by John Urwin
‘The most difficult part will be getting from here to our drop-off point without being seen,’ Chalky pointed out. ‘The hack will drop us roughly fifteen to twenty miles NNW of Port Said in a swampy area just west of the river, then return to pick us up early the following morning. That’s if we make it and get back there again, of course. So we’ll need to sort out some form of transport when we get there, otherwise we won’t get back in time to be picked up at 0930. It’s going to be a pretty hairy run for Ken, trying to stay low enough to be undetected by their radar, but we’ll have surprise on our side.’
‘Won’t the area be busy at that time in the morning?’ I asked.
‘Probably, but that’s exactly why they won’t take much notice of us, why should they? Besides, by the time they get around to doing something about it we’ll be back into Israeli air space,’ Spot said.
‘Ken will be arriving at 0500 hours in the morning with the hack. We’ll be pushing it to its capacity on this trip, so it’s been modified for us; it’s a bit like a newer model if you like, but to save on fuel we have to carry as little weight as possible.’
‘The fuel capacity of the Sycamore is only about eighty-nine gallons, which will take us roughly two hundred and sixty-eight miles; the overall trip will be over five hundred. If everything goes to plan, we’re to be dropped at a deserted part of the Egyptian coast at approximately 1000 hours, after first refuelling here,’ Chalky said, pointing to one of the red dots on the map. ‘It’s in a pretty remote location on the Israeli border. In order to take us a few extra miles the hack’s been fitted with another tank, in addition to its two ordinary ones – just a precaution in case our designated fuel dump’s been discovered.’
‘So what happens if we have a problem on the way and have to ditch it?’ I asked him.
‘Don’t worry, it’s not the first time we’ve done a journey like this and we’ve never had any real problems so far, but if we do, things are in hand,’ Chalky cheerfully informed me.
I wondered if by that he meant the whole of The Sixteen would be standing by to help? So far I hadn’t met any of them other than my three teammates, Ken and Lynch, but I was really looking forward to the day when I did. Ken had told me that eventually I’d get to meet them all and I wondered if this might be that occasion. But then if it was, it would probably mean that we’d run into some problems.
Although I felt very much a part of the team, and was certainly as well trained and skilful as my teammates by now, I still felt new and that I had an awful lot to learn about them. I knew they were extremely careful with what they told me and that most of the information I was given was strictly on a need-to-know basis, concerning only the current operation.
It was obvious that they knew a great deal more about one another, and the rest of the group, as I’d overheard them discussing previous missions from time to time, but when I tried to find out more they just told me to forget it. I don’t think that this was due to any lack of trust on their part, it was just the way in which they operated, but often I felt at a bit of a disadvantage.
As we didn’t want to carry too much gear or arouse suspicion, we decided that we probably wouldn’t need to wear jackets or coats. If it did get cold we would just have to improvise along the way. So, in order to look more like ordinary workmen, we merely wore white shirts, cotton trousers and boots, which made it slightly more difficult to carry concealed weapons. However, we decided on each of us carrying our MK1s and fifty rounds of ammo, as well as our sashes and boot-knives.
We also carried two battered canvas bags between the four of us, which each held a 120-foot rope, a light line, pick-ups, ten pulley wheels, a folding crossbow, eight assorted arrows with different specialist heads, plus a new CTC each and whatever ammo we were unable to conceal about us. We also had a water canister and some ‘dog biscuits’ each.
Our preparations for the job went on until late that night, after we had assembled and checked our gear. Once we were completely sure that we’d prepared everything we needed for the trip, and were satisfied that we had studied every detail of the target area, we discussed our contingency plan should anything go wrong. If for some reason we were delayed by a couple of hours, we’d miss our designated pick-up time and would need to remain inconspicuous for several hours until the next pre-arranged time at around 1600 hours.
