Wilco- Lone Wolf 16

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘It’s Tomo, he’s all tucked up with his teddy.’

  ‘Get ready, we got the game on - company is coming. And now that it’s light you can have the Wolves sweep the treeline again – I want to get jeeps in here soon.’

  Off the radio I said, ‘Get some spare men filling sandbags regular, rotate it, get the sandbags up here, they’ll help.’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  I faced the Press officer, his hand bound up. ‘You get some good footage?’

  ‘Plenty last night, yeah. And my dramatic wound of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ I agreed. ‘One Purple Heart coming up.’

  I led Monster back down, and in the HQ room’s dull grey light we sat making breakfast with a few others.

  Salome headed out for a pee, and when she returned I asked, ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘Outside, the edge of the mine.’

  ‘The men might see you.’

  She shrugged a shoulder and got a brew on, Robby offering to share with her.

  As the sun rose higher I was up in the tall building, and the Greenies had two men up on the roof with sandbags, a few sandbags already positioned in this room, but for resting knees on and not for protection.

  ‘RPG!’ came a shout, and we peered west, the smoke trail clear, but it missed our building and hit the main building near the French.

  The next RPG hit the dirt in front of 14 Intel, a cloud of white powder thrown up.

  Salome appeared behind me. ‘What can I do?’

  I glanced at her, the Greenie sniper glancing at her chest and the way her webbing was arranged. ‘Soldier, offer the Major your weapon.’

  He handed it over, Salome kneeling on the man’s sandbag, and she checked the rifle, an SR25 7.62mm.

  After a minute she said, ‘Three blacks, six hundred metres.’

  Other men peered out, confirming the rebels.

  I tapped a man’s shoulder, ‘Left most man. Salome, guy in the middle, you -’ I tapped another shoulder. ‘- right most man. On my mark, three … two … one … fire.’

  Three cracks sounded out. Salome fired a second round. ‘I spun him, second shot in the chest.’

  ‘Gentlemen, she charges by the hour,’ I told them as I headed down the steps.

  Moran called at 11am. ‘I have patrols out, Crab and Duffy back here with the last of the Wolves, bad dose of the shits, and Tobo’s remaining men are here. Paras have been split up with the Pathfinders -’

  ‘You can send them here if you want, the Pathfinders.’

  ‘They’ll patrol near you anyhow, should see some action. Oh, RAF guy here, to look at some runway..?’

  ‘Yes, send him, but not today, send him in a jeep convoy with the Engineers, but it’s not safe yet, we have incoming, and I’m letting the Press officers get their fill first; I have most all the teams sat inside. That convoy, have it stocked up with kit and supplies, but they travel fifty yards apart – we found claymores on the trees next to the roads.’

  ‘Ouch, that’s naughty.’

  ‘Tell them to be careful when they do come over.’

  With Seals wanting something to do, I had them pack ready to move out. At the door facing the runway I told them, ‘Get down the length of the runway - on the south side of the road for cover, and to the trees where this runway hits those trees. South side is yours, my boys on the north side, get their radio frequency.

  ‘Your area is what you see, down to the river, and east a mile. I want eyes on the road, two men at all times, then patrols out. We found claymores on the trees facing the road, so be real fucking careful. Check my sat phone number.’

  ‘Got it, sir, and Captain Moran’s.’

  They kicked up white dust as they moved down into the mine, a course parallel to the runway, and I stood with Dicky observing the Seals progress. Half an hour later I heard the radio chat, but it was distorted.

  An hour later we heard the distant cracks. I called Nicholson. ‘That you firing?’

  ‘Wolves found a claymore, but part of the group that should have gone bang. It never went off, but it has a wire. They hit it like six times, and no bang.’

  ‘Leave it, it’s a dud. Happens sometimes.’

  ‘Wait … truck coming.’

  ‘Could be civvies. Stop it and ask.’

  He called me back five minutes later. ‘Local with stuff to sell, including live pigs and chickens. No beer!’

  ‘Send him down to me.’

  I fetched out my dollars, a wary eye on the treeline. The old truck appeared in the distance and came on, taking it’s time, getting bigger second by second. It finally hissed to a stop and turned, reversing towards us.

