by Andy McNab
It felt good to know that the other patrols would be on their way, and all we had to do now was gather as much information as possible.
It was going to be difficult to decide who was going to go down on the OP the next day; it couldn't be me because the priority was to stay put and sponsor the troop RP and prepare for the attack.
I decided one of them had to be One-of-three-Joses because he'd been down there anyway and knew the area; the other would be Rodriguez.
I didn't want to send El Nino, purely because the strain would have been too much. I didn't particularly want to send anyone down there, but we needed more information-the other patrols would expect it. In, any event these guys would have to do it themselves sooner or later, so they might as well crack on and do it now.
I got everybody together just before last light and said, "Well done, everybody, excellent. Tomorrow we're going to send this information.
Everybody's going to come to us, we're going to show them where it is, and we're going to hit it. It's been a really good day-well done!
Tomorrow we need people to go down there. I want responsible people, and it was really difficult to decide who, but I want you, One-of-three-Joses, and you, Rodriguez, to get down there and get as much information as possible.
It's your job; it's your responsibility. Think of how good it will be to get down there and do it."
Their faces were a picture.
"I want to know how many people there are and what weapons," I said to them. "I want to know if any boats come in, if they use the trike, if a helicopter comes, what time everybody goes to dinner. I want to know everything you can see. But most of all, how many narcoguerrillas and how many weapons. If you think you can't do it, don't push yourselves.
Try to listen to what they're saying, but only do enough to get the information-is that all right? Everybody is depending on you two to get that information."
We had rain in the early evening, and everyone lay there absorbed in his own thoughts. In the morning Rodriguez and One-of-three-Joses set off toward the camp. I stayed behind to sit on the radio because I was waiting for a reply about what was going on. Two hours later Gar came back on the net and said, "Let's go for it.
I'm going to tell the other patrols to 'start moving in toward you, and you sponsor the RP."
On day one, he said, which was the following day, the first patrol would be coming in between ten o'clock and midday, on a bearing of due south.
If they didn't make that, the next window would be the next day at the same time. He then gave timings for the other two patrols to arrive in the afternoon. If they missed their,windows, they, too, would wait until the next day at the same times.
With Gonz and El Nino I began preparing for the other patrols to arrive.
We dug up an area the size of a dining-room table to make a sandbox model. I made model buildings in the soil, together with a river and helipad. When that was done, we sat around drinking water and eating biscuits.
I spoke with El Nino. He was very quiet and insecure.
He wasn't happy about what was going on. He didn't want to be there; it had probably all sounded like good fun in the beginning, but now the realities of it were living in the field, wet and stinking, and going in against a violent enemy. The only thing he was pleased about was being part of the final RP.
"Where do you come from?" I asked.
As we chatted on, he started to come out with some fasc' ating stuff about malaria. "The strain is very weak in in Latin America, compared with Southeast Asia, so it'sea I sier for scientists to work on. That's what I really want to be. I want to go to university and study medicine. But I can't afford to, so here I am."
I put my bergen next to a tree and sat against it. It was wonderful to relax and listen to the birds in the canopy.
The only drawback was that I could smell myself, and I stank like an old druggie.
About two hours before last light Rodriguez and One of-three-Joses came back. I was on stag, still sitting against the tree but watching the area of the plant.
"What did you see?" I asked.
They spoke quickly, saying a lot that I didn't understand. I went back to basics. "Narcoguerrilla?"
"Ocho."
"Fusilos?"
"Ocho.
I asked what the narcoguerrillas had been doing.
Rodriguez grinned, tilted his hand, and said, "Cerveza." So there were eight men with weapons and three white-eyes. On the model they showed me that the people were just wandering around doing nothing in particular. Maybe they were waiting for a delivery or a pickup, but there didn't seem to be much going on. It would be quite worrying if they were waiting for a pickup. Did that mean that boatloads of people would be turning up?
My concerns were suddenly put in the shade. The sound of gunshots echoed through the canopy, coming from the area of the camp. Birds screamed and lifted from the trees; the whole forest was alive. Single shots followed, then a quick burst, and another burst. Then silence, and another couple of single shots.
The boys looked at each other in alarm, then to me for reassurance. We all had our belt kits on and weapons; we got down by our bergens and stood to, trying to listen.
I couldn't work out what it was all about. There were no other patrols in the area; they weren't arriving until the next day, so they wouldn't have stumbled on it. So what the hell were they firing at?
Five minutes later there were another two single shots, followed by another two. This went on for about twenty minutes. I thought, Do we go down there tomorrow and find out? Were they arguing among themselves? Was it another gang coming in to steal their supplies? It was quite worrying.
The only thing I could put it down to was that they were pissed and doing target practice or firing into the river. Whatever, it confirmed that the weapons worked, which was a bit of a shame.
That night we got the ponchos and hammocks up. I didn't get much sleepI was running through in my mind exactly what I had seen and hoping that the model was right. Everybody was, I hoped, going to start coming in tomorrow. The first patrol, Terry's, wasn't that far away. I knew he'd be cracking on, no longer concerned about being tactical, just making distance.
