Wilco- Lone Wolf 8

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘Who were those men?’

  ‘A gang from the north, maybe former Liberian soldiers, intent on toppling the current idiot and a clear threat to our lads here, and our interests here.’

  ‘Those scumbags, they were hacking people up.’

  ‘Around here that’s common, life is cheap. If you were captured by those arseholes they’d hack you up, so never surrender.’

  ‘And the rules of engagement?’ one asked.

  ‘Over in Liberia there are no rules, it’s dog eat dog. As for the legality ... don’t ever tell anyone. But ... you did well, and you did the right thing; you saw what they were doing. Those men had no right to live, so we were judge, jury, and executioners.

  ‘If you were my men ... then you would have had permission from London to engage the bandits. As coppers on a training exercise ... I deputised you. So, you all got some confirmed kills now. Any ... feelings?’

  The exchanged looks.

  ‘After what I saw them do...’ one man put in.

  ‘Fucking dogs,’ another uttered.

  ‘Anyone have second thoughts pulling the trigger?’ I asked.

  ‘Went through my mind,’ one admitted.

  ‘Back in London, if you get that “go” signal, you pull the trigger, not stop and think. Start getting used to that. And if you blow some guys brains up the wall, don’t stop, keep going, and don’t over-analyse it.

  ‘Look at this way: if it wasn’t you on the trigger it would be someone else, it’s not personal. A man picks up a gun and threatens his neighbours, most likely he dies, one less idiot in the world.

  ‘Your job ... is to do what you’re told to do, and do it well, not think about the guy you’re about to hit. When you get the “go” signal you may find a fresh-faced teenager in your sights, but you still pull the trigger. The SAS won’t stop and worry, so if you want to replace them ... neither do you. OK, on me, and ... fingers off triggers.’

  I led them south, down the east track, being stealthy and cautious, a hot two hours used up, and we broke onto the strip as parachutes drifted down, a bag drifting into the trees, men running for it.

  Facemasks and gloves off, we stopped and peered up for a moment as the six men came in and landed in a tight group without incident.

  ‘Can we have a go at that?’ a copper asked as we walked over the strip.

  ‘Maybe, if there’s time.’

  I noticed two jeeps parked up, guarding our gate, Gurkhas with GPMGs ready.

  The same captain greeted me. ‘We’ll be leaving some men here, heightened state of alert.’

  ‘I know, we just killed thirty men.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Rebels from the north, but we were just over the border at the time.’

  ‘There’s a river, so hard to miss the border,’ he pointed out.

  ‘My map reading is terrible.’

  ‘Well we have men on that bridge now, be manned day and night.’

  ‘Good to know.’ My phone trilled so I stepped away, observing the parachutes being collected. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s David. PM is concerned, he wants those gangs gone, and does see sense in keeping the status quo with the dictator in Monrovia.’

  ‘Then either I bring in more men, or make use of the Gurkhas. Any ships around?’

  ‘I’ll find out. What would you need; helicopters?’

  ‘Yes, for inserts, and anti-armour. But if they could stick a missile in a camp that would cut short a long drawn-out campaign - with injuries to British soldiers and my men. And if there were American ships as well, and since they want to impress us...’

  ‘I’ll make a call, sound them out. They are oddly helpful where you’re concerned.’

  Phone away, it trilled again, an odd number. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Petrov?’

  ‘Yes, Mister President.’

  ‘We reached that camp, and it was as you said, and we captured some of the men, a French mercenary found dead.’

  ‘The various power brokers are discussing the matter as we speak, I’ll let you know of their decision.’

  ‘Decision ... to assist me or not.’

  ‘Yes, Mister President, that kind of decision.’

  ‘Well ... I ... wait for some good news hopefully.’

  Phone away, I had a wash with cool water, and I sat with Donohue, a tea handed to me. ‘Your lads just got six confirmed kills each, a heavy firefight.’

  ‘Christ. How’d they do?’

  ‘Great, no issues, but they still walk with fingers on triggers. But ... it’s fair to say that they would hold their own against simple gunmen and hardened terrorists alike.’

