by Geoff Wolak
Later, I cooked rations with Swifty, coal burners warming the billet, and with all the beds occupied it warmed up from human heat. I had told them to regulate sleep, or get ten laps each, the same message to the teams next door. Next door I took time to stop and sit with Mitch and his team of bad boy spies for half an hour, a discussion of the tactics here.
At 6am in the morning the SAS were lined up ready on the apron, twenty-three jeeps stacked-up, seven of those borrowed from the Omanis. Pritchard was sat in a nice air-conditioned jeep.
‘You going along, Major?’ I asked him as he leant out of his jeep window.
‘Hell yes, forwards command post, won’t see much from back here.’
‘If you get wounded, you explain it to Colonel Marsh!’
‘I may have forgotten to mention that I was tagging along. But at least I have air conditioning and reclining seats.’
‘Slow and steady, look for tracks – as you recline and enjoy the view.’
As they drove out the main gate I drove over to the Lynx, Morten and his team now in a tent, but at least he was awake. ‘I want two medics with kit sat in a Lynx,’ I told him as he yawned.
He pointed. ‘This one is nominated till 4pm they said.’
‘Then I want to see the damn pilots sat inside it, coffee in hand, engines started every hour.’
‘I’ll sort that now, I met the pilot – he went to Sandhurst. His English is better than mine!’
I smiled. ‘Make sure that he has his radio on, tower checked with, sat phone checked with you.’
‘When does the action start?’
‘SAS drive out now, but it could take them three days to reach a contact. So it’ll be quiet for a few days, unless someone fires mortars at us here.’
‘Ten quid on mortars and rockets.’
‘One of my lads has ten quid on us being attacked by ship!’
‘The one called Tomo, I suspect.’
I smiled widely.
Back at the ATC I climbed up, two Omani officers sat looking tired. In Arabic I began, ‘SAS soldiers have moved out as you saw, and they’ll reach the border in an hour, then go north, so we have a Lynx over there ready for rescue of wounded men. Always make sure that you test radios to the standby Lynx.
‘We will always want to have one Lynx or Puma ready to go, medics sat in it, engines turning over every hour.’
They made me a coffee and chatted about Camel Toe Base; they had seen the film.
Down in the command room I found Harris just coming on duty, a coffee held in a big mug, the face of Saddam Hussein on it dressed like Santa Claus – a Gulf war souvenir.
I told him, ‘SAS have driven out, be at the border in an hour. No action for a while, so sup that coffee.’
He sat and nodded, in need of some time to get with it.
Midday, as the teams were speed marching around the airfield, a Hercules landed, familiar Green Beret soldiers piling out with heavy bags, efficient Omani ground crews ready with jeeps. But the Americans were all in green.
Captain Holsteder walked over and grinned. ‘Ya got any jobs in Europe, buddy?’
‘What’s wrong with a bit of sand?’ We shook.
‘No oceans, no bars, no girls…’
‘Ah, you spotted the one fault with this place – no ocean. You have desert browns?’
‘In the bags, yeah.’ His men dumped kit on the jeeps, a bus lined up ready for them. ‘So what’s the plan?’ he asked as the Hercules stood loudly droning at us.
‘SAS drove out at dawn, they’ll hit the border wadi today and start west into Yemen. We have aerial recon from your Navy, a dozen small camps in the wilderness, maybe a hundred men in each. So you can take your pick.’
‘And getting in?’
‘Helos, either your Navy or the Omani Air Force.’
‘What the Omanis like?’
‘All shit hot, all went to posh schools in England. Those Lynx came from the UK, and there are British instructors over there.’
When his men were settled into the tents to the west of my huts, Holsteder and two other captains joined us in the command room with their boss, Major Hicks, coffees sipped, maps glanced at.
Hicks said, ‘I’ll give the boys a day to settle, some exercise, zero weapons – they had a long flight.’
I nodded.
Salome stepped in, surprised looks adopted by the American faces. She gave them a disinterest glance and faced me. ‘My people have some intel.’ She found a place on the map, where Harris had indicated on the map a fighters’ camp, a day’s drive west from the first ambush point. ‘Here, the al-Qaeda leaders.’
