106: Chapter 103 Countdown: Infiltration

February 10, 1981, Ahvaz.

Ten days remaining until the offensive.

Reza moved the headquarters from the abandoned school to an underground bunker—this was renovated by Fatima's engineering team over three weeks, buried eight meters deep with a reinforced concrete structure, capable of withstanding a direct hit from a five-hundred-kilogram bomb.

Inside the bunker were a communications room, an operations room, a rest area, and a small medical station. More than twenty staff officers and technicians worked twenty-four-hour shifts, the air thick with the smell of strong coffee and tobacco.

"Karimi, has the intelligence on the Fao Peninsula arrived?"

"It has." Karimi placed a thick folder on the table. "Iraq's troop distribution, fire point coordinates, and minefield diagrams on the Fao Peninsula are all here."

Reza opened the folder and read through it page by page.

The Fao Peninsula, shaped like a wedge, juts into the Persian Gulf. The peninsula is about fifteen kilometers wide and sixty kilometers long, with its narrowest point being only five kilometers. Iraq has deployed an infantry brigade of about three thousand men on the peninsula, along with an artillery battalion and an anti-aircraft company. The fortifications consist mainly of reinforced concrete bunkers, supplemented by anti-tank trenches and minefields.

"Three thousand men," Reza said, "plus the fortifications and minefields, it won't be an easy fight."

"But it's not impossible to take," Rezai said. "The key is finding their weakness."

"Where is the weakness?"

Rezai pointed to a location in the middle of the peninsula on the map: "Here. The narrowest part of the Fao Peninsula, only five kilometers wide. If we cut off the peninsula here, the Iraqi troops at the southern end will become an isolated force; those in the north won't be able to get through, and those in the south won't be able to escape."

"But this is the most heavily defended area by the Iraqis," Karimi said. "Their brigade headquarters is located right here, with over five hundred men defending it."

"Five hundred against three thousand, it's doable," Rezai said, "but we need to take out their command system first."

Reza fell silent for a few seconds before saying, "What if we take out the brigade headquarters before those five hundred men can react?"

"How?"

"Infiltration. Before the offensive begins, send a small unit to sneak onto the peninsula and lie in wait near the brigade headquarters. When the attack starts, they will take out the command system from the inside and cause chaos."

Rezai thought for a moment: "The risk is high. If they are discovered, the entire campaign plan will be exposed."

"That's why we must choose the best people."

Reza turned his head to look at Hassan.

Hassan understood his meaning: "My men can do it. But we need at least three days to scout the route."

"You only have two days."

"Two days is enough."

February 12, 2:00 AM, the east bank of the Shatt al-Arab.

Hassan led the team personally, with twelve men and three rubber boats.

They launched into the water in the darkness, the rubber boats' engines equipped with silencers, their sound masked by the flowing river. On the opposite bank, Iraqi sentries dozed in their bunkers—they didn't believe the Iranians would cross the river at this location, as the river was over eight hundred meters wide and the current was swift.

Twenty minutes later, the rubber boats reached the shore.

Hassan led his men up the riverbank, lying in the grass to observe for five minutes. The Iraqi positions ahead were silent, save for the occasional barking of a dog.

"Move."

The twelve men moved through the darkness, following a route Hassan had marked in advance from satellite photos deep into the peninsula. They avoided the main roads, traveling through the gaps between marshes and palm groves. The path was difficult, but safe—the Iraqis wouldn't set up sentries in such places.

At 4:00 AM, they reached their designated position: an abandoned farm eight hundred meters north of the Fao Peninsula brigade headquarters.

"Conceal yourselves. From now on, no fires, no smoking, and no noise of any kind."

Hassan took out his radio and sent the first message to Reza: "In position."

February 13, Ahvaz.

Fatima walked into Reza's office, carrying a metal box.

"Night-sighting device for the MILAN missile. French technology, which we've improved. It can see targets two kilometers away in total darkness."

Reza opened the box; inside was something that looked like binoculars but was far more complex—it had an infrared imaging module, a laser rangefinder module, and a ballistic computer.

"How do you use it?"

