by Brent Towns
Falling to the ground, the man didn’t move. Using hand signals, Bluey directed Red and Ringa to clear the building on their left while he and Jacko did the same to the one on their right.
The one on the left was quickly cleared, and when they joined Bluey and Jacko, they found the pair looking over a virtual treasure trove of AK-47s, RPGs, unexploded shells, and countless boxes of ammunition. Obviously, it was Jahan’s store.
Suddenly, Bluey’s comms crackled to life. “Bushranger One, we’ve got a bolter out the back.”
“Put him down, Lofty.”
A moment of silence was replaced by, “Target down.”
The team pushed on towards the compound’s main building. They traversed a narrow alley and broke out into another courtyard. It was much the same as the previous one, littered with human debris.
It was then that Bluey realized that the firing had stopped and been replaced by the barking of a dog. The target building was larger than the others. He motioned Jacko forward, and the SAS man crossed to a solid looking wood door. He tried it and found it locked.
“Blow it,” Bluey snapped.
Red moved forward and placed an EDX breaching charge on the door. Once he was done, he moved to one side and waited for Bluey. The team leader reached out and squeezed his shoulder.
Red triggered the explosion blowing the door in with a cloud of dust, wood splinters, and mortar. Ringa was the first man through into what looked to be a small anteroom. With that cleared, the team set about doing the same with the rest of the house. When they were finished, they looked at each other. Ringa asked, “Where the hell is he?”
Bluey pushed his talk button. “Lofty, copy?”
“Copy.”
“How’s it look out there?”
“All quiet, Boss.”
“I want you to check that bolter and see if he’s our HVT. Then come to us. Watch out for IEDs.”
“Copy that.”
The next call was to base. “Trap Command? Bushranger One, over.”
“Copy, Bushranger One.”
“Ned Kelly is not on site, I say again, Ned Kelly is not on site. Awaiting further orders.”
“Copy, Bushranger One. Wait. Over.”
A moment later, the voice came back. “Bushranger One, do one more sweep of the compound, and then move to extract, over.”
“Copy. Out.”
Bluey turned to his men. “All right, let’s do another sweep of the compound. Once we’re done, we’re to move to extract. Once we’re outside, I’ll call in a strike to blow the hell out of this place. Jacko, make a list of the shit we found in that building in the other courtyard.”
The next twenty minutes were spent going through the compound room by room and hole by hole all for the result of a big fat zip. Or so Bluey thought.
He was just about to call them all together when Ringa called him. “Bluey, you have to come and see this. I’m behind the main house.”
They all gathered there, Lofty included. His bolter had been another fighting-aged male but not their HVT. Ringa pointed at the ground. “We’ve got ourselves a tunnel.”
The entrance was mostly covered, with only a slight sliver visible. “I take it that you haven’t had a look yet?”
“Nope.”
“Red, check it for wires,” Bluey ordered and then started to strip his webbing off.
“You going down there, Bluey?” Jacko asked.
“That’s the plan.”
“That’s just crazy, Boss.”
“You aren’t the one going.”
Ringa stepped forward. “You need to give this some thought, Bluey. If the Taliban come back while you’re down there, you’ve had the Richard.”
His leader gave him a wry smile. “If the Taliban come back while I’m down there, I’ll have had more than the dick. Just keep in contact with HQ, and they’ll keep you up to date. Lofty, you and Red get up on a rooftop and pull security.”
“OK, Boss.”
Bluey took out his Glock 19 and checked there was round in the chamber. He then took out his small flashlight and said to Jacko, “Open her up.”
With Ringa and Bluey covering the hole, Jacko pulled the cover back.
The opening had been gouged out through the tough crust just wide enough for a man to climb into the tunnel below. Bluey dropped to his knees and leaned down to make sure the entrance was clear. The smell of stale air wafted into his nostrils, but he ignored the stink and shone the flashlight beam around.
Below the surface, the tunnel was large enough for a man to traverse it, albeit in a crouched position. The SAS man came back up and looked at his men. “It’s clear.”
Bluey swung his legs over the hole and said, “See you blokes later.”
“Watch your ass.”
Once down in the tunnel, the smell grew almost overpowering due to lack of ventilation, and Bluey stopped to adjust before moving off. He ran a hand down one of the walls and nodded his appreciation at the time-consuming effort that had gone into excavating the passage through solid earth.
He started along the tunnel at a slow, deliberate pace. If he rushed, he could easily be killed, and who knew whether there was an IED in place.
Bluey edged forward until he came to a turn. He pointed the flashlight around first. Nothing like a bright light to blind a person. Then he took a deep breath and edged his head around to have a look.
“Ah fuck!” he cried out and lunged backward. The snarling bark of a savage dog echoed throughout the tunnel but was soon drowned out by the roar of an IED which the animal tripped.
Then everything went black.
