118: Chapter 115 The Shadow of Chemical Weapons

March 18, 1981, Samarra, Iraq.

Major Mohammed Jassim was a Shia officer at the Samarra Chemical Weapons Base.

He had served at the base for three years, responsible for the storage and maintenance of mustard gas munitions. His daily work consisted of checking the temperature and humidity of the ammunition depot, as well as ensuring the seals on those grayish-green shells weren't aging.

This job gave him nightmares.

He had seen the consequences of a mustard gas leak—a technician's protective suit had developed a small tear during operations, and within two hours, the skin on his left arm was covered in blisters, then it festered, exposing the muscle beneath. That technician lay in the hospital for three months and eventually had his limb amputated.

Sarin was even more terrifying. Jassim had seen training films—experimental sheep began to twitch less than a minute after inhaling Sarin, their pupils shrinking to the size of pinheads, foaming at the mouth, and then dying.

These things were now going to be used on people.

Three days ago, the base received a secret order from Baghdad: prepare five hundred mustard gas shells and two hundred Sarin warheads to be transported to the front lines before April 15th.

Jassim knew what this meant—Saddam Hussein was going to use Chemical weapons against the Iranians.

He sat in his dormitory at the base all night, smoking two packs of cigarettes.

He was Shia. His family was in Basra—or rather, in the Iranian-occupied Basra. His mother, wife, and two children were all in that city. If Saddam Hussein used Chemical weapons to counterattack Basra, his family would be among the first victims.

At three o'clock in the morning, he made a decision.

He pulled an old shortwave radio from under his bed and tuned it to a specific frequency—a frequency given to him two weeks ago by a stranger. That person claimed to be a merchant from Basra, but Jassim knew he was an Iranian intelligence agent.

"I have news," Jassim whispered into the radio, "about Chemical weapons."

There was silence on the other end of the frequency for ten seconds, then a voice replied in Arabic: "Speak."

"Five hundred mustard gas shells, two hundred Sarin warheads. To be transported to the front lines before April 15th. The target is Basra."

"Transport route?"

"Unclear. But the ammunition depot is in the East District of the base, numbered E-7. They are using military vehicles disguised as civilian trucks for transport."

"Anything else?"

"The Sarin warheads are compatible with Scud missiles. They might not just be using them in artillery shells—they might also mount them on missiles to hit Iranian cities."

The other end of the frequency went silent for a few more seconds.

"Received. Keep in touch. Stay safe."

Jassim turned off the radio and stuffed it back under the bed.

His hands were shaking.

March 20th, Ahvaz.

Karimi placed Jassim's intelligence in front of Reza.

"From an informant in Samarra. Chemical weapons, to be transported to the front lines before April 15th. Target: Basra."

After Reza finished reading the intelligence, his expression didn't change, but his knuckles turned white as he gripped the report.

"Sarin warheads are compatible with Scud missiles," he repeated the sentence. "This means he doesn't just want to hit Basra. He might hit Tehran, Isfahan, or Shiraz."

"What about chemical protective suits?" Karimi asked.

"The French are still stalling. Ponce says President Mitterrand needs parliamentary approval."

"Can we build them ourselves?"

"Fatima says it will take three months. But we have less than a month."

Reza stood up and paced back and forth in the office.

"Three things must be done simultaneously," he said.

"First, pressure the French. Not by pressuring Ponce, but by pressuring President Mitterrand himself. Tell him that if Saddam Hussein hits Iranian cities with Chemical weapons and France has not provided protective equipment, I will let the media worldwide know that France stood by and watched while knowing Saddam Hussein was going to use Chemical weapons."

"Second, have Fatima modify all existing industrial gas masks. I'm not sure if factory gas masks can protect against mustard gas, but it's better than nothing."

"Third—" he paused, "blow up the Samarra Chemical Weapons Base."

Karimi was stunned for a moment: "Blow it up?"

"Blow it up before the munitions are moved out. Five hundred mustard gas shells and two hundred Sarin warheads are concentrated in the E-7 ammunition depot—this is the best opportunity. Once they are dispersed to various points along the front line, we won't be able to take them out."

"With what? An air strike?"

"An air strike won't work. Samarra is one hundred and twenty kilometers north of Baghdad, and the area in between is entirely covered by Iraq's air defense network. Our planes can't fly through there."

"Then how do we blow it up?"

Reza looked at Karimi and said two words: "From within."

"Have Jassim do it?"

"No. Jassim is an intelligence agent, not a demolitions expert. Having him do the demolition is too risky, and he might not have the capability. I'm going to send people in."

"Send people into the Samarra Chemical Weapons Base?"

"Yes. Hassan's men. They already proved themselves on the Fao Peninsula—infiltrating behind enemy lines and striking with precision. This mission is harder, but the principle is the same."

March 22nd, Ahvaz.

Hassan fell silent for a long time after hearing the mission briefing.

"Your Highness, the Fao Peninsula was infiltrating enemy front-line positions. Samarra is in the heart of Iraq's rear, over four hundred kilometers deep into enemy territory. The difficulty of these two missions isn't even on the same level."

"I know."

"Getting in is easy, getting out is hard. Even if we successfully blow up the ammunition depot, how will my men evacuate?"

"I won't lie to you—the probability of evacuation is not high. There is a strong possibility that this will be a one-way mission."

Hassan's expression didn't change. He had fought the most desperate battles at the Pump Station; death was not an unfamiliar concept to him.

"How many men are needed?"

"The fewer, the better. The more people there are, the higher the risk of exposure."

"Four people," Hassan said. "I'll take three others."

"No. You cannot go."

"Why?"

"Because you are my best special operations commander. Basra still needs you. I cannot throw you into Samarra."

Hassan looked at him with a complex gaze.

"Then who should go?"

"You choose the men. Select the four people you trust most and who have the best skills."

"When do we depart?"

"Within a week. The munitions must be blown up before April 15th. The sooner, the better."

March 25th, Ahvaz, Secret Training Ground.

Hassan selected four men.

The leader was Ali—his deputy, who had followed him from the Pump Station to Fao and then to Basra. Thirty-two years old, formerly of the Imperial Special Forces, he spoke fluent Arabic and could assemble a bomb by feel in the dark.

The other three were Daoud the demolitions expert, Farhad the communications officer, and Hussein the sniper. Together, the four of them had over forty years of combat experience.

There was only one training objective: how to plant explosives in a Chemical weapons ammunition depot without triggering the munitions.

Fatima specifically brought in a Chemical weapons expert from a munitions factory—an old professor who had been involved in Chemical weapons research since the Pahlavi era.

"The shells of mustard gas munitions are sealed," the old professor said. "Under normal circumstances, they won't leak. But if they are subjected to strong impact or high temperatures, the seals will fail. When you are planting the explosives, you absolutely must not touch the shells."

"What about the Sarin warheads?" Ali asked.

"Even more dangerous. Sarin is stored in liquid form, and there's a glass container inside the warhead. If the glass container breaks, the Sarin will be released. In a confined space, one milliliter of Sarin can kill an adult within thirty seconds."

"We need protective equipment."

"Gas masks can protect against some of it, but not all. mustard gas can penetrate through the skin. You need at least chemical-resistant gloves and goggles."

Fatima managed to get four sets of simple chemical protection equipment from the factory—industrial rubber gloves, goggles, and modified gas masks.

"They'll have to do," Ali said.