‘Soldier!’ I shouted, not entirely sure who was working through which house.
‘Sergeant Welsh, upstairs’ came the response. We climbed upstairs to find Murphy and Sergeant Welsh stood over the bodies of three men, in the bedroom overlooking the front garden.
‘What happened?’ Asked Little D, as we were joined by Atkinson and Keane. There was a moment of silence before Murphy remarked ‘I was downstairs’ before Sergeant Welsh interjected.
‘They made a move on me, so I shot them’ he snarled. ‘Goading about what they’d done, the dirty fuckers. Then they went for my gun.’
Murphy was silent, as Sergeant Welsh tried to move the situation along, ordering Atkinson to search the men’s bodies. He then declared he needed to make contact with Lieutenant Colonel Carter, and left the room, ushering Murphy with him. We were left looking at the pile of bodies, questioning Sergeant Welsh’s chain of events. Outside, the clean up was completed, and all the companies from The Lancashire Fusiliers Seventh Battalion regrouped. Sergeant Welsh and Hargreaves were in deep discussion with the other sergeants, as our next objectives were finalised. When Sergeant Welsh finally rejoined us, he told us we were moving out, on a tank mission. The Lancashire Fusiliers Ninth Battalion had lost a tank when its offensive hit Torriero’s defences on Garstang Road. Torriero still had two tanks, one was positioned seventy yards from the junction with Mossbourne Road, and needed destroying, so they could move their forces forward, and this was our objective. We were given the coordinates, and backtracked down Hardhorn Road following our tanks. We took a right onto Hodgson PI, and then followed it around to the right, into another housing estate. Following the intertwining streets, we ended up on Newton Avenue, as the sounds of battle drew closer and closer. The smell and taste of war was all around us, the smoke we breathed in, the gunpowder with its metallic taste that clung to the back of my throat, and deadened my senses. Newton Avenue ran parallel to Garstang Road, and we walked along it trying to find a good position to attack from, as the tanks remained forty yards further back, waiting for our signal. I found a house with a big enough drive to accommodate the tanks, giving them a route into the back gardens. Blue and White Company scouted ahead, through the gardens, trying to find a way to the enemy tank. There was an outer red brick wall, twelve foot high, that ran the entire length of the estate, keeping the gardens private from Garstang Road. It would also hide our tanks from the enemy, when we’d cleared a path through. I could hear its engine turning over, as we got closer, voices shouting, and gunfire. We removed children’s swings and trampolines from gardens, carefully lifted wooden fence panels out of their frames, clearing a route through. In one garden there was a clothes line still hung from the house, across the garden, with a families washing hung out, from the morning of the attack. The clothes had months worth of rain, ash, dirt and grim covering them. I removed each piece of clothing, and stacked them on the patio table like sheets of cardboard, before cutting the line down. The tanks engine was deafening, I could hear its turbine and the gunner as he moved position, and opened up. Sergeant Welsh indicated for Keane to enter the property opposite the tank, and get a better view from the back bedroom. Once positioned, he confirmed the tanks position, and Sergeant Welsh contacted Lieutenant Colonel Carter. He ordered in a mortar strike, close enough to the tank to seem authentic, but far enough away not to spook it into moving. This window would give us time to move our tanks into position, but we would have to be quick. We made our way back to Newton Avenue, and re joined the battalion, informing them of the situation. Lieutenant Colonel Carter confirmed the mortar strike would commence in ten minutes, so we waited. When we heard the distinctive whistle of the mortars, we set off in unison into the back gardens. As they started to explode across the front line, we quickly made our way towards the position. The tanks had a few obstacles to overcome, flower beds, hedgerows and wooden fences. But it all went to plan, and soon they were pulling up either side of Keane, opposite the tank. He positioned them by eye, so they were angled to shoot straight through the hole, we were about to make. Little D took instructions from Keane and placed two C4 charges on the wall, three metres apart, opposite the enemy tank. Then we all got into cover, rifles at the ready, and they blew the explosives. Before the explosion had time to settle, both our tanks sent shells through the hole in the wall, and into the side of the enemy tank. It rocked from the impact, as two more shells left our tanks, crashing into it. Smoke was pouring from its hatch as it made an unsuccessful attempt to move. We hit it again, and fire leapt out of the hatch, as the occupants tried to escape, but were cut down as they climbed out. Our tanks then took out the rest of the properties wall, and