Chapter 6
Chapter 6: Lullaby
"Sun is red; moon is cracked
Daddy's never coming back
Nothing's ever yours to keep
Close your eyes, go to sleep
If I die before you wake
Don't you cry, don't you weep"
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CLASSIFIED: DoD
Team Callsigns for EVENING LIGHT:
Bluebeard 1: Gold Team
Bluebeard 2: Yellow Team
Bluebeard 3: Red Team
Bluebeard 4: Blue Team
Bluebeard 5: Purple Team
Bluebeard 6: Green Team
Bluebeard 7: Orange Team
Bluebeard 8: Black Team
Spy plane photograph of mission site:
DO NOT REPRODUCE
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April 25, 1980; 0130 Hours (Local Time):
Bluebeards 1, 3, 4, 7 and 8 cut their way through the sleeping skies over Tehran, carrying their lethal human cargo. Richard Marcinko watched the city lights fly by beneath him as he and First Lieutenant Williams rode in Bluebeard 1. For the first time, a night riddled with mistakes and technical difficulties seemed to be going smoothly.
"Bluebeard Command, this is Bluebeard 8. Preparing to break formation to move to our objective. Radio when you want us to cut the power, over." came in over the radio.
"Copy that, Bluebeard 8, over." Williams replied.
"We'll see you at the mission site, Command. Bluebeard 8 out."
While the other four helicopters continued to their objective, Bluebeard 8 changed its course to a power transmission station near Jamaran. Cutting power to the neighborhood would prevent the Ayatollah from calling for help from the Revolutionary Guard, and give the Delta operators with their night vision goggles a decisive tactical advantage. Bluebeard 8 landed in a park near the station, and the operators inside quickly disembarked.
The station was atop a hill, about the size of a suburban house and surrounded by chain link fence topped with barbed wire. Black Team quickly cut through the fence and entered the unguarded site.
An unadorned plywood exterior covered a largely skeletal interior. The beams and posts of the station were exposed two-by-fours, and workmen's tools lay about the floor. The interior was a single large room, all the various electrical mechanisms and systems together. Searching with their gun-mounted flashlights, the operators located the primary transformer and placed 4 brick-sized thermite charges atop it.
Thermite is not a conventional explosive material, in fact, it doesn't explode at all. It burns. It burns incredibly hot, up to 2500 degrees Celsius (4566 Fahrenheit), about a third as hot as the surface of the Sun. It melts through steel as if it were wax. And it cannot be extinguished once lit.
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The other four helicopters had finally arrived at their destination, the neighborhood of Jamaran. Under the new mission plan, Orange and Blue Teams would secure the roads near the residence, preventing any ingress. Red Team would secure the grounds of the residence itself. Finally, Gold Team would breach the residence and kill the Ayatollah.
"This is Operation Command," Marcinko said into the radio, "Are you ready for lights out, Black Team?"
"This is Black Leader, we are go for Franklin, over."
"Attention everyone," Marcinko said, "Franklin is go. I repeat, Franklin is go. Let's rock and roll."
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Black leader hit the detonator on the thermite charges. The magnesium igniter burnt for a moment before setting the thermite bricks aflame. The reaction sent sparks flying in every direction as the material began to melt its way through the transformer, filling the dark room with a deep red light. The sparks, little bits of molten iron, landed on everything nearby; the fire from the thermite burnt high, and many sparks began to hit the plywood ceiling. Only a few moments after the thermite had been ignited, the station was on fire.
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All of the lights in Jamaran went dark. Bluebeard 4 headed east and Bluebeard 7 headed west along the road in front of the Ayatollah's residence, deploying their operators via ropes into the nearest intersection. Simultaneously, Bluebeard 3 unloaded onto the road directly in front of the residence, while Bluebeard 1 waited.