For all we’d spent the better part of a day and night discussing the job, and my head was full of details, I had no difficulty sleeping that night, nor did any of the others. We woke early the following morning and as we ate breakfast, I helped Spot prepare some sandwiches and fruit to eat on the journey, as we knew there would be no time to eat when we got to Egypt.
As soon as we were ready, I was impatient and eager to be on our way. It felt as though we’d been sitting waiting for hours when suddenly the whole building shook, as the hack flew overhead and the dust storm it stirred up flew through every crack and crevice in the old building. Choking and barely able to see, we grabbed our bags and rushed outside just as it landed about twenty to thirty yards from the hut.
To our surprise the props immediately began to slow down, then Ken jumped out and ushered us back inside and up into the office.
‘Nasser’s changed his plans,’ he said. ‘He’s moved out of the area but there’s another job: you need to “take care” of someone else instead. Fortunately he’s in the same building, otherwise the whole operation would have been aborted. Our information is that he’s a senior foreign military advisor but the security around him won’t be so hot. The building and its surroundings are those in the photographs you’ve seen, only the target has changed, so the plans are roughly the same.’
Ken produced two large black-and-white photographs plus a smaller one of the target himself for us to study. Dynamo took this, put a slit into the waistband of his trousers and hid it inside. We left the two larger photographs on the table. Time was of the essence now, and we had to get to the fuel dump before 0800 hours, so we didn’t waste any more moments. The place would be cleaned up after we left and, as usual, there would be no trace of anyone ever having been there. I still had no idea who did this, but I suspected that it could only be other members of The Sixteen.
Grabbing our gear once more, we dashed outside and followed Ken towards the dirty grey helicopter. It was the first time I’d seen it in daylight and I was surprised at its strange shape, which made it look as though its back was broken. Its entire insignia had been obscured and the doors removed, presumably in an attempt to make access easier and to lighten its load, so once more we were open to the elements.
Ken already had it started up and just as we threw in our gear and scrambled on board, the thing began to leave the ground, and once again the noise was deafening. It was very cramped with our bags and I clambered into the front and sat down. The next thing I knew was a tap on my shoulder and turning around I saw Dynamo, clinging on to the outside of the helicopter, indicating that I should move into the back. I was immediately pulled over the back of the seat by Chalky and Spot and forced in between them. Dynamo swung inside, climbed into the front and sat next to Ken, as if hanging on to the outside of a helicopter almost a hundred feet from the ground was an everyday occurrence for him!
Seconds later, we shot away across the top of the old hangar and began hurtling towards the sea at rooftop height, twisting and turning to avoid detection.
The first part of the flight took us approximately two hundred-and-fifty miles to find the refuelling dump near to the Israeli border. Even though we were wearing headsets, conversation was impossible due to the high noise level, and we mainly communicated by using hand signals and lip-reading.
In order to avoid detection by radar, Ken flew low over the sea, practically skimming the waves, and unlike my first helicopter flight, this time I was able to see all around us. It was great fun!
After a couple of hours, we ate some of the food we’d prepared earlier and shortly after Ken held up his hand and indicated ten minute
s to the fuel dump. We could see the Israeli coastline ahead of us and passed over several small fishing boats below.
The fuel was located in an area of small hills only about a hundred yards off the beach, where we landed near to a marshy, reeded area. Ken took some bearings off local landmarks to locate exactly where the fuel was buried and after we removed some sand and soil, we found it, about a foot below the surface, several fifty-gallon drums stored inside a large wooden box. Also inside the box was a hand-pump for extracting the fuel.
Just as we were lifting the planks of wood covering the drums, a jet fighter approached from the north to roughly within a mile of us. My heart was in my mouth: in this part of the country, a Meteor could only be an Israeli plane and I was sure that the pilot must have seen us.
‘Look out lads, a plane!’ I shouted to the others and immediately began to run away from the helicopter and the fuel towards some nearby bushes, which I dived into for cover. My mouth was dry as I crouched waiting for the inevitable, but there was no loud burst of gunfire, nothing happened, everything was quiet.
