PRIMAL Unleashed (2)

by Jack Silkstone

  “Ten seconds.” Mitch armed the bombs with a click of his mouse; 175 pounds of explosives were now live and ready to drop. His finger hovered over the enter key. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1, bombs gone.” The Pain Train shuddered slightly as the pod launched all thirty-five bombs simultaneously. Mitch watched emotionlessly as the warheads descended upon the Taliban positions.

  ***

  Captain Kev Daley didn’t notice the small silhouette of the Ilyushin-76 aircraft high above him and hadn’t heard anything more from the Nemesis call sign. His men had reported a sniper engaging the enemy and he knew someone friendly was still up there. Without that suppressing fire, he had no doubt that all of his Afghans would be dead by now, massacred in the dusty corridor of death that stretched out in front of him.

  Out of the twelve Green Berets in his detachment, Kev only had six still capable of fighting. One was dead, the remainder wounded or out there somewhere in the ambush zone. To make matters worse, he still couldn’t raise his headquarters for any air support.

  Kev was lying on a rocky mound in front of the last functioning Humvee. As it launched another volley of grenades, he raised his M4 assault rifle and steadied it on a rock, firing off a few rounds. Next to the heavy thump of the big automatic grenade launcher, it sounded like a firecracker. The nearest enemy were over 800 meters away and his rounds were barely able to make the distance. He felt totally helpless; his men were dying and there was nothing he could do. Kev ducked as machine gun fire bounced off the armored truck, the rounds ricocheting into the dust.

  Kev had fought the Taliban numerous times during his three tours of Afghanistan but never had he come up against such a well-trained and equipped enemy. He shook his head at the hopelessness of the situation. To his front he saw two of his Afghans dash across the open ground as the enemy machine gun fire lapsed. The two Afghans sprinted towards the Humvee, desperately trying to escape the engagement area. Kev fired a few single shots from his carbine in an attempt to cover their movement. In response a machine gun opened up along the ridge, the distinctive sound of a PKM firing a ten-round burst. Kev watched in horror as the two men were cut down, their bodies riddled with bullets.

  With a scream of frustration, the Green Beret leapt to his feet, scrambling to the top of the mound of sand and rocks that protected him from the enemy gunfire. Another burst of machine gun fire laced the dirt around the dead Afghans, the ricocheting rounds zipping past his head.

  “FUCK YOU! C’MON, FIGHT ME, YOU BASTARDS,” he screamed as he brought his rifle up to his shoulder, pumping round after round in the direction of the enemy. The gunner in the Humvee joined him, thumping away with his grenade launcher. Within seconds the rest of the team were standing side by side with Kev, screaming at the tops of their lungs, blazing away in fury. Their rounds impacted uselessly on the distant slope while the Taliban positions continued to fire. Suddenly, in a blinding flash, the enemy disappeared, a dozen plumes of dust forming a cloud that blocked out the hillside.

  The men on the crest stopped firing, looking at each other with disbelief. A second later a thunderous shock wave ripped through them, dust and grit pelting their bodies, forcing them to turn and take cover behind the small mound. The noise was deafening, like a storm cloud had broken directly over them. As the wave of violence passed, it was replaced with an eerie silence.

  Kev gathered himself from the bottom of the small slope, spitting out a mouthful of dirt. He cautiously made his way back up to the top of the mound where the rest of his men were back on their feet.

  “Goddamn! They’re fucked, boss.” Jimmy pointed up at the enemy positions. The hillside was covered in smoking craters.

  “That’s a truckload of bang,” Kev muttered.

  “Boss, look!” Jimmy pointed skywards, almost directly above them. The dark outline of what looked like a military transport could be seen banking around hard. “I bet that’s a pain train!”

  “Looks like a Russian transporter to me,” Kev responded.

  “Well, it did a good job on the towelheads,” said Jimmy, stuffing another wad of chewing tobacco into his mouth.