  I glanced at the tree line and walked out with Dicky, Mouri and Monster. Tins of fruit were grabbed, counted by a black finger, men sent off, chickens killed and handed over and carried back by Mouri, a large live pig roped-off by Monster and led inside.

  I bought bags of flour and large tins of rice, all placed down on the road. The trader asked for fifty dollars, so I showed him my unhappy face, and he came down to thirty dollars, leaving happy enough.

  Inside, I placed down the flour and rice in the HQ room. Back in with 14 Intel I said, ‘Dicky, have them cook the chickens after gutting and plucking, then the pig, ladies an all. Ladies, sharpen your knives.’

  ‘I’m a trained chef,’ Maggy pointed out.

  ‘Then I expect to eat well tomorrow. Don’t leave a mess on the floor, we’ll get flies. We have rice, so boil it, and do something with the flour.’

  I grabbed eight tins of fruit and handed it to the Greenies, a large tin of rice to the French.

  After lunch, a lunch of tinned mixed fruit for me, the Greenie captain came and found me. He took in the people in the busy HQ room with an uneasy glance, and hesitated. ‘Sir, we’d … like to request that you find something else for the Israeli major to do.’

  The room shook with laughter.

  ‘Captain, are you finding fault with the lady Major?’ I teased.

  ‘I could write a list,’ he quipped. ‘We want her gone. She’s a distraction to the men, and she bitch-slapped one of them.’

  The room again rocked with laughter.

  ‘She slapped him?’ I teased. ‘Why did she slap him?’

  ‘He … er ... suggested a better way for her to wear her webbing. And she’s using up our ammo shooting at shadows, and our man wants his rifle back.’

  ‘Tell her that I was asking for her. That lunch is ready.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  He headed off as people snickered. A blast hit the wall nearby, but few reacted.

  When my phone trilled I moved to a south window, the bright sun pouring in. ‘It’s David, and news has hit about the building in E2.’

  ‘Not my leak, I was hoping to keep it quiet. I would point a finger at our friend in Oman.’

  ‘Well the media got the technical detail of the faults, the building now closed by official HSE order, a team of independent experts to check the claims. The German media has the bank knowing about it and hiding the detail, a fraud in the sale of units inside the building, so it’s a mess, about to be a loud mess.’

  ‘What about the BP executives?’

  He sighed loudly. ‘My next headache. They’re all in touch with each other, not unusual, but they also call the States regular. The JIC got wind because they were auditing recent operations, and they’ve informed the Prime Minister. I have to meet with him today.’

  ‘Not your fault.’

  ‘No, but I was hoping to deal with it quietly.’

  ‘Should have just left it to me then.’

  ‘Perhaps, but we also have jobs to do, you know, defence of the realm. What’s happening in Liberia?’

  ‘We’re sat in a building taking fire, wearing them down. I’ll drag this out so that the Press officers here get plenty of footage, then go wipe out any Guinea soldiers nearby. But we found an ambush on the road, a smart ambush – too clever for the locals, claymores in trees.�
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  ‘The mine worker with the fake ID, calls to Toronto?’

  ‘Yes, him. I’d say he trained somewhere not around here.’

  ‘And his paymaster?’

  ‘Rene Bastion or Van Den Block. They’ve got some funds left, but I doubt they’re taking direction from the bank, this is just revenge and spite, no practical gain I can see. Atlantic Oil has been invited in, men on the way, so what more do they want?’ I posed.

  ‘A puzzler, yes, unless we’re missing something.’

  He was back on late in the day, random fire keeping our heads down, our pig now quite dead and hung up. ‘I just met with the PM, and he wants a public trial for the men in BP.’

  ‘A public trial?’ I repeated. ‘What the fuck for!’

  ‘As far as he sees it, these men were spies that threatened our oil and therefore they threatened our national security.’

  ‘Well, they did, yes, but I could have arranged a quiet heart attack!’

  ‘He wants his trial, so arrest warrants have been issued.’

  ‘And that guy in Bournemouth?’

  ‘He suffered a heart attack this morning.’

  ‘Well at least he’ll save GlobalTech the embarrassment.’

