by Geoff Wolak
‘When they find a group of fighters they pull back, call in an airstrike maybe or more men. Purpose is denial of area, and seek and destroy, gather paperwork for the CIA.’
Phone back to his ear he stepped out as Robby stepped in all dusty and sweaty.
‘Been jogging, Sergeant Major?’ I asked him.
‘Took those left in 14 Intel around to the range, been keeping them fit, plenty of range time -’
‘And you’re here to ask me for something more worthwhile for them, yes?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘Have them pack up a shit load of supplies, and walk northwest to the wadi and make camp with 2 Squadron, then I want radial patrols out, a day or two at a time, keep them busy. And you can combine with 2 Squadron if you like. Patrol north as well, we don’t have anyone up there.
‘And Sergeant Major, be careful, don’t get them all wounded.’ I wagged a warning finger.
He nodded and stepped out.
Ten minutes later a Lynx set down, a dusty prisoner manhandled off and presented to us by the door gunners as the local police closed in.
The gunners explained in Arabic, ‘We found him wandering around alone, sir, miles from anywhere, and he raised his hands and threw down his rile so we landed and took him. He says he wants to make a deal.’
I thanked the gunners, who returned to their Lynx, police in blue now handling the terrified prisoner. He appeared to be little more than twenty years old, and dehydrated. ‘Talk to me, make a deal, and I will have you dropped back in Yemen outside some town, or you can live here in Oman.’
Franks and Dick closed in with the Omani major.
The young man told me, ‘I have family in the west, near Aden port.’
‘You may visit them again, money in your pocket. What do you know?’
‘A ship sails to Salalah, name of a rodent.’
‘Rodent?’ I faced Franks. ‘Check all registries of local ships, rodent in Arabic or similar.’
He lifted his phone and stepped away.
‘What will this ship do?’
‘It will explode,’ he told me as if I was stupid.
‘If what you say is true, you get handed back. To make some money we need more information.’
‘Men went to Saudi a month ago now, to do something about British Army men, and when they returned they were well paid.’
‘Attack British Army advisors in Saudi?’
‘No, in Oman,’ he said, looking at me as if I was stupid, and that he was annoyed with me.
I lifted him by the neck. ‘Look at me like that again and I peg you out naked for a week, rodent!’
‘Sorry, sir, sorry.’
I let go of him before he turned red and choked. ‘So what did these men do, here in Oman?’
‘I don’t know that, but they were well paid afterwards.’
I faced the police. ‘Hold him here, don’t send him to Muscat yet.’
Franks got a call fifteen minutes later, a ship with a name like Gerbil in Arabic, operating out of Aden. I gave Kovsky the detail, and he called Admiral Jacobs, a ship to board – or to sink; boarding it would be risk given that they planned to blow themselves up. I called London and gave them the detail, for them to check it.
But stood in the HQ room my phone trilled. At the window I took a call from London, and my face fell. Call ended, they could see my look, and they all waited.
I took in worried their faces. ‘Gunmen just shot up a tourist coach in Egyptian Sinai, Western tourists on their way to some monastery … and we’ve got sixty-two dead bodies rotting in the sand.’
They exchanged looks. Clifford shook his head. ‘Sixty-two? Jesus. All they need is one man with a rifle, we need an army to try and stop them, planes to find them, and even then we don’t get all of them.’
I told him, suddenly very tired, ‘If one terrorist survives here, he can hit a coach-load of tourists; easy for them, hard for us to stop it. And several hundred will survive our attacks into Yemen, this operation is a drop in the ocean. Here we’re spending countless millions, but to attack that coach cost them ten dollars plus fuel and a packed lunch.’
‘Makes a mockery of what we’re doing,’ the lady Intel captain noted.
As I walked past her I told her, ‘Welcome to my nightmares and frustrations. And you’re welcome to share them.’
Swifty called as I stood outside. ‘We’re down on the flat parts, shot a few wounded men, but one of the fuckers blew himself up. Now we’re keeping our distance.’
