Wilco- Lone Wolf 2

by Geoff Wolak

  Ten yards on and I froze. Turning, I said, ‘Smell it?’

  Tabby closed in, sniffing. ‘Dead body.’

  I knelt and dropped my pack as the lads looked concerned. Using my nose, I found the body, a civilian, and then backtracked. ‘Civilian, been dead a few weeks. Someone stopped on that road, executed them in here. No drag marks, they walked to their own death.’ I lifted up my Bergen.

  ‘How does that affect things?’ Tyler asked, and I saw Tabby roll his eyes.

  ‘It means, sir, that this area is used regular,’ I said before I moved off through the trees.

  They followed close behind, and we all had to watch where we were walking, the progress slow before I found a track heading due south. Careful examination of the track convinced me that no one had used it in many weeks, and I reported that fact, Tyler interested in what I was looking out for. We turned onto the track, but now I was twenty yards ahead.

  From the east, a wider track joined ours, or rather our little track joined the wider track. Still, it did not look like it was in regular use. I dropped my pack and told them to create a defensive circle, and I walked east up the track, checking the ground carefully. After a hundred yards I returned, then checked the opposite direction, back after ten minutes.

  I told Tabby, ‘No vehicle use, not much use at all recently, all mossed over.’

  ‘Fine,’ he simply said as Bob helped me get my Bergen on, and we again set off south, each man five yards apart and watching the forest, a typical SAS patrol, the last man walking backwards and checking our rear.

  We descended, the slope getting steeper as we advanced, our path finally intersected by another at right angles. They ducked into the trees and I dumped my Bergen, soon walking east down the new path for a hundred yards. From there I could see that the woods thinned out and that fields began.

  To my right was the dense forest from hell, to my left a steep overgrown bank. I turned around and jogged back, waving as I passed the guys. The path curved around and headed south, and after sixty yards I stepped off it and to the right, thirty yards through the trees.

  ‘This is Wilco. Bingo.’

  ‘What you got?’ Tabby asked.

  ‘Nice view point, artillery piece being moved about one kilometre down the slope, some other trucks.’

  ‘OK, come back.’

  I headed back. In front of Tabby, I reported, ‘A patrol came up that track a few days ago.’

  ‘Yeah?’ he asked, making a face. ‘But could they find us, that’s the question.’

  I led them down the track, and to the would-be OP, everyone having a look, Tabby happy with it, so he sent me out to scout around.

  Following the track south, parallel to the open ground west that dropped away, I plodded on two hundred yards and found that the track turned east sharply, and that I had a view down three hundred yards of it as it became a tunnel in the dark forest from hell. Backtracking, I found a pile of fallen logs covered in moss, a perfect shelter for us, and in a perfect position. I hurried back.

  ‘Tabby, I found a shelter for us, and a great defensive position, just thirty-five yards from here. So we can be snug there, one man on stag here watching the road.’

  He considered it, then again made a face. ‘C’mon then, let’s go have a look see.’

  I led the patrol to the fallen logs and we all bunched up inside the natural defensive position.

  ‘Excellent,’ Tabby approved. ‘Hidden, be warm and cosy with a poncho on top, and solid wood in case any fucker shoots at us.’

  We dropped our Bergens and rigged up two ponchos, soon snug and warm, another two ponchos on the floor, and now it felt like a log cabin.

  ‘Wilco,’ Tabby called. ‘What stag do you want?’

  ‘I want to sleep midnight to 5a.m.,’ I replied, the guys laughing.

  ‘Fine, go watch that road and write down the movements, back here when it gets dark.’

  ‘I hear and obey, oh wise one,’ I quipped as I headed off.

  At the forest edge, I scanned the area till I found what I thought was the best OP, broke branches off the evergreens and made a mat to lie on, branches dug into the ground for extra camouflage. Lying down, I was now sure that I was invisible unless someone was right next to me, and I focused my telescopic sight on the road, soon noting movement of trucks, but no more artillery pieces.

  An hour later and I was shivering a little, badly in need of a jog and some stretching.

  ‘Wilco,’ came Tyler’s voice over the radio.

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Where the heck are you?’