They'd be holding up for the night, then motoring on again at first light. I felt sorry for his patrol; I knew what it was like. I imagined the big, sweaty messes sorting themselves out after a hard tab through the jungle.
We were up at first light. I spent some tim at the model, trying to come up with some sort of plan so I could start talking as soon as the other patrols arrived.
At half past nine we covered all the arcs and waited for Terry's patrol.
They arrived just over an hour later.
Looking down at the slightly lower ground, I could see Terry looking up with a big bone grin on his dark, sweaty face. It was obvious they'd been screaming along.
Terry was twenty-nine, tall, blond, had sticky-out ears, and was madly in love with his wife and two kids.
He had the sort of West Country accent that only bad actors put on. He'd come from the R.A.F regiment, having decided that he either wanted to be in the Regiment or become an accountant. Many a time he was told that he might have been better off as an accountant.
"How's it going, mate?" I said.
"Fucking good one."
"You're looking a bit fatigued. A long distance for those old legs, was it?"
"Fucking distance-tell me about it," he said, bent double, leaning on his weapon.
The rest of the patrol tabbed in, breathing heavily, their faces and hair soaking wet. As soon as they stopped, I saw steam rising from their heads.
I turned to Terry. "What I want you to do, mate, is get the patrol down where you see that big crooked tree.
There's no big rush, so get some scoff and we'll get together later on."
"I'll get the boys sorted out..Then I'll come up and see you."
His patrol were grinning at my lads and giving them the thumbs-up.
My g
roup looked happy to have support; the other patrol were happy to have finished the tab.
I started preparing the sitrep I was going to send out that night.
I hoped it would say that everybody was in.
If not, we still had the window open the next day. It was important to stagger the arrivals, to prevent a blue-one blue.
The next two patrols arrived on time, between twelvethirty and two-thirty and three and five; they all looked knackered after the fast hike without stops.
I said, "I'm going to send the sitrep off now; then I'll show you what we've got and see what you reckon."
An hour or so later we sat on our bergens around the sand model and did an appreciation. I explained the layout of the camp and said, "It's obvious that the majority of the stuff comes up and down by river.
They've got the two Geminis down at the bottom there, and there's the helipad. We're looking at eight narcos with five fifty-sixes and seven sixty-twos. There's three EuropeansGerman or Dutch, who knows? Do you reckon we've got enough people here? There's twenty of us, against eight. They're extremely casual; they're walking around leaving their weapons all over the place, and it looks like they've even been on the piss."
Terry muttered, "Lucky fuckers." He went on. "I reckon twenty is enough, no problems."
Rod had mixed us up some cold Camp coffee. As the mug was handed around he said, "Let's bin it now.
We'll stand to, then crack on with it in the morning.
Anyone want a sip?"
Rod was the cleanest, tidiest, and most organized man I'd ever met, with the possible exception of Eno. He was thirty-six going on sixteen and seemed to care about nothing. His hair was always very short and fashionable, and he was forever moaning about his chapped lips, carrying a jar of Vaseline with him everywhere. To Rod, the operation seemed secondary to making sure his lips were okay and that there would be some time off to buy some new fashion clothes.
As I lay in my hammock, I mulled everything over again in my mind.
It seemed really straightforward, and I wasn't particularly worried about it. We had four Regiment blokes and sixteen well-trained policemen, and we had the element of surprise. I was looking forward to getting it all over and done with and having a few days off before we came back to find some more.
My thoughts drifted to Kate and domestic things. Our house still had bits and pieces to be done to it. The garage roof was starting to leak, and we'd been talking about painting the hallway when I got back.
I thought about wintertime in Britain. I loved walking through the town at the dead of night, when all the shop lights were on and it was drizzling. I thought about taking Kate down to the shops. We used to go to a penny sweet place and pick and mix all her favorites, which seemed to be everything in the shop.
At first light we packed'up and sent a sitrep to Gar, telling him all the patrols were in. By now rriy patrol were used to this place; it seemed we had been there for weeks, not just days. It was the same feeling as going into a strange house, which becomes more and more familiar as the evening wears on.
It was quite a boring time for most people, but they didn't mind as it was better than tabbing like a man possessed to get to an RP.
They had been given a warning ordei about an impending attack and were now sorting their kits out and cleaning their weapons. They should have been field-stripping the weapons, taking the working parts out and cleaning them. But as long as a weapon was well maintained, there was no need to do that. All that was needed was a quick squirt with something like WD40 around the working parts so they knew the thing was going to go backward and forward. The blokes were checking their magazines, making sure they weren't damaged, since most stoppages came from the magazine. Apart from that everybody was just generally resting, waiting for any tasks before the orders, such as patrols being sent back to confirm information.
The police carried pounds and pounds of sugar with them and seemed to eat it with everything. The one good thing they carried in their rations was a small can of condensed milk. Years before, we used to have condensed milk in a tube in our rations, but that was taken out, which was a shame, because it was lovely. We mixed up the milk with Camp coffee and lots of sugar and settled down around the model to get to grips with what we were going to do.
