Soldier L: The Embassy Siege

by Shaun Clarke

  ‘What weapons will we have?’ Jock Thompson asked.

  ‘The Ingram?’ Blue Team’s Lance-Corporal ‘Danny Boy’ Reynolds asked, referring to the American 9mm sub-machine-gun normally favoured by the SAS CT teams.

  ‘No,’ the Controller replied. ‘Since the joint SAS/GSG assault on the hijacked Lufthansa airliner at Mogadishu, we’ve been looking for a weapon that fires rapidly and precisely, but at low velocity, so that the bullets will hit the intended target without penetrating it and striking another. As excessive fire-power will result in a propaganda victory for the terrorists, we want this operation over as quickly as possible. We’ve therefore settled on the Heckler & Koch MP5.

  ‘Untried,’ Blue Team’s special sniper, Sergeant Pat ‘Paddy’ Shannon said bluntly.

  ‘Untrue. It’s been tried and proven excellent.’

  ‘In what way?’ Staff-Sergeant Harrison asked.

  ‘Like the Ingram, it’s small and compact – 5½ lb when empty; 27 inches in length. Unlike the Ingram, however, it fires from a closed bolt, which reduces the shift in balance when it’s fired, thus giving it uncommon accuracy. For this reason, also, it rarely jams. Calibre, 9mm. Rate of fire, 800 rounds per minute. It offers a choice of single-shot, fully automatic or three-round burst fire, with an effective range of 200 yards. Fifteen- or twenty-round box magazine.’

  ‘I read somewhere that this weapon does jam,’ Harrison objected.

  ‘Earlier models did. The latest model doesn’t.’

  ‘Ho, ho,’ Inman said in his usual mocking manner.

  The Controller just grinned. ‘The weapon was made in West Germany. We know how bright the Germans are. They soon discovered that another, foreign-made bullet could yield unparalleled accuracy. Those bullets, however, were the culprits that caused the old-style magazine to jam. The problem was solved simply by making the magazine curved instead. It doesn’t jam any more.’

  ‘Let’s hope not,’ Inman said.

  ‘What else will we be using?’ Blue Team’s Trooper ‘Bobs-boy’ Quayle asked.

  ‘The Browning 9mm High Power handgun …’

  ‘The good old 9-milly!’ Bobs-boy crowed, referring to the thirteen-round weapon beloved of the SAS ever since its use in the famous Keeni Meeni assassination operations in Aden during the early 1960s.

  ‘… and the Remington 870 pump-action shotgun, which we’ll need to blast the locks from the doors of locked rooms. Also, plastic explosives and flash-bangs, the latter for their shock effect on the terrorists during the first few seconds of the siege, and CS gas grenades. To prevent you from wasting time donning gas masks during the attack, you’ll put them on before the attack commences and wear them throughout the whole operation.’

  ‘The flash-bangs and CS gas grenades could cause a fire inside the building,’ Harrison pointed out.

  ‘That’s a chance we’ll have to take,’ the Controller replied. ‘Apart from the sub-machine-guns, we have nothing more effective in such a confined space – particularly if we’re masked against the gas and the terrorists aren’t.’

  ‘So what’s the plan of action?’ asked the baby-faced killer, Danny Porter.

  ‘The police are negotiating with the terrorists at this moment,’ the Controller said, ‘and have so far succeeded in having a few of the hostages released. They are already being debriefed and will provide invaluable information about the state of mind of the terrorists, what weapons they have, and where they’re holding the other hostages. The negotiations are also distracting the terrorists, and buying the police time, enabling the latter to bug the building and scan it with thermal imagers.’

  ‘So what do we do while they’re scanning the building?’ Jock asked.

  ‘You’re in two teams: Red and Blue. The Red Team will be insinuated into the Royal College of Medical Practitioners, located right next door to the Embassy. This team will be headed by Captain Williams, your CRW instructor, and consist of twenty-four men. To avoid the press, you’ll be transported from here by hired vans to the Regent’s Park Barracks of the Household Cavalry, in Albany Street, where you will stay when not on alert. You will, however, when called out on alert or for daily training, be smuggled into the grounds of the college in the same Avis vans. From there you will make your way to the Forward Holding Area in the college by clambering unseen over the walls and rear gardens.’

