Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [22]
I glanced at my young sons. Being immature boys, they felt the excitement of it all, rather than the danger. Their faces were bright with wonder, hearing from their father about life and death during a heated battle. Their boyish minds were imagining those fast-footed soldiers dashing to and fro under the lights and bullets of the deadly machine.
My husband looked around at our boys, satisfied by their reaction to the story.
“That helicopter gunner was full of fighter heat. He was resolved to kill every man on the ground. Finally the battle became so intense that bullets flashed through the air like a fiery storm. Several of my soldiers were so disoriented to be caught out in the open that they stopped running. I watched as they kneeled in the sand. For a short moment I thought they were going to offer prayers. But instead they began frantically scraping holes in the dirt. Then they leaned forward to bury their heads in those small holes. They reminded me of insects going underground. They even patted the dirt around their heads.”
Several of my boys let out a whoop of laughter, imagining those warriors with their heads buried in the sand.
Osama explained further, “The strange sight of all those posteriors in the air caused the helicopter pilot to fly away. Possibly he thought they were digging a new weapon out of the sand.”
Our boys laughed boisterously, happy to be pulled into their father’s adventurous life.
On another occasion, my husband expanded on his adventures, his soft voice louder than usual. Once again, I listened quietly.
“You boys have heard me speak of Abdullah Azzam. He was the best co-ordinator, organizing rallies and meetings all over the world, gathering donations, recruiting Muslims to go to Afghanistan to fight against the Russians. After recruiting, Abdullah would travel to the war zone and fight on the front lines himself.”
I suddenly remembered that Abdullah Azzam was the man my husband had met in America when we had paid a visit to that state of Indiana. He was not only very smart, but very brave, according to my husband.
“On this past trip I was with Abdullah Azzam on the front line in Afghanistan. Suddenly our position was attacked by one of those dreaded helicopters. Missiles began flashing in every direction. We knew we would be killed unless we could find shelter.
“Suddenly God provided refuge! I saw two openings in the rocky mountainside. There were two small caves, very near to each other. Abdullah Azzam must have seen them at the same moment as his feet and mine grew wings as we raced across the battlefield. I don’t know why but when I dashed into one cave, Abdullah Azzam ran into the other. I looked back as soon as I had safe shelter to see a missile perfectly hit the cave where Abdullah Azzam had gone. The missile triggered a landslide bringing down mounds of dirt and stones that completely clogged the entrance of the cave.
“I rushed to the mound of dirt and rocks and began hurling debris and burrowing through dirt. I had hardly made a crack in the rocky mound before the helicopter returned, once again making the air hot with flashing explosives. I was forced to retreat once more, although careful to keep my eyes on the mound of stones hiding the entrance. The firing would eventually cease and I would rescue Abdullah, or so I thought. But God had other plans.”
Osama glanced at our sons, asking, “Do you know what happened?”
Our boys quietly murmured “La, la.” (No, no.)
“I saw a miracle. God sent a second missile to hit the exact entry spot at the cave where Abdullah Azzam was trapped. That second explosive opened up the cave as cleanly as if it had been carved out by expert diggers.” He nodded, remembering. “Abdullah Azzam came walking out of that God-made crevice as calmly as a man going to a picnic!