Wilco- Lone Wolf 18

by Geoff Wolak

  I led Robby to the HQ room, and told Harris, ‘I want the two new Hueys dispatched west, twenty-five miles, they go up and down a radial line from here. 14 Intel will be aboard and they’ll land and fight if need be. I suggest … both Hueys fly together, just in case. Then back, refuel, rest, off again a few hours later.’

  Harris suggested, ‘If the Hueys are 500yards apart they’ll cover more ground.’

  ‘Up to you, and tomorrow or the next day we’ll have two RAF Hercules and two Chinook. The Chinook can insert Echo and the Wolves.’

  As the sun hung low we got word of VIP visitors in the morning, Omani senior officers. The Omani major would make sure that the place looked organised.

  Salome stepped into to HQ room at 7pm. ‘My people got an intercept, officers to be blown up by a bomb.’

  ‘All the officers are in here,’ Harris noted. ‘This building, but we searched it twice.’

  Franks put in, ‘Officers over in tents as well, all the doctors are officers.’

  I asked Salome, ‘Nothing more than that?’

  ‘No. And I never get any thanks, or a hug.’

  ‘When we get back you get dinner, and some thanks. OK?’

  She smiled. ‘Better,’ she said as she left us, the men exchanging looks.

  Harris faced me. ‘I provide you with good intel, but I never get dinner.’

  I gave him the pointed finger before faced Clifford. ‘We still have that bomb out there, or in here maybe.’

  He was frustrated. ‘The Omani bomb disposal people went around, we’ve been around, and there’s nowhere to hide a big damn bomb. The sand around us has been checked many times, and they’ve built a big sand barrier around the billets, so … god knows where it is.’

  ‘Sir, ask the Omani major for blueprints of this place, and ask the men who were stationed here about drains under us.’

  He sighed heavily and stepped out.

  Franks began, ‘If there’s a fucking bomb under us, why haven’t they thrown the switch!’

  ‘What about those VIPs?’ Kovsky asked. ‘Could they be the target?’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘But they’re unlikely to be here long, unlikely to step off the concrete onto sand, so … fucks knows how they could be targeted.’

  ‘Missiles aimed at the VIPs Hercules?’ Harris asked.

  ‘No fighters close by, and Hercules have flares. And if they have missiles inside Oman they would target the main airport.’

  ‘Could be another hidden hide,’ Franks suggested. ‘Men in it a month, but I think it would be a bit ripe by now.’

  I faced Kovsky. ‘Can you ask for a thermal image of this base and surrounding area, and tonight – when the sand is cold?’

  ‘I’ll sleep better after we check it,’ he quipped, phone out as he stepped out.

  I faced Harris. ‘There was a big exercise in Qatar, Western officers, so why not target them?’

  ‘Maybe we’re giving them too much credit,’ Harris complained. ‘They’ve been inventive to a point, yet damn lame with it.’

  Hicks put in, ‘Ten dollars on a surprise at that dirt strip.’

  We exchanged looks. Harris noted, ‘Our previous missions have all been in the British press, so they must think we’ll look at it at some point.’

  ‘We’ll walk in slowly and have a look,’ I said, my hands wide. ‘We’ll spot a hidden hide. A hidden hide … somewhere within in four miles square of sand and camel shit.’

  Back in my billet I sat with Swifty and got the detail of what he had done, and what he had seen. An hour later I found Mitch in with his spies, and led him outside. ‘What’s your assessment of those spies?’

  ‘The one guy, Jessop, he’d rather be someplace else, but he admits that he’s no soldier nor wants to be, he operates in cities by bluff, he’s not one for scaling mountains.’

  ‘They sent him for a reason, to see if he’s a quitter…’

  ‘I’d say he’s no quitter, none of them are, but they haven’t really been pushed yet.’

  ‘And the others?’

  ‘All solid, all diligent, no hassle or dissent, no bitching – they did their stag in heat and cold, slept on the rocks, ate in the sand.’

  ‘You can take them in when we insert.’

  His eyes widened. ‘They’ll be on the front line?’

