Meanwhile I was shucking and jiving.
I offered all the Brads and the Abrams I'd left in the desert to the Kurds. Almost all. I needed to rebuild my losses. I also needed other things.
Most of the Kurds in the Mosul area came from that general area of Kurdistan. The tribes in the immediate "Iraqi" area.
I asked for, and got, Perg Mersha to "assist me in actions in the Anatolian region." But.
This is where I needed negotiation room.
I pointed out to the Turkish general that I was going to need some things if I was going to do this op. And he'd been informed that if I didn't get what I wanted, I had the final say-so on conducting my operation. Basically, he'd better geek or I'd pack up and go home.
Which is why the Kurdish areas of what was once Turkey are now "Kurdistan." (The Iranian areas came later.)
Also why Istanbul is named, again, Byzantium. (I wanted to go for Constantinople but my own guys talked me out of that one.) That one was kind of silly, but it had bugged me for years.
I didn't ask for the statue. I didn't know about the statue until it was practically done. That Turk general had my number. If he'd asked me I'd have screamed blue blazes. Fucking thing is a nightmare. Every damned ship, including cruise ships, that goes through the Bosporus can see the damned thing. I mean you can't fucking miss it. As an engineering work, it's pretty fucking impressive. Pissed me off, though.
I also didn't ask for the sword. Still got it over the mantelpiece, though. Heirloom and all that.
And I'm actually sort of surprised at the statue. When we left, the Turks were a little pissed at us.
But that's for later.
The Kurds were, basically, attacking in two directions with damned little in the way of logistics. Very Kurdish in that.
It took two weeks to get everything in place. Including plane loads of gear. I'd said I didn't need it then got pack-rattish. But, fuck, I needed it.
Then we set off to waves and yells from the Kurds. Somewhere they'd found flowers and all that stuff. The troops were getting kissed by girls and it was a grand send off.
It was snowing like a bitch. Nice of them to turn out in all that snow.
It snowed harder. And more and snowed and fucking snowed.
The first part was easy-peasy. The Kurds controlled all the territory up the Tigris well into what used to be Turkey. And the Tigris went way into Turkey. Since it cut through the mountains down that way, the roads and railroads kinda followed the same line.
Yeah, there was a railroad. I'd thought about loading the Abrams on it but things were kinda messed up and I was only a company. I couldn't get a railroad running. So we drove.
We'd gotten tank-carriers, though, for the Abrams. The Iraqis had them. We had to unload sometimes when shit got bad. The Abrams made dandy snow plows.
The shit got very bad. The Taurus mountains are not exactly Alpine but they are very rugged. And they're very volcanically active. We ran across the hot-spring we based "Elephants" around up in the Taurus and decided it was a good place to lay up for a couple of days. The guys camped (not CAM(P)ed, that was later) and warmed up in the water. "Battery" was later, too. But that was in Turkey. When it got worse.
There was actually a border post when we passed out of the Kurdish region. By then we not only had the "task force" of Bravo and the Mongrels and the Nepalese, we'd picked up a fair trail of Kurds. About a battalion of infantry under a tough old guy from the Turkish regions. The Turks really didn't like it when we turned up with him. Turns out he was wanted as a terrorist. Looked like one. But we were all friends now. I invited him to "coffee" and he brought a couple of lieutenants and the commo trailer was getting really overloaded. Since we were having to stop to log these days, we just scheduled a log-stop for "coffee" time and did it then. I missed the old "Bravo Company . . . arriving" thing but if they ever build a commo van large enough to hold an officers' call for a short brigade I don't want to be in it.
Once we passed out of the Kurdish region, though, things got tougher. The Kurds had been keeping some of the roads open. None of these were. And although the Turks said that this region was "under their control" there were, to say the least, areas where control was spotty. We got ambushed about every other day. Mostly it was the equivalent of bandits, guys trying to steal our shit. But getting hit by bandits isn't much different than getting hit by muj. And quite often you can't tell the difference in places like that.
Hell, there was a reason to hit us. We had food. Most of the region was starving already. What they were going to do in the spring and summer I had no idea. Assuming there was a spring and summer.