started to manoeuvre over the debris, and out onto Garstang Road. The Lancashire Fusiliers Seventh Battalion streamed out behind the tanks, staying behind cover as we were put under fire. On the street, Torriero’s fighters were caught with their pants down, some units just stood out in the opening, it was like shooting practice. I remember seeing one group, of up to twenty men, just mowed down before they even knew they were being shot at. They regrouped, and retreated along Garstang Road, using the abandoned vehicles for cover. Some of their snipers and gunners took up positions high up in buildings, but most fighters stayed on foot on the street. Soon The Lancashire Fusiliers Ninth Battalion joined us as we squeezed Torriero’s army back along Garstang Road towards the Hardhorn Road junction, and beyond that to where their other tank was positioned. Many of the enemy retreated, some surrendered. During the battle that followed, one of our tanks had its track blown off, and wheels damaged by a grenade. But with two operational tanks against one for Torriero, we decided to continue pushing on, as the momentum was swinging our way. Torriero’s final tank was positioned on a supermarket car park, just off Garstang Road, around a hundred yards past the junction for Hardhorn Road. Little D’s local knowledge helped with the afternoons offensive, as the army wanted to split the battalions up again, and attack Torriero’s men from two positions. Little D remarked if Hardhorn Road was followed north, it joins the A588, which in turn rotates back around on itself and rejoins Garstang Road, two hundred yards further on from Torriero’s remaining army. We moved towards the junction, clearing out the buildings on route, killing the few enemy who resisted, and taking others prisoner. Around The Hardhorn Road junction we met with strong resistance, and The Lancashire Fusiliers Ninth Battalion set up a stronghold from that position, so the seventh battalion could make its way around the battle, following the A588. As we reached the location to attack from, The Lancashire Fusiliers Ninth Battalion gave us a sitrep of Torriero’s positions, and we organised our battle plan. The tank was still located in the supermarket car park, with gunner nests in the building, and an estimation of a hundred soldiers left. A discussion was had on the range of the tank Torriero was using, but without confirmed identification, it was considered to risky to approximate, particularly as the tanks we’d already destroyed had varied in model. The main concern was taking out the tank as quickly as possible, while it was still operational, lives were at risk. We attacked the supermarket simultaneously, tanks out front with soldiers following behind. We were put under fire from the supermarket, as we drove within range, and set our sights on their tank, that had reversed over vehicles as it tried to find cover. It was hit by a shell as it fired one itself, that flashed past our tank, narrowly missing the heads of some soldiers behind. The tanks pushed on into the car park, each hitting the enemy tank, as it started to smoke, and then again as it exploded into a ball of fire. We followed behind, as enemy soldiers climbed out of the vehicle, screaming as the fire engulfed them. We shot any who didn’t shoot themselves, as our tanks turned their attention to the supermarket, firing shells at the gun placements. Soon the building was on fire, with smoke pouring out of the large glassless window frames, and people running for cover. Sergeant Hargreaves, noticing what looked like civilians fleeing from part of the building, ordered the tanks to stop shelling. The civilians ran towar
ds us, and we tried to curb our gunfire to avoid hitting them. But Torriero’s men targeted them, shooting them in the back as they ran from the burning building. We tried to cover them, returning fire, but quite a few were killed and wounded. We sustained a few casualties ourselves, but not as many as the enemy, who were on the back foot, with an estimated sixty fighters remaining. They dug in, and wouldn’t surrender, fighting until they had no bullets left. They were low on supplies, food, drink and ammunition, with the looted supermarket offering them no solutions, their options were diminishing. As the smoke made its way through the building, so did what remained of the enemy, coughing as they tried to escape the fumes. But they continued to fight, fanatically, even when we were sent in to clean up the remaining soldiers, they wouldn’t surrender, even when clearly defeated. Clarets and Blue and White Company moved in, past broken glass and debris outside the huge glassless window frames that crunched under our boots. We moved in formation, through the entrance and into the reception, where there was no sign of any enemy. A newspaper stand was positioned ahead of us, still selling newspapers from the morning of the attack, beyond that we went through the security gates and into the shop. We could hear sounds in the building, footsteps running, things knocked over, but we saw nothing. We past the fruit