by Geoff Wolak
‘A significant benefit, sir, like fighting up the Hereford High Street.’
‘If this lot fought up the Hereford High Street it would take days – they’d have to visit each pub in turn.’
I laughed. ‘Yes, sir. And tomorrow morning you’ll have a long line of men whinging at you.’
‘I will? What about?’
‘They’ll want to be down here.’
‘Ah, yes, well ... we’ll send who we can. Not sending the new RSM, even if he wanted to go.’
‘Baker is the new RSM?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’d be first to volunteer in the morning.’
‘We’ll he’s not sodding going. Why should he have all the fun?’
‘I’ve got the parachute instructors from Brize Norton down with me.’
‘You have, in a shooting war?’
‘Right about now they’re HALO dropping way behind the lines, but I forget to mention the uprising – and the four thousand rebels on the move.’
‘They’re in for a shock.’
‘They want the respect, sir.’
‘Yes, and they can’t have it both ways.’
‘I had the Air Commodore shout at the para instructors boss, who wanted his men withdrawn in case they break a fingernail. Then the medics here, ladies an all, told him what a coward he was being.’
‘Serves him right. What’s he in uniform for?’
‘Practise your lines for the morning, sir, an 8am start to the whinging.’
‘I’ll select who goes, not who whinges loudest. Oh, you have the police with you as well?’
‘Yes, and that’s my next headache, because we were trying to be quiet about it.’
‘How they doing?’
‘Many have confirmed kills. They’re good, but they accidentally discharge now and then; they tend to run with fingers on triggers.’
‘Make sure they’re not behind my lot!’
‘They won’t go over the border, sir, I’d never survive the inquiry if some were killed. But their boss is keen to stick them on the front line.’
‘Some dick measuring going on, eh.’
‘They’re in a big hurry to have their own team signed off by the Home Secretary.’
‘They’ll slow down after the first ten inquiries, and there’ll be an inquiry every time they take their guns out the locker.’
‘They have that pleasure yet to come, yes.’
‘I’ll be in early, lot to do, talk then.’
‘Goodnight, sir.’
Moran called in, down safely, Mahoney having landed up to his waist in mud and having to be pulled out. They were now moving off towards their planned OP. Rizzo called in ten minutes later, having called Haines by mistake first. Stretch had a slight knee injury and a limp, one the para instructors also limping. For now they would wait the dawn before considering casevac.
The remaining para instructors had heard the gossip and began to question the safety of their men in Liberia.
‘For now they’re fine, and the rebels might just sit and do nothing for a month,’ I told them.
At midnight I turned in, just me in the room, so I had four rubber mats under me as I slept.
An RAF Regiment gunner kicking my foot woke me. ‘Sir. 5am, sir.’
‘Thanks.’ I eased up, facemask off, and yawned. Kit on, I stepped quietly down to the canteen, the duty lads sat sipping tea. ‘All quiet out there?’ I asked as I sat, a lad bringing me a brew.
‘Nothing happening here, sir,’ they reported.
‘Wait a few hours,’ I quipped. ‘In the meantime, enjoy the peace, because it won’t last.’
I had just got some leftover chicken in me when the growl of trucks could be heard. ‘Peace is over,’ I told the lads as I stood. Rifle slung, I wandered out, a grey light illuminating the mist in the trees, a calm dawn laid on for me. I could see a Gurkha patrol over the strip, barely visible in this light.
A Gurkha sergeant jumped down and saluted. ‘Sandbags, sir.’
‘Start unloading them, please, the men here are sleeping. Stack them up against the walls.’
Two dozen Ghurkhas and eight Royal Engineers threw sandbags out the backs of trucks, several large piles created, a few of the RAF Regiment helping out. I had them make a sandbag wall where the canteen wall had been patched up, more sandbags for the roof positions.
Half an hour of earnest labour resulted in several large mounds of sandbags, and some very sweaty and tired men as more trucks arrived, our field cookery unit now here, supply trucks behind. I pointed the cookery unit down beyond the tall rusty sheds, to set-up there and to start cooking – company was coming.