For being a head of state, the Ayatollah's home was humble; more suited to the cleric he fancied himself to be than the ruler he was. The city of Tehran was littered with palaces, both ancient and modern, yet Khomeini had selected a home that could have fit inside some of the rooms in the Shah's palace. The tiny abode had a single floor, containing only a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a small corridor. South of his residence, on the same property, was the Hosseinieh Jamaran, a more stately building gifted to the Ayatollah the previous year. This was used for executive purposes, while Khomeini remained in his tiny home. The Hosseinieh Jamaran was between the residence and the street, requiring the operators to bypass it on their way to their target.
As Blue and Orange teams began to secure the intersections, they could see people peeking through the windows of their homes to see what was going on. A few angry fathers came outside, loudly cursing at the soldiers.
"Do you think we woke them up?" joked one Blue Team operator to another.
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Black Team fled the burning station. Breaking into a sprint, Black leader ran to the helicopter to retrieve its fire extinguisher. The burning station had begun to illuminate the hill, and was probably visible for miles.
Black leader charged toward the station, fire extinguisher in hand. He pointed the end of the hoze at the fire and squeezed the handle.
Nothing.
He looked at the fire extinguisher to find the tag showing previous inspection dates. The most recent date on the tag read "September 27 1976".
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Last off the helo, Richard Marcinko grabbed onto the rope. Lieutenant Williams looked back at him.
"Hey, Dick, good luck out there." he said.
"Thanks. I'll see you soon."
Marcinko stepped out of the helicopter, still holding onto the rope. He looked back one last time.
"Williams, do you know what Alan Shepard prayed before he became the first American in space?" Marcinko asked.
"Yes. Yes I do." Williams replied.
Marcinko smiled and nodded, then descended down the rope.
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A panicked Black Leader grabbed the radio of Bluebeard 8.
"Come in, Bluebeard Command! This is Black Leader, We've got a situation here, over!"
"This is Bluebeard Command", said Williams over the radio, "What is the nature of this situation, over."
"There's a fire! The power transfer station is on fire and we can't put it out, over!"
"A fire?!"
"Say again, command?"
"Sorry, disregard last transmission. Do you have any means of putting it out, over"
"Negative, command! Our fire extinguisher is empty, over."
"Do you see any other options, over."
Black Leader glanced around, looking for some solution, some mechanism of putting out the fire. He saw nothing inside the helicopter. Then it occurred to him.
"Command, I think I have an idea. Will contact you with results. Black Leader out."
He walked up to the cockpit, where the pilot was inspecting the instrumentation.
"You need to hover over the station! The wash from the helo should put out the fire!"
"That could threaten our fuel margins, sir." the pilot replied.
"That's a risk we might need to take."
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With all teams deployed, the four helos pulled back to their designated wait spots. All had been assigned different locations, so that a surprise ambush would not doom the mission, or at least the soldiers. Bluebeard 7 landed on the roof of a nearby hotel, Bluebeard 4 landed in a park to the west, Bluebeard 3 landed in a park to the north, and Bluebeard 1 landed on the roof of the Baqiyat-ol-Lah hospital, immediately to the east of the mission site. The relatively modern hospital had a helipad on the roof, and Bluebeard 1 made use of it.
Red Team's operators moved to surround the Hosseinieh. It was totally dark, no apparent movement inside. The building was simple, no architectural decoration. The workers inside had likely gone home for the night.
Once the premises were secured, Gold Team advanced to surround the Ayatollah's tiny residence. Gold 1 (Callsign: Voodoo) and Gold 2 (Callsign: Irish) stacked up on the front door. Marcinko stood behind Voodoo. Silently, Marcinko raised his hand, and with his fingers, counted down from three.
Irish kicked in the front door, which Voodoo and Marcinko entered, Irish following. The corridor was empty, nothing in it but the three doors leading to the other rooms. Gold 3 (Callsign: Batman) and Gold 4 (Callsign: Chuck) followed them inside, and took position near the far door. Gold 5 (Callsign: Doc) and Gold 6 (Callsign: Kool-Aid) took position near the second door, and Irish and Voodoo took the last door.
