Wilco- Lone Wolf 18

by Geoff Wolak

  Torches on, I got my aircraft radio out and made contact, twenty-five SAS on the first Chinook, Pritchard plus twenty-five on the second, and that was most of the SAS. I grouped the Paras and Marines in the dark, a large number of black outlines, and shouted for headcounts to be performed, weapons made safe.

  The Chinooks returned half an hour later, back from the wadi, the Pathfinders loaded up and dispatched as British and French Echo hid behind dunes and got some food on.

  A drone overhead, and I was surprised to find that a Hercules or three were on approach, contact made on my aircraft radio. Landing lights on, I corrected their approach, the first Hercules setting down without buckling its undercarriage. I sent the British Wolves with Swifty over, plus twenty American Wolves. A roar of engines from the brightly lit Hercules, and it powered down the strip and off in what seem like 300yards.

  The second Hercules landed, its lights blazing, the remainder of the American Wolves sent aboard with two troop of 1st Battalion plus our medics. The final Hercules took the rest of 1st Battalion, Max and the two reporters, plus French Echo, plus our rescued Houthis – after we disarmed them to some complaining.

  The Chinooks returned two hours later, Paras whisked away with a few Marines, and so far no rockets nor artillery had landed. A radio call received, and we peered west to see a line of black blobs on approach, the HALO teams coming in. We soon welcomed them, a five-minute chat before I sent them into the rocks east to hide.

  When the Chinooks loudly announced their arrival I had the Marines and our Ordnance guys dispatched back to their jeeps. It grew quiet, a damn cold wind blowing, and I wondered when I would be able get the remaining teams out.

  A blast from the south, a flash seen, and we got ready.

  My phone trilled. ‘It’s Rizzo, and we hit a jeep convoy!’

  ‘How many jeeps?’

  ‘Six.’

  ‘Batter them for five minutes, carry some 66mm, then back here double time. We’re walking east!’

  I faced Moran’s dark outline. ‘Lead the HALO teams north east, fast pace, we’ll follow.’ He walked to the HALO teams as they sat resting and shouted them up. ‘Slider, get ready to leave on foot, northeast, when Rizzo gets here. Follow the HALO teams, and find any stragglers here.’

  I shouted, ‘Any Marines or Paras here? Any Pathfinders? Anyone who’s not Echo here?’ I transmitted the same question, but go not answer.

  ‘What about the pallet supplies?’ Ginger asked.

  ‘We leave them, but could ask the US Navy to bomb them.’

  ‘Paras told me that there are six GPMG, 66mm, the works.’

  I considered our options. ‘Slider, grab the GPMGs and ammo from the pallets, and the 66mm. Quickly.’

  Men rushed to the strip, and when we finally found the pallets in the dark I took a heavy chain of GPMG cammo, wrapping it around my neck.

  ‘It’s Rizzo,’ came a man out of breath. ‘We pasted them, coming up now.’

  ‘Any wounded?’

  ‘Parker got a ricochet.’

  ‘That’s OK, he was already wounded.’

  The flashes had us diving down, the strip hit by artillery, close enough to make the lads jump up and move away with some urgency, men encouraging others along. The last few 66mm frantically grabbed, and we ran east as I shouted a headcount, and as I shouted for all men to run east with us, Rizzo to move northeast and to join up with us.

  I was fifty yards into the dunes and rocks when the next salvo landed, and it felt closer, three huge blasts behind us as I shouted the lads on, but we had not followed the HALO teams, no tracks seen ahead of us.

  I called Harris as we plodded on through thick sand, getting the lady Intel captain. A little breathless, I began, ‘It’s Wilco, and the dirt strip is taking artillery, ground units moving on it, so it’s now in enemy hands. We’re walking east, we’ll try and meet the Chinooks somewhere, alert the pilots.’

  ‘What about the Lynx?’

  ‘No mad panic, we can walk a few hours. Hercules back with you?’

  ‘Yes, and they’re preparing another sortie.’

  ‘Halt them, ground them.’

  Phone away, we heard and felt the blasts behind us, encouragement enough to walk quickly, even with the extra heavy kit.