Royal Engineers and local black soldiers started to unload ammo and rations, stacking them up next to the building walls, others lifting down large green tents and dragging them to the rear of the building to begin the set-up process.
Haines wandered out, yawning. He stood with his hands on his hips. ‘Bloody hell.’
‘Organise some men, sandbag pit at the gates, a few in strategic spots. And a wall of sandbags near the cookery unit for men to sit on. But first priority is the tents.’
He nodded, looking less than fresh, and got organised. He had just stepped away when the roar built, and anyone still asleep would now be rudely woken, two Chinook touching down, Rocko leading the lads out, crates carried between two men.
They dumped the crates down.
‘This where the action is?’ Rocko asked as he took in the activity.
‘It’s where you’re paid to be,’ I told him. ‘Right, don’t move from here till we have tents set-up, but you’ll be over the border soon enough. And that -’ I pointed. ‘- is our field cookery unit. As soon as they have something cooked, go eat it.’
‘Well that’s more like it,’ Slider enthused.
‘Rizzo still sleeping?’ Rocko asked, glancing at the second floor.
‘Yes, but in the jungle, over the border. They all are.’
‘And the bad boys?’ Tomo asked.
‘Tucked up in bed ... as far as we know. All four thousand of them.’
‘Gunna need a lot of ammo,’ Tomo quipped. ‘And some help.’
‘Regulars on their way, as well as 2 Para. Be here ... anytime now.’
‘How many 2 Para lads?’ Rocko asked, his old unit.
‘Not sure. Coming over from Kenya. Right, move your crates inside, find space, then to the cookery tent. Oh, where’s Captain Harris?’
‘At the airport,’ they responded, no idea why he was at the airport.
With the lads moving inside I had a look at 66mm boxes and noticed a shit load of 5.56mm ammo. When the lads appeared I had them take empty wooden boxes, metal ammo crates and sandbags to the cookery tent, to make seats.
Inside the cookery tent, I found a sergeant with a white apron. ‘How we looking, Sergeant?’
‘Stoves on, sir, hobs all hot for eggs. Do you know, sir, how many men will be here?’
‘Hundreds. Send for what supplies you need.’
‘We have a truck full to start with, sir. You ... eh ... Captain Wilco?’
‘What gave it away?’ I asked with a smile.
‘Odd uniform, odd rifle, sir. And they said you were here.’
‘Any problems with any of the men ... come find me.’
‘Men won’t want to be banned from here, sir. The threat is enough.’
Smiling, I stepped out. ‘Food’ll be ready soon.’
Robby said, ‘So what’s the plan, Boss?’
‘It’s fluid till we get more intel, but you’ll all insert for OPs till we know where the rebels are and what’s on their minds.’
‘How’s the new rifle?’ Robby asked.
‘Good, I shot up a rebel group with it. And the coppers with me all got confirmed kills.’
‘The coppers?’ Rocko queried.
‘I took them over the border and we ran into some bad boys.’
The cookery sergeant stepped out. ‘You lot got mess tins?’
‘Give us five minutes then.’ He ducked back inside.
And ten minutes later, not five, the lads keenly queued up, tins in hands, and got scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages, ketchup applied, and all sat ravenously stuffing their faces like they had not eaten in days.
The 2 Squadron lads were allowed in, soon a few medics, Morten appearing with a full tin, bread in hand. I had the police line up, tins in hand, as a trestle table was set-up, two typical green Army urns soon dispensing standard bland-tasting Army tea.
As the food was being quickly devoured, the jealous Engineers and Ghurkhas were erecting tents in a line behind the main building. When the Ghurkha captain appeared I told him to gather his men, and they formed a neat and patient line after the police had departed back to their rooms.
I answered my phone to Major Bradley.
‘Dead quiet here,’ he complained. ‘Hardly a soul.’
‘Busy as hell here right now, sir, but at least we have a mess tent and cooks now.’
‘That always helps, yes. So what you up to?’