The ringing in his ears hurt like a bitch, but at least he was still alive. He had to be because surely you couldn’t feel this much pain if you were dead. Bluey opened his eyes and saw Jacko leaning over him. Through the buzz in his ears, he heard a muffled, “You’re a lucky bastard, Bluey. You know that?”
“What?”
Jacko said something to Ringa, and they helped him to his feet. Bluey’s head swam, and he thought for a moment he might fall over. He looked down and saw his clothes covered in dust. Then he remembered the dog and the tripwire in front of it.
“The dog?”
“Yeah, it’s blown to shit, mate,” Ringa said. “You were lucky you were around the corner, or you’d be strawberry jam too. As it was, the tunnel came down on you. Thanks to Jacko you’re still alive. He dug you out.”
Bluey was still stunned but was starting to come good. Even his hearing was returning slowly. “Let’s get out of here. And thanks, Jacko.”
Bluey got his kit back on, and they began their exfil. He wasn’t happy about missing their target. But they were all still alive, so that was a bonus.
“Trap Command? Bushranger One, over.”
“Copy, Bushranger One.”
“We’re headed for extract, expect to be on site in thirty mikes. No joy on Ned Kelly.”
“Copy, Bushranger One. See you when you get back. Out.”
That was it? See you when you get back? Shit.
“OK, Jacko, get us out of here.”
“Copy that.”
Tarin Kowt
Afghanistan
Bluey entered the comfort of the air-conditioned tent, looking for his commanding officer, Colonel Terry Power. When he found it empty, he turned around and was about to walk out when the colonel appeared at the doorway. “Clark, you’re here. Good.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bad luck about Jahan. Still, all your team came home.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m afraid you’ve got a new mission.”
“So soon, sir?”
Power nodded. “You and your team have just enough time to get cleaned up, pack your kit, and catch the flight out of here.”
“Where are we going, sir?”
“Italy.”
Chapter 16
Piacevole Valley, Italy
“Bushranger One to Zero, over.”
“Copy, Bushranger
One.”
“Zero, Bushranger Team is down and intact. We’re just about to move towards the target.”
“Roger that, Bushranger One. You have five hours to get into position. Be aware that the town is full of tangos.”
“We’ve got this, sir. We’ll be in position by the time your men arrive.”
“Copy, Bushranger One. Zero out.”
Bluey’s team had dropped into the valley twenty minutes before. On the way down, he’d seen the high peaks of the surrounding mountains, standing sentinel over the landscape.
On touch down, they’d hidden their excess equipment and set up a perimeter while Bluey reported to Ferrero. The Australians had been surprised at the request for their help. Bluey thought that SEALs would have been more appropriate with it being an American op, instead of the SAS. But he’d been told that his team had been specifically asked for.
Every briefing had been via a computer screen whilst they’d been on the move, the final one in the air just before they’d jumped. Their mission was simple. Infiltrate the town and provide support to Kane, with one man tasked to eliminate Amando Bellandi.
“Jacko, time to move out. I want to be in that town an hour before daylight.”
“Copy, boss.”
Like wraiths, they moved silently through the night, Jacko guiding their way to the village. The valley was quiet, and the early morning hours were cold. Then appearing from the darkness on a hillside before them was a series of stone buildings. Bluey called a halt so they could rest before infiltrating the town.
“Right, you blokes, we do this quietly. We sneak in and leave no footprint. Once there, we lay low until it’s time. Got it?”
They all nodded, and then Bluey took out a map of the village and a small light. He illuminated the drawing and pointed to a point on it. “This is where the bad guy lives. From what I can gather, this is where the exchange will take place.”
He stabbed at more points on the sketch with his finger. “Lofty, you’re here. You should get a clear field of fire from there. Red, Ringa, here and here. Once again, the coverage should be good. Jacko and I will work our way around the back of the building and infil when the time is right. Remember, we make their man the priority at all times. Whatever happens, he stays alive.”
“Roger that.”
On the Road
The SUV took the turn at a slower pace than the last. The bend switched back upon itself before straightening and then doing the same again in the opposite direction.
“Man, I hate roads like this in the dark,” Axe said for the tenth time. “Especially when I ain’t driving.”
“You scared of the dark, Axe?” Kane asked.
“You know I ain’t, Reaper. But shit, if we go off road here, it’s about five hundred feet down the damned side of the mountain.”
“Quick trip.”
There was a moment’s silence before Axe said, “You think these Aussies will come through for us?”
“If there’s something I know about these Aussies, they’ll do what they say they will. Just like in Somalia.”
Axe said, “I hope the plan works out for them.”
It wasn’t much of a plan, other than infiltrating the village and take up covering positions. Although Kane did tell Bluey to get into the house and have a look around if he could. “They’ll be fine.”
Piacevole Valley
Italy
“That’s it there, boss, on the side of that hill,” Jacko told Bluey.
They hunkered down while Bluey studied their target through night vision optics. The glasses showed some well-maintained homes as well as shacks that were lucky to be still standing, and a number of washing lines with loose strands of wire hanging from them. After several minutes of taking everything in, he said, “All right. This is it. Remember, no footprint. Lofty, once you’re in that bell tower, radio in. The same goes for the rest of you. Any questions?”
