The Faithful, North African and Middle Eastern Islamic nations, are plotting to seize the oil resources of the Middle East. By controlling the earth's oil and its major trade routes, they plan to bring the world to its knees. Then, when the entire world is kneeling, the Faithful of Allah will read to them from the Koran, preaching the message of Islam, the True Faith. The Faithful will stop at nothing to achieve their goal. But how far will they go? And how many lives will it cost?

2 Early Moves

2.2 Israel

2.2.1 Attack Plans

Major David Weissman griped to himself, "What a way to start a war!" He was cold and hadn’t slept well. And, he was constipated. His radio jumped to life. Regimental HQ was on the line. They’d called another staff meeting, the third one in two days. He yelled at his sleeping driver, who was just doing what all good soldiers do when they have nothing better to do. But, this only made him angrier. He knew better than to take out his troubles on his men, but he had done so anyway. He’d have to make up for it.

After ten minutes of spring-breaking torture, he arrived at the school building that had been commandeered for the Regiment’s HQ. He smiled ruefully, as he looked at the children’s drawings that covered the walls inside the small building. Most of them were just scribbles even to his practiced eye. But, a few were very good... pictures of the Heights, covered with trees and grass... pictures of farms, crops and animals...homes and families. They were the drawings of children at peace in a land that was about to be destroyed by war.

He was ushered into the school’s assembly room that was already crowded with officers. Colonel Hiram was seated close to the door, so Dave sat beside him and looked around. The battalion COs of the rest of his regiment were already there, and they all greeted each other warmly. After some small talk with his friends, David looked further to see who else was there. To his surprise, some of the guys were from First and Second Regiments. On further inspection, he discovered that every officer from his whole division was gathered in the assemblage. Whatever this was all about, he concluded, it was big!

"A-ten-shun!" a voice bellowed, and everybody leapt to their feet. General Isman Eban, grandson of the late Prime Minister, strode to the dais. "As you were, gentlemen." The room filled with the rumbles of boots, the squeaking of chairs and the nervous clearing of many throats.

General Eban cleared his throat and continued, "We are all aware of the basic situation. We are gathered here below the Golan Heights, once again, to defend our homes, our families and our way of life. Ever since Israel was founded, more than eighty years ago, our people have done this many times. This time things will be different.

"In the past, we have suffered surprise attacks. We have endured simultaneous attacks on all our borders. We even survived when they attacked us on Yom Kippur. This time, they made a mistake, and they will pay dearly for it.

"Syria is amassing its entire strength along our borders, but it took them too long, and we saw them. So, we mobilized. We had assumed that our full and rapid deployment of our forces would deter them. It has not.

"Instead, Damascus has called upon its old Ba’ath Party allies in Iraq for reinforcements. At this moment, two Iraqi divisions are heading overland towards the west. The first of these, believed to be the Second Armored division of the Republican Guard, has already entered Syria, here at Kama." He pointed at a map using his light pen. "They advanced on Dayr as-Zwar yesterday and turned east towards Sukhnah. At their present rate of travel, they will arrive at Palmyra tomorrow night. They will then board trains, and can be at Katana by the next day. This means that they can be in position to attack us in three days.

"The other Iraqi column has taken the more direct southern route and is presently at Rujbah. We do not know whether they will swing north towards Damascus or continue south through Jordan. However, the Jordanians have already said that they will not permit foreign forces to violate their soil. I doubt that the Iraqis will want to fight the Jordanians, especially in the Syrian desert. Therefore, we expect them to turn north. At their present rate of travel, they will also be in position to attack Israel in three days.

"We have only two choices. The worse of the two is to wait, and prepare to defend our lands. When that time comes, Syria will have three divisions in place, reinforced by two Iraqi divisions. Against them, we have the five brigades of the Israeli Defense Force. Although we will send many of them to their deaths, it is unlikely that we can defeat such an overwhelming force.

"Therefore, we have decided to attack Syria!"

