by Geoff Wolak
‘Yes, I know him a long time, and he’s been feeding me information all along about these shits.’
‘Tell him to leave before that airfield is bombed in the morning, but he must not alert them.’
‘He says planes come and go at all hours, so he can say he has business. They don’t suspect him.’
‘He’ll thank you for the warning.’
‘Then he owes me. Good. I call him now.’
‘Let me know what he says about this place, I tell the British.’
‘OK.’
I waited, fifteen minutes, and Tomsk called me back. ‘He is flying out in an hour, he tells them he as a shipment, but he says there are some Nigerians there, so maybe the British bomb the fuckers, no.’
‘Maybe. How many soldiers at this base?’
‘Soldiers? Not many, it has forty kilometre of filthy jungle around it, no way for someone to approach it.’
‘I’ll let you know what the British do. Pukka.’ I called Franks. ‘Let your people know there are gun runners and Nigerians at this base. Maybe the FBI are interested in some of these boys.’
‘I’ll send it up the line.’
I warned the lads to get ready, and a minute later led my team off east through the trees. When my phone trilled I said, ‘Swifty, take point. Moran, Mahoney, behind him.’ I followed Mahoney as I answered the call.
‘It’s Colonel Mathews. Can you talk?’
‘Yes, sir, just having a nice walk through the jungle.’
‘We’re very much interested in a show trial of gun runners, the FBI about to get an erection.’
‘Does this mean I don’t have to be nice to Agent Manstein?’ I could hear laughter in the background.
‘I heard you two didn’t hit it off. And no, you don’t have to be nice to him, but please don’t shoot him. The reason for the call is that we wish to escalate this – we want prisoners.’
‘I’ll know when I get there how feasible that is, sir.’
‘You have our Seals with you?’
‘Yes, sir, ten of them.’
‘There’ll be a great many Marines on standby for dawn, and helos.’
‘I’ll make a plan with that in mind, sir.’
‘I’ll be here all day and evening, so call if you need to.’
‘Will do, sir.’ Phone away, I took point again. I clicked on the radio. ‘Listen up. There are men at this base that the FBI are interested in, so after our attack we may see a large American force land. Idea now is to try and grab some of the men involved, so be careful who you shoot at.
‘If you see someone that’s obviously not the toilet cleaner, hit him low, tie him up. If you see someone with a lot of gold on display, nice suit, try and capture the fucker, don’t shoot him – and yes you can nick his watch.’
‘Is there a reward?’ came from Rocko.
‘Yes, a signed thank you from the FBI.’
‘Fuck the note, what about the money?’ came from Rizzo.
‘Our detachment piss-up has already been paid for, don’t worry,’ I told them.
Off the radio, Moran said, ‘I won’t ask where the money came from.’
‘Best not to,’ I replied through the dark.
‘One careless owner,’ Swifty noted.
Two hours of humid tight jungle brought us to high ground looking down at the camp, and we were well ahead of schedule. I had teams get a brew on, hidden from the airstrip by the high ground, the strip below well lit up.
I clicked on the radio. ‘Tomo, Nicholson, Swan, Leggit, on me.’
They came up to me and closed in, peering down.
‘Use your sights, make an assessment for ten minutes, then get a brew on.’ I moved back down to join my team.
‘How’s it looking?’ Mahoney asked as he sat warming water.
‘All lit up, not expecting any trouble,’ I told them. ‘Snipers will make an assessment.’
‘I hope Tomo is not drawing something,’ Swifty complained, making us laugh.
As we sat there a plane took off, another landing.
‘Busy spot,’ Moran noted.
‘Fly-by-night gun runners,’ I quipped.
Nicholson came down to me. ‘That you, Boss?’
‘Here.’
His dark outline reported, ‘No guard towers down there, no patrols out, no vehicle patrols, but a few armed men near the aircraft, and guarding crates.’
‘Guarding guns,’ I said.
‘Thick jungle all around, be easy to get close,’ Nicholson added. ‘There’s a main building that looks like a hotel, people coming and going, guards on the door.’
