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?

4 Victory and Defeat

4.6 Israel

4.6.1 Mount Ammar

It had once been a mighty volcano, but it had breathed its last sulfurous breath eons before man had appeared. The winds and rains had attacked its cone of ash, withering it. Now the plains below were blessed by the volcano's fertility. Of it the only thing that remained was its heart. Hard, red granite with even harder glassy intrusions of basalt dominated the plain as it had throughout the ages. None could pass its eight-hundred meter heights without feeling its ancient majesty and dread. Mt. Ammar overlooked the valleys of Dama and of As-Suwayda, holding them in thrall.

The Syrians, who had lived in these lands for countless centuries, knew well of Mt. Ammar's commanding position. No one would be able to travel the passes leading to Damascus, if Syria controlled its summit. As they had done for millennia, the Syrians relied upon control of Mt. Ammar to defend them from their most recent invaders, the Israelis. With great effort over many years, they had hewn and blasted the volcano's core, placing within it their engines of destruction, which were but as children's toys in comparison with the fires and eruptions which had emanated from this once fearsome place. Child-like imitations or not, they were sufficient to halt the Israeli advance.

The Israelis had tried to destroy Syria's mighty eight-inch howitzers denizened in the mountain's deeps. Their bombs were as a child's hammer striking a mighty pillar of iron. They made a pretty sound and sometimes produced a spark, but they were incapable of overcoming the ancient mount of adamantine.

The basaltic heart of the volcano was rough and sharp. Its declivities were filled with boulders. It was impossible to negotiate a vehicle, not even the most powerful, upon its mighty shoulders. The machines of man were insufficient to conquer it.

Attacking it would require the most ancient of military devices, the foot soldier. The Israelis would have to clamber up its treacherous slopes, hiding behind rocks and boulders. They could advance but a meter at a time, if they were to achieve its summit and silence the embattled Syrian howitzers.

However, the Syrians knew that Israeli planes, bombs, rockets and artillery would be as trifles. Fearing only an infantry assault, Syria prepared for such a contingency by augmenting their defenses with two-thousand of their finest troops. Then, secure in the knowledge that their mountain-top artillery was their bulwark, they awaited the Israeli assault.

4.6.2 Plans for Mt. Ammar

"Gentlemen," Lt. Colonel Jacob "Jake" Hiram's voice carried over the din, "you may have noticed our little problem." A Syrian had just fired a 200-mm shell in their direction, emphasizing the colonel's irony. "If we stay here, we lose. If we can't silence or neutralize those guns, we lose. So, we have to do something about them.

"We're going to do exactly what the Syrians want us to do, up to a point. We're going to bloody our own noses deliberately and attack Mt. Ammar from three sides.

"Second Brigade will attack from the southwest through Bosor, Izra and Shaqra. Twelfth will attack from the southeast through Buraykah and Shahba. You will use your dismounted infantry in these attacks augmented by crews from your tanks and other vehicles. Your tanks and heavier equipment will provide fire support.

"You will notice that this only covers two of the three sides of which I spoke. The third side will be the top!

"In order to give our turbaned brothers the very worst scenario. We have decided to attack at night. We will begin our long range bombardment at 21:00 hours. You will advance under the cover of this bombardment to your jumping off points, dismount your infantry and let them experience the joys of rock climbing. Your night optics will give you a decided advantage.

"We are hoping that the Syrians will panic after the first hour or two, especially when they discover that we are advancing and are indeed capable of capturing the heights. We expect that by 01:00 hours, you will have accomplished this and that they will have brought all their reserves to the southern approaches to defend against our attacks from the west, south and east.

"The reason we are hoping this is that, at 01:00 hours, a battalion of special forces will be landed by helicopter at Dania. If you have been successful in your role as decoys, that battalion will reach the summit within an hour, destroy the guns with explosives, retreat back to Dania and fly away. At that time, you will receive a signal to disengage.

"After your infantry have returned to their units, you will proceed north and, once again, we will try to seize Damascus.

