by Geoff Wolak
‘We’re well stocked,’ a dusty Sergeant Crab noted.
‘We’ll need to be,’ I told him. ‘Get organised before sundown, every man knowing his job, supplies close by. Oh, and I’d best send you some medics.’
The jeep drove me back, and in the drain I found our make-do hospital. ‘Mister Morten, four medics to the other drain with full kit, you won’t be able to move around when the shooting starts. And they’ll need some lamps in there, not just fire light.’
Four of the Army medics would go, two being doctors, kit lugged. And they had lamps and batteries. Back at the supplies, I loaded boxes of tins, taking them to my lads, to Haines and Crab, most of them for Crab. A second run, and I dropped off Jerry cans and bottled water, British lads Tiller and Brace grabbing them as I handed them over.
When Morten appeared at the supplies I told him, ‘I want this all gone, to the teams, nothing left here to get blown up, use the drain, call in teams.’
He nodded. ‘Army medics have brought good kit, field surgery kit, so we’re well prepared, or as well prepared as we could be in the field.’
‘Get some rest today, be busy later.’
I called in the French captain. ‘Hand this to the teams, nothing left here.’
I lugged a grenade box to the southeast trench and left it where Sasha’s team might be located, the veteran British Wolves in position facing due east, and back at the stores I now discovered the trip flares.
Calling in Robby’s troop, I was soon handing them all flares to carry, each man weighed down. ‘Take your men down the track south, out past the minefield, a hundred yards on but not near the wrecked jeeps – mines there. Go left, that’s east, plant these every thirty to forty yards, we don’t need them close together.
‘Go east, all the way around – look for the line left in the sand with mines in it, spread these out, right around to the artillery, never closer than 400yards to any team. Go, work fast, and don’t step on any mines!’
I grabbed ten flares, and had the jeep driver – a French lad oddly enough, take me up to “B” Squadron. ‘Get some men here!’ I shouted as we halted. They emerged from their fox holes. ‘I want trip flares west three hundred yards, either side of the ridge and in the rocks, stop anyone approaching that way. Work fast.’
I handed over the flares, all British soldiers using them on exercise and familiar with them, and we drove back chatting about scorpions, only one seen so far – and adopted; it was in a glass jar. On the runway, a blast caught my attention, coming from the east. Many heads turned that way. ‘Report the explosion!’
‘We are OK, cap-ee-tan, some small wound.’
‘Be careful out there!’
‘Thank you, cap-ee-tan, you care more about us zan our officer.’
Laughter filled the French position, some terse French words coming from that officer.
I glanced over my shoulder, Sasha’s team having mined at least 300yards of ground so far, Stretch working the opposite direction – and not having killed himself yet.
Finding more tinned food I handed it out, another box of bottled water discovered and placed in the drain near Morten. The following box contained more sandbags, all handed out in turn, men encouraged to fill them. Boxes of heavy mortars were carried between six men to the French mortar position, ten tubes now sat upright, four bare metal tubes that we had liberated, six longer green tubes that the French had brought.
I said to the 1st Battalion captain, ‘If a rocket hits a box of mortars..?’
His men exchanged looks. ‘We put them under the roof, yes, but with no fuse in ... we hope with the crossed fingers, no.’
At 11.30am I blew the whistle and transmitted that all teams should get some sleep, but not the mine teams or the bulldozer divers, or those planting flares.
I did not feel tired, and there was much to do, so I walked along to the Wolf recruits position, checking their readiness, chatting to an American NCO about how he was coping.
He began, wiping his brow, ‘Didn’t figure on this when I signed on to test and assess the recruits, sir, but I volunteered for this mission; rather be here than writing up reports Stateside. It’s been an experience, something to tell my grandkids.’
‘And the recruits, how’d you rate them?’
‘They’re all good men, sir, good attitude, and they look out for each other. Ain’t seen any fights or them bitching at each other.’
‘Good, the selection process worked well enough, and Colonel Mathews will be happy. Less happy if a few are killed tonight.’
