by Andy McNab
The only time Liam ever got to leave his cage was to relieve himself. He guessed that this was because none of the guards were very keen to end up with the job of mucking out the cages or dealing with prisoners covered in their own faeces. Not that it made any real difference to the smell. Leading them to the latrine was just another excuse to push their prisoners around, trip them up, punch them. None of it was ever life-threatening, but it served to keep the hostages in check. Liam knew that fighting back would only lead to a proper kicking. But he used this time to observe, always looking for a way they might be able to escape.
It was when Liam was brought his sixth meal, and thus knew by his natty use of scrap material that it was the end of his third day in the cages, that he at last spotted that hole and saw a possible chance to get the hell out.
The guards had just changed, which brought the usual barrage of insults and threats, all accompanied by the brandishing of weapons. Liam hadn’t seen Abdul Azeez since his time in front of the video camera, and judging by the way the new guard was behaving, he wasn’t anywhere close by. Liam knew that alcohol was a big no-no in Islam, but it was clear that this guard wasn’t too fussed about that. When he spoke, his words were slurred, and when he came over with the food, there was the stench of booze on his breath, sweet and warm and sickly, like the smell of a pub the morning after.
Liam wondered just how loyal to the lofty aims of Al Shabaab the man was. More than likely he was just a gun for hire, happy to go with the highest bidder, probably because it paid better than anything else in the area and came with food, accommodation, a chance to beat someone up, and a free weapon.
Unable to communicate with the rest of the section, or indeed to check if anyone else had an escape plan in mind, Liam knew he had no choice but to just go for it – even if that meant the others were left behind. If he was able to get out and get away, and hopefully make it back to the FOB with enough intelligence about where they were imprisoned, it was the best chance any of them had of escaping.
Liam called the guard, and he stumbled over, confirming Liam’s suspicions.
‘What?’
‘I’m sick, I think I’m going to throw up,’ said Liam, forcing his voice to come out as though he was in pain and couldn’t wait much longer before exploding.
‘Not my problem,’ said the guard, leaning against the cage.
Liam immediately decided to lay it on thick and doubled over as though in agony.
‘My guts,’ he moaned. ‘I’m ill. Help me, please! I just need to throw up. Then I’ll feel better, I know it.’
‘You can die for all I care,’ said the guard. ‘You are worth nothing to me.’
The man’s breath slipped across Liam as he leaned in close to the cage. God, thought Liam, he smelled of meths. So he screamed. But not just a yell, a raging howl that made his ears ring. Then, to add to the drama, he thrashed around in the cage, throwing himself against it as though trying to break out.
‘I’m fucking dying!’ he cried, retching at the same time. ‘Please – help me!’
Liam knew he was risking a lot by making his act so over the top, but he had no choice – it was now or never. He had to make the guard want to get him out of that cage. And he figured that despite what he’d said, a dead prisoner would not be a good thing to have to explain to Abdul Azeez.
The guard made to leave, but as Liam continued to scream he hesitated, clearly thinking twice about what he was going to do next.
‘Please,’ said Liam, his voice now a broken whimper, ‘please . . . help me . . .’
It wasn’t difficult to fake being feeble. He felt proper grotty inside and out, and the desperation to get out was caught on every word.
The guard turned and stood in front of Liam’s cage and waved his weapon threateningly. It was one of the SCARs and Liam didn’t want the drunken idiot accidentally discharging it in his or anyone else’s direction. The man was clearly proud of it and had even slotted a bayonet onto the end, no doubt to make it look more threatening.
‘I’m begging you . . .’ he moaned.
The guard moved forward and unlocked Liam’s cage. ‘Out!’ he ordered.
Liam crawled out and stood up. The guard was immediately behind him, the end of the bayonet in his back with just enough pressure to get him shifting.
‘Walk!’
Liam moved forwards, staggering down the line of cages. He tried to catch the eye of the other occupants but was out of the building before he had a chance.