When I looked up again I saw the others staring at the now disappearing plane, which for no apparent reason had suddenly veered off to the west. They all seemed totally unconcerned and strolled back to the fuel dump.
‘Well, you certainly flew into action pretty damn quickly then, Geordie,’ Spot said, laughing. ‘You can come out now, he’s gone!’
Sheepishly I emerged from behind the bushes feeling a complete prat. But, after prolonging my embarrassment for several minutes, they eventually admitted that they’d all run for cover too and had followed me for a short distance before realising that the fighter had changed course. I got the definite impression that they weren’t a bit surprised when it had; it was almost as if they had expected it to happen!
We quickly set-to, refuelling the hack; and personally, I couldn’t get the damned thing filled up quickly enough. Once we’d finished refuelling, we re-covered the remaining drums, making sure that the surrounding area showed no trace that we had been there. The downdraught from the helicopter would blow enough sand and soil around to take care of any signs that it had landed.
And we now flew very low over the sea, almost touching the waves. Sea spray covered the windscreen at times and Ken had to use the wipers to clear his view. At one point, the spray hit the carburettor air intake beneath the hack and it began to splutter. It was bouncing around all over the place and rattled so much that I expected it to ditch into the sea at any moment, but as usual, the others were totally unconcerned. We kept out about five miles from the mainland for most of the remainder of the journey and, every so often, we would catch glimpses of the shoreline in the distance.
All of a sudden, we heard a loud flapping noise coming from the outside of the helicopter. Oh, God, this is it! I thought, sure that we were about to go down. Then, to my complete amazement Dynamo decided to investigate. He climbed out on to the side of the helicopter and vanished out of sight for a few seconds. I had no idea what he found to hold on to or how he managed to hold on to it, as we were travelling at about eighty-five to ninety miles an hour and the hack was constantly bumping and swaying about. None of the others turned a hair; they just sat where they were as if this was an everyday occurrence, and appeared to ignore it. They didn’t seem concerned about him at all it.
The loud noise abruptly stopped and Dynamo appeared again, smiling. In his hand, he carried a large broken leather strap, which he held up in front of us then threw into the sea before casually sitting down again as though nothing had happened.
We’d been travelling for quite some time when Ken indicated that we should get ready as we had less than forty miles to go. A few minutes later, I spotted a small lighthouse in the distance and nudged Spot and Chalky.
The plan was for us to land at a point about fifteen to twenty miles NNW of Port Said and roughly eighty-five miles north of Cairo – the lighthouse I’d just seen was a few miles west of Port Said. The mainland was getting closer and closer and we were now only minutes away from the drop-off point, roughly near to one of the main rivers of the Nile delta.
Ken hovered for a short while, as he searched around for a safe place to set us down, dropping to only feet above the marshy ground, and we jumped out into a couple of inches of water. The instant our feet hit the ground the helicopter veered away and disappeared into the distance.
As soon as he’d gone, we took our bearings and began to walk in a south-easterly direction but hadn’t travelled far when Dynamo suddenly shouted:
‘Take cover!’
We hit the deck as a MiG 15 suddenly appeared out of nowhere and flew past us before disappearing in the same direction as the helicopter.
‘You don’t think Ken’s been picked up by their radar do you?’ I asked, concerned that he might be shot down.
I didn’t think that the plane had seen us, as it was travelling far too fast and we were passing through an area of tall reeds, which reached to our shoulders.
‘Don’t worry about Ken, Geordie, he’s a helluva pilot,’ Dynamo assured me, sensing my anxiety. ‘He knows this area like the back of his hand, he’ll be in Israeli airspace before they get anywhere near him.’
‘Besides, we’ll be picked up no matter what,’ he continued. ‘Ken is covered!’
I didn’t ask what he meant by this. I was learning not to ask questions.
