by Geoff Wolak
Bennet said, ‘That, coupled with a twitchy gunman, and I’d have shat myself.’
We laughed. I told them about the bag of chips and the Army captain, and offering him one, and they laughed loudly.
The Major walked me back to my allotted room. ‘There seems little here to be of concern.’
‘No, sir, but the colonel did say that they would cook something up.’
‘Well, they always do. The inquiry will list their kids, and how nice they were – true family men that went to church each Sunday, and then use what you say against you. They’ll ask simple questions, go off and think, and then the next day they will pick at them, trying to make it appear as if you lied, and that you kidnapped them.’
As I sat with the police that evening, news came in of a young soldier being shot dead. It may or may not have been linked, and revenge for my earlier actions, and that upset me; that young lad could have been killed because of me. Still, I kept trying to convince myself that I had done nothing wrong.
Rizzo and his gang suddenly turned up, well armed, and they joined me with the police.
‘Come to protect little old me?’ I teased.
‘You don’t need no fucking protecting,’ Rizzo complained. ‘No, a show of force for tomorrow. Police are coming, so the IRA know you’re both here.’
‘They’d not attack this base,’ an RAF Police sergeant confidently stated. ‘Our lads go off base to shops and pubs, we’re treated different to the Army.’
‘Since I was in RAF, I feel better,’ I quipped.
We sat around chatting about Bessbrook and the ongoing saga of doing very little, but doing it well armed and in professional manner, leg-humping dogs aside.
The Major came by later, asked me not to go for a run in the morning but to go through the notes with him early. Early meant 7am, and not my early, so I went through my notes before I went through his notes.
Colonel Bennet sat in with the Northern Ireland police, but offered no comments; he was not unhappy with anything they asked, but it was a two hour session, the room stuffy. After lunch it was the turn of the military police and Intel, a guy from MI5 and one from SIS sat in. We went over the detail, but they were not interested in tripping me up, more interested in any extra intel gleaned – did the terrorists say anything?
At 4pm we were done, a quick chat with the Major, and I was told to relax till Monday morning. About to walk off, he turned back. ‘Roach has gone.’
‘Gone...?’
He studied me carefully. ‘We’ve let him go.’
‘Why, sir?’
‘I think you know that, and ... he had time to reflect, told me he was thinking of starting a family. He ... had his mind in two places.’
‘Is there a training manual on what to do when you’re kidnapped?’ I curtly asked.
‘Yes, and it’s a course you’ll do in time.’ He waited. ‘You think I was wrong in that decision?’
‘I think everyone deserves a second chance, sir.’
‘If he had fought to stay in, maybe, but he didn’t, and this was a good move, because he could have frozen with men around him, getting them killed.’
I nodded, but did not look pleased.
‘You take the side of the underdog ... because of the way you were treated over the years. Try and see the big picture.’
I sat in my room, trying to see the big picture, and I could remember the fear in Roach’s eyes. But what did he mean by that look of mine when I was ready to kill? Did I have a dark side, beyond my control? That worried me a little.
We flew back down to Bessbrook on the Monday, and I reclaimed my bed, Smurf and the gang all desperately keen to get the detail. At 10pm I headed to the Intel Section, and got the kettle on.
The nice lady officer faced me. ‘You’re as bad as they say. And as good as they say. Full of surprises.’ We exchanged smiles, and her eyes glinted. ‘And I was chatting to a pilot from 7 Squadron earlier. You jumped ... from a helicopter?’
I opened a file. ‘That’s classified; you’d have to tickle me to get the detail out of me.’
Captain Marks approached, and sat. ‘I’ll obviously need a thorough briefing about what you did, you are in my troop after all, and I’m responsible for you.’
‘Yes, sir, but right now I am ... off duty, given the late hour.’
He seemed a bit put out. ‘0900 then,’ he said as he stood, the nice lady captain watching him go, a look exchanged with me. It seemed that she was not warming to him either.