‘Lads got here an hour ago, they’ll rest today, insert tonight, eyes-on the roads, then we’ll see. Rebels might just fuck off home.’
‘2 Para on the way I hear, and “G” Squadron, so it’ll be a big show.’
‘Yes, hope I don’t screw it up.’
‘Not with the press watching, no.’
With my lot on their third mug of tea the peace was disturbed by a Hercules circling. I soon spotted a second above. The first Hercules had a good look at the strip at low level, came around and lined up, a steep angle down, levelling off and touching down smoothly and stopping in hardly a hundred yards, its ramp down.
Two lines of men walked off, backpacks on over webbing, rifles held. As they cleared the aircraft they loaded those rifles.
I walked out to greet them, directing them towards the tents, soon seeing a Lt Col striding over, kitted as the rest, SA80 rifle in hand – and now being loaded. He looked fit and determined, all business. The Hercules roared, slowly gained speed, and climbed away. I saluted the Lt Col.
‘Captain Wilco, I presume.’
‘Yes, sir. Grab tents for now, but you’ll be inside with your officers if you like, and we just got a field cookery unit this morning.’
‘Excellent, I’m starved.’
‘It’s safe enough around here for now, so your lads can make safe and get some breakfast, sir.’
They plodded off towards the tents as the second Hercules landed, more Paras piling off. I had my lads abandon the make-do seats in front of the cookery tent and grab rooms upstairs for now.
Inside, at our old canteen, I began, ‘Mister Haines, set a room for the Paras officers if they want it, and from now on none of your lads in here to eat, this is the command room – but keep the stove going for the senior staff. Mister Morten, if you can look after the senior staff, more warm bodies heading this way.’
They got organised, and I grabbed paper and pens from Morten, leaving them on the map table. I arranged the side tables to make space, chairs facing in. We were almost set.
Moran called in, OP set-up, no one around, not a soul, but he had found a dead monkey. I called Rizzo, save him calling someone at random by mistake, and he was in a high OP, flysheets up, no movement seen.
His limping para instructor has decided to tough it out since the man now had a sitting down job for a few days. Those two OPs gave me eyes on the two most likely routes to be taken by the rebels, unless they moved via Sierra Leone, and here we had Gurkhas watching the roads.
But I had left the north east corner of Sierra Leone devoid of British enlisted men, just in case, and if the rebels wanted to cross it they could help themselves.
The Lt Col appeared with his officers, rifles slung, mess tins in one hand, tea mugs in the other, and I pointed them towards tables and chairs, the smell of bacon filling the room. I could see one major and eight captains, and I introduced Haines and Morten, leaving out Donohue and his mate for now.
My phone trilled, an odd number. ‘Hello?’
‘Paper Victor?’ came a slow and deliberate African voice.
‘Yes, go ahead,’ I said with a grin.
‘This is Michael Paper, I have de information.’
I moved to a paper and pen, smiling at the pronunciation. ‘Go ahead.’
‘At the border town of Ganta there is de fighter men coming south, maybe five hundred.’
‘When did the movement start?’
‘Oh, only now they move after breakfast.’
‘Roger that, keep the updates coming. Paper Victor out.’ Using a post-it note, I marked the spot and wrote down “500?” on it.
‘Something of interest?’ the Lt Col asked as he ate.
‘First rebel group moving south, sir, an estimated five hundred men. They’ll move past my OP further down the road, so we’ll get confirmation and numbers. But they’re well east of us here, so ... no hurry on finishing breakfast.’
‘Thank god for that,’ the major quipped.
My phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’
‘It’s Captain Harris, we’re all set-up at the airport, got scanners going, couple of SIS men with us, more kit on the way.’
‘I wondered what had happened to you. Anyhow, human intel, real time, town of Ganta, five hundred rebels moving south.’
‘We can track any satellite phone use, and radios.’
‘Start practising then. And Captain, you’re supposed to be telling me stuff, not the other way around,’ I teased.
‘Since when have you stuck to procedure and the chain of command?’