The room erupted in an uncontrollable gasp. Move across the demilitarized zone? Violate the UN cease fire that had been in effect for over a quarter of a century?

The general waited a moment, and then cleared his throat for silence. "Yes, it is a bold move, and one which will, no doubt, bring the moralizers in the UN to the podium demanding sanctions. But, at least Israel will exist to be sanctioned.

"However, we believe that the UN will have far greater problems to deal with. Iraq and Iran have invaded Kuwait!" The uproar was sudden, but then the room became strangely quiet. "Yes, they have invaded Kuwait again, and are already preparing to invade Saudi Arabia. The Americans will be coming, as will all of Europe, but they won’t be coming to help us. They will be going where their national interests are at stake, namely to the oil fields. But that leaves us with our original problem.

"Once again, I say that we shall attack Syria. We shall attack them before they are prepared for us and before the Iraqi armored columns can come to their rescue. We will then move on to the next challenge, and if that is the Iraqis, Amen!

"I will now turn this meeting over to our intelligence officers, who will brief you on the general attack plan. You will then break up into brigade and regiment formations to learn the rest of your responsibilities. May the God of Israel protect you! Shalom!" He strode off the stage and out the door.

It took the G-2 guys almost two minutes to get everybody back to order. The big maps rolled down from the ceiling, and the senior staff officer moved into place with his long pointer. "Gentlemen! The plan is big, and it’s bold. So sit down, and let’s get this show on the road.

"Jump off is at 05:00 tomorrow. Third and Ninth Brigade in the north will become the First Division under General Myer. Second and Eleventh Brigades in the south will become the Second Division under General Geldfein. Twelfth Brigade will be a separate command south of Galilee.

He pointed to the northern border between Syria and Israel. "First Division will strike north and east along a front extending from Caesuria to Naffak. They will drive north-east along Route 91 towards Qunaytira."

His pointer shifted slightly to the south. "Second Division will attack along the front extending from Naffak to Ramot. They will also attack north-east up Route 87 across the highlands towards Rafid.

The pointer moved to the southern rim of the Sea of Galilee. "Twelfth Brigade will attack across the Jordan River along Route 98 through Fiq and Tasil to Sheik Miskin. They will then head north towards Damascus, while smaller detachments will provide blocking forces towards Dama.

The staffer stood before them, clutching the long pointer behind him. "We all know this drill, and have studied this and many similar plans in the past. You will find it listed in the battle plans being handed out as Aleph Red Four. Under this plan, we will not have a preliminary artillery bombardment, nor will we have preliminary air strikes. We will arise tomorrow morning and attack directly from our sleeping bags. Surprise and speed will be our strongest allies.

"Our heaviest guns are in position to provide artillery support, while all our lighter and more mobile ones are on the line ready to advance with the second wave. Please do not call in fire unless you need it. Once the arty starts, the surprise is over.

"We’ll have plenty of air assets. The choppers will be in the first wave providing close cover. Use them early and often. Save your ammo, especially tank ammo. You may outrun your supply lines. We’ll also have the Air Force standing by. But, when we start committing our attack planes, the surprise is over. Use your choppers. However, sooner or later, you’ll need the big stuff. Call for it, it’ll be there.

"Also, don’t worry about the Syrian air force. If they come up, we’ll see them. We’ll see them long before you do, and we’ll be on them. Whatever you do, don’t fire at high-flying aircraft. They’re probably ours. The Air Force is under strict orders to stay at least 500 meters above the ground. If it’s below 500 meters, remember your aircraft identification. Look first, and, if it’s theirs, shoot it down. But, if it’s up high, leave it alone. Don’t touch it.

"Finally, we have the UN observers to consider. Capture them immediately, and don’t let them use their radios. They are the guests of the Israeli government, and the prime minister has invited them to tea and scones in Tel Aviv!" The touch of humor brought a few laughs, some of which were just a little too hearty too be real.

"UN radios are our worst enemy. So, remember the priorities. Number one. Don’t let them use their radio. Priority Two. Do not let them spread the alarm. Number three. Capture them if at all possible. When in doubt, see priority number one! Break into your brigade and regimental groups. Shalom!"