  “Hey, look out!” One of the men pointed out a tiny dart shooting up from the top of the valley. They all recognized the distinctive spiral smoke trail as the missile locked onto the lumbering aircraft. Every one of the battle-hardened Green Berets held their breath. Was a Taliban missile about to destroy their savior? The big craft seemed oblivious to the missile until suddenly it banked, harder than any transporter should have been able, and plummeted directly towards them, spitting flares back from under its wings like some kind of mythical creature. The missile overshot the Russian plane, exploding into one of the decoys.

  Still the aircraft ploughed onwards, a line of oily smoke trailing it. “Shit, it’s going down,” shouted Kev. It screamed overhead, throwing a wave of dust over the men. They shielded their eyes with their arms, bracing for it to slam into the earth. Just as it seemed the jet would slam into the valley floor, it gained altitude and thundered over a ridgeline, disappearing from sight.

  The Green Berets cheered, pumping the air with their fists and slapping each other on the back. Whoever was flying the big jet had just saved what remained of their unit and completely destroyed the enemy force that had ambushed them.

  “Alright, mount up. Our boys are wounded out there,” Kev ordered. He was already back on the job at hand. The men scrambled to the remaining Humvee and the two Afghan pickups. They needed to move fast if they were going to save lives.

  As the vehicles raced into the engagement area, Jimmy was busy on the radio.

  Kev looked back from the front seat of the Humvee. “Jimmy, how’s the comms?”

  “Yeah, boss, HQ just came on net. They got two birds inbound for Casevac.”

  “You warned them of the missile threat?”

  “Yep, they’ll be coming in low and fast! Sixty minutes out.”

  An hour was a long time and Captain Kevin Daley knew more of his men were probably going to die of their wounds before they were evacuated.

  ***

  Back on the Pain Train, Mitch was running diagnostics on the aircraft. Shrapnel from the surface to air missile had damaged one of the four engines, reducing the aircraft’s power and causing it to leak hydraulic fluid. The situation was critical. If they continued to lose hydraulic pressure, the controls would fail and the aircraft would crash. His fingers flashed over the keyboard as he attempted to isolate the problem.

  “Come on, old girl, come on,” he murmured to himself. “Bingo.” Mitch isolated the hydraulic leak, restoring full control to the pilots.

  One problem solved, he moved to the next, breaking the news to Ice. “Ice, this is Pain Train. We have just taken evasive action from a missile attack.”

  “Ice here. No shit! You just barreled past me fifty feet off the deck. By the way, you’re trailing smoke.”

  “Yeah, we’ve sustained damage, returning to Kandahar. I’ll let you know when we’ll be back on-station.”

  “Roger. Job well done. Target is a smoking hole.”

  “Always a pleasure, lads. Once again Pain Train delivers the goods, toot toot,” Mitch said with a grin.

  “Saved my ass again.”

  “Buy me a beer when you get back. In the meantime, how about you zap those rocket jockeys before we come back to play? You get a fix on their position?”

  Mitch knew they had been very lucky to evade the missile without suffering more serious damage. The aggressive flying of the PRIMAL aircrew had saved them but Mitch did not want to tempt fate again.

  “Yeah, we saw where the missile launched. Shoudn’t have any problems finding them,” Ice said.

  “Alright, good luck, chaps.”

  “Stay safe, Pain Train. Ice out.”

  Chapter 34

  Khod Valley

  The harsh metallic taste of blood filled Khalid’s mouth and his ears rang. Despite the pain, he smiled. He knew his body was battered, but he was alive. Somehow he had been thrown
clear of his pit when the bombs had exploded around him. “They will pay dearly for that,” he said to himself. “It is Allah’s will that I live to fight another day.” He knew it was not his destiny to die in battle. He would die an old man surrounded by his wives and the sons that would continue his legacy.

  Khalid slowly pushed himself up from the ground and on to his feet, cynically surveying the damage from the strike. Each of his positions was a smoking hole in the ground. The charred bodies of his men looked like the battered corpse of a goat after it had been trampled under the feet of horses in a game of Buzkashi.

  Death was nothing new to Khalid. He had seen worse and lost better men. It was facing the wrath of Khan that worried him; he had failed his master. Now only a ragged bunch of regular Taliban stood between the Americans and Khan’s extraction site.