  As the dawn came up Moran came in from the north, and by my reckoning we were fifteen miles east of the strip. The wadis here could be followed easily enough, low hills around them, the dirt easy enough to walk up and over. I halted everyone and told them to rest for a few hours, and to get some food on.

  At 9am I called Pritchard.

  ‘Hello?’ came shouted above the roar of an engine.

  ‘It’s Wilco, where are you?’

  ‘We got to the jeeps – US Marines still there, grouped everyone, ran the engines – sand in a few, but finally got them going, been driving for about three hours now, following our original tracks, easy going.’

  ‘Pick up the teams you left behind as you go.’

  ‘If we can remember where they are!’ he quipped. ‘They should see us and hear us, we have a column of jeeps a mile long!’

  ‘We’re still near the strip, had to leg it away when the artillery came in.’

  ‘So we got out just in time. Still, makes for a better story over a beer.’

  ‘That it does,’ I agreed with a smile. I called Major Harris. ‘It’s Wilco, how’s the withdrawal going?’

  ‘We have the British and American Wolves back, and I spoke to the Paras and Marines, now driving back. US Navy picked up most of the Marines, then the SEALs. Green Berets are waiting a ride and moving to a better position. We sent a Lynx to them, two wounded men, scrape and a through-and-through. SEALs had a man lose a hand shot off.’

  ‘My lot are OK for now,’ I reported.

  ‘French Echo and 1st Battalion had some minor wounds, ricochet, dressed up. I think their medic sorted them in the desert. We have those Houthi prisoners here, the Omani major has the police debriefing them on what they know, what they saw.’

  ‘Before you send the Chinooks for us, call me and check the position, eh,’ I told him.

  I called SIS London and asked them to pass my current location on to Major Harris, soon sat enjoying the sun, two hours sleep grabbed. When awake I patrolled up and down the wadi chatting to the various groups, and we swapped stories.

  At 3pm the loud Chinooks were inbound, and when they blew up a sandstorm I sent off the HALO teams, plus Mitch and our spies. But as the Chinook drone abated we noticed the buzzing Lynx coming in high, each of eight Lynx and two Grey Hueys setting down in turn, three or four men with heavy kit to each one, and when my Lynx pulled up I peered down at the wadi to see if anyone was running our way, his trousers being pulled up in a hurry.

  We sped high-speed and low-level across the wadis, the sand and the dirt hills, and I was excited when I spotted a genuine camel train to the north, pointing it out to Moran. I loved the desert in general, and I loved this place in particular, the shapes and the colours, the huge rounded dunes. This place held no fear for me, and I was a little saddened to be leaving it.

  Forty minutes later we landed on the apron, out and down, GPMGs and 66mm lugged and stacked up inside the hangar, the RAF Squadron Leader asked to store them.

  I stamped up and down outside the HQ room to get the sand and dust off before I stepped in, in need of a cold drink as the senior men assembled. I faced Harris. ‘Are all the men accounted for?’

  ‘We have lists, and we’ve allowed for those wounded previously and removed,’ he assured me. ‘As they came in we ordered head-counts.’

  I faced Hicks. ‘Your men?’

  ‘Picked up an hour ago, in the tents, most fast asleep.’

  The assembled men laughed.

  ‘And the kitten?’

  ‘Back here,’ Clifford mock complained. ‘It was running around my office!’

  I faced Kovsky. ‘Any aircraft or helos damaged?’

  ‘None shot down, but we have holes in tw
o F18s from ground fire, and holes in a Seahawk today. Could be worse, considering how many missions they flew.’

  ‘They can have a rest now,’ I assured him. I faced Franks. ‘And the political BS?’

  ‘Houthis won’t get involved, and the south coast militias have been mobilised to fight, could be sixty thousand strong, and they have APC – even old tanks.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter, the job has been done, we set back al-Qaeda and got some good media coverage, got the teams some experience, so we ticked all the boxes.’

  Harris cautioned, ‘We still have a large force driving back.’

  ‘They’ll soon be beyond where a dirt track touches the wadi,’ I assured him. ‘If not already. And we have Lynx cover and the US Navy, so I’m not worried.’

  ‘Can you attend a press conference?’ Clifford asked.