  ‘And once in the FHA?’ Harrison asked.

  ‘Your team’s task is twofold. First, you have to be ready for an assault on the Embassy at ten minutes’ notice, if the terrorists start killing. To be known as the “Immediate Action Plan”, this will involve breaking in through the upper windows to clear the building room by room with CS gas and firearms, trusting that you can reach the hostages before the terrorists slaughter them. Your second task is to prepare for the “Deliberate Assault Plan”, which is to be put into motion at a time chosen by us if and when the terrorists are exhausted and the location of the hostages is known.’

  ‘Do we have much info on the Embassy?’ Inman asked.

  ‘Quite a lot, in fact. For a start, hostages are already being released and debriefed, which should produce a good deal of intelligence over the next few hours. Also, we have complete drawings which you’ll be shown when the training commences.’

  ‘And in the meantime?’

  ‘Basically, what we’re dealing with is a fortress situation. The Embassy is a very large, mid-terrace building on six floors, four of which are above ground. There are fifty rooms in all. It’s to the advantage of the terrorists that the building can easily be defended front and rear because of the open spaces to either side of it. We’re therefore considering a frontal charge, as well as abseiling from the roof onto the balconies along the front of the building. Before any final plan for that is made, however, and while more information about the inside of the Embassy is being received, our own Intelligence cell, aided by a member of the Embassy staff, is fabricating a model of the building. Based on this information, a full-scale hessian model of the Embassy’s main rooms is already being constructed at Regent’s Park Barracks, where an Embassy caretaker will describe the layout for us.’

  ‘Any questions?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then let’s go.’

  Excited to be back in business, the men hurried out of the briefing room.

  6

  Because this was the first SAS operation to take place on British soil and, worse still, in full view of the media, the usual arming of the men and donning of the required dress prior to the operation was avoided. Instead, the men of Red Team were transported from Hereford to London in hired vans, all wearing civilian clothing like factory workers and none of them armed. Their weapons and equipment were transported separately in crates stacked high in furniture vans.

  ‘I like travelling in style,’ Alan Pyle said sardonically as he sauntered with the others up to the van parked in the holding area. ‘It makes me feel right at home.’

  ‘He’s a Londoner,’ his fellow trooper, Ken Passmore, explained to those with ears. He was a clear-headed, unprejudiced Geordie. ‘I think that says it all.’

  ‘Right,’ his mate, Danny Boy, agreed, being from Bridlington, Humberside, which he often recalled with the deepest loathing. ‘People from the South, as we all know, are born and bred rich. They all travel in Avis vans.’

  ‘I’ve never been in one,’ Bobs-boy said. He was from Rickmansworth, Hertfordshire, and had seen the odd Avis van, though no one thought it was really that unusual that he had never been in one. ‘This will be my first time.’

  ‘You’re so sophisticated,’ Alan told him.

  ‘You think so?’ Bobs-boy asked. ‘I have to confess that I like the old 4 x 4 Bedford, so I might like the Avis.’

  ‘What a fucking prat!’ Corporal George ‘GG’ Gerrard whispered to his mate, Lance-Corporal Phil McArthur, as he swung the rear door of the van open. ‘Straight off the farm!’

  ‘Just get in the fucking van,’ Phil replied, ‘and let’s go a
nd find some action.’

  ‘I trust we do,’ grunted GG.

  Strangely enough, as the van was carrying them along the M40 to London, the men broke with tradition by avoiding the customary ‘bullshit’ and speaking only when necessary. Perhaps this was due to the fact that this was not a long journey, that they were wearing civilian clothing and that they all had the feeling that they were already in action. By the time they had left the motorway, the men were absolutely silent. When the van eventually turned in through the guarded gates of Regent’s Park Barracks, in Albany Street, they piled out and quickly made their way into the bleak, dusty barracks. Shocked by what they found on entering the dormitory chosen for them, they returned to the bullshit.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ GG groaned, taking in at a glance the dust on the brick window ledges and floor, between the rusty, steel-framed Army camp-beds with their battered, stained mattresses. ‘It looks like a cowshed.’

  ‘The Household Cavalry!’ Phil snorted. ‘I thought we’d be living like lords, but just look at this doss-house!’