2.2.2 Into Syria

Morning arrived all too soon. The only good part about it was that David’s internal organs had overcome the exigencies of war. He felt better, even if he was dog tired. He glanced at his watch: 04:45.

The Sun lightening the eastern horizon outlined the brooding mass of the Golan Heights, just a few kilometers away. The Heights were an ancient mountain range whose peaks rose to almost 1000 meters. Beyond the first ridge that loomed before him was an eroded valley which lifted into a second line of ridges. Beyond that, line after line of ridges interposed themselves, acting as if they were the guardians of the lands to the east, defying the invader to pass them.

The rumble of diesel engines filled the air. A big Lion of the Desert main battle tank rolled past, sunlight glinting off its still dewy turrets. Dave stood at the side of the road considering his forces and the battle plan for the invasion.

His Lions were basically British Centurion Mark VIs, with added reactive armor. They were armed with standard 120-mm and 12.7-mm NATO ordinance. The IDF had deliberately chosen the British tank over the American Abrams because of its engine. The Lions were 20 kilometers per hour slower, but their diesel engines gave them a 200 kilometer range advantage. Since tanks seldom went at top speed, especially in battle, the Lion’s lack of swiftness was not considered to be a problem. On the other hand, every Israeli farmer could repair a diesel, even in the dark.

His Badger Fighting Vehicles, which followed in the shadows of the Lions, were also modified British designs, having a powerful 73-mm cannon and a box launcher with six laser-guided, anti-tank missiles. In addition to their three-man crews, the Badgers carried eight dragoons, two more than the faster American Bradleys. The combination of the Badger’s larger main armament and its greater capacity was far more important than speed.

The least impressive of all the armored vehicles in the parade of steel rolling slowly past him were the French-built Impalas. The Impala was a ubiquitous design based upon the South African Ratal. Both the French and the Israelis had licensed it from the South Africans, but the French could produce them in far larger numbers and at lower cost. Therefore, most of the IDF’s Impalas were French. At the same time, most of the rest of the world employed the Israeli-built models, because they were perceived to be of higher quality.

Regardless of where they had been made, the Impalas were rugged and reliable. Their superb six-wheel drive could carry up to fourteen heavily armed dragoons to battle or ten tonnes of equipment and supplies. But, they were neither well armed nor well armored, making them next to worthless in a fight.

Finally, the more specialized vehicles crowded the road in front of him. Large, self-propelled howitzers, armored anti-aircraft missile vehicles, tank retrievers and engineering equipment paraded past him. The Israeli Army, of which his battalion was just a small part, was readying itself to invade and conquer its most ancient of enemies.

David’s radio blurted its one word message, "Shalom." It was 05:00. He relayed the order to each of his company commanders, then watched nervously as his lead tanks began to winding their way up the 500-meter ridge. Badger AFVs followed closely behind, blue smoke pouring from their exhausts. Impalas, twisting back and forth across the face of the hill, tried but failed to keep pace with their tracked brethren.

Fifteen minutes passed before the first of David’s tanks reached the top of the ridge. He heaved a great sigh of relief when they reached the top without firing a single shot. The most dangerous part of the war was behind him. As he watched, the armored fighting vehicles crested, and disappeared. Finally, the laboring Impalas heaved themselves over the top.

"We have them!" David shouted. His command crew looked up at him in surprise. None of them had ever heard a semi-hysterical outburst from their unflappable leader. Dave just grinned at them, leaned over to his driver, and shouted, "Onward, James! We have to keep up with the war, you know. I’d like to have tea and scones in Damascus at the same time the UN guys are having high tea with the PM!" They all laughed, as his Impala command vehicle lurched forward and charged up the hill.