  ‘Indeed. But the other men all have families, grown kids, are well respected in the community, so it’ll be a mess. Oh, we need those bodies. I’ve sent a note to Freetown, body bags and MPs and medics to attend, forensics to sample.’

  ‘Send them by helo, we’ll hand them the ID cards.’

  ‘I’m trying to arrange that for today.’

  ‘Have the helo land at the huts south, down by the river. Bodies are down there, out of the firing line.’

  I called “D” Squadron. ‘It’s Wilco. Dig up those bodies, bag them up, IDs on them if you remember which is which, helo will pick them up. Leave the bodies close to where you found them, police on their way.’

  ‘Police? We didn’t nick their watches,’ he joked.

  ‘Good to know, work fast.’

  Those helos arrived before we lost the light, two Pumas setting down, bodies loaded as men here observed, people below seen taking photos of the scene and samples of the soil, spades used to dig around where the bodies were found as the Pumas idled their engines.

  Finally satisfied, the visitors boarded their rides and flew off southwest.

  I called Tinker. ‘Prime Minister wants the BP spies on trial.’

  ‘A public trial? Shit…’

  ‘Any intel on the insurance for this place?’

  He coughed out a laugh. ‘We just found a link to Lord Michaels, risk assessment, and an ex-SAS major – now dead a few years.’

  ‘Could you get old staff records for this mine, from the final days, see who was here?’

  ‘They’d be held by NordGas, locked up somewhere.’

  ‘What Mutch told me was that the security list in-country has all the names, photos, fingerprints in case someone is kidnapped and killed. That’s been in place decades, a copy with the embassy and FCO.’

  ‘I’ll go ask him.’

  ‘Get him to find an old buddy who was here, ask who was here in the final days, tell him to buy some beer. And ask the FCO for old records.’

  ‘OK, leave it with me.’

  ‘Is it quiet up there?’

  ‘Intel room is busy, outside is quiet, yeah, just SAS men training now and then.’

  He put me through to the Brigadier for a chat and a sitrep.

  An hour after dark the outgoing fire suddenly peaked, and many of us ran bent-double down towards the French as loud cracks echoed down the hallway. In the dark we knelt, moving slowly towards the door, a hell of a racket being created, rounds cracking into the walls near us.

  I could hear shouts in French before I heard American accents, someone firing on automatic. A blast, and we had grenade fragments pinging off the walls near the door. A second blast, and the screams were not from our men.

  Monster moved to the door, set automatic, leant out and fired off a magazine in several directions. Back in, he said, ‘Ten bodies on the floor, say twenty yards out - they were sneaking in, more further out.’

  It fell quiet, the quiet moans of wounded rebels silenced by well-aimed shots from above. A bright light, and I could see a video camera with a light being pointed towards the area of the bodies, thirty seconds of film used up before the light went out.

  I shouted, ‘Any wounded?’

  A French voice said, ‘Some small bits inside, yes.’

  I transmitted, ‘Wilco for the Greenies, you have wounded?’

  ‘Just some ricochet,’ came back. ‘Nothing serious.’

  I transmitted, ‘All teams, pump some rounds into the treeline, send our visitors home.’

  The roar built, Monster in the doorway and using up a magazine, the French pumping out many loud rounds, the reports of those rounds loudly accentuated by the smooth concrete walls.

  I finally transmitted, ‘Ceasefire, use your eyes and ears, boys and girls. Sort the wounded and get a brew on.’

  ‘Ceasefire, tea break!’ came Mitch’s voice over the radio, the French laughing loudly.

  ‘What is funny?’ Salome’s dark outline asked from behind me.

  ‘Taking a tea break during a battle,’ I told her.

  ‘If the battle goes on for days you stop for food and drink, of course you do.’ She cursed in Hebrew as we returned to the HQ room.

  The cooking pig was now smelling great, Maggy supervising, and we soon had bacon, to be followed by boiled ham and rice. It wasn’t all bad here. Even Salome tried the bacon.

  Swifty called an hour later, out of breath. ‘We just pasted thirty of them, but half of them were wounded, the other half helping their buddies.’