Soon the marshy ground began to harden beneath our feet and the reeds thinned out. It was mid-morning and the air was scorching, hot and sticky, there was a strong smell of sewage in the area and millions of flies buzzed everywhere.
We made our way southeast from the drop-off point towards some small hills in the distance; the whole area appeared to be uninhabited, as so far we had seen no signs of life.
Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined anything like this would happen to me. I was just nineteen, this was my third mission and already I could feel the adrenalin starting to flow. I was really looking forward to this.
PART 2
THE JOURNEY
I checked my watch; it was 12.10 a.m., and we’d been walking for about two hours and were drenched in perspiration. I calculated that we must have travelled about nine miles from the drop-off point and ahead of us was more of the same dry, hilly landscape covered in rough scrub.
‘Where’s that damn river, Chalky?’ I said, brushing the sweat from my eyes.
‘It’s got to be just over that hill ahead of us, Geordie. We should meet it just below a place called Dumyat and if my calculations are right it’s just ahead of us.’
‘I hope you’re right, I’m melting away here,’ Spot said, wiping his sleeve across his face.
It was midday and by now the oppressive heat was unbearable, and I hoped that once we got near to the river it might be a bit cooler. Swarms of flies and insects constantly buzzed around us, they were driving me nuts!
We walked on towards the hill and began to climb but as we neared the top Chalky signed to us to stop and listen. So far, we hadn’t seen anyone, but now we could clearly hear voices in the distance and the sound of vehicles, so we crept to the top and cautiously looked over.
Spread out below us was the biggest, widest river I’d ever seen; it was so unexpected that it took me totally by surprise. As it stretched away from us into the distance, the golden sun beating down on its surface made it look like a long, twisting, silvery snake. Its banks were covered with green trees and reeds for as far as we could see and a wide strip of lush, fertile land spread out from either side until it ran into the desert beyond. Dozens of small boats were sailing along it in both directions. It was the most beautiful and peaceful sight.
For a stretch of about a quarter of a mile, it formed a series of small coves before reaching a large level area adjacent to a nearby road, where the bank straightened out. The road ran very close to the river at this point and about quarter of a mile away we could see a large group of men working on it.
A column of dust
in the distance caught Chalky’s attention and he took out his binoculars to scan the area. ‘I wonder what’s going on over there,’ he muttered.
‘Let’s have a look,’ Dynamo said, taking the binoculars from him. ‘Yes, I see what you mean. I count three truckloads of soldiers and workmen I think. I can’t quite make out what’s going on but it looks as if they’re repairing that road and the soldiers seem to be stopping and searching cars.’
‘That’s all we bloody need.’ Spot took the binoculars Dynamo passed to him. ‘Look at that as well, beyond those trees the road is only about two hundred yards from the river and there aren’t any trees or reeds just there.’
There were dozens of armed soldiers in the area and several military vehicles manoeuvring and turning very close to the riverbank on the level ground. We could clearly see that they were stopping vehicles and searching them. Obviously, we had to avoid them at all costs, we couldn’t afford to be stopped or held up at this point. Although we tried to look as much like the locals as possible, in order to blend in, our disguises wouldn’t pass any type of close inspection.
Dynamo glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve got ten hours to find the target. We’ll have to make a move before someone spots us. Come on, let’s get down to that riverbank as quickly as possible.’
It seemed that the only way to bypass them was by following the riverbank, about five hundred yards away. The embankment leading down to the river was covered with reeds and scrub, which eventually petered out just before the level area near to the roadworks. There was no cover at all at this point and it was so open there would be no way to pass without being seen by the soldiers or workmen. We just didn’t have time to wait until nightfall; we had to do something now and quick. It looked impossible.
In one of the coves we could just make out the remains of a small jetty and, using the reeds and scrub on the embankment as cover, we cautiously made our way down to it. The reeds were tall and thick and we sat in among them to examine an old map we’d brought with us, to try to work out how we could get past this area.