Wilco- Lone Wolf 2

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘Just a few kicks and punches thankfully.’

  I faced Slider and Rocko. ‘Get the bodies out the lorry cabs, get them started, we’re leaving in two minutes.’ I faced the Deputy Ambassador. ‘Best get back on board, sir.’

  I tapped Swifty on the head. ‘Get him back up there as soon as you can, ride in the back.’

  The trucks rumbled into life, and I walked around to the first truck, seeing Rocko leant back and kicking the shattered windscreen out. Approaching a jeep, I took several magazines from fighters as the four French soldiers loaded and checked weapons taken off the dead.

  ‘Take spare magazines,’ I told them, and they copied me as I pinched away more mags. ‘Then back on the trucks. One minute.’

  I turned away, but one French soldier said, ‘We are more, in village.’

  I turned back. ‘More of you, in village?’

  The man nodded.

  ‘How many fighters in village?’

  He shrugged. ‘Forty.’

  I exchanged a look with Rizzo. I told the French soldier, ‘We have to get these people safe, then ... maybe we come back. Get in the truck, please.’

  ‘This jeep is still running,’ Rizzo pointed out, and dragged out a bloodied body before easing in, Smurf dragging the passenger out ready to get him himself.

  ‘Smurf, you hit?’ I asked when I noticed the blood down one side of his face.

  ‘Ricochet, no big deal.’

  I pointed the French soldiers to the jeep. ‘In please.’

  Turning, I caught sight of Moran, the Captain looking very worried and pale, and I had forgotten his wound. I ran over. ‘Where are you hit, sir?’

  ‘Stomach,’ he weakly got out.

  Kneeling and placing my rifle down, I undid his webbing at the front and unzipped his bandolier, pulling away his jacket and finding a brown shirt that was black with blood. Lifting that shirt, I could see a through and through. Grabbing a field dressing, I said with a smile, ‘Just a through and through, sir, you’ll live a long time yet.’

  ‘I will?’ he asked in a voice that made me grin.

  I got antibiotic cream onto the pad, then onto the wound, making him flinch, and wrapped it around his waist as best I could. ‘Sir, look at this way,’ I began, and glanced over my shoulder as I wrapped the dressing ties around his waist several times. ‘If you bravely fight on, the lads in the regiment will have lots of respect for you. They don’t know it’s minor.’

  ‘What? Oh, yes.’ He nodded weakly as I pulled down his jacket.

  ‘Get in the lorry cab, sir,’ I said as Rizzo revved a jeep, and he edged his stolen ride past several damaged jeeps, running over two bodies as he went, and I wondered if that was deliberate.

  As Captain Moran gingerly eased up next to Rocko, I ran to the tailgate, seeing a full truck, Swifty inside and issuing first aid where necessary. ‘All the hostages back inside, none wandered off?’ I asked him.

  ‘Fuck knows,’ Swifty replied, and started asking questions of the hostages.

  Turning, I found Slider at the wheel of the second truck ready and jogged to the rear, the tailgate down and the dishevelled and haunted looking hostages still aboard. I threw them one of my water bottles and closed the tailgate.

  Attending my radio, I said, ‘Stretch, get down here now,’ and returned to the cab, getting in next to Slider – who had kicked out the shattered windscreen. Leaning out the window, I could see Stretch running down, and I waved Slider on, the truck easing forwards and towards the scree slope, Rocko following Rizzo.

  When Stretch skidded down the scree I said, ‘In the back, check the wounded, and watch our rear!’

  Slider halted, the engine revving, and I could see Stretch’s hand on the side of the canvas, waving Slider on. We edged around the damaged jeeps and picked up speed as I took out my sat phone and dialled.

  ‘Ark Royal,’ came a refined voice.

  ‘This is Wilco, SAS, hostages rescued, some wounded, I have wounded men, need immediate recovery, we are driving east from the target village, I repeat, we are driving east from the target village, do you have helos available?’

  ‘We have two available only, one on shore and one down. Standby.’ I could hear voices in the background as I waited. ‘Two helos will be taking off in five minutes, over.’

