by Geoff Wolak
‘A second drop for us? Would get us the experience, yes. I’ll see about chutes.’
‘I’ve given you the tasking, sir, so you can sort the detail yourselves. Have the Pathfinders HALO again, but put that TV crew in by helicopter first.’
‘At least three TV crews around here! And the MOD’s recruitment people. Like a bloody film set!’
‘Then they can film it all and use it for next year’s young recruits.’
‘I’ll chat to the relevant people now and make some plans. How many rebels left?’
‘A few hundred, in small groups, so ambush is a problem. You need well-camouflaged sneaky patrols, or you will lose men.’
‘And a ground HQ?’
‘Where it was before, sir, joint with 1 Para. So you drop again with your officers.’
‘I’ll get back to you later.’
I told Colonel Clifford what I had tasked the Paras with.
‘Be good to have the TV crew on the ground,’ he noted. ‘Quality footage.’
An hour later Lt Col Marsh was back on. ‘There are chutes on their way from Kenya, enough for our drop. There are almost enough here, but your RAF friends want sixty for a drop themselves – and are whinging.’
‘When will the chutes get here, sir?’
‘By dawn.’
‘Then task 1 Para with a drop at dawn the day after, you go in at midday.’
‘MOD wants us to re-enact the drop, so we’ll do it the other way around.’
‘As you see fit, sir.’
I had a look at the map and found an isolated airstrip twelve miles east of the rebel HQ, a few miles shy of the border with Ivory Coast. I called Mister President and asked about it, and if he had a man nearby. The strip was not in use at the moment, a small hamlet of houses nearby.
‘The British will land men and check that area soon,’ I told him. ‘Let me know if there are any rebels nearby.’
‘OK, I’ll call the man there.’
I grabbed Haines. ‘How many of your lot are HALO trained?’
‘There are four that dropped with your lads, but they’ve not done the official course - they sport skydive for fun.’
‘Standby to move your men from here to the airport for a para drop, and I want those four men to HALO in with four Pathfinders, a dirt strip in the far east of Liberia. I’ll have more soldiers based here.’
‘When would we pull out?’
‘After dawn tomorrow.’
He nodded and headed out. I called Captain Harris and asked for an additional platoon of men to replace 2 Squadron.
The CO of 2 Squadron called me later. ‘You have an airstrip for us to take?’
‘Take from the three unarmed villagers sat there, yes.’
‘No rebels?’
‘Be careful what you wish for, sir. This is practise, but there may be rebels nearby, so patrols out may take fire. Have your four HALO-trained men drop with four Pathfinders, at midnight the day before the insert, which will be midnight tomorrow night.’
‘They could take a video camera?’
‘If they can get it on the ground in one piece, yes.’
‘And the mission?’
‘Practise the drop, secure the strip for a few days, and hope that six hundred heavily armed rebels don’t walk out the trees.’
‘Well, yes, hope not.’
‘Got a map?’
‘Hang on. OK, go ahead.’
‘See the rebel HQ, go east twelve miles, road going northeast, strip to the left.’
‘Got it. It says Emm-bell-eee something or other.’
‘That’s it, sir.’
‘OK, we’ll make a plan now, rest of mine at the FOB back in the morning.’
‘Yes, sir, send two trucks.’ I updated the board.
‘Three para drops,’ Clifford noted. ‘Well we’re certainly getting the practise in.’
A Chinook loudly set down half an hour later, “A” Squadron men walking off, two troops. Sergeant Fishy was at the front.
‘Right, Boss,’ he offered me.
I shook his hand. ‘Welcome. Mess tent over there, tents around the back or rooms upstairs. But please ... don’t shoot each other.’
Laughing, they plodded off with their heavy Bergens, to the rooms upstairs.
Half an hour later Fishy came downstairs. ‘So what you got for us to do?’ he asked, studying the map board.
‘There’s a Skyvan, so you can HALO in and patrol around, still plenty of rebels wandering around.’ I tapped the map. ‘Here, ten miles northwest of the enemy HQ that was. Pick a spot, make a plan, day to acclimatise and off.’