Voodoo opened the near door, revealing a sparse kitchen. Mostly clean, with some dirty dishes still in the sink. Empty. Marcinko entered the kitchen and noticed another door on the north wall. This door was the only other exterior door in the building, and was being watched by operators outside. The Ayatollah was still in the building.
Batman opened the far door and entered a small bedroom. The bed was unmade, a dresser door was open, some laundry was in a small hamper. Empty. The room reminded Chuck of his college dorm room: no closet, and a twin bed.
Finally, Doc opened the middle door. Kool-Aid entered the bathroom, his silenced M-16 ready to fire. Towels hung from a rack. The shower was mildewy. The bathroom was empty. The tap was running.
Marcinko turned to see Doc enter the kitchen, a look of panic on his face.
"Commander, we've got a problem," Doc said, as an RPG impacted the south wall of the residence, destroying the corridor.
The windows on the second floor of the Hosseinieh opened, AK-47's poking out. Gold team had enough time to turn around and look before the men inside opened fire.
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In the distance, Blue Team's operators could see something approaching. Through their night vision goggles, they couldn't make out exactly what it was, but it took up the whole street and it was approaching fast. As is grew closer, they could finally see what they suspected it was: a mob.
"Command, this is Blue Leader, we've got a large number of hostiles inbound. Requesting back-up, over."
No response from Marcinko.
"Command, this is Blue Leader, do you copy, over?"
No response.
"Damnit! Men, weapons free!"
Blue Team opened fire on the crowd, scattering it. A number of people in the crowd returned fire, and were quickly dispatched by Blue's operators. A minute passed.
"It looks like we scared them off-" Blue Leader said, a bullet ripping through his chest.
Automatic fire was now coming from what seemed like every direction. In their panic, the operators couldn't see where the attackers were. Some operators lost their nerve and tried to run, and were picked off by the attackers.
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After about a minute, Marcinko regained hearing. The ringing in his ears subsided, he could hear the gunfire exchange between Gold Team and the men in the Hosseinieh. The wall between the kitchen and what remained of the corridor had partially collapsed, showing spotlights from the second floor of the Hosseinieh falling on the residence. In the corner of the room, Kool-Aid was performing CPR on Doc. Marcinko, still groggy, reached for his radio.
"Red Leader, this is Command, do you copy, over" Marcinko yelled into his radio.
"I copy, Command, over."
"What is your situation, over" Marcinko asked.
"We're taking up positions at the south structure, preparing to breach. How much longer can you hold up, over."
"I don't know." Marcinko put down the radio. He saw Voodoo firing at the attackers from behind the collapsed wall. "Voodoo, I need a sitrep!"
Voodoo crawled over to Marcinko from the wall. "Doc and Chuck are down, possibly KIA. Everybody outside scattered when the RPG hit, so I don't have good numbers on who's alive, but I expect everybody at the south wall was killed instantly. There are at least 7 hostiles on the second floor of the south structure, and at least one on the roof. We think the one on the roof fired the RPG, but he appears to have only had the one shot. I think I heard somebody trying to contact you over the radio while you were incapacitated, but I don't know who."
Marcinko held up the radio again: "Red Leader, Gold Team is severely compromised. We're going to need smoke cover to safely move to the south structure. Can you provide this, over"
"Roger that," Red Leader replied, "You'll have smoke in a moment. Red Leader out."
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Bluebeard 7's pilot stepped out of the helo onto the roof of the hotel atop which it was landed. The mission spec didn't call for him to be ready for at least 15 minutes, he thought to himself. He removed a half-finished pack of cigarettes from his pocket, then removed one. Placing it in his mouth, he took out his lighter, and raised it to the cigarette. He tried it once. Twice. Three times. He chuckled to himself; 'this mission is such a clusterfuck, even my lighter doesn't work' he thought.
Then the ground began to groan.