‘So the prize turkeys,’ Hicks noted. ‘You already allocated that one to our SEALs,’ he reminded me.
‘Yes, but I’ll have a team south of the camp, to grab anyone running off.’
Hicks faced Salome. ‘Israeli?’
‘No,’ I firmly told him. ‘She’s … Canadian-Polish, bit of an accent.’
Salome shot me a puzzled look then shrugged a shoulder before she left us.
Holsteder noted, ‘Them Polish-Canadians ladies all have great asses.’
‘She has a bad habit of wandering around naked, so stay out of my billet,’ I teased. ‘We have three ladies with us. One is good looking, one built like a tank. But the men lay off bets, and who loses has to fuck her.’ The Americans laughed.
‘There are ladies present,’ came from behind me, a lady Intel officer.
I faced her. ‘According to the limerick on the toilet wall back at base … you’re no lady.’
She put her hands on her hips, but squinted at Harris and not me, making me wonder if they were an item, some extra-marital action that I didn’t know about.
2 Squadron stacked up jeeps with supplies, ran engines, and checked their rides, two civilian Omani jeeps employed with towed bogeys, and each jeep could carry six men plus kit. They even had roof racks. Tow ropes, chains and metal track-plates were seen on top, to get a stubborn jeep out of some deep sand.
When ready, Haines led them out the gate, and he would create a command post at the wadi.
He called in an hour later to say that they had reached the border and had left a flight of men behind with a tent and some supplies, now pressing on north. It took him just under two hours to reach the wadi in the well-worn tracks that the SAS had created, one sign up – a diversion around a patch of soft sand.
At the wadi he chose a clump of rocks to make camp around, his men to patrol back down the border in jeeps, but he would also send out foot patrols to keep the men busy – and to keep them fit.
At 5pm, just before sunset, Major Pritchard called. ‘Wilco, we found a big old transport plane, about eight miles in, crashed in the wadi -’
‘Don’t approach it!’
‘Relax, we’re three hundred yards away.’
‘What can you see around you? Describe it.’
‘Flat here, which is probably why it set down, but it’s in good condition, no broken glass, did a belly-flop landing by the look of it. Left is a thousand yards to the rocks, right is about 600yards to tall sand dunes.’
‘How many men could fit on that plane?’
‘Say … forty or more.’
‘Those men are in the rocks south, watching you as we speak, so go north and around. Send a jeep to within 200yards and use the GPMGs on the sand near it.’
‘You think they mined the plane?’
‘I would. Move past it now.’ I ran to the ATC and up. ‘Get a Lynx up, and to the wadi, eight miles in is a crashed transport plane. I want them looking for tracks south of the wadi. Get a Puma ready for an insert, fast! Bring it over here.’
I rushed down and ran to the brick billet. ‘Rizzo, get seven men kitted, fast, Puma on its way. Rest of you, get kitted ready, we got action in the wadi! Swifty, get Robby and get all the British Wolves ready. But Robby stays here!’
Back outside, the Omani major came running, SLR in hand. ‘There is an attack here?’ he asked as the Lynx sped away
low-level.
‘No, but eight miles into the wadi is a crashed transport plane. The men it was carrying got off it.’
My phone trilled. ‘Wilco, it’s Pritchard. We shot at the sand and a mine blew, so you were right.’
‘Move on, I’ll have the US Navy bomb the damn thing. Helos on their way to drop men to look for tracks.’
‘We’ll go on a mile or two and hold-up for the night.’
Many of the senior staff were now outside, wondering what was up. I told Franks, ‘That radar contact you got, it was a large transport plane flying men low-level down the wadi; it crash landed. Could hold forty men, who are now out and on foot. When did you notice it?’
‘Two, three nights ago now.’
‘So they could have walked thirty miles west and be with their buddies by now, a sing-a-long around the camp fire.’
Franks noted, ‘If they landed in the wadi, they meant to put men down someplace around here and walk in.’