  ‘All coming together nicely then.’

  ‘Yes, just the small problem of a civil war breaking out just a mile away.’

  ‘We’re in danger here?’

  ‘You sure are,’ I quipped, enjoying his look.

  When the Gurkha captain stepped in, I asked him, ‘How many men do you have down here?’

  ‘Three hundred.’

  ‘And are they trained, ready, and suitable for a shooting war?’

  ‘Ten times better than the average enlisted man,’ he proudly stated. ‘Excellent in the jungle, all been to Belize.’

  ‘Let your boss know I may need to deputise them for a large scale attack up north.’

  ‘We’re up for it,’ he insisted.

  The para school Flight Lieutenant stepped in. ‘Given the heightened tensions here, I’ll be pulling my men out.’

  ‘The hell you will,’ I told him. ‘The Air Commodore sent you, and your men stay. If you want to hide under the bed in Freetown, then fine, fuck off.’

  ‘How dare you. My men are in danger here!’

  ‘And what about us?’ Morten asked him. ‘My lady nurses. Are they in danger as well?’

  ‘Of course they are.’

  Morten turned to a lady nurse. ‘Do you want to leave?’

  ‘No, sir, I accepted the risk by joining the RAF and not a hospital. The uniform comes with risks, and obligations.’

  Morten inched closer to the para school officer. ‘You’re an officer in the RAF, by damn, a fighting service, and in basic training you learnt to use a rifle – for a reason.

  ‘I appreciate you’re just a pen pusher afraid to come out from behind a desk, but you’re there to try and teach the SAS and others how to parachute into a war. Why the hell should they listen to a word you say?’

  The room had gone quiet, the officer on the spot, and he knew he was in a bind.

  My phone trilled. I stood. ‘Yes, Prime Minister. One moment.’ I lowered the phone. ‘You ... stay put,’ I told the officer, and stepped outside. ‘Go head, sir.’

  ‘How are things down there?’

  ‘We just engaged a group of Liberian bandits with UK bobbies.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yes, and your bobbies did very well, could hardly tell the difference between them and my lads.’

  ‘Then it’s working as you planned.’

  ‘It is, the hope being that when these coppers come face to face with a gunman they won’t shrink away.’

  ‘And you think they’ll make the grade?’

  ‘Certain of it, Prime Minister.’

  ‘That should end some bickering. What’s your take on the border situation?’

  ‘Better the devil you know.’

  ‘I agree, we want a quiet border. Do you need more men?’

  ‘Depends on the situation, but there are three hundred Gurkhas here, excellent men, all keen and ready to go.’

  ‘There’s an American ship, or group I suppose, and we sent them a note appraising them of the situation. You may get a call, and I understand that they do overstep the mark a little by calling you direct.’

  ‘They’ve not tried to set policy, but I think they might like us to do their dirty work now and then, no casualties on their side to worry about.’

  ‘You’re a sharp operator, so I don’t worry about them tricking us. Are y
our friends in low places still chatting to each other?’

  ‘They are, and have been today, a beneficial outcome for us – and our border security.’

  ‘Good to know. Ask for what you need.’

  ‘I will do, sir.’

  Call ended, I glanced back at the FOB as the parachute squad packed up chutes. I made another call; the Air Commodore. ‘It’s Wilco, sir.’

  ‘Ah, down in Sierra Leone. How’s it going?’

  ‘Civil war is brewing next door in Liberia, and I have a problem with the flight lieutenant from your parachute school, who’s about to set you back years.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘He’s just told a room full of people that he doesn’t want his men – who teach the SAS how to parachute – to be in any danger.’

  ‘Oh ... gawd. Put him on.’

  ‘Hold on, sir.’ I walked inside, and handed the phone over. ‘Air Commodore. Take it outside.’

  He put the phone to his ear and stepped out. Five minutes later he was back, and handed it to me. ‘He wants to talk to you now.’

  I put the phone to my ear and stepped out. ‘Sir?’

  ‘He’ll do as you say, and keep his gob shut before he spoils it all. But how much risk are his men in?’