  I held my hands wide. ‘I was asked to pressure them and see how they react, so … we do that. They’ll get to shoot and kill - and be shot at, and then you give me another opinion. Do they all parachute?’

  ‘Some do, not all.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll drop them all, just to see. But after the main event.’

  ‘When will that be?’

  ‘Day after tomorrow, insert by Chinook.’

  Pritchard called me. ‘Wilco, what we doing?’

  ‘Waiting on some helos for the final push forwards, and I’ll send those helos for you, not sure when. Day or two. Any action there?’

  ‘A couple of stragglers found in the rocks, keeps the lads on their toes.’

  I called Holsteder. ‘Captain, how’s the pussy?’

  He laughed. ‘Cold, like the rest of us.’

  ‘Any action?’

  ‘Tomorrow we’ll move position, no one close to us now, but we can see jeep tracks so we’ll follow them southwest.’

  ‘Careful, some large camps around there, have a sneak peak first. And take the kitten with you, eh.’

  ‘Boys have adopted it, but it doesn’t like my sergeant. It likes everyone apart from him, bites his legs.’

  In the morning we got word of an aircraft on its way, no word as to who our mysterious visitors were. The Crown Prince would have called, so it was not him. I had the US Marines line up with some of the medics, plus any spare Omani soldiers and police. Presenting Echo would have been a bad idea; standing in straight lines was not their thing.

  Kovsky came and found me. ‘They flew over with infrared cameras, experts have had a look, no hidden men nearby. They’ll drop them to me anyhow.’

  A Gulfstream set down ten minutes later and taxied around to a halt, and once the steps were out and down I noticed senior Omani officers but no bodyguards. They walked across, the Marines and the others presenting and saluting, and I called to attention the senior staff, saluting a general as he neared.

  He smiled and shook my hand. ‘Major Wilco, I presume.’

  ‘Yes, sir, and welcome, but I cannot guarantee your safety, we suffer rocket attacks here.’

  ‘So I have been hearing, yes.’

  I introduced Clifford before suggesting we go inside. In the HQ room, all but senior staff cleaned out, desks and chairs moved around, I offered refreshments to the visitors. The general I had shaken hands with introduced three senior Omani staff, then surprised me by labelling the final three as Saudis. I greeted them all with false civility.

  The general asked questions of what had happened here so far, and I gave him the detail over twenty minutes – but I was avoiding mentioning the upcoming insert.

  The senior Saudi, so far pleasant enough, asked, ‘What was your remit here, Major, from your government?’

  ‘The British and American governments, sir, also the French participants, wanted to reduce the capacity of al-Qaeda in Yemen, and we moved into Yemen with the permission of the President of Yemen – whether some dispute his credibility or not.

  ‘Unfortunately, they knew we were coming – a leak somewhere, and detailed plans had been made to attack this base. We suffered rocket attacks here, men on foot, as well as old Russian cruise missiles.’

  ‘You have taken no prisoners, I note…’

  It was a cheeky question.

  ‘My men are under strict orders - from me - not to approach the fighters, since we’ve encountered many of them wearing suicide vests, and setting off explosives in their camps so that they are not taken alive, sir.’

  ‘Still, a high body count, and no prisoners. Something of a massacre…’

  I kept my calm. ‘The soldiers here
have not entered any towns or villages, they drove across the desert, and fighters came out to them and attacked them, not the other way around. Those fighters breached this border before we arrived, and we pursued them at the request of the Crown Prince, who I chat to often on the phone.’

  ‘And will you alter the political balance in Yemen?’

  It was another cheeky question, and I could see the Omanis becoming uneasy.

  ‘I am but a simple soldier, sir, I do what I’m told to do. You’ll have to ask London and Washington about matters of policy.’

  ‘But if you kill many of the fighters then any political resistance to the Houthi president will be greatly weakened…’

  ‘I’m not sure that politics, democracy and the ballot box includes men with guns and suicide vests, sir.’ I waited. ‘How do they do it in your country?’

  He soured, but controlled himself. ‘Rumour has it, Major, that your men operate independently, even of your own government...’

  Clifford was hardly controlling his annoyance.