‘Maybe, but how determined are they?’ I countered with. ‘Are they walking this way, or did they fuck off home.’ I called Haines. ‘It’s Wilco, we have fighters on foot eight miles west of you, no idea where they are or which way they’re heading, get ready.’
The beige Puma loudly floated across the runway and set down near us. I waved Rizzo and his troop forwards and in, Rizzo running to me. With a hand on his shoulder I shouted into his ear, ‘Set down south of a crashed transport plane you’ll see, look for tracks, use your torches if you have to after dark, report back. Go!’
He was the last to clamber aboard as the Puma downdraft buffeted us, the beige-coloured Puma lifting up, nose down as it sped away west low-level across the sand.
I stepped to Harris. ‘Make sure we have a Lynx ready for casevac.’
He rushed into the ATC building, and several of us followed, stepping out onto the flat roof as the sun hung low, the western horizon on fire, a high strata of clouds seen pointing north. The sand was turning brown as the temperature dropped, a keen cold wind coming in from the north.
Harris reported a Lynx getting ready, medics getting ready since the alert Lynx had sped off without the medics on board – not so much as a goodbye.
Fifteen minutes later the Lynx radioed in as it returned, and I was listening in on my aircraft radio. Tracks went south from the crashed transport plane, then southeast, the Puma due to land men next to those tracks.
Rizzo called after the Puma had landed safely back with us, the daylight now gone. ‘Tracks go southeast, lot of men. We following them?’
‘Yes, double time, they landed that plane three days ago.’
‘They could be fucking anywhere by now,’ he complained.
‘Walk all night, take breaks, stay alert – don’t get ambushed. Update me every hour, and we have caesvac helos ready. And don’t forget, you’re eight miles from the border, so work out the distance. 2 Squadron is at the border.’
I turned to Hicks as he joined us in the ATC. ‘Go warn your men in the tents, please, we have a large foot patrol west of us, no idea where yet, but most likely they’d approach now - when it’s dark. Have a few men on guard duty and aiming west, but there are Omani soldiers further out, dug it.’
He nodded, and walked down the stairs in no particular hurry.
Franks asked, ‘You think they’ll attack?’
‘Die hard fanatics are in the mix, so … question is, are they on a recon mission, helos noted, or do they want a scrap?’
I walked down and towards the billet, and found Swifty and Robby with the British Wolves, all kitted ready. ‘OK, listen up. We have up to forty fighters west of us, on foot, no idea where they are. They might be static and observing us, or they have RPG and want to hit a helicopter. Or they turned around and fucked off home already - sat enjoying a tin of Campbell’s cream of tomato soup.’
They laughed.
‘Swifty, walk the men due west two or three miles, then stop, create a command area with three men, then send out pairs to the compass points; north, west and south – not east. The teams dig in and wait, maybe a few days. Get a contact, call it in before you shoot. Test radios, test sat phones, then move out.’
He led them off as Robby stood with me, the men soon just black outlines on a lighter background of sand. I had Slider keep his team ready, but warm inside the huts, the American Wolves keen for some action. I stepped into the 14 Intel billet and explained the situation before I repeated that with the American Wolves.
In the HQ room we updated the lists and the maps, suddenly having something to do.
Harris noted, ‘They had mines on that plane…’
‘Yes, so they could place mines around here somewhere.’
‘They already had time to reach the border and place mines,’ he puzzled. ‘So why no jeeps tyres shredded yet?’
‘They would never think us driving west then north across the sand, so maybe there are mines on a more direct route to the wadi, but they’d figure us using the roads not the wadi – and you can’t mine roads.’
‘You can,’ Hicks insisted. ‘You hack out a circle, place the mine, sand over it. Provided the wind doesn’t blow off the sand a jeep hits it.’
‘None reported,’ I told him. ‘And no Omani military vehicles use that road as it goes west to the border – just local police.’
‘Matter of timing,’ he suggested. ‘We just got here, so … when’d they figure us using that road?’
I nodded, a look at Harris. ‘Sat next to the road, waiting sight of a military vehicle column. Would make sense, but they’re gunna have a long wait.’