Phone away, I told the officers as they ate, ‘Intel is set-up at the airport, scanners in use, so we may be able to track rebel movement, but ... I guess you’re all a bit stewed from the flight right now.’
‘And lack of sleep,’ the major grumbled as he ate.
‘I’m good to go,’ a captain put in. ‘Slept well.’ Others curled lips at him.
‘Some people are like that, sleeping on Hercules,’ I said. ‘I find the engine drone relaxing. You can take some men for a walk, make a start on your base camp.’
The man stood and closed in on the map. I put a finger on the east track. ‘End the runway, track leading north, a few miles only. Here, bridge over the river, Gurkhas there, say hello, then on up this side of the river – watch for idiots shooting at you from across the river, and to the small bridge.
‘That bridge is not big enough for armoured personnel carriers or trucks, which is good. More Gurkhas there. Cross over, you’ll find a track south and a road east. Put your men on the high ground, make a happy home, watch that road. I’ll send the rest up to you bit at a time, help them get acclimatised.’
‘And the fighters?’ he asked.
‘Might come down this road west of you, but they’d not go anywhere near that bridge, too small. Could be a group to the east of you, but why would they drive down a dead end? Here, about four miles east is a town, and next to it is the camp we hit three times.’
The Lt Col turned his head. ‘Allegedly, thirty men against five hundred.’
‘Five hundred sat in camp, but about eighty went to the border, a hundred were tricked into moving south, rest were subjected to hit and run tactics – we kept them awake all night, and when they sent out patrols we ambushed the patrols. Few were left alive at the end. And the local boys are not that switched on, sir.’
The major looked up from his face stuffing. ‘You approached five hundred men, with thirty?’
‘Thirty of the best men the British Army has to offer, plus one American, a Kiwi, and two French lads.’
‘Quite a mix,’ the Lt Col noted as he ate.
‘Men who display exceptional scores on my three-day test can be invited over. We have Marines and SBS, all sorts, and a handful of your Pathfinders often accompany us.’
‘They coming down?’ a captain asked.
‘Not su
re, it’s all happening quickly, situation is fluid.’ I faced the Lt Col. ‘Sir, I’d like to brief your NCOs when they’re ready, on conditions here and over the border.’
‘Best do that now, before they get some shut-eye or move off.’ He faced the keen captain. ‘Assemble them out front.’
‘Right, sir.’ And off the man went.
Rocko stepped in a minute later, a glance at the new faces.
‘My god. Rocko. What an unexpected pleasure,’ the major quipped. ‘Heard you moved across to the SAS.’
‘Major, how’re the haemorrhoids?’
‘Haemorrhoids?’ the major puzzled.
‘You were always a pain in the arse to me, sir.’
I tried not to smile, too much, others hiding their grins. ‘Staff sergeant, play nice, these nice gentlemen have come to assist us.’
‘So I can get to bed and they can do some work for a change.’
The Lt Col fixed Rocko with a stare. ‘We’ll be earning our keep, yes, so you take it easy. Go feed that caterpillar on your face.’
The captains laughed as Rocko ran a hand down his moustache.
Rocko turned his face to me. ‘When we moving out?’
‘When rested, and when I have a tight plan. Probably after dark, Chinook insert.’
He nodded and stepped away, cursing quietly, but not at me.
‘Is he a handful?’ the major asked.
‘He ... has several hundred confirmed kills, Major. When the going gets tough ... he’s the man you want next to you.’
‘Several hundred?’ a captain repeated.
‘What you lot don’t realise ... is that my men see action every month in places like this, fighting for weeks on end, shooting twenty men a day every day. My men shoot the bad guys like you have cups of tea, and they’re damn good at it.’
‘And these RAF Regiment lads?’ a captain asked, some still eating.
‘Fit, switched on, keen, and very well disciplined. I have four in my externals to call upon. The lads you see patrolling around, they’ve had a lot of battle experience, most have confirmed kills. And they’ve lost a few lads as well.’
Haines stepped in. ‘Someone at the gate to see you.’