"Break into your battalion formations, and go over this carefully. A lot of our countrymen are going to die tonight. Let's work very hard to keep that number to a minimum."

4.6.3 Assault on Mount Ammar

David Weissman slammed the hatch on his Impala command vehicle and waited for the show to begin. His watch must have been just a tad slow, because it read 08:59 when the first shell exploded on Mt. Ammar. He leaned around to the driver and shouted, "Let's go!" His Impala bounced and ground over the rock-strewn terrain, following a long line of tanks, AFVs and APCs moving towards Bosor.

The shelling stopped. Infantry dismounted and formed into their company assault teams. Each company had three teams. Teams A and B consisted of thirteen-man platoons of regular dragoons who would lead the assault on the mountain's nearly vertical face. The C Teams were scratch platoons consisting of the twelve tank loaders, the driver and gunner from the Impala and the two SRAW teams. They would provide firepower in direct support of each company's two assault teams.

The rest of the battalion would stay behind, but their contributions would be enormous. Mortars were the only weapons that could provide fire support for the advancing troops as they climbed the heights. Missileers were needed to cover the ascending troops in case of a helicopter attack. The tanks and AFVs were to move into defensive positions to the west of the mountain to ward off any Syrian counter-attacks that might interfere with the assault.

The battalion hit the lava slopes with a yell. It was murderously steep, and men climbed the mountain as though it were a steep ladder. They pulled themselves up with their arms while testing for a foothold. Then, they pushed on again and again, measuring the mountain by their own height.

Yell, they did. After a while it was more of a gasp than a yell. Sometimes, it was more of an obscenity than fierce battle roar. But, yell and climb they did.

After a while, Dave was sure that he'd climbed Mt. Everest. Yet, when he looked back, he was surprised to see that they'd only come a hundred meters or so. He began to wonder if the yelling that his CO had emphasized was all that useful, when he heard the first crack of a bullet. It was working! The Syrians were massing to defend the mount. He stopped long enough to breathe and to shout his first command, "Advance by Teams! Open fire!"

The five A-Teams clambered upward, while the rest of the companies fired into the green-black darkness at the awakening defenders. Moments later, the A-Teams were in position and opened fire to cover for the next wave of attackers. The five B-Teams advanced up the cliff, leap-frogging their companions while the A-Teams supplied covering fire. When both of the assault teams were in position, the C-Teams advanced to the A-Teams' positions. Then the A-Teams advanced once more to repeat the process against increasingly fierce Syrian resistance.

The assault teams finally hit the main line of resistance. They knew because torrents of grenades cascaded down the mountainside. Most of them exploded harmlessly, expending their energy on the impervious old volcano. Some spalled rock splinters that flew in every direction and were as effective as shrapnel itself. A few grenades did their own damage. Shouts of "medic" began to filter in the air.

David turned and looked down the slope. He pulled out his hand-held, laser-communicator and aimed it towards where he thought his five mortar teams should be. After a little wiggling, he found the dish receiver.

"Mortars, Dave here."

"Hi, Major. Do we see shooting?"

"Yes, Mortar. Check my elevation. The Syrians are rolling grenades down on us. Shoot fifty meters above me. Fire one round for sighting."

He didn't hear the mortar's whump, but he saw the blast. It was too high. "Drop ten. Sighting shot." Another explosion, just about where he wanted it. "On target. Fire ten times for effect, moving left and right through twenty meters." The mountain above him shook with the impact of 60-mm mortar shells. "C-Teams, cover the advance on my signal. A-Teams, B-Teams, move out! C-Teams, fire!"

Mini-guns wailed and roared as hundreds of rounds of 7.62-mm ammunition burnt from their barrels. Tracers appeared like a golden stream arched high above to douse the enemy positions beneath their torrent. Under the hail of fire, one hundred and twenty dragoons clambered upwards, reaching for the line of resistance above them.

An A-Team lieutenant called, "Cease fire!", and the major repeated it. The mini-guns ceased their roar ,and, for a moment, David's ears rang. Slowly, as his hearing came back to him, he heard the sharp staccato of the dragoons' Galils.