‘Headshots, then get me some paperwork a day later, when they’re definitely past their soldiering days. I need that intel. What about the missile men?’
‘All shot dead we think, Wolves are sneaking around to them now, three jeeps on a track.’
‘So the missiles came in by jeep, they were not placed there?’
‘Looks like it, because we saw no movement over that way when we first got here.’
I had a quiet cup of tea and a sandwich, thinking about the dead in Sinai.
Back in the HQ room I assembled the senior men. ‘OK, the prisoner tells us that a ship will sail into Salalah port and blow itself up, but also that a team of men travelled here via Saudi and did something, prepared something, and that they got back in one piece and were well paid. So, what did they do?’
‘A big bomb?’ Colonel Clifford asked.
‘Targeted at British soldiers,’ Harris noted. ‘But the only British soldiers are here, and dispersed.’
I pointed at the Omani major. ‘Are there other British instructors here in Oman?’
‘Yes, many, but not in a group or together. A big bomb needs a good collection of men, and there are none. Your people are spread far and wide, one or two per base, some in the city.’
Franks noted, ‘So the bomb is here.’
‘Planted a month ago?’ I questioned. ‘On a timer or with a phone detonator? Makes no sense, because if they had a way to set it off then doing so on day one would have caused the most casualties, now there are not many men here.’
‘Faulty detonator,’ Harris posed. ‘They expected a good result but never got it. Maybe it was under the sand and to be coordinated with the attack on the gate and those two groups of fighters. It’s still in the sand but it won’t go pop.’
‘I don’t agree,’ the Omani major put in. ‘This base was never left alone, there have been men here protecting the runway and these buildings for years, some exercises here. They would have seen strangers a mile away!
‘When the second team got here they searched for tracks and found none, and when I got here we searched as well, no signs of disturbed soil. Where the tents were placed was chosen at random by the Americans who brought the tents, no way to know where they would be.’
Clifford put in, ‘Best target would be this building, but it’s hardly worth a big bomb.’
I instructed the Omani major, ‘I want your bomb disposal teams here, metal detectors, a fresh search, assuming a deep bomb, then a search along the road. Maybe they figured we would be driven here from Salalah airfield.’
‘That was the original plan,’ the major told me. ‘Not to fly here, you altered that.’
‘So maybe there’s a big bomb that failed to go off next to the road, in a culvert under a bridge, and you need to find it. Also check around in Salalah Airport for it.’
Franks put in, ‘What if they hit a civilian population centre, like Salalah town market on a weekend? We’d get the blame whether that’s justified or not – coz we’re here.’
I nodded, adopting a worried look. ‘We would, yes,’ I sighed out. ‘And that’s my worry here, a town hit, the soft underbelly. If they shoot up a coach it makes it look like we failed to protect the civilian population, even though that’s not our responsibility.’
The Omani major put in, ‘The border is tightly controlled, it has been for decades. If they drive across they bring little with them. If they travelled via Saudi they took nothing with them, only passports.’
‘A spying mission?’ Kovsky asked. ‘Layout here?’
‘Maybe,’ I agreed. ‘But what could they report from a mile away?’
‘Coordinates for that cruise missile,’ he suggested.
Harris turned to him, ‘It was a thousand yards out! More!’
He responded, ‘You try programming one of those old things. A thousand yards is not so bad, and it should have locked onto something when it found it.’
‘No active radar,’ here I noted. ‘Nothing to lock on to.’
Harris put in, ‘They may have assumed a working radar tower here, or a portable one.’
Hicks noted, ‘Whatever those men did, it failed. If they had something to use against us … they would have used it by now. What the fuck they sat waiting for?’
I nodded, staring at the map. ‘I don’t like loose ends, and I don’t like those men being well paid for something that will upset our plans here. So, all of you, keep thinking.’
I pointed at the Omani major. ‘Update your police and intelligence services. Have them look for men travelling to Saudi from Yemen then here, a return trip a month ago, we might get lucky.’