  Khalid turned to hobble up the hill, hoping his surface-to-air missile crew were still alive. As he stumbled forward, he felt a stab of pain in his back and a red mist filled his vision. He lifted a hand to his sternum, feeling the bloodied exit hole in his chest rig with his fingers. Without a sound he toppled forward and died under the afternoon Afghan sun, far away from his wives and sons.

  ***

  Ice scanned the Taliban position through his scope. Their fortified bunkers had been reduced to mounds of scorched earth; he could barely make out the broken bodies covered in dust and debris. He held his scope on the twitching corpse of the final survivor. Ice was satisfied with Mirza’s choice of a chest shot, letting the target know he was dead.

  He glanced down at the feed coming from the UAV as it flew above the US soldiers; they looked pretty beat-up. The three vehicles had formed a tight circle in the engagement zone and men were dragging their wounded comrades into the makeshift casualty point. Ice used his iPRIMAL to activate the frequency the Americans were working on.

  “Texas 1-3, this is Nemesis 4, over,” Ice broadcast.

  “Nemesis 4, this is Texas 1-3. You guys rock.” The voice of the radio operator sounded flat, despite his enthusiasm.

  Ice smiled grimly. “Good work holding out, guys.”

  “Nemesis, you saved our butts, dude. We were up shit creek without you.”

  “Yeah. Sorry we took so long. Listen, Texas, is your boss there?”

  “Roger, I’ll put him on.” There was a slight pause as the radio changed hands.

  “Nemesis, this is Captain Kev Daley of call sign Texas 1-3. Thanks again for helping us out.”

  “It’s cool, Kev. This is Ice, of call sign Nemesis 4. We’re just sorry we couldn’t get air support earlier.”

  “No hard feelings, Ice. Without you we’d still be waiting.”

  “Kev, how are you guys looking on the ground?” Ice asked tentatively.

  “We’re shot up pretty bad: thirty dead and eleven wounded leaves me with twenty able-bodied men. Most of them have minor injuries.”

  “Understood, Kev. What’s your plan now?”

  “Well, this unit’s done fighting for now; we are combat ineffective. Choppers inbound to extract the wounded and recover our dead.”

  “Roger. Me and my partner will provide overwatch from here.”

  “Much obliged, Ice. Once that‘s complete I’m going to take the rest of my men and we’re going to get the hell out of this shit-hole.”

  “You gonna drive out of here with just one Humvee and your two pickups?” Ice couldn’t blame the man for wanting to extract.

  “That’s the plan. Someone else can deal with this shit fight. My priority is to get my men back to Kandahar and refit to fight. What about you?”

  “We’re headin’ up the mountain,” Ice replied.

  “What? Why? How many men you got up there? You said you and your partner?”

  “Kev, my partner and I are trying to find a former Russian experimental weapons lab and stop a WMD getting into the hands of Iranian agents.”

  “Jesus Christ, Ice, who the hell are you working for? CIA?”

  “Something like that. Just believe me when I say that the intelligence behind this is rock solid. Those were hardcore Taliban mercenaries we just wasted, not the usual rag-tag bunch. I’m pretty damn sure they were defending the facility.”

  “No shit. They knew exactly what they were doing.”

  “I need to get up there, find the facility and blow it to hell.”

  Kev’s curiosity was roused. This was exactly the kind of mission he thrived on. “Can you get more air support?”

  “Yeah, no problem, but need to take out those SAMs before our bird gets back on station.” Ice hoped the Pain Train would be repaired by the time they neutralized the anti-air weapons. “Kev, look, I know this is a big ask, but I need you and your remaining men to hit the mountain with me. I’ve lost the element of surprise and there’s only two of us.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the radio.

  “How many of these bastards do you think are left?” The Green Beret wanted a crack at the men who’d ambushed him.

  “We just destroyed their main security force. There’s probably no more than a handful of guards and the SAM shooters.”

  “You’ll cover my evac?”

  “Of course.”

  “Fuck it, OK then. We’ll get the wounded and dead out, then we’ll find this facility of yours and kill the rest of these assholes.”