His brigade’s objective was the crossroad just southeast of the town of Rafid thirty-five kilometers east of Almagor. Since his was the southernmost of all the battalions, it was his job to guard the brigade’s, and, thereby, the division’s flank. His unit would also be the one that would link up with the Twelfth Brigade coming north out of Fiq along Route 98. That meant that his battalion’s flank was hanging out in the breeze. The only thing he could do was to push his battalion as hard as possible, and pray that Twelfth Brigade was coming fast.

At first, they moved quickly along the large, wide and well-paved Route 87 which wound along the crest of the first great ridge of the Golan Heights. One kilometer inside Syria, they turned southward on Route 92 along the eastern ridge of the Heights. At Tel Hum, they turned to the northeast and climbed over the second ridge of the Golan Heights on what was laughingly called Syrian Route 869.

That road was hardly more than a goat path winding between the scattered piles of boulders. Every turn was a perfect place for an ambush. Every rise was a potential position for an enemy observation post. Every corner could serve to defilade a tank. The narrow passage through each valley was an invitation to a battery of howitzers to rain death down upon them. The pace of the invasion slowed dramatically, as the ally called speed abandoned them.

At the junction with Syrian Route 808, the battalion turned off the road and headed eastward into the wild and untamed regions of the Golan Heights. Instantly, they faced the implacable enemy - terrain - in a battle which they could not win. They rolled, bounced and careened over rocks, ditches and obstacles. Tires and axles were especially vulnerable, but even treads and bogeys yielded under the merciless pounding. Vehicles broke down, but the battalion could not stop. They were needed at Rafid.

The remaining mobile vehicles were packed with everything they could hold. Mortars, machine guns and ammunition were too heavy to be carried easily over this broken terrain. Men were forced to walk across the rock strewn land, risking twisted ankles and skinned knees while carrying their heavy packs.

The lead elements finally stumbled across the last ridge of the Golan Heights. Much to their surprise, they discovered the town of Butmiyah in the valley beneath them. They were totally in the wrong position!

According to the original plan, the battalion was supposed to keep to the extreme right, striking Route 98 southeast of Butmiyah. Instead, they were almost ten kilometers north of their objective. The Army’s flank was completely exposed. The entire battle plan was shot to hell.

Both Colonel Schwartz and Jake Hiram were badly shaken when they heard David’s report. "Go south, Dave," they ordered, "Go like hell before the Syrians wake up and find us."

The crash of artillery interrupted their frantic orders, as the fickle ally of surprise abandoned the Israelis, and treacherously favored their enemies. "I’m afraid it’s too late, Sirs. It looks like they’ve already seen us."

David’s battalion raced southward as quickly as the unyielding land would allow. The Syrians continued to pound with their long-range artillery, so he called for the counter-battery artillery he had been promised. None was available. He was informed that his battalion had gone beyond artillery range, and that it would be another hour before the second wave of the arty was ready for fire calls. He called again demanding helicopter support. None were available. Headquarters informed him that the choppers were also out of range, and new fueling depots had not been established for them. In desperation, he pleaded for the Air Force’s vaunted attack planes. None were available. First Division had run directly into two Syrian divisions, and the Air Force was busy in the north. He was on his own.

David’s scouts began reporting back to him. A column of Syrian tanks supported by infantry was moving out of Butmiyah headed directly towards his position. They also reported that a second Syrian column was kicking up huge clouds of dust as it moved out of Ar-Rafid towards the south. His battalion was supposed to have been the flanker. Instead, he was being flanked, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

The only advantage the battalion had was the terrain. The Syrians had used the Golan Heights against Israel for decades. Now it was Israel’s turn to use it against them. Badgers and Impalas disgorged their human contents. Machine gun positions sprang to life, and the cough of mortars rang out from the heights. Israeli tanks and armored vehicles nudged behind rocks and ridge lines, sighting down their long barrels into the plain below. A rocket leapt from a Badger’s launcher. A small cloud of dust appeared far down in the valley. A miniature volcano erupted on the plain. What had been a Syrian T-90 became a funeral pyre for its four crewmen.

First Battalion was in a powerful, almost impregnable position. But the Israeli drive on the vital crossroads southeast of Butmiyah had ground to a halt.