‘No problem. And what the fuck happened to “G” Squadron?’
‘When the Paras hit the enemy base, six hundred rebels ran off south, right into “G” Squadron.’
‘Shit...’
‘They ran out of ammo and grabbed AK47s off the dead.’
‘Eight lads on reserve have been called up, and two lads who just went to “D” Squadron have been moved over, two on loan. Maybe four who’ll be fit this week, minor wounds, but those skin grafts on the scrapes take ages to heal. Colonel wants the men in and studying something as they heal.’
‘Anyone badly hurt?’
‘Four lads won’t be coming back, that I do know. Talk about one of them losing an arm.’
I nodded. ‘Pity.’
Moran called in. ‘We’re back with the Marines, been out all day.’
‘Body count?’
‘I’d say forty, small groups.’
‘Don’t bother with night patrols, you’ll take casualties.’
‘That’s what I figured, so we’ll bed down and be off at dawn. Anything happening?’
‘No, quiet out there. 1 Para and 2 Para will drop at the same spot, day after tomorrow – TV cameras rolling.’
‘Just a stunt?’
‘Partly, and partly to clear those woods. And 2 Squadron will drop on an abandoned strip east of you, just for practise.’
Overnight, the only action of significance was with the Welsh Guards, two small vehicles convoys shot at, brief exchanges with rebels in the trees.
The dawn saw an end to a horrendous downpour, the guys on the roof manning the GPMGs now sat in an inch of water – and complaining. After breakfast I checked on HALO chutes for “A” Squadron and my HALO bags for them to use, and Haines departed with his men as a platoon of Dragoons arrived, some of their men to inherit a sodden rooftop position.
I had the sergeant from the Welsh Guards take charge of the Dragoons, and to position the men around the FOB. A young lad in the Dragoons cocked his weapon and discharged a round, hitting a vehicle windscreen, his sergeant going ape on him, the Welsh Guards shaking heads.
Later, the lad was seen to be making the tea, no dangerous rifle anywhere near him. When I chatted to him I found out that he was seventeen, and had been in six months, so I went easy on him; we all had to start somewhere.
Sergeant Crab brought the coppers in, the men having picked up the thousand yard stare, as well as a bad odour and a bounty of cuts and scrapes. I had them all shower with antibiotic soap, and to get some good food and rest back here. Thereafter, I tasked Crab and Duffy with patrols out, right up to the base I hit three times, and beyond. The police would stretch their legs.
Donohue and his mate had disappeared, but I was informed that they had flown back to the UK two days ago, but had left when I was sleeping. I had not noticed them gone. They had taken with them one copper with marital problems – in that if he did not come home right away he’d be divorced, another copper having lost a parent and needing to sort out a funeral.
After breakfast the next day I could see “A” Squadron lads wandering around, some exercising, and I booked the Skyvan to come get them at 3pm. They would check kit at the airport, and HALO in tonight at midnight - a field off a road junction, a helicopter set to collect chutes and drop some supplies an hour after dawn. The RAF wanted their chutes back – or else!
At the prescribe
d hour I was stood with the Welsh Guards captain and sergeant, Colonel Clifford and some of his team awake, as we got the reports; Skyvan taking off, Skyvan returning.
I received a call from Fishy to say that the teams were down, and that they had eyes on the road, a few vehicles passing, the lads not sure if they were civvies or not. For now they got a brew on, one man with a bit of a limp.
At about the same time as the Skyvan had been inserting “A” Squadron, the Pathfinders men were tumbling out of a Hercules at 14,000feet, no oxygen being used. I had updated Major Liban, and he warned the French, but there were no French patrols near the LZ.
The Pathfinders made it down for just one man injured, a sore back, and he would need extracting at dawn, a Chinook scheduled to bring in the MOD’s propaganda team, future films to show new young recruits just what might happen once every ten years. And as the Pathfinders searched the area in the rain I once again stood at the map board.