  ‘I bet they live like lords.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The Household Cavalry. They’re probably in another part of the barracks, walking on thick carpets, sleeping in silk sheets, getting hand-jobs from maids in nothing but white aprons.’

  ‘We have to basha down here?’ Danny Boy could not believe it either. He had lived in many a hole in Humberside in his time, but this was the pits.

  ‘I lived better in Notting Hill Gate,’ Alan informed them, ‘when I shared a flat with half-a-dozen kids who didn’t know what a vacuum cleaner was and were too stoned to take a bath.’

  ‘These toilets stink,’ Baby Face announced from where he stood at the end of the dormitory. ‘The water’s come right up to the top and it’s covered in brown slime.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Bobs-boy said.

  ‘God have mercy!’ GG added.

  ‘Are you men complaining?’ Staff-Sergeant Jock Thompson asked, his shadow stretching out from his feet where he stood in the doorway, his thick arms folded across his broad chest, his face flushed and unsmiling.

  ‘Not me!’ GG said.

  ‘I’m happy as Larry,’ Bobs-boy said.

  ‘These toilets stink,’ Baby Face repeated, ‘so they must need unblocking.’

  ‘Then unblock them,’ Jock said, ‘and clean up this place. When you’ve done that, make up your bashas, unpack your kit, then go back out to the parking area to wait for the vans. If you’re not out there in thirty minutes sharp, you’ll all face a fine.’

  ‘Yes, boss!’ the men barked simultaneously, feeling blessed when Jock nodded grimly and departed once more.

  ‘Phew!’ Phil said softly. ‘Well, lads, let’s get to it.’

  They made up their bashas on the rusty steel-framed beds, quickly dusted down the floors and windows – though the dust returned almost immediately – managed with much cursing to unblock the toilets, then went back out to the parking area, where Jock was waiting for them, just in time to greet the arrival of the furniture vans. When the vans braked to a halt, the men unloaded the crates of weapons and equipment, then carried them inside with much huffing and puffing.

  ‘If we were in any other regiment,’ GG complained, ‘we’d have crap-hats to hump this stuff in for us. Trust the bloody SAS!’

  ‘I blame it all on the Household Cavalry,’ Phil said. ‘Those bastards are probably watching us right now from their more luxurious quarters.’

  ‘Having a good laugh,’ Bobs-boy said.

  ‘Spoilt bastards,’ added Danny Boy.

  ‘Stop whining!’ Jock bawled, appearing out of nowhere and casting his enormous shadow over them as they humped the gear in. ‘If I hear one more complaint from you lot, I’m going to start throwing fines around.’

  ‘No complaints from me,’ Bobs-boy said, struggling backwards with the crate being shared with Alan. ‘I love unpacking things.’

  ‘He’s gone already,’ Alan said, lowering his end of the crate, ‘so you can put the crate down. When you’ve done so, wipe the brown from your nose. It’s beginning to smell.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Never mind.’

  After opening the crates, the men stripped off their civvies and put on their CRW gear. This consisted of black CRW assault suits with felt pads in knees and elbows; flame-resistant underwear; GPV 25 wrap-around soft body armour with hard ceramic composite plates front and back; NBC hoods for protection against heat, dust and smoke (the men would not be wearing helmets); and the 800gm S6 respirator with nosecup filter for protection against gases, aerosols and smoke; scratch-resistant, polycarbonate eyepieces, also resistant to chemical or solvent attack; tinted lenses for protection against the flash from stun grenades; and microphones mounted in front of the mouthpiece, to be linked by means of a communication harness to the assault team’s radio transmitter.

  ‘This is the part I hate most,’ Bobs-boy said as he adjusted the CRW vest in the hope of being a little more comfortable. ‘It always makes me feel a bit weird.’

  ‘I agree,’ Danny Boy said, slipping on his black, skin-tight aviator’s gloves. ‘This gear makes me feel evil.’

  ‘You pair of ponces talked that way in the killing house,’ GG said, ignoring the fact that he had said much the same thing at the same time, ‘and got a rocket from that bastard Thompson. I’d keep quiet if I was you.’