I updated London, a brief chat to David.
He was back on to me as the sun set. ‘Our frigate is shadowing that ship, Yarbue III.’
‘Best not to board it, it’s set to blow,’ I teased.
‘Yes, quite. Plan is to order them to abandon ship for the life-rafts when the American warships are closer, and if not they’ll open fire on it.’
‘It’ll make a nice place for octopus to swim around in on the sea bed, a good idea since I read that the coral is disappearing.’
Back in the billet at 7pm, Moran asked, ‘What we doing?’
‘You’re the only ones left here save some American Wolves, so you’re the flying squad to react to incidents. When I have a nice target I’ll send you out.’
My phone trilled after I informed them of all that was happening west of us. ‘It’s Pritchard, and we can see headlights ahead of us, more than a mile away.’
‘Have they seen you?’
‘No, not yet. But they’re a sizeable force.’
‘Give me the coordinates.’ He read them out. ‘Standby, I’ll get back to you. But can you send a foot patrol around the edges for a sneak peak?’
‘Just getting them ready, light gear only. Good to use their legs after all this driving.’
I rushed to the HQ room and updated the map.
Harris noted, ‘A hundred miles in, and close to a track that joins a road. But what the fuck they doing out in the open, headlights on?’
‘Obviously not expecting company tonight,’ I quipped.
‘What’ll you do?’ Franks asked.
I straightened and faced him. ‘Well, there are fifty jeeps with GPMGs that need some testing. What do you think … we could do?’ I posed.
‘Drive at them, fire at range, yeah. Fifty GPMGs would make a mess of any group.’
I faced Kovsky. ‘Standby an airstrike for just after dawn, please.’
He took out his phone and stepped out.
‘Where’s Max?’ I asked.
‘Back with the SAS,’ Harris told me.
‘And just when did I give him permission?’ I asked, my hands wide, the Intel captains laughing. ‘And those two Marine Press officers?’
Harris told me, ‘Last I heard they were at the US Marines wadi camp with more reporters off ship.’
I stepped to the window and called Holsteder.
‘Go ahead,’ came a voice with some crackling background wind rush.
‘It’s Wilco, how’s it going?’
‘We snuck down east and hit a small group, say thirty men with six jeeps, one mounted fifty cal. None survived, but we got some ricochet, not too serious. Medics here patched up the boys, they don’t need a ride out yet. Got us the paperwork and the phones back here.’
‘Good work, sounds like you’re proper special forces operators.’
‘We’re earning our keep, yeah. Odd thing is these rocks, and they make noises and crack.’
‘They heat up and cool down, and sand dunes make sounds as well. It’s supposed to make men go mad.’
‘From time to time the boys think it’s someone sneaking up, but they’re OK with it – no madness witnessed yet, but we adopted a kitten.’
‘A kitten? Oh, desert Lynx in the mountains, yes. Where’s the mother?’
‘Not seen her, but the kitten is hungry alright.’
‘Bring it back, make for a good story for the press. It has long ears?’
‘Yeah, strange little thing. Likes to hiss at people.’
‘Photograph it.’
‘Already have done, yeah.’
‘What’s next for you?’
‘Got a camp south, we saw the lights, so we’ll hit them tomorrow, got a few men moving through the night to get eyes-on. What’s been happening elsewhere?’
‘The Marines haven’t made contact with anyone yet, but a Lynx helo was shot down, three heat-seeking missiles up its arse.’
‘Ouch! Crew dead?’
‘They hit the rocks and were dragged out by my men, but they have spinal injuries.’
‘Nasty. In basic training I survived a helo crash, my best buddy breaking his back.’
‘I’d rather a bullet than a spinal injury.’
‘I hear ya on that one.’
‘Sleep well, but at least you have some pussy.’
Laughing, he cut the line.
Kovsky came and found me in Clifford’s office. ‘Tomorrow we’ll have some top brass visiting, a few generals down from Riyadh, Admiral Jacobs to meet them here.’