My phone trilled. ‘It’s Rizzo, and the tracks split up. One group of tracks go northeast, one on the same heading - southeast.’
‘Split your team, keep after them but don’t engage them.’
‘OK, moving.’
I faced Harris. ‘They split in two. One group heading northeast, one still heading southeast.’
He examined the map. ‘They’d already be inside the border.’
‘Maybe they are, dug in, binoculars in hand,’ Franks told him.
‘How about helos with night sights?’ Hicks asked.
‘They could get an RPG in the belly,’ I told him. ‘For now, we use men with legs, because the fighters left a trail that’s easy to follow. By dawn we’ll have their position, then we surrounded them and pick them off.’
Dick tapped the map. ‘Ten dollars on one group being down here, south, the roadside.’
Harris turned his head to Dick. ‘One group … that can’t navigate too well?’
Dick shrugged. ‘A southeast course would hit the road a mile outside this base. But I wouldn’t be that close if it was me.’
‘We’ll soon see,’ I suggested, tea made as Harris called GL4 and gave a lengthy sitrep, Kovsky updating the admiral.
When Kovsky stepped back in, I told him, ‘That crashed transport, it has mines around it, so have your boys bomb the damn thing in the morning. Question is, will your bomb set off the mines?’
‘Hell, yes. A 2,000lb bomb will send out a pressure wave that will set off mines a hundred yards out.’
I nodded. ‘Good, the local camel herders won’t stand on those mines a year from now. Nothing worse than a mean three-legged camel.’
Haines called at 9pm. ‘We found tracks, looks like twenty men walking east, just north of the wadi. Even though it’s night you can see the tracks clearly.’
‘Put a team of eight men on those tracks, and follow them. Double time.’
‘I’ll sort that now.’
I put a finger on the map. ‘One group of fighters managed to cross the wadi and leave no tracks, and they walked off due east. Either that, or the SAS were not looking down for tracks as they drove into the wadi.’ I faced an Intel captain. ‘Send someone to warn the Marines and Paras, enemy to the north a few miles.’
He rushed out.
‘They won’t attack,’ Hick suggested as he looked at the map. ‘They had time to reach the wire a
nd shoot, so maybe they’re waiting for something. Sandstorm maybe, like at Camel Toe.’
I faced Harris. ‘Weather reports in the ATC, fast.’
He rushed out. When he returned he reported, ‘Wind will pick up in four days, not enough for a sand storm.’
‘Moonless night?’ Hicks idly asked. ‘Or coordination with another team?’
I considered that. ‘I’d say … trucks on the road rushing us, keep us occupied as the teams sneak in.’ I went and found the Omani major, and asked that he block the road with something. There was a large heavy digger, so he would move it right away.
Back in the HQ room I reported, ‘Large mechanical digger trundling south to block the road.’
Franks noted, ‘So all we need now is a pack of cards.’
People sat quietly, waiting, as I detailed the sand storm at Camel Toe Base.
My phone trilled at midnight, people straightening. ‘It’s Swifty, and one of my teams has got cigarette smoke and movement.’ He read out the coordinates.
‘Move your men in slow and quiet, bunch up ready to attack. Dead slow. Is it flat there?’
‘No, undulating, some cover for us.’
On the map I marked the spot and double-checked the coordinates as people looked on. With that done, I called Rizzo and gave him the coordinates, he was not far off.
‘Fucking cold wind out here,’ he complained. ‘We’re walking fast to stay warm!’
‘What’s the visibility like?’
‘Fucking dangerous, that’s what it’s like! We could see them if they get close, but they could see us as well. I can see all the lads clear as day!’
I put my phone away.
Hicks asked, ‘What the fuck they doing just sat out there in the cold sand?’
‘Waiting,’ I suggested. ‘Close enough to be with us inside an hour, so they’re waiting a go signal. Team north must be doing the same thing.’
An hour later Swifty called. ‘We got radio contact with Rizzo, he’s west of us and sneaking up, so what we doing here?’
‘Your men all in place?’
‘In a half circle around them, say … two hundred yards out or less, some uneven ground to hide behind. We can hear them jabbering away now and then.’