Behind Enemy Lines:- Escape from Mosul (A USB Story)

[Stormtrooper1990]

The following story is based upon the BBC/French series Dark Hearts. It's 2019 and in the final days of the ISIS occupation of Iraq's northern city, French sniper Corporal Sabrina Besson or ‘Sab’ to her squadmates, has been captured by the fundamentalist group after a mission gone awry. A member of the French Army’s elite squad 45 operators, Sab is being held in the besieged city and faces ransom or even execution. Since her unit is desperately trying to locate her and doesn't know her whereabouts, it's up to Sab to put her escape plan into motion and escape the city. Her destination is the Coalition base at Ghazlani just outside the city…


Unknown Location, Somewhere in Mosul Iraq, Saturday June 16th 2019 14:40pm


It had been four nights since her capture during her team's mission at the town of Adbha, where they had failed to kill ISIS Area Commander Mohammed El Mustafa. The initial operation had gone smoothly, and Corporal Sabrina Besson had personally killed 5 militants, 3 long range with her Cheytac and at least 2 with her 9mm Browning Hi-Power sidearm and knife.

But she and her team had been made and were forced to fight a retreat back to their vehicles. Sabrina had fallen behind and was quickly being surrounded. Despite her training, she didn’t see the rifle butt smash her in the face and lay her out cold. The desperate cries of her team, including her lead Major Giroux rang deafly in her ears.


Sabrina had been stripped of all her gear, weapons and forced to wear a dirty ill fitting sack cloth dress. Over the last couple of days, she had lost all concept of space and time having been moved from place to place, with a bag over her head. And at intervals where the satellites were not passing overhead, they were smart bastards she had to give them that.

As a French soldier, who wasn't technically supposed to be there and a woman at that, Sabrina was under no illusions what ISIS had in store for her. Her execution, streamed on the dark web, would only serve as both a recruitment for extremists, and to demoralise her comrades. While she knew that her team and Giroux would be doing all they could to find her, they wouldn’t reach her in time. So to that end, the young sniper had been planning her escape.

At 25, Sabrina was an attractive woman with tanned slightly squared features, cunning blue eyes and her long ash blonde hair, once tied into a ponytail, now stuck to her face with sweat. Only the large red bruise on her right cheek from the rifle butt two nights previously, marred her good gallic looks. She was tall, toned and athletic with well formed B-cups.


During her captivity, Sabrina had made note of her captors movements and idiosyncrasies, that their black headbands were surefire giveaways that they were ISIS. She had also noticed that given their aversion towards interacting with women, her captors had sent a woman alone with scraps of food and little to no water. And said young woman was wearing only a black burqa, a black underdress underneath and brown cow hide sandals. Sabrina had already worked free the chain anchoring her to the well, ready to jump the girl when she entered with her food and steal her clothes. Then she would slip out with none the wiser.


While she had no way to determine the current time, Sabrina had heard the call to prayer and the shafts of sunlight coming in from the basement window informed her that it was mid afternoon, close to 15:00 hours. Which meant her meal time was about due. The sound of the bolts of her prison door loosening heralded the return of her female server. Despite her predicament, despite the pain in her face Sabrina Besson smiled. It's showtime, time to get the hell out of here. Looping her chain against the wall, the French sniper did her best to appear beaten and broken, but inside she tensed like a cat appraising its prey.


The woman, carrying a tray with a small cup of water and crust of beard was a mere slip of a girl, her burqa not disguising her slim curvy figure. Her big almond shaped hazel eyes, trying their best to avert their gaze as she approached, betrayed her youth and inexperience with their lack of wrinkles. She's a little bit shorter, but with the burqa it won't matter.


Her back to Sabrina, the serving girl made a grave mistake, by kneeling to place the tray in front of her. Using the girl's islamic sensitivities against her, the young French sniper pounced detaching herself from the chain on the wall with lightning speed.


Using her superior military training, Sabrina clamped a hand around the girl's mouth to muffle her screams. Snaking her arm around the jailor's neck, Sabrina pulled her to the ground wrapping her legs around the midriff to immobilise her.


“Shh! Shut up, girl! I don't want to kill you but you're really making it difficult!” Sabrina hissed into the struggling girl's ear, as she squeezed her arm tighter and tighter across her throat, cutting off the blood flow to her brain. In truth, Sabrina was tempted to break the woman's neck and have done with it. It would have been a simple matter of applying pressure and crushing the windpipe. But she remembered her duty; she wasn't here to kill civilians or unarmed women, only terrorist scum who threatened France and her allies.


“That's it, go to sleep…” She cooed into the muslim girl's ear as she felt the woman's struggles become weaker and weaker. Then with a rattle of muffled, choked breath the server went limp in Sabrina’s grip. Holding the girl for another 30 seconds to ensure the girl wasn't faking, the French commando released the girl from her hold and checked the pulse in her right wrist. Sighing with relief as she felt a weak but steady rhythm, Sabrina quickly pulled off her sackcloth dress and got to work.