Rod finished putting Vaseline on his lips and said, "We know what the mission is: to arrest the occupants of the DMP and destroy their equipment. We know we've got three Europeans, who are unarmed. Shame we haven't got any negatives of them. Chances are they're just there to work on the processing. They won't resist an attack."
"What comms have they got?" Tony asked as he passed the mug around and opened a packet of boiled sweets.
I said, "We saw some antennas and a satellite dish.
We don't know if it's TV or comms. Chances are it's a TV dish; however, that can't be confirmed. But if we're going to bang them at first light, they're not going to have time to get on the net. Even if they do, nothing's going to happen. Gar'll get the reaction force in very quickly."
I looked at Terry and had to smile. He'd been rubbing his chin and had come across a zit. Now he was squeezing it and inspecting the yield.
I carried on: "There's one building down the bottom that looks like the cook and bottle washer's area.
There's been someone seen going in and out. He hasn't been armed-just an old boy in his sixties. About five meters to the south of that is another building that looks like the administration block.
It has its own generator.
The one above it is certainly the living accommodation."
"What makes you think that?" Terry asked, wiping pus on his shirt sleeve.
"That's where they all were coming out of, and I saw the boy coming out after his wash. The other hut is definitely where they do the business.
It's low and long; it's only partially walled. There was a lot of movement in and out during the time we were watching.
There's one other storeroom, but I couldn't make out what was in it."
I took a swig of Camp coffee and pointed at the model. "As far as I could see, the perimeter isn't protected, but I didn't see jack shit.
The area was cut out of the forest, and that's it."
"Whereabouts did you hit the perimeter, mate?" Rod was looking at the model and making more coffee.
"Here was definitely okay," I sat, pointing. "And here's definitely okay. We then moved around left and went up near the helipad, and that was fine."
"What's the going like in the camp? Is it well trodden or do we have to start scrambling over shit?" Tony said.
"I'm fucked after tabbing here yesterday."
"Well trodden. It's been used for ages. There are no duckboards, but it's old baked mud because it's exposed to the sunlight. It looked like it was cleared and burnt, like the farmers do. There's some stumps around from when it was cleared, but apart from that, it's okay."
"What are the buildings made of?"
"They're solid wood, with atap and palm-leaf coverage, over corrugated iron. They're obviously trying to cam it up."
"What's the walls like and the doors?"
I explained about the inner and outer doors.
"We need to make sure we can get into these fuckers," Rod said.
"We'll go for an explosive entry anyway."
"Yeah, why not?" Terry took a mouthful of cold coffee and passed the mug around. "That'll fuck) em up."
Having looked at the camp, we looked at the enemy.
"What do you reckon their intentions are?" Terry said.
He couldn't resist it; he had to keep playing with his zit, hoping for more to come out. The thing was bleeding.
"I don't know," I said. "Basically there's nowhere for them to go. I think they'll take us on. They'll protect it.
There's a lot of money involved, so they'll look after the produce.
That's why they've got so many people armed.
What do you reckon?"
Rod jumped in. "I agree.
All they're going to do is blat off loads of rounds and try to leg it, but they'll retaliate, without a doubt. We might get one or two runners. I think we need to get right on top of these fuckers.
"We know they've got five fifty-six, and there's a G three running around, so we know we've got that coming down on us. We don't want to take them on, because we don't want to start taking casualties. We want to hit them as early as possible, bang them while they're sleeping. Then let's get the fuck out of here for a few days because I think I have a zit coming up, and we can't have that now." As ever, he looked completely relaxed and there wasn't a hair out of place.
Now we looked at their relative strengths and capabilities, which were basically that they just killed every fucker. Their tactics, if they were members or ex-members of any narcoguerrilla organization, would be very John Wayne: just loads of rounds going down everywhere.
Then we looked at the ground-the terrain and vegetation-then "vital ground": If we got a certain bit of ground, would that dominate the whole area? "I had a look around," I said. "There's no vital ground.
The helipad might have been okay because it was higher than the camp and in theory overlooked it, but in fact I couldn't see Jack shit."
"So there's nowhere we can put a decent cover group in high ground. The only way it could happen is by its coming into the camp."
"Andy, tell us how we can get in."
"When I went down there"-l pointed-"there weren't any obstacles.
It was quite easy to get to. There's just one small river to the east of it, but that's knee-high and slow-flowing, not a tactical problem.
I've got an area for the FRP; I've also got an area for the start line.
I reckon that the cover roup needs to go in with you to be right on target. I don't think I can go anywhere to get the high ground."
Tony said, "Okay, no drama. So do you reckon we need more'people in, or what?"
Rod cut in. "I don't think we need it at all. If we hit these fuckers at first light and go for it, we'll get them while they're still in their little old beds."
Terry nodded. "If we get that explosive entry on, we can sort it out there and then, in two or three minutes," he said.