and vegetable stalls, with everything edible gone, and into the main body of the supermarket. Sergeant Welsh ordered us to put our army issue gas masks on, as we entered the main body of the supermarket, that was hazy with smoke and fumes. There were row upon row of empty shelves, interspersed with fully stacked shelves like nothing had happened. The only areas of the shop free from looting were the non food and drink areas, the electrical department, hair and makeup, toiletries etc. We went down the centre aisle, with rows to our left and right, in formation, checking as we moved. There was a burst of gunfire to my right, and bottles of shampoo next to me exploded, sending them scattering to the floor. We spun around and opened fire at two soldiers, hiding at the end of the aisle, who ducked back into cover, as more plastic bottles were obliterated, sending their contents across the floor. More bullets were fired from behind us, hitting Atkinson in the back and arm, dropping him. Sergeant Hargreaves fired back, hitting one in the leg, although he crawled into cover. He followed him, taking his company with him, as we tracked the original shooters. Keane tended to Atkinson, who was losing blood, though it didn’t look too serious. I knelt down, looking under the shelving units, and could see the feet of three men on the next aisle. I shot at them, dropping two of them, as the rest of my company went to confront them. I heard more gunfire from the direction of Clarets Company, as I climbed back onto my feet. On the next aisle, both men I’d hit had been shot dead, after returning fire as Blue and White Company tried to arrest them. We cleared out the rest of the supermarket, killing every soldier, none of whom were prepared to surrender. The smell coming from the freezers was foul, and the floor was stained where the water and scum had leaked out. There were still bits of rotting food left in the chests, food even the desperate considered too much of a risk to eat. The only area left to search, were the employee’s offices and private rooms. We breached the door, and were presented with a long corridor, with steps at the end, and a room to the right. As I checked the stairs, Sergeant Welsh and Murphy breached the door, killing the three fighters inside, after a short gun fight. Upstairs I could hear voices, and movement, as Torriero’s men prepared themselves. The stairs stopped halfway and turned back on itself before continuing to the top. We were put under fire as soon as we reached the top, bullets from a hand gun, splitting the wooden banisters. I could see an abandoned rifle between us and a large wooden table, that had been overturned, and used as cover. Chairs were scattered around the room, as was other furniture and belongings. We returned fire, tearing chunks off the table, killing one and exposing another, he scampered back into cover as he fired blind at us, but his gun had no bullets. Little D climbed out of cover shouting at him ‘It’s over mate, you’ve no bullets left. Come out with your hands in the air.’
The man threw his gun at Little D, who ducked to avoid it as the rest of us came out of cover. The man then grabbed a chair off the floor and hurled it at us, causing Murphy to block it with his rifle, knocking it to the ground. As the soldier lifted another chair off he ground, Sergeant Welsh shot him, sending him crashing to the floor, where he shot him again, killing him outright.
‘Fucking idiot’ he muttered, as he approached the man, checking he was dead.
‘He was fucking unarmed!’ Shouted Little D, his anger towards Sergeant Welsh finally spilling over. ‘The way you behave, you’re no better than them.’
‘Did you see what these fuckers did? To the women, and the children, did you see it Davis? Fuck them and their fucked up ideology, they need to fear us, and I’m going to make sure they do. We need to nail some of these bastards to the wall, hang them from lampposts, and let them see what we do to their men.’
‘I’m gonna report this back to the generals’ retorted Little D. ‘When I get back to camp. You shouldn’t be in charge of any companies, you’re a fucking liability.’
Sergeant Welsh shrugged off Little D’s comment with a look of destain, that said he had heard that kind of threat before, and didn’t give a shit. It’s difficult not to behave like Sergeant Welsh, when you see what some of these men have done, but it’s what separates us from these animals. Little D was angry, we had to calm him down, I could understand why but most soldiers just wanted to get the job finished, and get on with their lives. With our fighting for the day complete, we were picked up and taken back to Camp Blue in a convoy of Vikings. Atkinson had been helped back to the vehicle, and was soundly snoring away by the time we arrived. Keane had removed some bullet fragments from his arm and back, stopping the bleeding and giving him drugs for the pain. He was laid across the back seats, covered with sheets to keep him warm. The journey back was in almost complete silence, the tension in the car palpable.
Aftermath: The complete collection Page 54