"Aim at the target and press this button. The sight will automatically calculate the distance, wind speed, and trajectory, then display the corrected aiming point on the screen. The gunner just needs to align the aiming point with the target and pull the trigger."

"What's the hit rate?"

"Test data shows ninety percent. It might be lower on the battlefield, but it won't drop below seventy percent."

Reza nodded. "How many sets are there?"

"Fifty sets. Priority will be given to the units attacking the Fao Peninsula."

February 14, Tehran.

Reza flew to Tehran to give the final pre-battle report to the Supreme Defense Council.

Bani-Sadr still sat in the main seat, but this time, his expression was much more serious than before. He had accepted the title of Commander-in-Chief, and now he had to take responsibility for the success or failure of this campaign.

"Your Highness," Bani-Sadr said, "are you confident about the February 20th offensive?"

"I am."

"And if it fails?"

"It won't fail."

"I mean, if it does."

Reza looked at him and said calmly, "If it fails, I will take full responsibility. You only need to remain in Tehran; there is no need for you to go to the front lines."

Bani-Sadr's expression relaxed slightly. This was exactly what he wanted—if they won, the credit would be his; if they lost, the blame would fall on Reza.

"Very well," Bani-Sadr said, "I approve. The offensive begins on February 20th."

February 15, Ahvaz.

Reza received the second message from Hassan on the Fao Peninsula: "The situation at the brigade headquarters has been scouted. There are about six hundred troops distributed across three areas. The commander lives on the second floor of the headquarters building. Guards change at 7:00 AM and 7:00 PM daily. Firepower configuration: twelve heavy machine guns, six mortars, and four anti-aircraft machine guns."

"Do they have anti-aircraft weapons?" Reza asked.

"Yes. Four ZSU-23-2 twin-barreled anti-aircraft guns deployed around the headquarters building. They can hit ground targets with a range of two kilometers."

"The anti-aircraft guns are a problem," Rezai said. "The ZSU-23-2 has a high rate of fire and a flat trajectory; its lethality against infantry is even greater than against tanks."

"Can we take out the anti-aircraft guns first?" Reza asked.

"Yes. But they must be taken out before the offensive begins; we can't wait."

"Let Hassan do it. Use RPGs at close range."

February 17, Fao Peninsula.

Hassan received Reza's order: take out the four anti-aircraft guns around the brigade headquarters before the offensive begins.

He spent half a day observing the positions of the guns and their guards. The four anti-aircraft guns were distributed in four directions around the headquarters building, each guarded by a squad of about eight to ten men.

"It's a tough task," said his deputy, Ali. "The distance between the four guns is no more than three hundred meters. If we hit one, the other three will react within thirty seconds."

"So we can't hit them one by one," Hassan said. "We have to hit them simultaneously."

"We have twelve men, divided into four groups of three. Each group takes one gun."

"Is there enough ammunition?"

"Two RPG rounds per group, plus assault rifles."

Hassan thought for a moment and said, "Alright. But one rule—once we're done, don't linger. Blow up the guns and run, then regroup in the marshes north of the headquarters."

"Will we be able to escape?"

"We have to, whether we can or not. Our mission is to take out the guns, not to fight to the death with the Iraqis."

February 19, Ahvaz.

The final day before the offensive.

Reza gathered all the commanders in the underground bunker for the final deployment.

"The offensive begins tomorrow at 4:00 AM."

He walked to the map and drew a circle on the Fao Peninsula with a red pen.

"The first wave, Rezai's 3rd Brigade, will cross the river here. The crossing is estimated to take forty minutes. After crossing, the forces will split into two routes—one heading south to attack the Iraqi defenders at the southern tip of the peninsula, and the other heading north to link up with Hassan's infiltration team."

"The second wave, Rajai's 2nd Division, will cross via pontoon bridge after the 3rd Brigade secures the peninsula, and attack Basra from the south."

"The third wave, Sadiq's 1st Division, will hold the Fao Peninsula after Rajai's crossing to prevent an Iraqi counterattack from the north."

"I will be at headquarters, directing the entire operation by radio."

He put down the pen and looked at everyone present.

"Is everyone clear?"

"Clear."

"Good. Now go back and prepare. Tomorrow morning, we take the Fao Peninsula."