  ‘They tried to run at us here, but that didn’t work out for them. We’ll police up the bodies in the morning, you do the same. Come back in after dawn and swap – we have fresh supplies and bacon.’

  ‘Bacon? Lucky bastards!’

  After my brew I found Dicky. ‘Take two of your charges at a time, clean table top but dark, strip and clean, loading drills, over and over and then some more.’

  ‘Right, Boss, I’ll keep them busy, but they did get a few fellas today.’

  I faced Tiny as she sat with a brew. ‘Did you shoot anyone?’

  ‘I think so, he fell down, so maybe I wounded him.’

  ‘And you feel … what?’

  ‘Feel?’

  ‘Do you feel sad for him?’

  ‘Well, a little bit, yeah.’

  ‘If that man could get to you he’d rape you, slit your throat and set you on fire, just for fun. Always keep that in mind. And on his way here he probably came across a nine year old in a village and did just that. The rebels here have a code of conduct; what happens in the bush stays in the bush, and there are no rules.’

  Dicky told her, ‘Years back we found a village wiped out, up from the FOB. They shot women, kids, and they shot at babies with rifles. Then we caught up with them.’

  ‘And..?’ Maggy nudged.

  ‘We left their rotting corpses in the road, and a good job too,’ Dicky told her.

  ‘I was there,’ Max told them. ‘Still got the photos, turned my stomach it did. And I was with Wilco when we ambushed the men. Got no sympathy for the fuckers, they’re not soldiers, they hack people up for fun.’

  I left Max telling of his experiences down here.

  It fell quiet, the odd shot, then it fell dead quiet, men seen sleeping or chatting quietly, groups coming to the HQ room to cook and eat.

  I woke to a grey light, a peaceful grey light. Up and stretching, I could see Salome asleep on her side and drooling a little, Rizzo and Stretch both snoring quietly.

  Monster eased up as I brought the water to a boil.

  ‘Did I wake you?’ I whispered.

  ‘No, need for a pee does that to me, like a fucking alarm clock it is,’ he whispered back. He headed out. When he returned I handed him a brew and some chocolate r
olos, and we sat quietly for ten minutes.

  Pointing him outside, we eased kit on and stepped past sleeping men, down to the French – a man on stag at the door, and out. There, on the north side, lay twenty or more bodies going ripe, a bird seen pecking at one.

  In grey light we stepped across to the Greenies building, the same man on the door as yesterday. ‘All quiet?’ I whispered.

  ‘Went off quiet after we shot-up that bunch. They’re gunna need some more men.’

  I led Monster to the mine and we peered down. I pointed west. The mist was rolling slowly down the tree tops.

  ‘Fucking odd, that,’ he puzzled.

  ‘Moisture collecting in thermal bands, it forms mist, and it slips down the slope. Cooler air falls, so cooler air flows down the slope. Beautiful, isn’t it.’

  ‘Spooky it is.’

  ‘Only see it at dawn for half an hour or so. Day warms up and it’s gone.’

  We studied the mine, no movement, no one swimming in the white pond at the centre.

  ‘What’s the plan for today?’ he asked.

  ‘Press have enough film, so today we do what we should have done, and go set ambushes and patrols. I want to quell an area a hundred miles in all directions.’

  ‘Gunna need some transport then.’

  I shook my head. ‘Half that area is swamp, and half is impenetrable forest, so we need only police the roads and certain tracks. Over here in Liberia, there are large areas that are water-logged most of the year. A man couldn’t cross it.’

  ‘So … that forces them into using trails.’

  ‘Yep. And we set ambushes, and we paste them till they run out of warm bodies. Simple. We also get the men here experience of patrols, they go home with that experience, some confidence, and next year’s NCOs are better NCOs. What rank were you?’

  ‘I made sergeant, but got busted down twice.’

  ‘Here, I’ll judge you on doing the job, and a desire to do the job, but I’ll never tolerate any shit. I won’t bust you down, you get released the same day.’ I faced him. ‘Anywhere you’d rather be?’

  He pulled a face and considered that. ‘Not got anywhere to be, and I liked it down here with the Paras, liked seeing some action – all soldiers do. You spend years training and never fire a shot in anger. A bit silly really, marching up and down.’