  ‘How much respect do your men want, sir?’

  He sighed. ‘Do what we discussed, but please – keep the casualties down.’

  ‘Always, sir, always.’

  Phone away, Rizzo stepped over covered in sweat. ‘Got two drops in, all OK, they got the hang of it. Night drop planned.’

  I glanced over my shoulder. ‘Their prick of an officer wanted them withdrawn.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Fighting on the border; I killed thirty men.’

  ‘They kicking off again?’ he asked. I nodded. ‘We bringing down the lads?’

  ‘Be two days before they got here, a day’s acclimatisation, might be all over by then. But we have three hundred Gurkhas.’

  ‘They’re good lads.’

  ‘Could drop the coppers by chute and see how they do,’ I teased.

  When Moran appeared with a patrol I briefed him on what had happened, followed by Swifty, and when the Gurkha captain stepped out I asked for his best thirty men to be based here and ready to go north. I also asked if his men were familiar with the AK47. They were.

  An hour later, as the sun set and men ate, my phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘Colonel Mathews, Pentagon.’

  ‘Evening, sir, or maybe daytime there.’

  ‘Midday here. I spoke to London, and they updated us on what’s happening on the ground. We had no particular interest in developments until those above my pay grade said we now do. Some gentlemen sat opposite me from Langley.’

  A new voice began, ‘Wilco, your government wants the status quo on the border maintained, and I guess that certain others do as well. Are those others ... in contact about this matter?’

  ‘They are, direct as well as through me. And to get you up to speed: I spotted an armed gang just over the border, a French mercenary in the mix. London spoke to Paris, who expressed their desire that the man not embarrass them – so I shot him.’

  I could hear laughter.

  ‘I also shot the thirty men with him, whilst making it look it was done as a favour from one interested party to another. As it stands, there are groups forming up north that we’ll probably hit to make the border a quiet place again, British interests protected. But if you have any assets that would assist me, I might live longer.’

  ‘We’re definitely interested in you living longer,’ came the CIA voice. ‘And we have a carrier group nearby that could do with some fun.’

  ‘Could they hit a camp with a missile or two?’

  ‘They could, yes.’

  ‘Then I’ll take a look at said camp, and let you know. Oh, and the armed groups north are being funded by Nigerian oil. Do you have any take on that?’

  ‘Our take is ... fuck the Nigerians, we don’t like them, and we don’t like their oil industry much.’

  ‘So noted. I’ll contact you when I have a nice juicy target, funded by the Nigerian oil industry.’

  ‘It’s Colonel Mathews again. If we assist, does that mean you owe us a favour?’

  ‘I am but a humble captain that follows orders, and favours between nations are above my pay grade. Besides, I handed you several rescues, so I think you owe me three. This will reduce it to two. Wilco out.’

  Next call was the idiot president. ‘Mister President, it’s Petrov.’

  ‘Ah ... some news maybe.’

  ‘They have decided to assist you. An American carrier battle group is steaming this way for that very purpose,’ I lied.

  ‘My god...’

  ‘Would you happen to know where the main camps are of these men?’

  ‘Yes, I will call you back in ten minutes.’

  And he did, as I sat with paper and pen. ‘Thank you, Mister President,’ caused some heads to turn.

  Off the phone, I said, ‘President of Sierra Leone.’

  ‘Ah,’ a few people let out.

  ‘What, you thought that was the fucking US President calling me?’

  I checked the map with Moran, and the camps were ten miles northeast of the hostage camp we had hit in Guinea, Deltas extracting the skeleton hostages. ‘Skeletons,’ I said to myself.

  I recalled a number, stepped outside, and finally got through to Colonel Mathews. ‘Sir, you remember the American senator’s brother, a hostage down here, a living skeleton?’

  ‘Yes, it was all over the news.’

  ‘Well, I believe that my next report to you will detail the men behind those hostages being at a certain camp, and that should you label it as such...’ I could hear laughing.

  ‘Yes, it would validate what we do. Good move. Do you play chess?’

  ‘No, sir, I came up through the ranks, a lowly uneducated sergeant who got promoted.’