  I tapped my sat phone. ‘I carry this phone wherever I go, sir, and it gives London my exact location every minute of the day by GPS fix. I don’t move before I talk to London, and they send me around the world on RAF aircraft … and pay my wages.

  ‘There is nothing I do that they don’t nudge me to do, because when I get a day off I go fishing, I don’t try and invent new ways of risking my life or being sent to prison – my job is dangerous enough already.’

  ‘And what is the plan here?’ he pressed.

  ‘You’ll have to ask my government that, sir.’ I waited.

  ‘Do you see the men here … staying long term?’

  ‘My men never stay long-term anywhere, sir, nor do the American or French special forces.’

  ‘You will not occupy any land?’

  ‘My men won’t, no, we’ll leave in a week or so.’

  ‘When some objective is reached, I guess.’

  ‘Yes, sir, when our bloodlust for massacring the innocent has passed, the erection died down.’

  Clifford stared at me wide-eyed, but two of the Omani officers were hiding their grins.

  The Saudi general stared back, clearly pissed off with me. ‘I am led to believe, Major, that you are very well-connected to the Russian underworld through your CIA friends. Would you happen to know anything about the death of our prince in Zurich?’

  ‘All I know is what I have heard, that your prince paid al-Qaeda to kill American servicemen. May I know why you want to kill American servicemen, sir?’

  ‘We do not wish to kill American servicemen, that is absurd!’

  ‘Yet some in the CIA believe they have the direct evidence of that … and that the fighters here have received Saudi money.’

  ‘We do not support terrorists, but we fund various groups and charities in Yemen -’

  ‘Islamist groups, not Houthi groups,’ I cut in. ‘Do you have a political agenda here, sir, because it may help my campaign if I knew what it was. You had an agenda in the civil war.’

  ‘Such an agenda is for my government to decide, not for you to question, Major.’

  ‘I see. Then I guess we’ll carry on with the bloodlust a little while longer, sir.’

  Clifford had heard enough. ‘General, you are out of order to ask such questions of a major in the British Army. My government will be protesting it to your government, most strongly, and I’m sure that the Americans – your allies - will do so as well. And for the record, it was American pressure that moved my government to send teams here. If you have any issues, General, you know where to send your enquiry.’

  The general stared back, controlling himself.

  I finally added, ‘General, I go where my government sends me, and if my government asked me to act against the best interests of an ally like yourselves I would resist – or quit the Army. If you have concerns, send them through the appropriate channels.’

  The Omani general cut in, ‘That would seem like the correct course of action.’ He held his stare on his counterpart.

  The Saudi bowed his head and led his people out, the Omani general offering me a whispered apology as he followed.

  ‘Bloody outrageous,’ Clifford finally let out, the SEAL captain perplexed and frowning.

  Outside, the delegation walking one way and me the other, I called London, getting David Finch. He was in early. ‘I just had three Saudi staff officers visit with their Omani counterparts, and the Saudis demanded to know what my political objectives were in Yemen, they accused us of massacring fighters and taking no prisoners, and asked me directly about the death of the prince in Zurich – in front of a room full of people.’

  ‘Dear … god.’

  ‘You know what to do.’

  ‘Were there any journalists around?’

  ‘No, we can keep it under wraps. But you have to wonder if the Saudis will sit by and watch us kill the fighters here, leaving the Houthis stronger.’

  ‘They sided against the Houthis in the civil war, so we know who they support. My god. I’ll get back to you. But how did you respond to them?’

  ‘Politely. Honest.’

  I called the Crown Prince.

  ‘Major, is all OK there?’

  ‘No it fucking isn’t! I just had three Saudi staff officers visit and demand to know what the hidden political agenda is here.’

  He sighed loudly. ‘I have had gentle questions asked as well. They publically claim to want the terrorists gone, the men with missiles, but we know they support the Islamist groups and al-Qaeda there. We walk a fine line with them.’

  ‘I can wrap this up in five days.’

  ‘To what end objective?’

  ‘To the end objective that any fighter with a gun that still has a beating heart will be dead in the sand. But the Americans may be interested in a longer campaign.’