I then took a call from Haines to say that his HALO team was down, the strip all quiet, but that lights had been seen in shacks nearby. And that it was now pissing down with rain at the target strip. They had made use of the Skyvan and my HALO drop bags.
At 3am a Lynx was called to the Marines, two men badly wounded, six rebels shot dead, the rebels having just walked out the trees and onto the road. Since the rebels were all armed there was no criticism of the Marines, other than their ability to get down behind something solid.
At 4am I got a call from Captain Harris.
‘You awake at this hour?’ I teased.
‘I had a minor part in a movie,’ he told me.
‘You did?’
‘Yep, MOD Productions. I had a few lines to say - at least the back of my head filmed. Then they filmed the Paras, who as we speak are loading the Hercules, the pilots all with clean teeth and combed hair.’
I laughed. ‘They milking it?’
‘Separate TV crew are making a documentary, so everyone’s on their best behaviour around here.’
‘Has it stopped raining over the LZ?’ I asked.
‘Yes, but it’s sodden in places apparently.’
At the prescribed hour five Hercules took the Paras, many men off with wounds and not on the drop, the final Hercules set to drop 2 Squadron.
I again paced up and down, wondering what could go wrong. Colonel Clifford had gotten a few hours sleep but wanted to be awake for the drop, and he now stood with coffee in hand, the Welsh Guards captain with us.
One of the Pathfinders, one of my Externals, called me to say that the drop had started, no rebels in sight, and that it was not raining at the moment – TV crew stood ready. But that the men would land in puddles.
He called again later to say that the Paras were all down, two twisted ankles so far, a few men covered in mud and complaining, Lt Col Marsh setting up his field HQ, 2 Para making camp in the trees on the east side again.
He called back to say that a pair of hapless rebels had opened up from the west tree line, the TV crew diving for cover, a GPMG silencing the pair, a patrol rushing over. No one had been injured.
I teased him, ‘Since that never happened on the original drop they’ll have to edit it out.’
Half an hour later Haines called in, all his men down, but with three twisted ankles, one jarred knee and a broken wrist – they had landed on a hard strip. They also had two men land in trees, the men having to be helped down. Fortunately there was no TV crew to see the fuck-up, just a man with a small video camera – editing rights assured.
2 Squadron reported their undefended strip ‘held and secured’ half an hour later, a Chinook dispatched for chutes, for injured men, and to drop supplies. A second Chinook touched down at the Para’s LZ, supplies offloaded, not least a few tents. It was pissing down.
At midday, a break in the rain, 1 Para dropped, all down safely, a few twisted ankles reported. I breathed a sigh of relief, but then got a call from Captain Harris, and my face dropped. The men around me could see from my look that something was wrong.
Off the phone, I took in their faces for a moment before turning to Colonel Clifford. ‘A bomb has gone off in Freetown, sir, outside the airport, a cafe used by our men. At least four British servicemen dead, ten wounded, a few locals killed.’
‘They’ve lost, so what does this gain them?’ he asked, shaking his head.
‘Same as the other bombs, sir – it’s the emotional tactic of a backstreet gangster,’ I told him. I stepped outside and blew a few breaths, feeling that those young men were dead because of me. But I had not started this.
Seeing a young soldier walking past, still a teenager, I could picture the faces of the parents, stood at the funeral. This was not my fault, but it felt like it. Thinking on, and now angered, I made a call.
‘Petrov?’
‘Yes, Mister President. A bomb had gone off in Freetown, British soldiers killed. Ask around, see what you can find out.’
‘I have been busy since our meeting. The Nigerians have a base over the border in Ivory Coast, say ... twelve miles from the border. The English are at airstrip at Mbelenou village; this place is close across the border. This is where some of them are.’
‘And at this base ... is what?’
‘There is a concrete runway, many buildings, a barracks, a village next to it.’
‘And the government in Ivory Coast turns a blind eye to it?’
‘They take their cut to look the other way.’
‘Find someone who knows that base, make a good drawing, fax as before.’
‘I will do so quickly, yes. And I may soon have information about the kidnappers of this American man.’
‘Good. Talk soon.’