  I turned around. ‘Nowhere near you, sir. Where are you?’

  ‘Walking down the path, back the way we came.’

  ‘Keep coming.’ I waited, soon hearing him. ‘Keep coming. OK, stop, turn left ninety degrees, walk towards the forest edge.’

  He walked right past me, and stopped, crouching down. ‘Can you see me?’

  ‘Four feet to the left of you, sir,’ I said into the radio.

  Tyler turned, squinted, and then approached me. ‘Fucking hell,’ he whispered, then handed me a cup of steaming tea.

  ‘Much appreciated,’ I said as I eased up and sat against a log, unclipping the side of my facemask.

  ‘Even this close you don’t look like a person,’ he complained as he sat back against a tree.

  ‘That is the whole point, sir.’ I sipped the tea. ‘Here you are, smart man like you with a nice bird back home, sat in a cold damp forest when you could be driving a desk in some law firm.’

  ‘Yeah, bollocks,’ he let out, and I laughed at his dark green outline.

  I sipped the tea. ‘How are things with you and Sue?’

  ‘Yes, fine. Great even. Glad I took your advice and pursued it.’

  ‘You work shitty hours, she works shitty hours, so a match made in heaven.’

  ‘I do worry about her, being on the beat.’

  I laughed. ‘As opposed to your safe job. Take a fucking look around you at where you are.’

  ‘Well, yes, but -’

  ‘But nothing. She’s allowed to worry about you as well, women’s lib and all that these days.’

  ‘I suppose, but I told her I would be nowhere near the fighting.’

  ‘Oh dear, not even married yet and already you’re lying to the poor girl,’ I teased.

  ‘This patrol should be quiet, and I won’t mention it.’

  ‘My lips are sealed,’ I mocked. ‘I won’t be telling her that you needed to beat your chest and show your worth to the men.’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ he complained. ‘Officers need experience as well as the men.’

  I dropped the remains of the tea and issued a low, ‘Shhhhh.’ He readied his weapon as I turned my head like a radar. Facing the slope, I lifted my rifle and peered through the sights, focusing on a copse some four hundred yards down the slope.

  Lifting up, I transmitted, ‘Tabby, you there, we got movement.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ came a calm voice.

  ‘Four hundred yards down the slope, six militiamen, heavily armed, got a brew going in a small copse, vehicle beyond the copse.’

  ‘Keep an eye on them. If they start this way let us know. Out.’

  Tyler crept forwards and had a look, and I passed over my rifle so that he could peer through the sights.

  ‘They have their rifles leant up against the trees,’ he complained.

  ‘Sloppy soldiers,’ I mocked. ‘But still very dangerous.’

  Tyler observed the men with me for ten minutes before heading back. After half an hour the militia men re-joined their vehicle.

  ‘This is Wilco, they’re leaving ... after a nice cuppa and a shit in the woods. And we got an hour of daylight left.’

  As it got dark I headed back. ‘I’m coming in, don’t shoot,’ I transmitted.

  ‘Where are you?’ Taffy asked as I got closer.

  ‘Ten yards away, fingers off triggers.’

  ‘Can’t pigging see you,’ ca
me a Welsh accent.

  I got close enough to tap him on the side of the head, scaring him.

  ‘Fucking ‘ell you scared me!’ he complained as the lads laughed at him.

  ‘Well?’ Tabby asked me, his managerial voice on.

  I eased under the poncho and knelt. ‘The best traffic was when we first got here, so maybe they move at dawn or something. Fuck all this afternoon.’

  ‘I reported the two artillery pieces using the sat phone,’ Tyler mentioned. ‘But the weather is no good for flying.’

  ‘Maybe tomorrow,’ I said.

  Tabby began, but definitely not in his managerial voice, ‘I wanna see a Tornado or F16 drop a big bomb on the fuckers as they make a brew.’

  ‘We’ve got the vantage point,’ I noted.

  After cooking myself a half-decent meal of rations, and stuffing down two packets of chocolate Rolos, I swigged my water and eased out. ‘I’m going to do a sweep, don’t fucking shoot at shadows.’