There was a main road running from Van to Ankara, where the Turk general's capital was. I thought he said they had it all under control and that it was open. Problem was, there was no good way to get to it.
Last Kurd control was the edge of Diyarbakar province. We were on little fucking hairpin roads trying to get to Mus, where the "highway" was. Passed the Kurd outpost in the pass above Mus. Fucking bunker with a stove going for all it was worth and the pass was already under six feet of snow. The Abrams were off their carriers and towing them.
Then they were trying to keep them from sliding off the mountain on the other side. I'd thought we'd hit some mountains in the Kurd region, got a new appreciation for the term in the fucking Taurus.
The Nepos, of course, loved it. Oh, they called them "hills" and said they weren't "real" mountains. But they were running around at every stop, and there were a lot of them, like little kids. We hit places where you had to sort of gasp for air. They said it was still too thick but getting better.
Runty Himalayan fuckers.
We finally made it to Mus. Not much to see. It was just another Plague-ridden city with a crashed population and, at that point, a serious weather problem. And, as it turned out, a group of hardcores that were more of a gang than anything. See "Battery."
We rolled out of Mus with less of a security problem and food eating problem, for them, than when we arrived. There is little good that soldiers can do but we can, occasionally, reduce the bad.
So much for the Turks having "control" of the whole road. Also so much for the road being open. It was just as choked as the little ass ones we'd crossed. Just a bit wider which was nice.
We still lost two Abrams and a carrier trying to get to Ankara. And the HERCULES of course, but that wasn't really anyone's fault but the Nepos.
I forgave them two days later.
We were just out of Erzincan near the town of Goyne. This, by the way, was, like, the headwaters of the Euphrates. There had been a route up that but it looked worse. Probably was.
Anyway, lots of little valleys and pretty major rivers. All frozen solid. Ish. The road we were on had good bridges, thank God. Turned out the Turkish military had a big mountain-training base not too far away, pre-Plague.
And apparently a depot or something in the area. Because as we came up to the pass, lo and behold it was defended.
Our first inkling of this was the Scouts yelling like hell and backing up. And then, over the yells, we heard the echo of a big gun firing.
Up in the pass were a couple of tanks. Dug in. Getting up to it was a long damned switchback. They had it covered.
We tried Javelins. They couldn't get a lock. The tanks were in revetments looking down at us. The Javs needed more of a view.
The Abrams guys looked at the situation and shook their heads. They'd go. But they figured they were going to get whacked and whacked hard. Most of the way to where they could get a good firing position they'd be driving with their flank to the enemy. And if those were Turkish tanks, which was the only thing that made sense, they were Leopards. And Leopards are just about as good as Abrams. (Just about. Not as good. I don't care what the Krauts say.)
Get some infantry up on the pass? Brother, those mountains were steep! And high. It would take a couple of days. And my guys weren't trained mountain troops they were . . .
Wait.
It took me, seriously, about ten minutes to slap my forehead. Sometimes, most of the times, a solution that easy comes to me fast. Then other times I'm pretty damned dense.
"Samad!"
Assault the pass? Tanks? Possible infantry? Carry Javelins up there where eagles dare? Of course, Sahib. I will arrange.
Ever seen a goat trail? I mean one in a mountain?
They're switchbacks, too. And about two inches wide. Back and forth, back and forth, occasionally punctuated by spots that the goats jump lightly from the path to a small rock and then on to the path again. There being no other way to make their way across a sheer cliff.
Ever seen guys trot up a goat path. For hours? Carrying, like, more than their body weight of gear? I mean, the Nepos were carrying not only personal weapons but Javelins, which are heavy motherfuckers, and medium machine guns and ammo and even some light mortars. It was a motherfucker of a load.
I began to understand Sherpas. Even the Kurds, who looked a bit pissed at first to be left out, were getting impressed quick. They were "mountain" fighters, they thought. The Nepos were still referring to these as "hills."
There was an area to the north that it looked like the guys up on the pass couldn't observe. Goat path up to the ridge. Ridge up to the cliff overlooking the path. Presumably Javelin into the pass. Trot, trot, trot . . . Who is that I hear trotting on my ridge?