‘It going to get rough, sir?’
‘Like hell on earth rough.’ I left him looking worried.
The RAF Regiment lads were sleeping save one lad on stag, Haines sat with him.
‘Not sleepy?’ I asked Haines as I plonked down.
‘I slept well last night, and if I doze in the day I get a headache sometimes. I’ll be OK later.’
‘They’ll be at us all night. Try and get some concrete on top of your positions, better for stray rounds. Part of your job is the runway west, and anyone walking down it. To the north of you is a gap, and you’ll need to tell me if they’re coming down that gap.’
‘We have the flares, so we’ll pick them off at distance. Your boys planting mines out there?’
‘Jumping-jacks and anti-tank mines.’
‘Our visitors will get a shock.’
‘If we can stop them at 300yards we’ll thin them out and turn them. And we now have ten French mortars and plenty of mortar rounds, and starshell.’
‘What about the camels, sir?’ the man on stag asked.
‘Camels?’ I puzzled. ‘I don’t think we’ve pissed-off the camels, or that they’re armed.’
He smiled. ‘When we leave, and leave behind ten tonnes of mines…’
‘Ah, see what you mean. Well ... they don’t wander this way often from what we’ve seen, so hopefully they’ll not step on a mine. Besides, we’re not leaving, there will always be a presence here, and I was planning on fencing off the mined areas, even if it’s just rope on poles, a few signs up. If the locals think there are mines here they’ll stay away.’
‘I saw a movie, and this guy stepped on a jumping jack, and – click. He dug it out. Is that possible?’
‘Yes and no. Yes, you can dig it out, but there’s no lever to hold down, and they’re not designed to allow you to put the pin back in after triggering them. Some models you can put the pin back in, but most will injure you. If you placed a sandbag or two on it, fine. Or drop it in the water. But you only have two seconds. Best to avoid standing on one.’
I wandered down the runway in the heat, most of my lot asleep, many now in the dark interiors of the trench. The medics’ bunker was abandoned, but it had a sandbag wall and was close to the end of the mortar trench. To the French captain I said, ‘Use the medic’s bunker, some men, the medics will not use it tonight.’
He nodded, looking hot and bothered as I walked past, and I walked all the way up to the artillery position, the French mine team still moving their concrete shelter north, now almost level with the artillery.
The artillery benefitted from a four-foot sandbag wall all around the front, parts of a sandbag wall at the rear - artillery boxes completing that wall, two trenches stretching out fifty yards each, many parts offering solid roof coverings. I could see a GPMG sat ready, a few sleepy men waving out at me.
At the extremity of one trench I knelt, looking into a hole, a man peering out ‘You’re the front line, yes?’
‘I am point-man, no.’
‘You will be busy I think.’
‘I hope some mine here.’
‘They will reach here, yes. Probably ... they’ll finish the mines after the attack.’
I left a smiling face hidden in a hole and plodded back, a scan of the horizon north and east, a few SAS regulars above ground. At the stores I found more sandbags and placed them on the runway, another box of grenades still here so I lugged them to the southeast tren
ch, for the veteran Wolves.
Sitting with three of them, I wiped my face with a sleeve. ‘You lot OK?’
‘Hot as hell, Boss,’ one said, his brown desert cap pulled down over his eyes, rifle cradled.
‘You knew Pullman and White?’
‘Not as close friends, but we all know each other. We don’t come together this often. None of us three met them socially outside of work.’
The second dusty man said, ‘It’s a blow, to suffocate like that, but what a great way to go.’
They laughed.
‘In your sleep, feeling nothing,’ one said. ‘Best way.’
‘We’ll all pick up a few wounds tonight, it’ll get hairy,’ I told them. ‘They’re going to throw everything they have at us.’
‘They’ve been a bit crap so far, Boss.’
‘Either that, or we’re good at what we do, and your officer in charge is fucking brilliant.’
They laughed again.
‘Those tanks were a bit naff,’ one noted. ‘Threw a tread before it got a shot off. How embarrassing is that?’