After a day of files I was flown back to the UK, this time to face questions from senior Army officers, but I did not bother Colonel Bennet with the meetings, and the officers presented no shitty questions. They warned me that there would be an inquest, and then an inquiry, and that I would have to stand up in court and swear on the bible. I was not too worried, but the story persisted of an SAS man allowing himself to be kidnapped and then killing the IRA men – as daft as that was.
I flew back to Bessbrook the following Monday having spent a very pleasant week at the DeVere gym, several evenings with Kate – she even stayed in my apartment, a few visits into the base to chat to Taffy, some time on the range.
The gang welcomed me back, and then the CO called me in. Rather, he called me outside because inside we had little privacy.
‘The ... Intel boys have picked up a few rumours ... that the IRA may come for you.’
‘They never have before, sir, no troopers have been killed that way.’
‘Are you worried?’
I made a face. ‘If the rumours are true, sir, then make use of them. Set a trap.’
‘A trap?’
‘Yes, sir. Use some double agent to give them a place I live at, and we stake it out in rotation. If they turn up we shoot their nuts off.’
‘Aye, might work, but they could strike now ... or a year from now.’
‘Would need good intel, sir, yes. And, when we get back, would I be allowed to wear my pistol in public?’
‘I’ll organise it, permission from the Home Secretary.’
I observed a helicopter land. ‘I’ll see them coming, sir, and I won’t be as polite as I was the first time around,’ I threatened.
‘That what you call being polite, eh. OK, we’ll make some plans, just in case. But as you said, they never have gone for troopers at home. Oh, Rizzo suggested that you go out with them on the next OP, tonight I think.’
‘Love to, sir, the files are getting a bit much. As well as Captain Marks.’
‘You don’t see eye to eye with him?’
‘He ... is not easy to get on with, sir, and I’m the only one around here that shows him any respect. The lads just ignore him.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Oh, that young Seamus lad, they’re about to move on him. Could be a good result.’
I consulted with Rizzo on what kit to take, and we’d not take Bergens since they were cumbersome and we needed to sneak through hedgerows. So we’d have basic webbing, two ponchos, weapon and ammo, and a small backpack with spare socks and warm clothing, sleeping bag, rubber mat.
He then handed me gumboots, size 11, and explained that they disguised footprints, but still left a mark, and that it was optional if I wanted them. He used them when his feet got cold. Stores had nylon combat jackets to keep the rain out, and nylon trousers, but they made a noise when you walked, and in the rain they could shine a bit. I took them anyway, rolled up tightly.
Since Rizzo was patrol leader he always opted for M16, so I grabbed one from the base armoury, from the section that was allotted to us. I also grabbed a telescopic sight, four 20-round magazines, and I would be taking my pistol – just in case. Stun grenades could be taken, so I grabbed two. I adjusted my webbing, checked my first aid kit, and placed my larger first aid kit on top of my small backpack.
It was a three day stint, or two nights away, and we could radio for retrieval by helicopter or Land Rover patrol, and at 4pm Rizzo called us together to check kit and give the briefing, Bob on the patrol
, plus a guy called Stretch that I had seen a few times. Rizzo read out the coordinates and I checked them on the map. He listed insert time, extraction time, and radio check times and call signs; we were Green Ten for some reason. All was set.
I used the toilet before we left, stuffed down a tin of meat and had a good drink of water, soon running bent double to a Lynx helicopter, weapon in hand, magazine out. Little more than ten minutes later Rizzo loaded his rifle, so we copied, but we did not cock the weapons till we exited the chopper, heads down and running for the nearest cover. In the trees we knelt and cocked weapons and checked them, Rizzo up and leading us off at a brisk pace.
That pace slowed down after four hundred yards of dark fields and black hedgerows, and we double-backed across a wet muddy field diagonally to throw anyone off our trail, and half an hour later we approached a small hill with a wooded area, now moving very slowly, checking all the dark corners. Inside the wood, Rizzo indicated to make a temporary shelter with our ponchos
Settled in, we got comfortable as it started to rain heavily, and Rizzo and myself moved forwards to the edge of the woods.
Whispering, Rizzo said, ‘That’s the crossroads down there, and we’re to watch for any activity. There’s a patrol due past at 8am.