  Chapter 35

  Helicopter door mounted minigun

  Khod Valley

  Kev Daley and his signaler helped the team medic load the last of the wounded into the two pickups before they jumped in the Humvee and escorted the battered vehicles back down the track. The Master Sergeant had already marked out a landing zone and two MH-47 helos were only fifteen minutes out.

  They had only made it a few hundred meters before Jimmy handed his boss the radio handset.

  Ice’s voice came over the Special Forces frequency. “Kev, we have a problem.”

  “Go ahead, Ice,” the Green Beret responded.

  “I have visual on an estimated hundred-plus local fighters massing behind the eastern ridge.”

  “How far out?”

  “They’re on the move, no more than fifteen minutes from your LZ. They’re in range we are engaging now.” Over the radio Kev heard the distinctive noise of a suppressed weapon firing. “Kev, we can slow ‘em down but you need to get the fuck out of here.” The weapon hissed again.

  “Goddamn it, Ice, we’re all getting the hell out of here. The choppers can lift us all out. Get the fuck off the mountain. We’ll hold off the Taliban till you marry up.”

  “Negative. They’re moving in platoon-sized groups along the ridgeline. If you don’t go now, you’re fucked.” Kev could still hear the hiss of suppressed weapons over the radio as they continued to engage the Taliban from their hidden position high up on the ridgeline.

  “Do you realize what you’re saying?” Kev said.

  “Go! We have this well in hand. We’ll bypass the Talibs and find their missiles. Once we’ve neutralized the air-defense we can call in air support. No more of your men die today.”

  Kev clenched his gloved fist. “Roger. We’re going to set up a defensive perimeter around the LZ and wait for the choppers.”

  “Affirmative. We now have eight more Taliban KIA but we’re going to have to slow our engagement and conserve ammo.”

  “Stay in contact, Texas. Out.”

  Kev turned to his signaler. “Jimmy, let the choppers know it’s going to be a hot LZ. Company-sized Taliban element approaching from the northeast.”

  “Yeah, boss.”

  As they moved the last few hundred meters to the pickup point, bursts of fire could be heard further up the valley. The Taliban were firing at shadows, trying to spook out the two snipers culling their ranks.

  Kev and his men formed a perimeter two hundred meters out from the extraction site. They lay in wait, weapons ready. Behind them wounded men moaned quietly, the team medic moving between them, desperately trying to keep them alive.

&nbs
p; ***

  Khan’s first wave of Taliban reinforcements approached cautiously from the east. They moved in an extended line, silhouetted against the sky as they crossed the ridge, weapons held at the ready.

  On the opposite ridge, Ice and Mirza lay low in a depression along the rocky slope. From six hundred meters away, they were all but invisible to the Taliban, drab robes blending in perfectly with the rocky terrain. Through their high-powered scopes the PRIMAL operatives could see the approaching Afghans clearly as they descended towards Texas 1-3. Some of them carried AKs, others rocket launchers and machine guns. A few wore the distinctive digital camouflage patterned armor over their robes, scavenged from the bodies of the dead American patrol.

  “Shit, reinforcements,” said Ice.

  “There’s too many,” Mirza whispered over the radio.

  “Need to cull their numbers a little,” Ice replied as he exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger. The weapon jumped against his shoulder and he lost sight of the target as the Taliban fighter toppled over. “Tango down.”He quickly aligned on another enemy fighter.

  “They have to be in range of Texas 1-3 by now,” Mirza said as he fired his own rifle.

  As if waiting for the Indian’s cue, the American Special Forces opened up, hitting the Taliban with a wall of lead. The line of advancing fighters dropped to the ground, hitting back with an equally heavy weight of fire. A second, then a third line of Taliban followed up, pushing forward in pairs, firing as they closed in on the US and Afghan soldiers.

  “These fuckers are insane,” said Ice as he hit another target. “They just keep coming.” As the enemy warriors fell to the combined fire of the snipers and the Green Berets, more rushed down the hill to replace them.

  “This isn’t normal,” Mirza reported between his own shots. “They’re too well trained.”

  Ice panned his scope down the slope to where Texas 1-3 was defending. The Green Berets and their Afghan Army partners were putting up a valiant fight, but one by one they fell as he looked on, the wave of Taliban surging forward relentlessly.