‘Any barracks?’ I asked.
‘One building looks like a barracks, but no uniforms seen.’
‘Aircraft?’ I asked.
‘On the left are four little planes like a Spitfire, rockets on the wings, then two Cessnas, then a Skyvan, then two big things - four engines, then another Skyvan, two Mi8 sat there, and two small poxy helicopters – no idea what they are, but just two seat, and a nice sleek black helicopter that looks like something from a James Bond movie. A bit like the regimental helicopter.’
‘Hangars?’ I asked.
‘Four, and some have planes in, but we can’t see.’
‘And the main gate?’
‘About five hundred yards beyond the hangars, then a road, and over the road is a village. Only danger is two jeeps with fifty cal on.’
‘Total armed men?’ Moran asked.
‘Twenty visible,’ Nicholson reported.
‘Get a brew on,’ I told him, and he moved off through the dark.
‘Straightforward,’ Moran noted. ‘Surround them, wait the Lynx. Danger is someone being spotted early.’
‘That’s always the danger,’ Mahoney noted.
‘We have plenty of men,’ I told them, ‘and they have just the one access road, which we can cover. They won’t be going anywhere.’
After a brew I sat peering down using Nicholson’s rifle sight, getting a good feel for the place. I had each team move up and take a look in turn.
At 3am I checked my watch. I had an hour or two to play with to get position, three hours till the Lynx got here. I was tempted to wait a little longer. As I started to consider which team should be positioned where, a heavy drone caught my attention. A transport was coming in.
‘Boss,’ Nicholson called. ‘Plane coming in on three engines.’
‘Sniper team, silencers on, get ready. Aim at the good engine next to the damaged one as soon as it’s in range.’
Men rushed around, some just to get a better look, the transport coming in from the north, a track that would bring it very close. And it was low already, getting lower.
‘Wilco, the runway!’
I peered down as jeeps and trucks moved to block the runway.
‘What the fuck..?’ Moran let out at my shoulder. ‘They’re going to stop it landing!’
‘Well ... we hit it anyway,’ I suggested.
It drew close, the drone growing, the sniper team soon firing up as all necks craned upwards. A flash, smoke, and the target engine caught fire.
‘Cease fire!’ I transmitted.
The transport flew low over the top of us, heading south, then banked sharply around and lined up with the runway, but I could not see any flames from the engine. It was determined to land despite the blocked runway, and it glided in on just two engines, starting to slide in sideways.
‘It’s not going to make it!’ Moran hissed.
As we observed, it hit the runway and skidded off towards the fence, clipped a truck – an engine exploding, then veered back onto the runway in flames, coming to a rest blocking the runway as men down there opened fire at it.
The fire in the wing grew, the wing exploding, suddenly a massive blast, the men near it killed or knocked down, debris flying all over, a huge plume of sparks flying high.
‘Not the best landing I’ve seen,’ Mahoney noted. ‘Guy must have trained with Pan Am.’
‘Why
did they want to stop it?’ Moran thought out loud.
‘Some local feud,’ I suggested.
‘That blast was explosives in the back,’ Mahoney insisted. ‘That was no fuel explosion.’
I clicked on my radio. ‘Sniper team, scan the far side, count the armed men now they’re awake.’
Five minutes later my phone trilled. Tomsk.
‘Da!’
‘It’s me, and I’ve been screwing with those Nigerians.’
‘What did you do..?’ I knowingly asked.
‘I paid some money, and they got a tip-off that a plane was coming in with British soldiers in the back, but I had explosives boxed up instead.’
‘You’re a little tinker. British just reported it.’
‘They did?’
‘Yes, they have men near that airstrip. Runway was blocked, but the plane landed anyhow, and exploded, blocking the runway.’
‘Ah, good, money well spent then.’
‘Next time, let me know, huh, I warn the British what is going to happen. You scared their men.’
Tomsk laughed. ‘I make a big bang, no.’
‘You certainly did, from what they reported. Pukka.’ I returned to the ridge.
Moran reported, ‘All the armed men got ready, now standing down.’