  ‘I will chat with the Americans, and I will visit tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll have Admiral Jacobs here at the same time, sir, but the day after that we’ll go and attack - and finish this to a reasonable conclusion.’

  The Gulfstream taxied down the runway, turned around and powered off, leaving me wanting to shoot at it. Inside, men exchanging odd looks, I said to Kovsky, ‘Crown Prince will be here tomorrow, have Admiral Jacobs fly in for a big pow-wow.’

  Hicks asked, ‘Did that prince fund attacks on our men?’

  I glanced at Franks as he stared blankly back. ‘No comment.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ Hick noted, the SEAL captain eyeing everyone.

  Franks told Hicks, ‘The Saudi Government loves us and needs us, but certain rich Saudi individuals … not so much the love.’

  I told Hicks, ‘Al-Qaeda got started in Afghanistan, to attack the Russian invaders, rich Arab boys seeking some adventure, paid by the Saudis and trained by your CIA. After the Russians left the fighters had time on their hands, and for some reason best known to themselves they decided that attacking The West would be the best use of their free time.

  ‘Here in Yemen, the remnants of al-Qaeda and their new followers are the political tool of the Saudis – who don’t like the Houthis in power. If we clear out the fighters then the Houthis win and the Saudis have to start over with more fighters and more money and more weapons.

  ‘The side effect of al-Qaeda … is that they attack The West as well as do the bidding of the Saudis. So we want al-Qaeda destroyed, the Saudis – not so much wanting them destroyed. But don’t make a habit of discussing that in polite company, it might stop you becoming general someday.’

  ‘So there is more going on here than we know,’ Hicks noted.

  ‘Always,’ Harris told him. ‘Always.’

  I faced Harris. ‘We don’t go tonight on the HALO insert, but we send Hercules low-level around the desert, to see what the reaction is – and if anyone is observing us. Before we do that have two Lynx ready to insert a few Echo men after dark, hills about two or three miles east of that dirt strip.’

 
I rallied Ginger, Tomo, Swan and Nicholson, plus Tiller and Brace. They would get no time to rest before the insert, all told to top-up and to lug supplies for a few days.

  At 7pm I was on the ATC roof as they lifted off, the Lynx soon speeding low-level northwest across the desert, and soon speeding low-level down the wadi. Stood there, I had to wonder if the Saudis were observing us, radar and radio specialists on the border, at least a small group of them – acting for a prince and not the government, the left royal hand not knowing what the right royal hand was doing.

  At 8pm Ginger called. ‘We’re tabbing away from the landing zone, just in case – Lynx are loud. We can see hills kind of southeast, and we can see the dirt strip we think, at least we can see the absence of any hills.’

  ‘Any lights on the strip?’

  ‘No, none.’

  ‘That’s odd, there were men there, sat about the camp fire. Work on the assumption that they’re setting a trap.’

  ‘We’ll take a look and sneak about, get a good look at first light.’

  ‘At 1am you should hear some Hercules, so look for a reaction.’

  At midnight two Omani Hercules took off with a loud drone, soon low-level and heading west, empty in the rear. I stared after them till the drone had abated, thinking, and worrying about the Saudi involvement here.

  At the billet I noticed Robby back and so stepped into the 14 Intel room. They were all back. ‘Having a rest?’

  ‘Can see much at night,’ Robby told me. ‘And the Huey pilots want a rest and some sleep. But it’s great to fly low-level with the doors open, dangling out. Just like Vietnam.’

  ‘Apart from the fact there are no trees, or swamp, or rain…’ I teased.

  ‘Well … apart from that,’ Robby quipped.

  ‘Maggy,’ I called. ‘You coping?’

  ‘Love it here, boss,’ she told me. ‘Don’t be in a hurry to send us back.’

  I faced the good-looking lady, not sure of her name. ‘And you?’

  ‘I’m getting muscles, but at least I don’t need to worry about dieting.’

  They laughed.

  ‘Anyone missing the UK, wants to be someone else?’ I loudly asked.

  No one responded as they checked each other’s looks, some still wearing bandages.