The air outside was like nectar compared with what he had to breathe in his cage, and he sucked in deep gulps of it. Light was low as evening was settling in. That was good, he thought. If it had been bright daylight, his escape would be all the harder.
Again, the guard jabbed Liam, forcing him to march towards the latrine. It was nothing more than a rickety wooden frame built over a hole round the back of one of the buildings, and the stench grew stronger as they drew nearer. Liam looked around for the other guards. But there was no other movement, no sound.
The guard followed Liam round to the latrine with the barrel of his rifle up, the bayonet still scratching against Liam’s back. They were alone now, out of sight of any possible onlookers. This was it. Now or never. Liam just hoped the guard was as drunk as he seemed to be.
Pulling on every ounce of energy he still had inside him, he whirled round on the guard, in one fluid motion pushing the automatic rifle out to the side with his left arm, and at the same time charging into the man’s face with the fist of his right. With the momentum he now had, he punched his enemy, pummelling his face violently, splitting his nose and filling his mouth with blood from a burst lip and bitten tongue.
The guard stumbled backwards and Liam was on top of him, crushing him with his own weight as they fell to the ground, the rifle dropping from the man’s grasp. At last regaining some of his senses, the man tried to punch back, but Liam gave no quarter. Fighting for his life, he found a rock with his left hand and brought it hard across the terrorist’s head, knocking him silent with a single blow. The guard, stunned, reached for Liam’s throat, but Liam brought the rock down again, then a third time. When he came in for a fourth blow, the guard had fallen limp beneath him.
Liam paused, rock raised and ready, but the man just lay still, blood flowing from wounds to his head. For a moment Liam thought he was simply unconscious, but checking the man’s pulse told him otherwise.
Giving himself no chance to rest, he grabbed the SCAR, the few spare mags the guard had been carrying on him, and made to leg it, but realized it was probably best to at least hide the guard’s body first.
He grabbed the man by the arms and dragged him along the ground to the latrine. The hole was deep, and with a shove he toppled the body over the edge and into the foul depths below. There was probably enough excrement down there to hide him for an eternity, Liam thought.
Alone now, he was faced with a choice. Head off by himself – or release the others?
19
Armed now with the SCAR, Liam felt for the first time since everything had gone to rat shit that he and the rest of the lads had a fighting chance. Maybe he could get them all out, after all. He started to make his way back to the cages.
Edging round the wall of the building, he waited a moment to see if there was any movement. He hadn’t seen any of the other terrorists for a while, though he had no doubt they were in the grounds somewhere. But as the place was so quiet, all he could assume was that they were asleep. They had no reason not to be. As far as they were concerned their prisoners were under lock and key, in a shit state, and a guard was still keeping an eye on them – albeit a drunken one. Probably thought it was the easiest job in the world.
With a deep breath, Liam started forward, sticking to the shadows. The evening was really drawing in now and the grey light was fading, a deep blackness slipping in to replace it. Keeping to the wall of the latrine building, Liam huddled in tight against a door and made to dash across the gap between it
and the prison building. But as he did so, the sound of an engine roared and bright lights cut across the area in front of him. The battered truck was back, and bringing with it a whole world of trouble. It was filled with more armed men and they were making their presence known, letting off shots into the air and whooping with excitement, and it wasn’t just the khat that had got them buzzed, thought Liam. Something else had clearly got them wired and he didn’t fancy staying around to find out what.
Unable to race back to where he’d come from, he quickly checked the door behind him, heard no sound coming from within the building, no telltale light seeping out from underneath, and slipped inside.
The rattle and clatter of the approaching truck and its occupants forced Liam to hold his breath. He had to think fast. He could hear the men jumping out of the truck now, shouting and laughing like they’d won a great battle. He didn’t like the sound of it at all. Happy terrorists was a bad sign. And with that kind of movement going on, Liam knew that the missing guard was going to be discovered sooner rather than later.