  ‘I think you’d be good at it. I’ll let Langley know now.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Wilco out.’

  Next call was Bradley.

  ‘Are the children playing nicely?’ he asked.

  ‘Some better than others, para instructors not wanting to do anything dangerous.’

  ‘How the hell they supposed to get any respect, eh?’

  ‘With a good kick and some luck. Listen, border is getting lively, might be a shooting war here soon.’

  ‘You’ll need the lads?’

  ‘Maybe, but I have three hundred Gurkhas.’

  ‘Ah, well they’re excellent lads. Three hundred of them will scare the hell out of the blacks.’

  The next morning there was both more HALO on the cards, and thirty Gurkhas in the tree line making a happy home. I called Colonel Marchant, he spoke to the Sierra Leone Government, and a well-guarded truck brought us weapons after lunch.

  Each keen Gurkha got himself an AK47 and magazines, their SA80 handed in. They also got a few box-fed and six RPG launchers, five heads each, and now looked like they were ready to start a war, their Major happy to be in the thick of it.

  ‘Got a camera, sir?’

  ‘Camera. Oh, my sergeant has, I’ll have it sent up.’

  ‘When the job comes off, take pics after the fighting, I’ll get them in The Sun newspaper.’

  ‘Oh, excellent. Half the fuckers in the UK don’t even think we have Gurkhas anymore.’

  With plenty of ammo, I had the Gurkhas strip and clean weapons, load and fire, a great deal of practise as I carefully considered my next move. I called the Air Commodore and explained the situation.

  ‘It’s bold, and dangerous,’ he said. ‘They’d be the spy team, no shooting?’

  ‘Unless something went wrong, or they landed in the wrong spot.’

  ‘If they land in the wrong spot we’ll never live it down. But ... maybe you could discuss it with them and ask for volunteers.’

  ‘I will do, sir.’

  When the para instructors la
nded, I gathered the four from Borneo. ‘Listen up, we have a live job, and ... you would be allowed to attend if you volunteer. You’d HALO into hostile territory up north with some of mine, take a look at a place, make an OP for a day, give a report, then we hit the place.’

  ‘We’d be away from the main action, so why not,’ the first man put in.

  ‘No more dangerous than Borneo,’ a second man added.

  They were in agreement, and would night HALO drop tonight a few miles south from the target camp, with Rizzo and Stretch. I briefed Rizzo next, and he remembered the previous camp, and the ridge with no Lorax on it.

  I ignored the officer in charge of the para instructors and ordered the insert, two Chinook booked for the following day, an insert of Ghurkhas. The question now ... was how far I could stretch this, and what the risks were.

  After pacing up and down for ten minutes, thinking, I grabbed the Gurkha major and captain. Showing them the map, we discussed options. They suggested that, with my OP lads creating a diversion, they would attack on two sides.

  I countered with, ‘Wait for the very loud airstrike, then attack.’

  ‘Air strike?’

  ‘US Navy offshore, keen F18 pilot with nothing to do.’

  ‘Crikey.’

  That evening I ate with my team. ‘Listen, what do you reckon to the coppers coming along, but being behind the Gurkhas?’

  ‘They won’t get a shot off in anger,’ Swifty noted. ‘Helicopter ride there and back, waste of time.’

  ‘The aim,’ I told him, ‘is to make them believe they’re in danger, toughen them up.’

  ‘Put them on a flank,’ Moran suggested. ‘Four hundred yards out, they open up for a minute. At least they get to shoot, but low risk.’

  I nodded at that as I cooked, thinking it through.

  A para instructor appeared at the door, but not one of those from Borneo. ‘Captain ... you have four of our lads down for this HALO, but ... a few others would like to go as well.’

  ‘How many?’ I asked.

  ‘Four to start, rest thinking about it, sir. They’re not afraid, just that we don’t do the soldiering lark much.’

  I said to Swifty, ‘You and Mahoney could take in ... four or six.’

  ‘Could land well away and set-up an OP the opposite side to Rizzo,’ Swifty suggested.