  I got a grunt back from Taffy, who was on stag till Tabby relieved him, Tabby now snoring happily in his sleeping bag. Tyler wished me luck, and off I plodded, soon in combat mode and switched on as we lost the light, now just black trees against a dark grey background with which to navigate through.

  I joined the track and walked slowly along it, stopping every ten paces to listen and not wanting to run into a patrol of angry Serbs coming the other way. At the point where the track turned east I halted for ten minutes, listening more than looking, then edged slowly down to the east, right to the edge of the woods, a light from a house glimpsed in the distance.

  Back up to the lads, about forty minutes later, I headed on past them quietly and pressed on down the path, heading due south, right down to the end of the woods, some six hundred yards beyond any kind of backup from the patrol. I could see house lights in the distance, and I remembered a river from the map.

  Back near the patrol den, I turned east and plodded slowly down the track, soon in pitch blackness as the track penetrated the dark nasty wood from hell. At the far side I could again see distant house lights, but there were no Serbs making a happy home anywhere nearby that would spoil my sleep. I turned and plodded slowly back up the track, through the eerily quiet tunnel that the forest made around the track.

  Sounds. Twigs cracking, off to my left, opposite direction to the patrol den.

  I froze, and listened. They were getting closer, the sounds, now about twenty yards away. I lifted my rifle and adopted the trigger, knowing that the weapon was cocked ready, safety off, single shot selected. I peered into the blackness.

  Someone, or some thing, was slowly progressing through the dense forest, and most people would have been terrified to be here, but I found myself smiling. I was not the one in danger, the big bad wolf was the one in danger.

  Easing down, I felt around until I found a small stone, then threw it towards the sounds, a tree hit and an echo issued. Whatever it was scampered off, making me smile. It could have been a small bear I considered as I headed back up the track.

  At midnight I was sat on my plastic mat, in my sleeping bag, snug and cosy, Tabby still snoring away.

  A kick woke me. ‘You awake?’ Bob asked me in a whisper.

  ‘I am now,’ I told him, and I eased out of my bag into a grey half-light, and I rolled it up whilst trying to be quiet. Standing, I realised that I had slept well, and that I felt good. ‘I’m going to take a look around, don’t shoot at anything.’

  Stopping to take a piss beyond the track, I stretched for five minutes before heading to the OP. Getting there, I could hear trucks, lots of trucks, but it was still too dark to see them. Maybe they were moving at dawn, and that would make sense.

  But there were other sounds as well, and dogs barking a long way off. That worried me. Not being able to see anything down the slope, I rejoined the track and headed south, soon peering down the dark tunnel through the woods and not seeing or hearing any movement, but I could hear something. Pushing on further south, I progressed slowly, the sounds getting louder; there was someone ahead, maybe forest workers.

  I stopped and knelt, getting a fix on where they were, then I broke right, almost to the edge of the forest, and I edged very slowly south, the light improving all the time.

  Stopping and freezing, I heard someone running towards me and I readied my rifle, wondering if I should alert the lads. A dark outline appeared, a weapon slung, and he became a real form as he closed to within ten yards, not seeing me.

  He stopped, took a steaming piss right in front of me, and then ran back. Whoever they were, they were not the most switched on group of boy scouts.

  Inching slowly forwards, I moved tree to tree, bush to bush, soon stopping when I glimpsed a bright orange tent. ‘What the fuck...?’

  Next to the tent they had a raging fire going, flames leaping into the air and about to set fire to the forest, and beyond the fire I could see forty men in uniform, but young men, weapons held as if they had just had an hour’s lesson – and nothing more.

  These guys were wandering around with their thumbs up their arses, laughing and joking, and cooking. I shook my head; where the hell did they think they were.

  Then I realised that it was us, our patrol, that were the outsiders, and these guys lived here; this was their back yard. And why the hell would they expect and SAS patrol to be here anyhow?

  We were probably the last thing they would have expected to come across. Still, they were armed, and there were lots of them. I turned back in a hurry, but made sure that I was not seen.

  ‘This is Wilco, stand to, get ready to move, large patrol south of us. Stand to, stand to!’

  I got back ten minutes later, everyone up and in a flap. I knelt in front of Tabby. ‘It’s fucking odd.’

  ‘What is?’ he asked.