Outside, the engine was killed, only to be replaced by the sound of cheering. Liam had no doubt that the ruckus was for one reason only: Abdul Azeez had clearly been away somewhere, but was now back.
Liam thought about the rest of the section and the KDF soldiers all still shut in their stinking cages. He had to get them out. It was his duty. What if they ended up being shot as punishment for his escape? Or what if he got lost and died in the attempt? The questions rammed into his mind as quick as machine-gun fire, but he had no answers, only what-ifs. If things quietened down, there was still an outside chance that he could get over there and free them. But he was just one man against a whole gang of armed thugs – what chance did he or any of them stand?
Thoughts and outcomes rained down on him and Liam forced himself to focus, think straight. But it was no good. Exhaustion, pain, fatigue, hunger, fear; they were all coming at him at once, knocking any sensible thoughts clear from his mind. He couldn’t decide what to do, just couldn’t. It was all too much. He leaned against the wall, sinking to the ground. But as he did so, he brushed against something. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness inside the building, he turned to see what it was and, to his astonishment, found all their kit, minus the weapons, piled up in a heap. So the terrorists had dumped it here and done nothing with it! He felt a surge of hope once again, but it was as quickly extinguished by the sound of shouting on the other side of the wall. They were getting closer.
Liam edged to the door and peered out through a crack in the wood. Azeez was yelling at his men, slapping some across the head, and pointing at the building where Liam had been held prisoner. Then a shot rang out and one of them dropped to the ground.
Liam knew then the decision had been made for him. His disappearance, and the guard’s, had been discovered. And already someone had paid the ultimate price for the error. He had to go. Immediately.
As quietly as he could, he scrabbled around in the dark and found himself a bergen and webbing, quickly grabbing as much extra rations and water as he could from the other bags and stuffing them in. He then strapped himself in and edged back to the door – just as it was kicked open.
In front of him stood one of the terrorists, eyes filled with rage. His weapon was raised and ready to fire.
Liam’s training took over, and before the figure in the door could register even a murmur of surprise he thrust the SCAR hard at his chest. If the bayonet met any resistance, it certainly didn’t show it, and it sank in with the full length of its blade. With a twist, Liam heaved it back out and the man dropped to the ground in front of him.
Liam had no time to think about what had just happened and, quickly checking out beyond the door for the all clear, dashed out and round to the back of the building. With two terrorists now dead by his hand, he knew that being captured was not an option. His life would be snatched from him, no questions asked. And Azeez would probably enjoy making it a death both slow and horrific.
The dark Somali wilderness stared at him, daring him to venture into it. Not that he had any choice. It was either that, or head back and give himself up. Mind you, he could attempt to take on all the guards, perhaps steal the truck, play the hero everyone knows from the blockbuster movies. But you couldn’t try that kind of crazy shit in real life.
Above him, the night was clear, the view of the stars stunning in such perfect darkness. And that, Liam realized, gave him an outside chance. In his belt kit somewhere would be a compass. With that, and the stars, he might be able to navigate his way back to the FOB. He’d also had basically the same escape and evasion training of anyone in the UKSF, so he had as good a chance as anyone of making it out of this alive.
Kicking his brain into gear, Liam dug deep to remember what he could about star navigation, survival, staying hidden – even using moss on trees, as it would only ever be found on the south side of a trunk to catch the sun, to hazard a guess at his direction of travel. Then, with as good an idea as he was ever going to have about which direction to head in, he took one last look back to check no one was following him, then legged it, his first priority to get some distance between him and his captors.
When Liam eventually came to a stop, it was all he could do to not throw up. He’d pushed on through the pain barrier, telling himself again and again that the pain was just weakness leaving the body, and he kept going, sipping water as he went, thinking only of getting himself so far away from Abdul Azeez and his men, and probably so lost, that even if they did go looking for him, they’d never have a chance of finding him.