Wait, hope they're not Turkish military. That would be embarassing.
I called ahead.
No, they are not ours.
I thought you said this road was a) clear. Which it is not. And b) under control. Which it is not.
I thought you were going up the Adana road. Why are you in Erzincan province? We haven't even tried to get control in that area. All the roads are blocked by the snows!
Mus looked closer and I thought you said the Van road was open and . . .
Fuck me.
We're going to be a while.
Did I fuck up? I don't know. I do know that there wasn't Kurd control over to Adana and from what I gleaned later the "control" of the Adana road was spotty. But . . .
And I swear he'd said the Van road. I didn't keep a copy of the conversation, though, so it's his word against mine.
Clearing the pass.
We parleyed while the Nepos climbed.
The Avesi Alliance now owned this patch of ground. You will pay a toll of all your vehicles, those are nice tanks by the way, and equipment. We'll let you leave with a couple of trucks and fuel and enough food to get you back to those heathen Kurds. Oh, you have some heathen Kurds with you? Well, take them back where they came from. These are our lands!
I appreciate your sentiment. However, my orders are to proceed through this region on the way to complete a mission of some importance. Move or I'll move you.
How?
I have great and wonderful powers you cannot begin to understand. And if worse comes to worse I can get airstrikes. Move.
Fuck off and die.
Okay, Burger King, you can have it your way.
The Avesi are not really the most violent people in the world. Most encyclopedias talk primarily about their contribution to Turkish music. (By the way, that sort of makes them violent in my opinion. I'm not a fan of Turkish music.) They're a branch of Shia that are related to Sufiism and . . .
Ah, Christ. Go look it up.
"After Action Analysis" indicated that a former infantry captain (hey, look at me!) took the name as a way to build local support. He'd established a little feudalism in Sivas province. I don't think he was actually doing bad things, unlike some of the bandits and others we cleared out. At the time I didn't really care. And the Turks did reestablish order in the region after we passed through. Having someone clear out all your troublemakers makes that easy. When we got done the Van Road was pacified with a capital P.
The Nepos got up on the ridge about nightfall. They made it to a good firing point around 2100. Yes, they had night vision gear.
I called up the local commander.
Yo, dude. You've got two Leopard tanks and three trucks up there.
Wait, how did you know about the trucks?
I have mysteeerious powers. Look, surrender, now, and I'll leave you the use of your legs.
Hah, hah, you are very funny . . .
Then one of the trucks blew the fuck up.
What have you done?
Blew up one of your trucks. Don't try to move the rest of the shit. Just lay down your guns and surrender. I have wondrous and mysterious powers. Don't make me kill you all.
So they pointed the tank guns to the rear and we drove up and accepted their surrender.
We left some Kurds to guard them and the pass while we sorted things out. They promised not to kill and eat anyone. We picked up the Nepos down the road so they never knew what my "mysterious powers" were. (Javelins. Low signature.) It was less of a walk for the Nepos. But that's where Samad slipped on his way down, something of the ultimate insult to a Nepo along the lines of drowning in his fucking bathtub to a SEAL, and turned into a human snowball. Very scary at the time, very funny in retrospect. Made for great cinema.
"Sorting things out" took a couple of days and one or two skirmishes. We also had to leave a bunch of Kurds behind. And they didn't interact great with the locals but we pointed out that they were just there to guard the prisoners and we'd get Turks over to straighten things out shortly.
Bandits by day, sneak thieves by night, occasional feudal lords. Some we could negotiate with, they were trying to decide which way to hop on the whole "who's in charge" thing. Some we had to fight. They lost. We took almost no casualties because a) I never fight fair and b) when the Nepos couldn't flank someone the Kurds could. In retrospect, it was good training for what was to come.
Turned out we didn't hit the first outpost of "order" until we got to Kirkkale. Actually west of Kirkkale. Ankara was near the back side of what the Turkish general controlled.
But I rolled in with seven more Leopards than I'd had at the beginning. Also down two Abrams, a HERCULES and a carrier. Five WIA, two KIA. Two cases of frostbite. One guy lost toes.
Maybe I should have taken the Adana Road. But I swear he said Van.