‘I’ll blow the dust off my boots,’ I quipped, glancing at my dirty boots – which were now sand coloured. ‘What they after?’
‘Just an update on the plan here I guess, and to make themselves feel important.’
‘You don’t sound at all cynical,’ I teased.
‘They get updates and reports, they don’t need time out the damn office,’ he complained.
‘They came all this way..?’
‘No, they were visiting Qatar and Saudi and some had to inspect the base at Thamrit.’
Swifty called at midnight. ‘We shot this lot, got IDs and a few phones, then a jeep convoy turned up so we ran and got to the higher ground before we opened up. Six jeeps, and we killed most of them, can’t see much now. Stupid fucks had their headlights on!’
‘They never realised you were still there. Any wounded?’
‘Got two scrapes from rocks, not from action, so the lads are bound up as they shiver. Might get infected.’
‘Push on down the road, find a spot for a helo to come get the intel tomorrow and to drop you some supplies.’
‘American Wolves brought us plenty, we’re good for four days,’ he assured me. ‘Anyone near us?’
‘Americans are … fifty miles north of you, bit of a trek for a chat and a cup of tea.’
‘Just us around here?’
‘Yes. But if you find a large force I’ll drop Echo in; at the moment they’re sat getting a tan.’
‘Lazy fucks.’
In the morning we were alerted to the pending arrival of company, Admiral Jacobs and his team the first to set down in the Hawkeye, welcomed in, coffee made. A USAF Hercules landed fifteen minutes later, ten senior officers down with alert bodyguards, two nice lady adjutants walking to the ATC with their bosses.
I saluted, recognising three of the generals and the admiral from their visit to GL4.
They smiled, one shaking my hand. ‘A bit warmer than your UK base,’ a general noted.
‘Yes, sir, but damn cold at night here.’
I led them towards the HQ room.
‘What happened to that man you caught when we visited, the spy?’
‘He wanted to make a deal and sell out those above him, sir. I handed him some cash and sent him off.’
‘Generous…’ he puzzled.
‘A good informan
t makes all the difference, and we have one here. He informed us about the ship bound for Salalah.’
We entered the corridors.
‘They’re due to intercept that ship today, when it nears the Oman border.’
In the HQ room I had assembled Harris, Kovsky, Hicks, Clifford, Franks and Dick, the Omani major, no others. Admiral Jacobs welcome his countrymen with a few rude quips, coffee dispensed as well as cold water as men positioned themselves about the map table.
The lead general asked me, ‘Can you give us a rundown of the operation here, Major.’
‘Certainly, sir.’ I gestured towards the map. ‘An operation in Yemen was mentioned by Admiral Jacobs a year back, as a desire, and we finally got around to it after dealing with issues in Africa - West Africa and Somalia.
‘That desire was to set back al-Qaeda and to hit the training camps, to get paperwork and some intel from those we shoot, a parallel to previous operations up the Red Sea.
‘This base was the obvious choice as a stepping-off point, and it has a working runway and basic tower, no radar or ILS though. I grouped our teams here and sent the British SAS by jeep to the border, north, and into a wadi that would cut a route west to the terror training camps.
‘British Paras, Pathfinders, Marines and some Ordnance men went with them, and they’ve pushed along to … here. Your Navy got us the aerial photos and we found camps in many places, the first two hit at the same time, here and here.
‘We killed many fighters during those operations, destroyed jeeps and mounted fifty cal, and got paperwork and sat phones for Intel with just a few minor wounds – reporters to hand.
‘Whilst that was going on we suffered attacks on this base, but ineffective attacks. The fighters deliberately crashed-landed a transport plane in the wadi, men out on foot, forty of them in two patrols. We found their tracks and we found their position, all shot dead.
‘It seems they were set to attack us when two trucks packed with explosives rammed our gate here. We then saw a Cessna light aircraft packed with explosives try and fly in and ram us, but it crashed near our gate. That was followed by a cruise missile, also shot down, no fatalities here.