood to strengthen our positions?”

“No Sergeant, we aren’t going to sit here watching the planes fluttering about while we take another pounding tomorrow.”

“Then what will we do, sir?”

“We’re going to do just what well trained British infantry is paid for. As soon as the sun sets, we’re going to attack!”