  ‘Yes, sir. When?’

  ‘They’re set-up ready outside. I’ll go check.’ He stepped out.

  I dug out my facemask and shook it, the falling dust not impressing the lady Intel captain, who had to shake her paperwork. Facemask on, I walked outside, and around to the hangar, finding the press hordes with their cameras and microphones. I swallowed.

  They saw me coming, somehow figuring that the man in the mask was Major Wilco, and they lined up, cameras grabbed. With my rifle slung over my shoulder, and dusty and dirty – as well as in need of a wash, I stood before the microphones.

  Colonel Clifford pointed at a man from CNN I recognised.

  ‘Major Wilco, how has the operation here gone compared to what you expected?’

  ‘The operation here has largely unfolded as we planned it, and as we expected. We knew they would fire rockets at this base, and they did - before we secured the border. They sent suicide bombers across the desert, but we expected them and we dealt with them.

  ‘The cruise missiles were a surprise, not least for your Navy, and such weapons could have only been supplied by a government, a government with an agenda.’

  ‘Who do you believe supplied them?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to discuss that here.’

  ‘They were Iraqi missiles.’

  ‘If I take that pen from your pocket and stab someone in the eye with it, are you liable because it’s your pen?’

  Clifford pointed at a lady from the BBC, a pleasant-faced thirty-five-year-old. ‘Major, which soldiers rescued the hostages from the caves?’

  ‘I led a team of British Echo, with French Echo and French 1st Battalion. We stormed the caves in the middle of the night after effecting a distraction a few miles away, and one of my men crawled through a small cave to shoot the hostage guards from behind.

  ‘As we were exchanging fire with the hostage guards, a small group of hostages – those in better health – ran off and climbed up and out of the small cave that my man had entered through. He was wounded in the process, not seriously, wounded a second time as we abandoned the dirt airstrip.’

  ‘Was the mission here to rescue hostages?’ she asked.

  ‘No, we only found out about them after we got here, and we were led to believe that they were all dead and that ransom demands had not been satisfied. The mission here was to set back al-Qaeda and other hard-line Islamist extremists, to damage the training camps, and to reduce their ability to launch terrorist attacks around the world. That we achieved.’

  ‘You took no prisoners, and some have questioned that…’

  ‘When we first got here we found men sneaking in wearing explosive vests. When we shot them they exploded, many of our men wounded, so my orders were clear – to shoot from a distance and not to go forwards.

  ‘I gave explicit orders to all teams here that they were not to try and get close to the fighters in case of suicide vests, and we also witnessed - in some of their desert camps - that they had rigged up booby-traps, large amounts of explosives wrapped in ball bearings.

  ‘When they thought that they were losing the battle and that we were closing in, they detonated the explosives, our men wounded. Our approach was again modified, to keep our distance from them.’

  Clifford pointed at the next man, Sky News UK.

  ‘Were any of your team wounded?’

  ‘A few minors wounds, nothing serious. We were lucky.’

  ‘And the American wounded?’

  ‘Their soldiers stepped on a few mines, legs lost, feet lost, and close-up fighting produced many minor wounds.’

  ‘And the SAS drove in?’

  ‘The regular SAS drove from here to the border, twenty miles, then north twenty miles to the wadi, an old camel trail. They entered the wadi and drove west for a few days, stopping to fight as they progressed. They drove almost a hundred miles across the desert, and they’re now driving back.

  ‘With them were men from the Parachute Regiment, the Pathfinders, the Royal Marines, and the Army Ordnance Corp. They had a long drive, and have gained some valuable experience of driving across the desert.

  ‘At the border are men of 2 Squadron RAF Regiment, holding the border and patrolling that border area. They’ve been involved in several skirmishes and have had men wounded, minor wounds.’

  ‘The bomb blast in Muscat was a close call...’

  ‘It was very close, almost a disaster, and it would have seen a great loss of life. The initial intelligence intercepts that prevented that loss of life came from the Israelis, and we are all grateful to them for the timely information.’

  ‘Who was at fault?’ It was a cheeky question.