He yelled, "C-Teams, climb," as he grabbed the rock face, slipped slightly and felt the sharp rock cut. It couldn't be helped. Foot-hold, hand-hold. Hand-hold, foot-hold. Yell. Breathe. Climb!

A hand reached out to him. It pulled him onto a landing where he could scramble to his feet. A big trooper stood grinning at him. "Worked good, Major."

David looked around. He was standing in a relatively wide flat alley that seemed to go around the mountain in each direction. It looked like some kind of firing trench. David looked back over the side. He was a long way up. He turned and looked towards the summit. He had a longer way to go. Once again, he aimed his laser back down the slope.

"Major? That you?"

"Yes, Mortar, this is Dave. We're on a flat spot up here. Looks like some kind of path or defensive position. It may go on around the hill. Inform regiment, and then get two mortar teams up here. Once they're in position, bring the rest up. Got it?"

"OK, Major. Do we need the bases?"

"Don't think so, Mortar. It's really hard up here. You'll probably be able to use these rocks to support it. You may need a grenade though for a pinion hole."

"OK, Major, we'll be able to rig something up."

They climbed and yelled with renewed vigor. It was as though they had won a great victory and were moving on, seeking another. Firing from above renewed. The C-Teams quenched it. Another cascade of grenades fell from the heights. A fusillade of mortar shells answered.

The world shrank around them. They existed in a world of rock. Within that world there was climbing and yelling. Skinned knees, lacerated ankles, bloody elbows, torn hands and more rocks existed. Firing from above, cries of "medic" and exploding grenades existed. Moving shapes also existed to torment them.

A cataract of grenades, which were also a part of this nightmare world, descended upon them. From within the waking phantasm, David heard himself call for mortar support. The reply reinforced the horror of his surreal existence.

"Major, you are out of range. New mortar positions aren't ready. Sorry!"

The nightmare renewed. A-Teams fire, B-Teams advance. Cries for medics. B-Teams advance, A-Teams fire. C-Teams fire, both teams advance. Medic! More rocks, more pain. Yell! Yell 'til your lungs burst! Fire! Climb! They're already bursting!

David's mind reeled as a new sound pulsed around him. He screamed, "What in God's name is that?" He answered his own question, "It's a chopper! What time is it? One hundred hours. They're landing at Dama. Climb A-Teams! Climb B-Teams! We must draw them off! It's our only chance!"

The nightmare world closed in around him again. He became an automaton cursed like Sisyphus to a world of endless repetition. Fire! Climb! Yell! Yell as though Hell had just swallowed you. Yell! Fire! Climb! You're in Hell now!

A hand reached out to him. "Major," the disembodied voice cried out, "we're here, Sir. We've just conquered Mt. Ammar!"

David's heart pounded and his mind reeled trying to shake off the nightmare world as he stood looking around him. He was above everything. Below him was a large, round patio with railroad tracks bending through it. He was standing directly above the Syrian rail guns buried within the mountain's summit.

He pulled out his radio. "This is Major David Weissman, First Armored Battalion, Third Armored Regiment of Second Armored Brigade of the Israeli Defense Forces. Mt. Ammar belongs to Israel."

The radio burped, "Major Weissman, that was very unprofessional. By the way, are you claiming to have conquered Mt. Ammar?"

"Yes, Sir, Colonel. I am presently standing upon its crest. My companies are investing the caverns below us as we speak, and sending large numbers of Syrians to Paradise. To the best of my knowledge, we have captured the guns intact, but that remains to be seen. As for losses, Sir, I have no idea. I will be back to you in a short time to inform you. By the way, please invite all your friends to our little party, we're planning to open a restaurant up here to take advantage of the magnificent view."

Back at headquarters, Jake Hiram and Ephraim Schwartz just looked at each other. Jake spoke first, "I think our David is in need of a little rest."

Ephraim snorted, "Aren't we all, Jake? Inform Brigade and tell those Special Forces guys to get up to the top and assist the regulars. That'll be a great goad for them."

The Iraqis would arrive tomorrow. The race to Damascus was a long way from over.