He could hear the sound of lumber creaking and snapping, and it was coming from under the helo. The ground fell out from beneath Bluebeard 7 with a sickening moan, the roof collapsing under the massive weight it was never built to support. The rest of the roof collapsed along with it, sending the pilot falling down, his cigarette fluttering down to the ground.
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First Lieutenant Montel Williams watched the operation unfold from atop the Baqiyat-ol-Lah Hospital through his night-vision binoculars. He watched as a smoke grenade detonated in front of the Ayatollah's residence, and the heat signatures of ten Gold Team operators made their way through the smoke to the Hosseinieh. Just as the operators breached the northern door of the building, he thought he heard sirens in the parking lot below, but only for a moment. He walked over to the south edge of the roof, and through the binoculars saw that three of the cars in the lot had warm engines. Williams ran to the helo, and started yelling to the pilot:
"Hey! Start the engine! We need to get out of here, now!"
"Yes sir, just need to do pre-flight instrumentation checks. Should just take a couple minutes."
"We don't have time!"
"Sorry sir, but if I don't do these checks there's no guarantee this bird will even fly."
"...Just make it fast."
The pilot flew through the checks, inspecting every light, switch and instrument. As he turned the key on the helicopter's ignition, the roof access door opened, and three uniformed Iranians came out firing AK-47's. Williams ducked behind the edge of the helo's door for cover and took the safety off of his M1911 pistol.
As the lieutenant turned out of cover to take a shot, he saw a man exit the roof access door. In the dark, he couldn't make out precisely what it was, but it looked very long and narrow.
"Get out of the helo, NOW!" Williams yelled.
He jumped out of Bluebeard 1 and started sprinting away. He leapt from the edge of the helipad to the roof a metre below, twisting his ankle. He looked back to see the pilot struggling out of the cockpit as an RPG hit the helicopter, destroying the front half. His pistol held 7 rounds. He hoped it would be enough.
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A single dim candle lit the office of Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini. The power still out, he had lit the candle to afford enough light for him to write a final address to the people of Iran, in case the worst should happen. He sat at his desk, pen in hand, blank paper before him. He had been a man to whom words came easily, but faced with writing the words that might be his last, he didn't know what to say.
Being part of a violent revolution had kept Khomeini aware of his mortality, but that had always been an outside possibility for him, the same way that knowing you could die in a car accident at any time doesn't give you any real perspective. You know that you could, but you know that you won't. Now that the threat to his life was real, he knew just how unprepared to die he was.
He could hear the gunfight in the floors below. With every passing moment, he heard it move closer. The rattle of Kalashnikov fire was being replaced by the crack of 45mm NATO rounds. He heard commands barked in English. Even if the Americans couldn't escape Tehran, now he knew, truly
knew that he would soon die.
He thought of all the sermons he had meant to preach. He thought of his children, of the last things he'd said to them. He wondered if his wife was safe, hoping that surely the Americans would spare an innocent woman. He wondered if the rocket that destroyed his home had also destroyed his garden.
He could hear the fight get closer. Now it was on the second floor, with him. It came closer. And closer.
The blank paper on the desk mocked him. Would this be his legacy? That in the end, the great Imam Khomeini had nothing to say as he departed the world?
And then he thought on all the things he had done. He thought of his unresolved sins, and was terrified. Every action of the revolution he had endorsed, every action he commanded, in the name of his goals. He thought of the dead of the massacre at the embassy, and if their blood would be counted against him.
The door burst open. His lips began to quiver. He tried to speak, but there was only silence as tears began to fall down his cheeks.
"لَا إِلَّهَ إِلَّا الله مُحَمَّدٌ رَسُولُ الله" he mouthed, as the bullet entered his brain, then exited through the back of his skull.
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"Nothing's ever as it seems
Climb the ladder to your dreams
If I die before you wake
Don't you cry, don't you weep
Nothing's ever yours to keep
Close your eyes; go to sleep."
-Tom Waits
), so you can safely ignore them and just go with the historical record as presented in his autobiography. (Though, of course, always to be taken with a teensy-tiny grain of salt.)