  ‘Hey, you lot!’ Jock suddenly bawled, having just materialized in the doorway. ‘Are you ready or not?’

  ‘Yes, boss!’

  ‘Then let’s move it!’

  Leaving the spider, the men proceeded to the lecture hall, where they were divided into three teams – Red, Blue and the perimeter containment group, otherwise known as snipers, to be condenamed Zero Delta. They were then allocated their weapons, the armaments they received depending on which particular role they had been assigned in the forthcoming operation. While most of them were armed with the new Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machine-gun and the standard-issue Browning 9mm High Power handgun, those in the perimeter containment teams led by Sergeant Shannon were given the L42A1 .303-inch bolt-action sniper rifle with tripod. A few members of the assault teams, tasked with breaking into the locked rooms of the Embassy, were given the Remington 870 pump-action shotgun. Some were put in charge of a variety of explosive devices, including frame charges and explosive door cutters. All of the men were also issued with spare magazines, ISFE, CS gas and MX5 stun grenades.

  Finally, the equipment was distributed according to each man’s assigned role in the operation. This included W.J. Crow lightweight aluminium assault ladders; sledgehammers, axes, wrecking bars, glasscutters and grappling hooks.

  Once dressed and armed, the men were officially on stand-by and ready to go.

  The Controller gave them a briefing in the barracks, where diagrams of the Embassy, including the layout of the individual rooms, were pinned on blackboards. The Controller indicated the drawing under discussion with a wooden pointer and the men listened intently while sitting on the edge of their beds, wearing their complete CRW gear. To an outsider, the gathering would have made a bizarre, menacing sight.

  ‘I believe the planning team has covered every possible angle,’ the Controller told them, ‘though naturally, in a highly volatile situation like this, we can’t be too sure, so you’ll have to be prepared for the unexpected.’ He paused to let these words sink in. ‘The attack will focus on a single objective: to rescue the hostages from the Iranian Embassy, if necessary. In order to do this, Red Team will clear the top half of the building, from the second to the fourth floor. Blue Team will tackle the lower half from the basement and garden, upwards to the first floor. Blue Team will also handle evacuation procedures.’

  ‘How do we enter?’ Staff-Sergeant Harrison asked.

  ‘Red Team will drop two abseil teams, each of four men, in separate waves from the roof, down to the second-floor balcony at the back of the building.’ The Controller tapped a photog
raphic enlargement of the balcony with his pointer. ‘Once on the balcony, Red Team will break in through those three big windows.’ He indicated the windows with his pointer. ‘While this first group is thus engaged, another group will be tasked with attacking the third floor, descending from the roof by ladder onto a sub-roof at the rear, known as the lighting area.’ He indicated the area as shown on one of the drawings of the Embassy. ‘At the same time, at fourth-floor level, a third group will blast a way in through the skylight, direct from the roof.’

  ‘And Blue Team?’ asked Jock, that team’s leader.

  ‘Blue Team will be in charge of the garden-level basement, along with the ground floor and first floor. As far as we can ascertain from the layouts, what will be required is an explosive charge to be put in the french windows overlooking the ground-floor terrace at the back. A similar bit of surgery will be required on the front, first-floor balcony window leading to the Minister’s office. Access to that balcony isn’t a problem since it adjoins the balcony of the Royal College of Medical Practitioners, already being prepared for a take-over by us.’

  ‘What might be a problem,’ Harrison pointed out, ‘is finding the explosive power needed to demolish those windows. They are, as I recall, made of specially reinforced glass installed originally on SAS advice.’

  The wisecrack copped a few laughs and sardonic comments from the men. When they had settled down again, the Controller said: ‘It didn’t escape our attention that the windows had been installed on our advice and are particularly tough to crack. However, we believe that a special frame explosive, matching that of the window frame to be demolished, will do the job. At the critical moment, the explosive will be carried from balcony to balcony and lifted on to the target – like a jacket fitted onto a tailor’s dummy, as it were. I’m sure you can manage it.’

  ‘What else is Blue Team responsible for?’ Jock wanted to know.

  ‘For the firing of CS gas canisters into the rear second-floor windows at the beginning of the attack. At the end of the attack, it’s Blue Team that will hold an undiplomatic reception party in the garden.’