No one said a word.
“OK then …”
“What if we have to kill someone?” Red asked.
“Hide the body somewhere safe and pray that it isn’t noticed.”
“OK.”
“Anything else?”
Nothing.
“Let’s go.”
What they did next wasn’t really to a team’s strength. They were used to working together as a unit, not individual units. But they’d been trained to adapt when the situation called for it, which was what they were doing now.
At the edge of the village, Bluey and Jacko came across the first stone-built building constructed in medieval times. It was dark and cold against the moonlit sky; the holes that had once held windows stood out like dark eyes.
The cobbled street before them sloped upward and curved around the hill perhaps fifty meters further on. They walked up the sidewalk, making sure that every step was taken with care.
“Hold up,” Bluey said to Jacko.
The SAS man stopped and took a knee, his M4 up at his shoulder. “What’s up?”
“I have movement at our twelve.”
They waited and watched. And then a guard moved from behind a protruding bush. Through their NVGs, they could see he was armed with some form of an automatic weapon. “What do you want to do?” Jacko asked.
“We go around.”
They waited for the man to return to his position behind the bush before Bluey ran across the street then took up a firing position while Jacko followed. After checking for further movement, they worked their way through an overgrown yard then on to the next street farther up the slope.
Bluey’s comms crackled to life. “Bushranger Two in position.”
Through the darkened shadows of the eerily quiet street, Bluey and Jacko moved like wraiths. Again, the SAS team leader’s comms crackled to life. “Bushranger Four in position.”
Which left Lofty, who shouldn’t be far away.
Shouldn’t, but things have a way of biting you on the ass at the least opportune moment.
“Non muoverti cazzo,” a harsh voice snarled, and Lofty felt the hard barrel of a gun press against the back of his neck.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the Australian growled in a low voice.
“English? Turn around.”
Lofty did as he was told and said, “Na, mate. I’m bloody Australian.”
“Australian?”
“Yeah, cobber.”
“Drop your gun,” the man snapped.
Lofty lay the 417 gently on the ground. He straightened and said, “What now?”
“We go and see Mister Bellandi.”
Lofty shook his head. “Afraid I can’t do that, Cobber. It would ruin everything.”
“What?”
The SAS man just smiled at him, which seemed to piss him off. “Turn around.”
Lofty did as he was asked.
“Now, move.”
He didn’t.
The guard leaned in to give Lofty a shove. Mistake.
The SAS man whirled about as the hand touched him. His left hand knocked the gun from the Italian’s hand while his right hand drove into the man’s throat, cutting off all possible noise such as a sudden shout of surprise.
A direct blow from Lofty’s left fist caught the man on the bridge of the nose causing him to stagger back. Not giving the man time to recover his senses, the SAS warrior drew his knife and drove it up under the Italian’s chin. As it pierced the palette and into the man’s brain, Lofty felt the rush of hot blood and cerebrospinal fluid flow over his knife hand. He quickly hefted the dead man’s weight before it fell to the ground, dragging him back into the bushes to conceal him. Retrieving the gun, he disabled it, laying it beside the dead man. Then Lofty bent down and collected his own 417.
Cursing under his breath, he pressed his transmit button. “Bushranger One? Bushranger Five. We have a small problem. Over.”
There was a long pause, and Bluey’s voice filled his ear. “Go ahead, Lofty.”
“I got rumbled by a guard. He’s out of actio
n now, but I’m just letting you know.”
“Roger that. Proceed with your mission.”
“Copy. Five out.”
Although the words were not spoken, the SAS man knew that his team leader was far from happy. And after the mission was complete, he was betting that he’d hear all about it.
After finally reaching his destination, Lofty found the door to the old church open. Easing himself through the opening, he then moved into the void beyond. Through the green haze of his NVGs, the SAS man could see the rows of disused pews laid out before him. He walked along the main aisle, scraps of paper and grass littered along its length until he reached the altar. From there, he walked through a doorway and found the stairs, which led up into the bell tower.
Every step was slow and tedious as Lofty tested each tread before putting his full weight upon it. When he reached the summit, he set up his hide and radioed Bluey to let him know that he was in position.
“Bushranger Five in position.”
“Copy that.”
Bluey was dark that his man had been discovered, but he needed to push that aside and hope that no one noticed the missing man. He adjusted his position and then said into his mic, “Zero? Bushranger One, copy?”
“Copy, Bushranger One.”
“All call signs in position. Just waiting for dawn’s early light to execute the last part.”
“Roger that. Any problems?”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle. Bushranger One, out.”
Bluey looked down at his watch. “We’ll give it another hour, and we’ll breach. Reaper should be arriving about then, and they’ll be looking the other way. I’ll take first watch. Get some kip.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Jacko said and hunkered down to make himself comfortable.
While Jacko slept, Bluey sat almost motionless, watching, waiting.