  ‘Three hundred yards south of us is the local marching band on a weekend camp.’

  ‘You what?’ Tabby asked.

  ‘There are thirty or forty of them, all armed, but they’re young lads, orange tents, camp fires going.’

  Tabby exchanged a look with a nervous Tyler. ‘Orange tents?’ Tabby repeated.

  ‘Yep, and making lots of noise, not a care in the world, no sentries posted. Whoever they are, they’re not the brightest bunch of soldiers on the planet.’

  ‘What do we do?’ Tyler asked, as much of me as Tabby.

  Tabby had no immediate answer, so I said, ‘We’re OK here for a while, but if they wander down they might trip across us by accident, then it’s us against forty of them. They’re raw recruits by the look of it, but a stray round might wound one of us.’ I stood. ‘Oh, and lots of movement on that road down the slope, so I think they are moving at dawn. Tabby, I’m going to scout around north...’

  He nodded. ‘Report back, stay out of sight,’ he felt he needed to say.

  I rejoined the path and turned right, heading north slowly as I listened intently, ready to shoot. It took me a long ten minutes to near the bend in the path, and movement caught my eye up ahead. I knelt behind a stump, a thin bush covering me, and I peered through the telescopic sight. My heart skipped a beat.

  Coming down the path was a four-man patrol, all camouflaged, faces behind black balaclavas, long rifles with silencers. They were watching where they were stepping, covering each other, rifles to the ready.

  ‘Wilco for Tabby,’ I whispered.

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Stand to, contact imminent from the north, Serb Special Forces, four man patrol moving slow.’

  I got no reply, and as I focused again in the patrol as they halted, and they stepped into the dense undergrowth and took up hidden fire positions above the track, and soon I could not see them. Panning right, I caught sight of two similar soldiers camouflaging their position, and two down the slope two hundred yards. ‘Fuck.’

  My heart was racing; these were Special Forces, and they had cut off any escape north. The only thing in our favour was the fact that they were not advancing.

&nbs
p; Easing back very slowly, I made sure I used the bushes for cover as I headed back to the patrol.

  ‘It’s Wilco, don’t shoot, fingers off triggers, I’m coming in from the track.’

  Tyler eased up from his position, weapon ready, and Tabby turned around, the lads closing in, all now very keen to hear my report.

  ‘Report,’ Tabby whispered.

  ‘Ten or twelve men that I could see, Special Forces -’

  ‘How’d you know they’re Special Forces,’ Tabby challenged.

  ‘Because they look like my fucking twin brother; same camouflage, same long rifle, silencers fitted!’

  Tabby glanced at the lads, uneasy looks exchanged.

  ‘They ain’t boy scouts!’ I hissed.

  ‘What they doing?’ Tabby asked.

  ‘They’ve dug in above that track to the north, taking fire positions. Walk fifty yards north and you’re in their sights.’

  ‘How’d they know we’re here?’ Bob hissed.

  ‘They may not know we’re here,’ I offered, but I did not sound convincing.

  ‘Could they pick up our radios?’ Tyler asked.

  ‘Most were off during the night,’ I said. ‘And they are very weak, only good for five hundred yards at best. Main radio has been on only for short bursts.’

  ‘What about that sat phone,’ Tabby accused of Tyler, getting a look back from the Captain.

  ‘No, sat phones can’t be easily traced,’ I insisted.

  ‘Did we leave tracks?’ Taffy asked, sounding concerned.

  ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘But I doubt they could follow them. And why dig in and wait? And if they know we are here, what’s with the fucking marching band south of us?’

  ‘We can get into the dark bit of forest there,’ Tabby suggested.

  ‘That cluster is two hundred yards square,’ I reported. ‘Not a big area to piss around in, and the far side is open ground.’ Looks were exchanged. I told Tabby, ‘I want to go back out there and circle around, just in case there are any more nasty surprises out there.’

  After a moment of indecision, Tabby nodded, and I set off at the double. I returned to the boy scouts, and they were still there, still making a hell of a racket, and not advancing on us. Doubling back, I reported over the radio, ‘Boy scouts are not moving, they’re sat around the camp fire, thumbs up arses.’