I could see a fire truck tackling the blaze, and I knew that they would find no British soldiers, no extra crispy bodies. But what would they do then?
I clicked on the radio. ‘Listen up. “A” Squadron, you go left and around, dead slow, dead quiet, never too close to the base, and to the main road. Take some 66mm or RPGs, get position to block the access road and the main road, but your four lads with VEPR join my sniper team up here. Don’t risk being seen till 5.30am, stay well back, well hidden. Off you go when ready.’
They moved off, just dark outlines.
‘Captain Hamble, you and your men, similar route, down to the wreck of a building near this end of that access road, that’s your position till called forwards. Have some 66mm and RPG.’
They grabbed some 66mm and one RPG off my lads, five heads, and set off around the ridge.
‘Sniper team, stay here, call it out, but at 5.30am you need to be in the trees down this slope, close to that burning wreck. You have a four hundred yard field of fire. Everyone else will move around to the right with me, we attack from the south. Standby to move, dead slow, dead quiet.’
I led my team off, hidden from view by the high ground, and we penetrated the thick trees south, slow steady going. I glimpsed the airfield and its lights from time to time, an easy course to navigate, and half an hour later we reached a point opposite a brick building that looked like a barracks, a few wooden huts nearby, a few trucks.
I waited for the men to close up. ‘Robby, go right, but don’t get closer than three hundred yards till 0530, and then get position on that big building. Dead slow, dead quiet. Go.’
I could hear them moving off. ‘Sasha, go down and left, get a solid position, you’ll snipe from the side till called forwards. Dead slow. Go.
‘Everyone else, stay down, stay quiet. When we move forwards I want Rizzo on my left, Rocko on my right, Americans behind me. We need to get to the hostages before they get killed, and that means rushing a few buildings. The nice western hostages are one objective, the naughty gun runners a second objective – just as important.’
Knelt in the damp mud, I called Franks, who was still awake. ‘It’s Wilco. We’re in position around the airfield, expecting a Lynx attack at 0600 roughly. Your Navy will see them on radar, so follow them.’
‘OK, I’ll mention that now.’
‘A plane came in, but it was a trick. My friend in Panama persuaded the men on the airfield that the plane had British soldiers aboard, so they blocked the runway, but we had shot out an engine. It crash-landed and exploded, because my friend in Panama had it stuffed full of explosives.’
‘Jesus...’
‘Send that only to secure recipients.’
‘No shit.’
‘Wilco out.’ I called London and left a sitrep, another left with the lady answering Captain Harris’ phone.
Ten minutes later my phone trilled as I hid behind a large tree root with my team. ‘Wilco.’
‘Colonel Mathews, can you talk?’
‘Yes, sir.’ I stood and moved away.
‘Langley got the detail on that plane. Is the runway blocked?’
‘It is for now, sir.’
‘Well I guess that helps, it stops them leaving. And it doesn’t stop us landing. You sent a timing signal, to follow your helicopters...’
‘Yes, sir, that would coordinate it tightly. You should be five minutes behind them. Your helos should land at the south end of the runway, approaching from the west only, and your Marines need to know to fire on a black face only – and only an armed man, because we want prisoners – and we don’t want your men shooting my men.’
‘I’ll send a detailed report now.’
‘Your Marines need to know that we’ll have snipers over their shoulders, but not to worry about them. If there are any hostiles west of the buildings we’ll notify you. At the moment the west side is clear.’
‘And the plan?’
‘When our helicopters hit the planes on the deck we’ll snipe at the armed men and move forwards, trying to secure each building. We currently surround them, but we don’t know exactly how many armed men there are. Intel suggests not many. Plan is to kill any armed men then sift through those that are left quickly, then pull out.’
‘And counter attack?’
‘No known bases nearby, sir. Nearest towns are a long way off, this base chosen for its isolation. And we’ll block the road anyhow.’
‘OK, talk soon.’
I settled down with my team, staring at the base, a few men seen moving around below us, even a few ladies. Directly below me, down a gentle slope, sat wooden huts, and attached to one was a lean-to, a tiny cafe serving food to three local blacks that looked like manual workers, a chicken seen wandering around.