‘Lots of tanks throw treads, all the damn time,’ I told them.
‘Any tanks tonight?’
‘I hope not, but it’s hard to get to us in the trenches, even with a tank. No, they’ll come in on foot, try and get inside the trenches. See a dark outline you don’t like the look of, and it may be one of them. Shout a challenge.’
‘What’s your favourite football team?’ one joked.
‘People the world over love Man Utd, so don’t ask that question,’ I told them.
‘So what’s the plan, Boss?’
‘We sit out the rockets and mortars, then the fifty cal will signal men moving in, so we need to have heads up looking. When they hit the trip flares we open fire, and when they hit the mines we use grenade launchers, and if that fails ... it’s hand to hand in these trenches.
‘See a dark outline up top, shoot. Make sure you have plenty of spare ammo, there are boxes in the drain, have some here ready. Have some spare water nearby, you’ll need it later.’
At the stores I found string and rope, and wooden corners to boxes came out, so I had stakes and pegs of a sort. Back at the far end of the southeast trench I hammered the pegs in whilst being curiously observed by a few of the Veteran Wolves and 1 Para lads alike, string and rope tied off, a line some twenty yards out.
Stood over the trench, I said, ‘Hear someone trip over at night and curse loudly, lob a grenade.’
Looking south, Sasha’s mine team were now level with me, soon to turn north, Robby’s team out at the end of the runway and heading north. I walked out to Sasha, seeing that the indent made by Tomo and Nicholson headed off towards Mali. I shook my head.
From a distance, I shouted, ‘Sasha, curve in now, make a new line, go to the runway, 300yards from the trench or less.’
He nodded within his helmet, his team knelt ten yards back with their Kevlar shields up.
Checking my watch, I wondered how much we would get done before they came, and I figured we had four hours left.
My phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’
‘It’s Colonel Mathews, and the White House says the American teams remain with you, and I got you some air support for later tonight. Actually, I asked for it weeks ago.’
‘It all helps, sir, but the fighters will be spread out; your planes might just move some sand around.’
‘We’ll give them something to think about, and each bomb will kill anyone inside 100yards.’
‘What aircraft have been tasked with this?’ I puzzled.
‘B2 Bombers, heading for Ascension Island as we speak.’
‘And you have permission for overfly..?’
‘They’re radar invisible and cruising at 50,000ft, so good luck to a bunch of fucking African nations trying to spot them, let alone intercept them. They’ve only been in service a few weeks, air Force keen to try them out, dead keen.’
‘Do their pilots have my number?’
‘The AWACS crew does.’
‘AWACS!’
‘Be one cruising overhead later, down from Germany, refuelled in southern Italy I think.’
‘So the White House has woken up to this place,’ I noted.
‘Fuck no, CNN kicked them in the balls, a suggestion that you were isolated and cut-off.’
‘Well, we chose to be isolated and cut-off, that was the whole point.’
‘This will be all over the news Stateside.’
‘Your Air Force can hardly hit the wrong target, there’s nothing here, no towns or villages.’
‘That is the one good thing yes, the precision bombing of a patch of sand a thousand miles square – we can’t miss!’
‘And if the attack is delayed a few days..?’
‘They do it again the next day. AWACS will go to that place in Mauritania, KC135 tankers there. And the flight route from Ascension Island is totally uninhabited all the way to you – I emphasised that earlier. It’s just desert.’
‘Well, let’s hope they hit the fighters and not my lot. That would be a bad newspaper day for you.’
‘That would cost me my head for sure. I’ll be at my desk all night, so call if there’s a problem – other than a large army attacking you I mean.’
‘Talk later, sir,’ I said with a smile.
I went and found Max and the two reporters in the drain. ‘Tonight might see new American B2 bombers overhead here, and AWACS.’
‘Shit...’ the Americans let out.
‘Don’t release anything yet, they might just turn around.’
‘What’ll they bomb?’
‘The camels. What the fuck do you think they’ll bomb? They’ll bomb anywhere apart from this runway. Max, have your paper dig out pictures of these new B2 bombers, the ones with the delta shape and no tail.’