‘It’s dark now, but if we make a hide you don’t quite know what it looks like, so we make a hide at dawn and then have a look front on, and then it’ll be two down there, two up here. We don’t make a hide in the woods because that’s too obvious, but we don’t want no fucker coming up behind us either.’
‘OK,’ I whispered.
We radioed the others that we were coming back, and Rizzo took first stag overlooking the junction as the rest of us sat and shivered, not allowed to get a brew on. This was not called ‘the hard routine’ for nothing.
The night dragged on, and on, but I did get four hours kip in my sleeping bag. Before the dawn came up we dismantled the hide and rolled up the ponchos, Rizzo and I edging down to a large hedgerow above the junction. Once at the hedge he cut several stems and pulled out the branches, creating a pile.
He had brought down a branch from a tree, some five feet long, and now asked me to tie the hedge parts to it. He made a hole big enough for us both and he placed down his rubber mat and mine, followed by his poncho, before he eased in. He fixed the side of the poncho so that it blocked the view of us, and beckoned me inside, telling me to sit back to back – difficult with the webbing on.
I opened my poncho and we fixed it above us, our rain cover hanging down loosely, and I lifted in the barrier I had made, creating a wall to our rear. Then we waited. As the day got lighter we tied the ponchos into better positions, cutting hedge branches down and stuffing them into gaps.
We were set, and Bob came down, his radio on. ‘OK, rear is good, moving around.’ We could see him moving around in a wide arc, being careful, soon taking a quick peek from the road. He ran back.
‘Yeah, fine, nothing showing.’
We were set, and all we had to do now was endure about two hours of this. And it was uncomfortable after ten minutes.
‘Comfy?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘You’re a big lad, and that makes it harder. Push back a little more to rest your back muscles. And lift your legs two inches quietly every now and then.’
An hour later, and with the light improving I fixed my telescopic sight, Rizzo asking what the noise was. I took aim at a house, and studied it, seeing people moving about.
‘People in that house,’ I whispered.
Focusing on a barn some four hundred yards away I saw a farmer nudging his dairy cows, and I slowly scanned the hedgerows for as far as I could see. Spotting two men, I froze. ‘Rizzo, what time is it?’
‘Seven?’
‘I can see two men, and they’re not farmers.’
He clicked on the radio. ‘Bob, get on the radio: possible contact, wait out.’ He whispered, ‘What are they doing?’
‘Walking slowly along a hedge, keeping a careful look out. They’re nervous about something. Wait, one has a backpack on.’
‘Could be nothing,’ Rizzo whispered.
‘No, something is up, they’re being stealthy. Are 14 Intel or anyone else in this area?’
‘No, we always check in case we shoot the fuck out of each other.’
‘Wait ... guy just opened his coat, AK47 in his hand.’
Rizzo clicked on the radio. ‘Bob, contact report: two x-rays, armed, AK47, backpack. Standby helo team.’
‘What’s the usual procedure?’ I asked.
‘We wait till they get close and then kill the fuckers.’
‘Oh. I’ll watch them, you watch the area around us, just in case.’
Five minutes later Rizzo asked what the men were doing. ‘Still coming towards us, second man with an AK47 under his coat. Wait. There’s a vehicle, coming ... coming ... slowing ... two men inside ... reversing, turning around, going back.’
‘That’s suspicious,’ Rizzo whispered.
‘Would we open fire from here?’ I asked.
‘Not really, we want some solid cover.’
‘If we get behind some solid cover, I’ll have no sight of them, unless we go back up the hill.’
‘Can’t go back up the hill, we’ll be seen.’
‘I can hit these two. Can you see anyone else?’
‘No.’
‘That car is back, slowing down ... slowing ... turning around and going back the other way. Two men inside.’
Rizzo clicked on the radio. ‘Bob, sitrep: two x-rays on foot, both armed, suspicious vehicle, two x-rays inside, standby ground units.’
‘Are they going to try and ambush that patrol?’
‘No, they’d leave a device and be long gone.’