Half of the huts had lights on, no white faces seen, and after the tiny cafe closed-up shop I sent down Swifty and Mahoney to have a sneak peek into windows. They moved from one dark shadow to the next, quick looks inside, fifteen minutes used up before they legged it back.
Swifty reported, ‘Last hut on the right, men chained up, black and white, some rooms I couldn’t see into.’
I clicked on the radio. ‘Robby, the wooden hut closest to you, the one closest to the big building, it has hostages. Don’t fire towards it. All men close to me, last hut on the right has hostages, Seals go for it, five men, and that’s Objective One. Some hostages may need carrying. Aim is to secure it and to wait.’
‘It’s Robby. There’s a big pile of crates being well guarded, but we could hit them with RPG and 66mm.’
‘Do so as soon as the Lynx opens up,’ I confirmed. ‘And that big building, stick an RPG in the ground level, the smoke will drive them out.’
‘Roger that.’
‘Nicholson for Wilco, you hear me?’
‘Yes, reasonable signal.’
‘I can see in the big building, and the rich fuckers are on the top floor – they have servants.’
‘Roger that. Navy Seals Team Two, up the stairs to the top floor is your objective, unless the smoke brings them down.’
‘This is Lieutenant Bishop. We have smoke canisters and CS gas, grenades, we’ll get them out.’
‘Your helos will land to the left of us here, southwest corner, so herd the hostages and prisoners that way.’
‘Got it.’
Ten minutes later came, ‘It’s Robby. Some poor sod was just marched out the big building and shot, body being buried as we speak.’
‘White guy?’
‘No, black. But I can see two white guys in uniform, stood smoking.’
‘At dawn, hit them in the leg, we want them alive.’
‘If they’re still there at dawn,’ came back.
/> ‘Tomo for Wilco.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘They’re searching the plane debris.’
‘Roger that. Captain Hamble, you hear me?’
‘Yes, but a bad signal.’
‘You in place?’
‘Yes, good position, good view, and we can hit any vehicle moving, could hit planes as well.’
‘Keep your heads down at dawn in case the Lynx fires near you. Is “A” Squadron in place?’
‘Hold on.’ I could just about hear the chat for a minute. ‘Hamble for Wilco, they’re all set, teams covering the road and junction, all quiet at the moment, but movement seen in the village.’
‘Roger that,’ I offered.
Moran hissed, ‘These fuckers are awake all night and sleep all day.’
‘Sasha for Wilco.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘We see the second floor, big building, many white faces. Russians, some pilots I think.’
‘Roger that. Echo, we want those men alive. At least some of them.’
Lieutenant Bishop was now close by, and off the radio said, ‘That Sasha fella..?’
‘Russian bad boy working for us,’ I told him.
‘And you trust him?’
‘More than you, my friend; he’s saved my life countless times. And your CIA likes to borrow him from time to time. And they trust him, so relax.’
‘You have two French as well...’
‘Yep, and a New Zealander, and a Yank, but he’s OK.’
‘Just OK?’ Mahoney queried.
‘Who landed up to his arse in mud and got stuck?’ Swifty asked him.
‘Not my fault, Knobber,’ Mahoney shot back, Moran laughing.
‘Knobber?’ Bishop queried.
Mahoney explained, ‘It’s a quaint old English expression for fool. You have to humour these English.’
‘And the English chow?’ Bishop asked.
‘It’s OK, and free back at base.’
‘Free chow?’
‘Free rent as well,’ Mahoney told him.
‘How’d I transfer?’
‘You have to pass Wilco’s three day test,’ Mahoney told him. ‘But trust me, it’s a bitch.’
‘And these rifles?’
I told him, ‘Custom designed for me by Valmet in Finland. 7.62mm short Russian standard, twenty inch barrel, extra thick, gas reload off-switch, based on the AK47 and AKML design, very reliable, and it packs a punch. Hit the guy your aiming at, kill the guy behind as well.