After removing the girl's hood, Sabrina got a better look at her. “Such a sweet face. Why hide it?” She sighed, caressing the pretty tanned heart shaped features and sharp cheekbones of the unconscious muslim girl, framed by dark brown hair cut short into a severe bob. Unbuttoning the burqa from the rear, Sabrina peeled it from the girl’s slim body along with the black underdress before unstrapping the sandals from her feet.

As she pulled on the underdress followed by the sandals, burqa and hood Sabrina admired the tanned naked form of her victim; her small but buoyant breasts were slightly pointed with small dark brown areolas, womanhood small and topped with an untrimmed triangle of dark brown hair, completely exposed. Even the gentle curves of her plum shaped ass, enthralled the French sniper. “Such a tight, cute body. I hate that they make you hide it.” She remarked pulling up the face mask to hide her lower face.

Tearing up her discarded sack cloth dress, Sabrina bound the naked girl's ankles and gagged her, then snapped on the manacles on her wrists, chaining her to the wall in an upright position. “Sorry for the rough treatment, chérie. But I'm not sticking around to be beheaded.” Picking up the empty tray, Sabrina unbolted the door then began the slow walk up the basement stairs before locking it behind her.

14:47pm

There stood at the door at the top of the stairs was a single ISIS guard armed with an AIMS-74 assault rifle, who watched Sabrina intently as she walked up the stairs. “So is the infidel bitch fed and watered?” The man asked in gruff Iraqi, a local dialect that Sabrina spoke. She bowed low, avoiding his gaze. “Yes, sir. The dirty bitch is dining on stale bread as we speak.”

The man grunted in response. “I can't believe they are making me miss prayer to guard this whore. At least they are going to execute her tonight.” Inwardly, Sabrina felt relief that she had dodged a bullet. Outwardly, she had to maintain her cover. She merely bowed as the man continued. “You better run around now, woman and get to prayer with the other women. Wouldn't want you to get a beating now.”

Feeling the man's eyes undressing her, Sabrina curtseyed then made her way through the house and out through the back door, feeling the warmth of the afternoon sun through her stolen burqa. There, standing by the large perimeter gate were a group of three burqa wearing women who were waiting to be let out. Joining the back of the group, she greeted the lead woman. “ As-salamu alaykum.”


The middle aged woman turned. “Ah, Aisha. Wa alaykum as-salam. I see you have finished your duties with the French girl. Let's head to prayer.” Filing in with the group, they approached the gate with two AK wielding guards flanking it. “Excuse us, but we are heading to prayer. May we pass?” The lead asked the right most guard who glanced at his partner who shrugged before opening the large doors wide. Bowing around with the other women, Sabrina followed them out of the compound and onto the bustling street. Seeing an alleyway to her left, the French Commando split off from the crowd and disappeared down the alley, heading southwest.


Aldhubat Quarter, Southwest Mosul, 15:01pm


Hearing the rattle of gunfire in the distance, Sabrina wandered through the contested Aldhubat Quarter considering her next move. They'll probably discover the girl once the women return from the mosque, so I'll need a vehicle to get out of here quickly. Plus maybe a change of clothes. If I go to the base dressed like this, I could get shot by trigger happy yanks… Then ahead of her Sabrina spotted an American made Humvee driven into the roadside ditch, sporting desert camouflage and the emblems of Kurdish peshmerga forces on its passenger doors.

Knowing that the peshmerga were allies of the west, Sabrina cautiously approached the vehicle, her sniper senses scanning each window, each alleyway as a potential ambush point. Crouching low she got a better look at the scene; both the front driver side and passenger doors were thrown open, with a woman's body draped out laying on its side, still clutching an AK-74. She was attractive, with tanned skin and angular features which distinguished the Kurdish people. However her uniform, a set of desert camouflage fatigues with the badge of the Peshmerga on the left shoulder, was pockmarked by 4 7.62mm bullet wounds that stained her outfit a dark red. The rounds had cut through her green tactical vest, which meant armor piercing rounds . Feeling her cooling body, Sabrina realised they had been dead for just under an hour. Whoever had killed the women was long gone and luckily didn't stop to loot the bodies.

She sighed, Sabrina had fought alongside the Peshmerga and had come to respect the daring of their women who were fighting for their rights alongside their men. Closing the dead woman's blank eyes, she turned her attention to the driver who sat slumped in her seat.

The driver was also a pretty girl, no more than 21 with slightly squared lightly tanned features, rounded doe shaped eyes and short raven coloured hair braided into pigtails. Sabrina reflected that if it were not for the hole on her forehead, she could have been asleep at the wheel. She surmised that a sniper had shot the girl through the windshield and her partner had been ambushed by fighters before she could get a shot off, and were left where they fell.


Sabrina checked the woman's uniform; it was relatively clean, the tactical vest unmarked and belted around her slender waist with Russian ammo webbing, that held magazines for the unfired FN Fal rifle stowed next to her. She's my size all right. I just can't believe I'm doing this. Stripping a warm body is one thing but a corpse is something else. “I’m sorry for what I must do, Chérie. You deserve so much more.” Sabrina said to the dead woman, as she tried to shake the reservations from her mind.