  ‘Tell the pilots to find the drop zone, then the village ten miles due east, and beyond it is a road heading east, and there are not many roads. Tell them to avoid the village, they have weapons. We’ll drive east till we see or hear the helos. We’re one white jeep and two grey canvas-backed trucks. We have twenty hostages, I say again, twenty hostages. Copy that?’

  ‘Yes, got that. Standby, will call this number with any updates and ETA. Out.’

  I cut the call and dialled the Major, waiting for a connect as we drove down a dead straight and featureless road, the truck cab a bit breezy with no glass.

  ‘Major Bradley.’

  ‘It’s Wilco, sir, we grabbed the hostages.’

  ‘You what!’

  ‘They were being moved, sir, a vehicle convoy, and we were right above that road, so we opened up on the convoy, sir, got the hostages, none dead, but Captain Moran has a through and through.’

  ‘He’ll live?’

  ‘Yes, sir, a few days off only. And we rescued four French soldiers as well, so let the French know. We are driving east from the target village, Ark Royal is sending two Sea Kings.’

  ‘Excellent work, Wilco, hell of a stink about that French raid.’

  ‘I’ll update you soon, sir. Wilco out.’

  Ten minutes down a never ending straight road, and we found a road leading off it, heading north.

  I clicked on my radio. ‘Rizzo, pull up here.’

  The convoy eased to a gentle halt, and I jumped down, Slider following me down.

  ‘How long till the choppers get here?’ he asked, a hand over his eyes.

  ‘Anything up to another thirty minutes,’ I said as I took in the flat expanse, the rest of the gang out and checking the horizon. At the tailgate, I asked Swifty how the wounded were.

  ‘Malnutrition, bruises, maybe some broken ribs, and a guy with gunshot wound to the leg. I injected him with antibiotics, stopped the bleeding I think.’

  ‘Helos inbound, thirty minutes.’

  He took in the horizon. ‘No fucker gunna sneak up on us here.’

  ‘Thank you,’ came a lady’s voice, her face badly bruised.

  ‘No problem, it’s what we do,’ I told her. ‘Helicopter will be here soon, just sit tight.’ I faced Swifty. ‘Moran has a through and through but he’s battling on.’

  ‘Hell of a first job for him.’

  Ten minutes later, the area very quiet, Rizzo came on the radio. ‘Jeep approaching.’

  I replied, ‘Wait till it gets close, drive slowly at it, open up and speed up – if it’s gunmen. Make sure you see a weapon first! Understand!’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’

  I climbed back into the cab and watched him go, his jeep turning north slowly, only then realising that he had four French soldiers in the back. As the two vehicles approached each other he increased speed, all of us keenly watching, rifles ready, and as they closed we saw a swerve, a swerve back, the cracks hitting us a few seconds later, the two jeeps passing each other, a clatter of fire registering – and I was regretting this manoeuvre already.

  The approaching vehicle slowed, turned off the road and bumped into a ditch, Rizzo badly executing a three point turn before driving back to the visitor, more cracks reaching us before Rizzo increased speed and returned to us.

  I attend my radio. ‘Rizzo, report.’

  ‘Got the fuckers, four of them armed to the teeth,’ crackled into my ear.

  ‘Any wounded? Check the French soldiers.’

  ‘They’re OK,’ came Smurf’s voice. ‘They emptied their mags into the ragheads.’

  I turned to Slider. ‘Guess they had some anger to vent.’

  With the jeep back, I issued the
French fresh magazines, pinching many of Captain Moran’s and handing them out.

  A call from Rocko, and I faced the road we had come up. Two jeeps had halted some five hundred yards away. ‘See if you can hit them,’ I told him.

  Stood on the truck bonnet, resting on the top of the cab, he took careful aim as well all observed, and he loosed off a few rounds, the jeeps departing sharpish.

  Swifty jumped down and joined me, taking in the endless horizon. ‘Hell of fucking spot. No nothing here, just sand.’

  I nodded, thinking of films about French soldiers on camels in these parts.

  ‘Wilco!’

  I turned, but could hear the helicopters soon enough.

  ‘Get the hostages down!’ I shouted, and we all ran to the tailgates, helping the civvys down and leading them back down the road, back the way we came. I bunched them up, and asked them to kneel, and to close their eyes when the helicopter landed.