‘The two men are moving towards a gate where the car is,’ I whispered. ‘They’re going to meet. Wait, guy is taking off the backpack. Can we let them just drive off?’
‘Might not have a choice, can you get the registration?’
‘Hang on. Bob, can you hear me?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Vehicle registration as follows, dark grey Ford Granada.’ I read out the plate twice. ‘Got that?’
‘Got that.’
‘They’re going to meet in five minutes,’ I whispered. ‘Then what?’
‘If they’re carrying rifles we can drop them.’
‘They’re three hundred yards away. Do you have a clear shot?’
‘Can’t see the fuckers.’
‘To get the best shot I need to be stood behind this hedge. I could hit the car and damage it, smash the windscreen.’
‘I can do that, you do the men.’
‘Then let’s get out of here and give you a shot. We got a few minutes till they reach that car and fuck off.’
Rizzo gave it some thought, then we burst out and stood up, resting our rifles on the hedge.
‘See the car?’ I asked.
‘Yeah. And the men now.’
‘It’s your patrol, you call it.’
‘When you get a good clean shot, take it. Bob, standby, and check our rear.’
I stopped to consider that I was calm, and not nervous; they were a long way off, and I had them in my sights. Forcing a breath, I got ready, took aim at the man trailing – not the lead man, and hesitated. Lowering my aim, I hit him in the arse, soon hitting the second man as he turned around, also hitting him in the arse.
Rizzo opened up, hitting the car, which sped forwards. I put four rounds into the windscreen, where the driver sat, the vehicle hitting a hedge and rolling onto its side, it engine revving like mad, exhaust fumes rising.
‘Bob,’ Rizzo called. ‘Sitrep: contact, shots fired at men and vehicle, men down, vehicle stopped, full support asap.’
‘Roger that.’
I focused on my two victims as they lay down rolling back and forth. ‘The two men are still alive, and they’ll live.’
‘What? You missed?’
‘No, I hit
them in the arse.’
‘Why?’ Rizzo demanded.
‘Prisoners make for a trial, no rioting, and some intel off them. Dead men make for martyrs.’
‘That’s not your call,’ he protested.
‘We have a shoot to kill policy, do we?’
He hesitated, soon the sound of helicopters, and we stood back from the hedge and waved. A Lynx hovered high, a Puma coming in and landing in a field, soldiers running out, a vehicle convoy approaching from the right.
Bob and Stretch moved down to us. ‘Do we go?’ Bob asked.
‘No, we cover them,’ Rizzo said, and took aim. I did likewise, the two men face down and pooling blood, not about to shoot anyone.
An hour later, and we were back, exiting the Lynx.
‘I have to report what you did,’ Rizzo cautioned.
‘Do so, since I stand by what I did, and we got a result.’
After a lukewarm shower and a cup of tea, myself and Rizzo were sat in front on the Major.
The Major took a moment. ‘Wilco, it’s been reported that you shot the two suspects ... in the arse?’
‘Do we have an official shoot to kill policy, sir?’
He hesitated. ‘Not as far as the public are concerned, no.’
‘Sir, dead men make for martyrs and a week of rioting, whereas live prisoners make for a trial, no riots, and some intel from them if we’re lucky. When we kill, they feel like victims, but when we capture them and they stand trial and they look like terrorists.’ I faced Rizzo. ‘Did you order me to kill them?’
‘Well ... not in those words.’
‘Sir, have you ever stated to me that we always kill ... when we could take a prisoner?’
‘Not to my knowledge,’ he said as he eased back
‘Then I broke no law, no rule, and no order, sir. But, if the situation is not clear next time, if there is a next time, then make it clear, sir: shoot to kill is our policy.’
‘If you kill someone, Wilco, they don’t shoot back,’ the Major noted. ‘And it’s not just you out there.’
‘I could just have easily have missed and winged one when I meant to kill them; three hundred yards, stiff breeze, moving target. There were no guarantees, sir. And if one of ours was close by, and in danger, I’d aim to kill, and then hit them again when they’re down. That was not the case, we had no one close by.’