After checking that the cost was clear, Sabrina gently pulled the dead woman from the driver's seat by her webbing and gently laid her out onto the sand. Stripping off her stolen burqa and underdress, the French sniper hastily got to work with her grim task. She began by unclipping and looping the combat webbing over the dead woman's head, before unstrapping the tactical vest and pulling it from the girl's body.


Sabrina then unlaced the peshmerga's boots, pulling them free of her feet. Removing the shemagh from around the woman's neck, Sabrina unbuttoned her fatigue top, slipping it from her shoulders and pulling the garment off one arm at a time.


Grimacing slightly, Sabrina slid the Peshmerga's olive undervest up over her head exposing her well rounded C-cup breasts, with puffy light brown areolas. After slipping on the vest, the French commando unfastened the girl's trousers, working them off her waist and whipping them down her long tanned legs, along with the solid black panties, despite her own reservations.

Averting her eyes from the dead girl's full clitoris, topped with a thick trimmed strip of black public fuzz, Sabrina pulled on the underwear and quickly dressed in the stolen uniform. When she was finished, Sabrina dressed the naked corpse in the black underdress and paid her respect. “Sorry for having to rob you of your dignity, Chérie. I hope you can forgive me and that this restores some of your honour, thank you.”

Crossing the girl's arms over her chest, Sabrina walked around the hummer, gently removing her AK-74 and paying her respects by closing her dead eyes. Getting behind the wheel, she closed both doors gunned the engine and reversed out of the ditch before heading south.

East Perimeter Checkpoint, Ghazlani Military Base, American Sector, 15:20pm


As she approached the checkpoint, manned by three American soldiers Sabrina heard the sharp cock of a .50 calibre machine housed in a sandbag emplacement on the left. “Stop the vehicle! And get out with your hands on your head! No sudden moves!” Shouted an American soldier, a corporal Henderson, who raised his M4A1 rifle at the hummer's windshield. As the other trooper, a woman raised hers.

“Don't shoot! I'm getting out!” She yelled, complying with the corporal's command. The three soldiers glanced at each other, surprised at her white skin. Glancing at their uniforms, Sabrina saw they were members of the 75th Ranger Regiment. “Who are you? And where did you get that uniform?” Asked the female, a pretty Hispanic specialist.

Americans… She sighed. Always so jumpy. “I'm Corporal Sabrina Besson, of the French Army’s elite squad 45, my serial number is SB-547211 and my CO is Major Giroux. I was captured by ISIS two days ago but I escaped…” She then turned to the woman, whose name was ‘Ramirez’ according to her tactical vest. “...and took this uniform from a dead woman who didn't need it anymore. And before you ask, no I didn't kill her.” She added impatiently, heading off the American before he could speak.

Henderson relaxed his weapon. “Alight Corporal. I will call the French and see if they've heard of you. Keep an eye on her, specialist.” The man said as he retreated to the booth. Ramirez looked her up and down, something like respect in her big brown eyes. “So how did you escape, chica?” She asked, lowering her rifle. Sabrina rubbed the back of her neck, the sun bearing down on her. “I knocked out a local and stole her burqa. Left her chained up completely naked.” she answered, squinting in the sun and feeling a headache coming on.

Ramirez let out a low whistle, exchanging a glance with the man manning the .50 cal. “Damn, chica. That's pretty badass, I would love to see the look on the hadjhi's face when they find her.” Sabrina chuckled. “What can I say? I'm special forces and we don't fuck around.” She then tensed slightly as Corporal Henderson returned.

“Open that gate Ramirez…” he ordered the woman before turning back to Sabrina and saluted her. “...apologies Corporal, your CO verified your identity. Good work on escaping from the enemy. They're expecting you.” Returning the salute she smiled, sliding back into the driver's seat. Gunning the engine, she saluted specialist Ramirez as she passed under the barrier.

Relaxing into the driver's seat, Corporal Sabrina Besson breathed a sigh of relief. She was looking forward to the debrief, a cold beer with her squadmates and a nice long cold shower. After all, it had been a very long couple of days.

[saker]

No way, Storm: when you mix USB with international issues, you're the best! I really liked Sab as the protagonist; she's a tough woman! I don't know why, but there's something very sexy about undressing a Muslim woman. It must be a cultural thing
I couldn't help but notice that this is your second Behind Enemy Lines, after the one set in Serbia. I hope there's another!

[Stormtrooper1990]

No way, Storm: when you mix USB with international issues, you're the best! I really liked Sab as the protagonist; she's a tough woman! I don't know why, but there's something very sexy about undressing a Muslim woman. It must be a cultural thing
I couldn't help but notice that this is your second Behind Enemy Lines, after the one set in Serbia. I hope there's another!

Thanks Saker, glad you enjoyed the story. I've always been fascinated by Muslim female religious garb myself and its often overlooked on the forum, since its the perfect disguise. And I agree that stripping a muslim woman is quite an enticing thought.

Sab was based on the character from the TV series and she's very no nonsense, and a killer shot as well. When I did my research, I was surprised that France is one of few European nations with female tier one operators in active service.

Well now you mention it, I still have that concept in mind for an alternative cold war set ' Behind Enemy Lines' with a 60s female U2 pilot shot down over Kazakhstan, in a gender swap with Gary Powers. So watch this space!