Moving down the drain I found most of the medics asleep, Morten nursing a cuppa. He pointed at a box, and I eased out a small hand-held video recorder, finding eight inside.
Whispering, I said, ‘Make sure you get your team with this.’ I handed a camera to Max, one each to the American journalists, and I placed two down the southeast trench, on ration boxes.
Exiting the north side through the sandbag walls, I found Liban. ‘Lieutenant Colonel,’ I loudly called.
‘Captain,’ came back.
‘The Americans are sending aircraft, be here later tonight, bombers.’
‘Bombers?’
‘Yes, bombers. It’s almost as if they want to show who’s in charge.’
‘Pah, you are in charge, not them. And I hope they don’t bomb us.’
‘If they do ... it will be nothing personal I’m sure.’
‘Well ... that is OK then, so long as it is not personal.’
‘Wait there,’ I told him, soon back with a video recorder. ‘Film your men, something for French TV.’
‘Ah, good, yes – I film.’
‘Film now in daylight, some reference shots.’
Back at Echo I found that Tomo’s brilliant fire position now had a trench at the rear, and entry/exit way for him. I eased down into my hole, the only one without a fire position set-up.
Swifty stirred, and he glanced south past his new fire position. ‘They laid those mines yet?’
‘This front part, yes, they’re going around the sides now. But we’ll have some help later, thanks to the United States Air Force.’
‘Aircraft? What ... aircraft?’
‘Bombers.’
‘Bombers? We’re a bit close to the damn target if those fuckers are dropping bombs from a few miles up!’
‘These days their bomb aiming is better. I hope.’
He looked worried. ‘Don’t need big bombs landing a hundred yards away.’
‘Keep you head down then.’ My phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’
‘David Finch. Are you all set, have what you need?’
‘We’re just about set, just laying some mines.’
‘Mines? Where did the mines
come from?’
‘They fell off the back of a lorry. Seriously, we grabbed a lorry and it had mines, so we’re planting them.’
‘Mines always cause problems years later -’
‘We have fifty miles of desert around us, no kids wandering by, no local cattle to injure.’
‘Well, yes, that’s something.’
‘Did you get a note about the Americans?’
‘No..?’
‘They’re staying, and they’ve upped the ante, bombers and AWACS heading this way later tonight.’
‘So they mean to make a show of it. I spoke to my opposite number today, and the intel trail is looking good, many new leads, new associations, and mixed in with the group that might attack you are some interesting chaps with interesting connections. And the FBI made a big splash about the two AN12s and the weapons.’
‘So all sides are happy, eh.’
‘Makes a change, doesn’t it.’
‘Wait till tomorrow, and the blame setting.’
‘Are you ... confident?’
‘When people fire guns and drop bombs there are always fuck-ups, men wounded and killed. No military operation ever goes to plan.’
‘Well if your men are not ready they never will be, and neither will anyone else.’
‘True, so we have to earn our keep tonight. And hopefully there’ll be no surprises.’ I called Tinker. ‘Any updates?’
‘They’re massing in three places; south twelve miles, southeast six miles, and northeast eight miles.’
‘How big is the group northeast?’
‘That would be the smallest group, but they have two APC.’
‘Timescale?’
‘They’re eating and sleeping at the moment, saying prayers – it is a Friday.’
‘Today is Friday?’
‘You don’t keep track, a scratch on the wall?’
‘I’m not in a cell, and no – I don’t keep track.’ Call ended, I transmitted, ‘Veteran Lone Wolves in the southeast trench, receiving?’
‘Go ahead, Boss.’
‘Find the RPGs, make sure you have plenty, expect APC from the east later on. French Echo, collect RPGs ready for APC later.’
Moran eased up, rubbing his face. ‘More APC?’
‘Maybe a lot more,’ I told him as I eased up and stepped onto the runway, soon staring out south, but Henri and Stretch were now walking down the runway from the west. When they got to me I asked, ‘All set?’