  ‘I personally received the update from the Israelis, and I personally passed it to the Omani military and police here, four days before the bomb blast. The British Foreign Office and the embassy here were also updated, and were at fault for not acting.’

  Clifford pointed at someone I did not recognise.

  That man began, in an American accent, ‘What was the contribution of the US Navy?’

  ‘This was their show, they wanted the mission here, they planned it, I was tasked with leading the special forces teams on the ground. The Navy F18s and AWACS carried out a vital role, and without them we would have lost many more men killed and wounded, and they provided the helicopters and the medics to come fetch the sick hostages at the caves.

  ‘Such a large and complex operation would have been impossible without the Pentagon E-Ring staff, the Naval Intelligence officers, and the fleet offshore.’

  ‘And if a cruise missile had got through?’

  ‘It would have sunk a ship in seconds, maybe an aircraft carrier. Cruise missiles in the hands of terrorists is something that the UN needs to look at quickly, and we need to prevent the use of such weapons, their sale and supply.’

  ‘They also had heat-seeking missiles.’

  ‘They did, at least twenty were fired at aircraft here. An Omani Lynx helicopter was shot down, and numerous missiles were fired up at F18 jets – none shot down luckily.’

  Clifford pointed at the next man.

  ‘Are you happy with how the operation unfolded here?’ came an American accent.

  ‘Most special forces operations are chaos, and there are always unknown factors, and small teams on the ground are affected by sudden changes in circumstances - and even the weather. This operation has gone well considering the large number of teams here, and the number of nations working together.

  ‘I would like to thank the US Army medical teams here, they saved lives, and did an excellent job with the hostages. What you may not know is that they amputated several legs and arms in the desert before the hostages were flown out, emergency amputations due to dead flesh spreading poison.

  ‘With us in the desert we had RAF medics, a tough bunch that insert with us and live with us. They also amputated limbs in the sand and worked under incoming fire. They’ve previously had medics killed and wounded on live jobs.’

  ‘Has al-Qaeda here been set back?’

  ‘Very much so. We believe that more than a thousand fighters were killed, and that the leadership were all killed.
Their foothold in Yemen is now a bloody mess in the sand.’

  Clifford cut in, ‘We’ll talk again tomorrow, men are tired and in need of a wash. Individual teams are available to be interviewed, starting with the medics, the RAF crews, and the Omani helicopters pilots.’ He led me away.

  Back at the billet the lads were half naked, barefoot, and getting themselves sorted before some much-needed sleep. I dumped my kit on the floor next to Swifty, boots off, smelly feet exposed to the world, and lay down on a mattress with no blankets.

  ‘We done here?’ Swifty asked.

  ‘We’re not allowed back into Yemen, but 2 Squadron can stay and patrol the border, plus some of the Wolves. Ask for some volunteers from the British Wolves, chat to Sanderson.’

  ‘They stay and patrol this side?’ he asked.

  I put my hands behind my head. ‘Yeah. Some Americans as well. But if there’s time before they pull us out I’ll get some drops in – got all the fucking kit here sat getting dusty!’

  Dicky walked past with his head bound.

  ‘You hurt?’ I puzzled.

  ‘Fell out the chopper.’

  ‘You fell out..?’ loudly asked.

  ‘Running off the Chinook.’

  ‘Stupid fuck, you had me worried.’ I turned my head. ‘Parker! Who’s a stupid cunt?’

  ‘I am, boss,’ he said, lowering his head as lads taunted him.

  ‘What’s the minimum safe distance for firing an RPG?’ I loudly asked.

  Men looked up and puzzled that.

  ‘At least fifty yards,’ Rizzo suggested.

  ‘At least two hundred yards,’ I told him. ‘Bit of metal will hit you in the neck or the eye at 200yards and still kill you. Unless you duck behind something after you fire.’

  Mitch walked in and sat on the edge of Swifty’s bed and faced me. ‘What we doing with the spies?’

  ‘They go back when we go back, you make a detailed report. Any issues?’

  ‘No, and the guy who didn’t want to do any soldiering is better, he’s in the swing of it now. They’re all solid.’

  ‘I’ll have you chat to their boss in London, straight from the horse’s mouth. But we might take them on other jobs, training and experience – like Sasha’s team.’