To escape detection, he had to avoid travelling during the day – to do so would only invite the inquisitive. And having already experienced the way folk seemed to just stroll off to have a cheeky spliff, he wasn’t going to take any chances. So the further away he was, the better, and then he would be able to sort himself out a decent hideaway, stuff some cold rations into his face, and get some shut-eye. Trouble was, Liam knew that time was hardly playing him a fair hand. He estimated there was not much more than seventy-two hours left before the deadline was up and Azeez went to work with his SCAR. So it was a careful balance between ensuring his own survival, and getting a fucking move on. While it was still dark, he had to keep going.
The terrain was unforgiving, and with his eyes forever trying to keep lookout for the stars, tripping up was a hazard. And as he was staying away from any hint of human habitation, his journey was more often than not through ground untravelled. In the darkness, branches stretched towards him like claws. When on open ground, rocks and holes would appear out of nowhere to knock against his shin or swallow a foot and nearly snap his ankle. The quietness of the night seemed to amplify the noise of the wildlife all around him. If he stopped for a breather, it would sound as though creatures were nearby and closing in for a kill. Liam didn’t stop for long, though. His entire focus was on survival and getting back to help rescue the rest of his section. If he didn’t make it, none of them would.
After hours of travel, in what Liam hoped was the right direction, the night eventually began to fade and the golden glow of dawn spread with quiet inevitability.
Leaving it as long as he dared before stopping, Liam eventually decided to halt. He didn’t want to be caught out with the sun fully in the sky, so he quickly got to work before it had a chance to even grab a peek at the world below.
The area around him reminded him very much of where he and the others had carried out their subsurface observations. This time, though, he wouldn’t have the chance or the energy to dig a great big hole to hide in. Instead, he would have to make do with hiding himself deep inside some thick brush and hoping he was far enough away from any human habitation to avoid someone stumbling by for a peekaboo.
Out of sight, and as well camouflaged as he could hope for or achieve, Liam heaved himself into the doss bag pulled from his bergen. It was little less than five-star luxury compared to what he’d had to put up with since surrenderin
g. Now on his belly, he ripped open a ration bag and ate ravenously, making absolutely sure that the empty bag was stowed safely away. He’d already learned that lesson during training, so he wasn’t about to make the mistake again. Not here, for sure.
Despite the precarious nature of his predicament, Liam finally gave in to exhaustion and, as the sun climbed through the sky, he slept the dreamless sleep of the dead.
It was late afternoon when he finally stirred. He was stunned by just how long he’d slept, with no waking in between. But after all he’d been through, it was no surprise. Given the chance to rest properly, his body and mind had snapped it up, though on waking he felt almost worse, his limbs stiff, his joints seized, and his mind already racing through what he was going to do next.
Moving deliberately slowly, just in case of the off chance that someone was out there and within earshot, Liam rolled over and peered through the gaps in the bush where he’d hidden. He filtered through everything he could hear. There was wind, there was wildlife, there was even the distant rumble of an aircraft tracing a line to its destination across the sky, but that was all. He was still alone.
He eased himself from his doss bag and, keeping low, was able to get a better idea of his surroundings. It had still been dark when he’d finally bedded down, so this was his first proper look-see at where he’d ended up. Initially it seemed much the same as everywhere else and his heart sank. What if all he’d been doing was walking in the wrong direction or, even worse, in circles? No, not circles, for he’d kept a compass bearing to follow – intelligence he hoped to be able to pass on to help with a rescue.
Then, far off, he spotted something. It was a range of mountains, if such a grand word could be used to describe a collection of bare broken hills that sat together, jutting from the earth like long-forgotten skeletal remains. But what drew Liam’s attention was that he was sure he recognized them. He stared hard for a few moments longer, trying to convince himself he was mistaken, but the more he looked the more he realized that he had seen them before. It had been while they were back at the FOB. And if Liam had experienced a sense of hope on managing to escape, he now felt elation. He had a definite place to aim for now that would, he was sure, help him find the rest of Recce Platoon and the KDF.