  The two grey Sea Kings descended and flared, and I stood waving at them, no doubt about who we were, the nose of the first Sea King hitting the road just twenty feet in front of me, a Marine jumping down, his weapon ready.

  Bent double, I led ten hostages forwards, the crewman helping them inside.

  I pointed at him and gave ten fingers plus a shrug. He waved flat hands, ten was enough, the Marine last to be back aboard, and I ran back to the truck. The helo lifted up and headed off, the second Sea King touching down, and I made sure that Captain Moran was on first – despite him loudly protesting that he was OK to go on, followed by six hostages, the French soldiers last.

  I ran to them. ‘You want to go, or you go to village with us?’

  ‘We go to village,’ one man said, but two were reluctant, so I had them disarmed and led to the helo, sending it off.

  As it fell quiet, Swifty said, ‘Now what?’

  I waved over the lads. ‘Those helos won’t be back for an hour at most, baring mechanical faults.’

  ‘What are you not telling us,’ Swifty asked.

  I took in the faces as they squinted in the bright light. ‘There are more hostages at that village, another four French soldiers – at least, and they won’t be expecting us.’

  ‘They will, we fired at them back there,’ Rocko noted.

  ‘And then they heard the helicopters,’ I pointed out. ‘They think we’ve gone. Or we sit here, get a tan, and hope for a ride out.’

  ‘If a big convoy comes up that road we’re a bit exposed here,’ Swifty noted, a wary eye on the horizon.

  ‘Anyone want to pull out of an assault on the village?’ I waited, and they glanced at each other. ‘We killed most of them already, fuck all left with a bit of luck. Think about it, I need to call this in.’

  I stepped away, and called Major Ducat first.

  ‘Ducat.’

  ‘It’s Wilco, sir, we ... observed a vehicle convoy leaving with hostages and ambushed that convoy successfully, and we got them aboard our helicopters without fatalities. We rescued four of your soldiers, two sent on the helicopters, two still with us.’

  ‘That is something, I suppose.’

  I struggled to understand his attitude. ‘We may go back to the village, sir, and look for your other men, and the other hostages. Do you have helicopters available, sir?’

  ‘We do. But what is your plan?’

  ‘Plan is to call your helicopters if we get the hostages, sir, we may abort.’

  ‘I await your call, yes.’ And he hung up.

  ‘Fucking prick,’ I muttered as I dialled the Major.

  ‘Wilco?’

  ‘Yes, sir, just loaded the hostages into the Sea Kings, as well Captain Moran, still got two French soldiers with us.’

  ‘You’re still on the ground?’

  ‘In the middle of nowhere, sir, ten miles east of that village.’

  ‘Helos coming back for you?’

  ‘Well...’

  ‘Wilco?’

  ‘We’re fit and well, and there are more hostages, and we have the element of surprise, and we killed most every fucker in the village already. Be a good result for you, sir.’

  ‘We already have one man wounded.’

  ‘I’m planning on going back, unless ... you scream down the phone.’

  There came a long silence. ‘We never had this conversation, and you never reported your intentions.’ He hung up.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ I offered the phone.

  ‘Well?’ Rizzo asked, sipping water.

  ‘We go back to the village, unless anyone has any objections.’ I waited, taking in their faces as they squinted in the bright sunlight.

  ‘I’m fit,’ said Smurf, dried blood down his face.

  ‘Mount up then, back down that road.’

  Rocko and Slider executed terrible three point turns at the junction, and Rizzo led us back down the road at a steady speed. Approaching the hills, I could see a faint track left and radioed Rizzo to follow it. We bumped along slowly for ten minutes, and we turned into the hills and halted when I reached across and tooted the horn of the truck I was in. We jumped down and grouped.

  ‘We leave them here?’ Rocko protested. ‘What’ll we move the hostages in?’

  ‘Plenty of jeeps in the village,’ I said, and led them off at a fast pace southwest, a sweat worked up, water shared with the French soldiers, and as the sun started to dip we cut around to where the bodies had been found, a goat track taking us to a good position at the rear of the town.

  Swifty called me, and we peered down. The burnt out jeeps had been moved, the road cleared, and a sentry jeep was parked 600yards down the road south. ‘Still plenty of men here,’ he cautioned.

  ‘Need a diversion.’ I knelt and took out the sat phone, a glance at the sun as it dipped low on the horizon.