Phone down, I knew that Max had been at the airport, and was now probably at the Para’s LZ. I called him. ‘Where are you?’
‘At the Para’s LZ.’
‘Got your kit with you?’
‘Yes, always.’
‘I’m expecting a fax. If and when you get it, have it sent to me by helo urgently.’
‘OK. You heard about the bomb?’
‘Yes, and I’ll be going after them soon.’
‘Didn’t think there was anyone left to go after.’
‘There’s a camp across the border in Ivory Coast – but don’t mention that to anyone yet.’
When my phone trilled, it was the Prime Minister. ‘Wilco, do you have any idea who was behind the bomb?’
‘Yes, and some of them are camped out twelve miles inside Ivory Coast, the officials there paid off.’
‘I want them, and we can worry about straying across a border later. We’ve had our suspicions about Ivory Coast, at least some people there.’
‘I’ll plan a mission, sir, I’m waiting for detailed intel and maps of the base.’
‘Do what you have to, but ... we never had this chat.’
‘I understand, sir, leave it with me.’
I called Moran and asked for him to bring Echo back. I then called Captain Harris, since he was keeping tabs on the Wolves, and for them to be brought back. Sending Welsh Guards north, I asked them to pick up “A” Squadron, and I called Fishy afterwards.
An hour later a Chinook brought back Echo, plus Captain Hamble and his few remaining men.
I had them assemble around me. ‘Listen up. A bomb has gone off in Freetown, four British servicemen killed, ten wounded, a bunch of locals killed.’ They exchanged looks. ‘We’re going after the known operating base, across the border with Ivory Coast, a slight map reading error. We’ll insert before dark tonight, at the strip held by 2 Squadron. After that we’re on foot, fifteen miles to cover.
‘Grab ammo, supplies, 66mm, RPG. We’ll only be there one night, so rations are not essential. Get sorted, have a good meal, take a shit, and be ready in two hours.’
They filed past, Moran, Rocko and Rizzo closing in on me.
‘What’s at this base?’ Moran asked.
‘Runway, buildings, planes – waiting on some detail.’
&
nbsp; ‘Garrison there?’ Moran asked.
‘Doubt it, but we’ll know soon.’ I pointed at Rocko’s rifle. ‘How they working out.’
‘Fucking good, aye,’ Rocko enthused. ‘Got a punch to them. I hit a guy in the head, killed the man behind.’
Rizzo said, ‘I hit a guy in the stomach, wounded two men behind him – and I didn’t even see the men behind.’
Moran put in, ‘I fired on automatic at a hundred yards, but put all three rounds into the same man. The muzzle doesn’t lift much.’
‘Good. We’ll give them a real test tonight. Get ready.’
I called Haines and told him my plans, but that our trip across the border could bring reprisals down on his position.
He reported, ‘We have six GPMGs, we have some 66mm, and there’s a good defensive spot on the north side, some old stone buildings – forty four men down.’
‘Have those stone buildings covered in branches, expect a hostile Mi8 or two.’
‘OK, we’ll get ready.’
Turning, I stared at the ammo boxes, calling over the Welsh Guards sergeant. ‘When my guys leave, I want RPGs and 66mm boxed up for the helo ride, GPMG belts. They go to 2 Squadron.’
‘Right, sir.’
Seeing Gonzo near the ammo boxes I remembered Slade. I shouted for him, and he came over. ‘How you coping?’
He stared past me, and took a moment. ‘He was my best mate for a long time, we started together. Not looking forwards to seeing his parents, or mine – they holidayed together. Being here helps, an excuse not to see them.’
‘You want to stay with Echo?’
‘For now it’s home, and I like the work and the team. But after we get back I’ll have to go and see the parents, and him, and he’ll be right sulky about it I’m sure. Not sure what I say to cheer him up.’
‘You tell him he did his bit in Echo, something very few ever get to do, and that he made a difference. He rescued hostages, killed the bad guys, and HALO’d into action. Only a handful of people ever do that.’
He nodded, and headed off.
As boxes were sorted a convoy drove in, “A” Squadron jumping down.