  ‘Ark Royal.’

  ‘This is Wilco, SAS, are your two Sea Kings back and ready?’

  ‘Yes, back safe, hostages and wounded being taken care of, your officer on the operating table as we speak. We could dispatch them soon, one minor fault being looked over.’

  ‘What I would like, sir, is a decoy. They approach the village just after dark, land a mile due west, touchdown for twenty seconds, and leave.’

  ‘What will that achieve?’

  ‘It will make the fighters think you dropped soldiers, and we’ll assault from behind, sir. And, sir, after they do that, can they fly to the French base, it’s closer, and standby ready to come get hostages, with our without additional French helos.’

  ‘Sounds workable, I’ll discuss it with the captain. The area where they’ll land, it’s bandit free?’

  ‘Yes, sir, you have my word.’

  ‘Well, it’s just a touchdown and go, sounds OK.’

  ‘I’ll call you back when we’re ready, sir, about an hour from now. Wilco out.’

  Phone away, I led the team on and to a natural fire position. Whispering, I said, ‘Swifty, you and the two French lads, here. Cover that road and this side of the village. Expect helos to touch down and create a diversion hour and half from now, that’s the start signal.’

  With Swifty getting comfortable I quietly led the remainder down a well defined track, cooking in our nostrils, lights flickering from nearby houses as we lost the light.

  With a jeep moving below we got down and waited for it to pass, and I noticed a track between houses, far enough away to avoid being heard by householders. It was darker now, the track having some scrub and bushes, but I waited till it was fully dark, twenty minutes sat observing the village before heading up that track very slowly and very quietly.

  With a dog barking in the distance we knelt and waited, five minutes used up, another ten minutes to reach a point directly behind and above the main compound, and we could even see people moving around inside, it’s main entrance on the right.

  I had the guys spread out and lay down, took Smurf’s rifle and told him to pull his pistol, and I sent him down to the back of the compound, his dark outline receding. We could see him clamber up
a tree, reach across and lay on top of the mud wall. A few minutes later he eased down, through the tree and up to us.

  Whispering, he told me as he grabbed his rifle, ‘Twenty or thirty fighters inside, room on the right has westerners.’

  ‘How many?’ I whispered.

  ‘Could see a few heads, could be more.’

  I pulled out the sat phone and dialled.

  ‘Ark Royal.’

  ‘Wilco here, need to whisper, how we looking, sir?’

  ‘Ready when you are.’

  ‘Leave now, sir, we’ll move after you touch and go.’

  ‘Understood. Ark Royal out.’

  I clicked on the radio. ‘Thirty minutes, then the helicopters will make some nose in the distance, then we move, but not till some of those fighters have left the building. Swifty, you copy?’

  ‘Yeah, got that.’

  ‘Rest of you, exit route is this path, back to Swifty, nice and quiet – if we can.’

  Waiting in the dark was hell, because there was every chance of someone out walking, or a stray dog wandering around.

  Fifteen minutes later, I clicked on the radio. ‘Slider, Rocko, silencers fitted, rags, move past me and to where you can see the lane next to the right side of the compound. Your jobs will be to hit any fighters, but not us. Move now.’

  I could hear them scurry past a few yards and settle down.

  ‘Stretch, Rizzo, when I say - down the left side and to the front, shoot anyone coming back to the compound, back up here on recall, sounding out if wounded. Smurf, you’ll be up on that wall, your updates critical, so sound them out. I’ll be going over the wall. Any questions? No? Good, standby.’

  I checked my pistol and put it away, a spare magazine in a pocket. And we waited in the dark, a jeep coming and going, fighters coming and going, distant dogs barking, moths flittering about the lights below.

  ‘Wilco,’ Rocko hissed. ‘Someone coming down this path!’

  I looked beyond him, a dark outline approaching, some hundred yards to cover. ‘Wait till they’re very close, then drop them, nothing else we can do.’

  ‘I can hear helicopters,’ came from Smurf, and we all listened. Yes, the dull resonance of a helicopter. And the figure on the path also halted to listen.

  Men below started running around, but mostly running out of the compound as the resonating drone of choppers grew louder. As they did, I clicked on the radio. ‘Rocko, drop that person now.’