Attack State Red

by Richard Kemp

  He turned to the JTAC. ‘Air?’

  ‘There’s a B1 bomber overhead in thirty seconds.’

  Now Snow was back on the net. ‘I’ve ID’d the mortar team. Can we have our own mortars fire on it?’

  Aston replied, ‘Better still, we’ve got a B1 up there. Send grid and we’ll hit it with that.’

  Snow transmitted the grid reference, Aston repeated it to the JTAC, and within seconds the B1, thousands of feet above, had identified the target.

  Aston spoke into his handset, ‘Charlie Charlie One, this is Zero Alpha. Two-thousand-pound bomb on the ground in figures three zero.’

  As the earth shook from the devastating blast that destroyed the Taliban mortar team, Corporal Mac McLaughlan, the company medic, ran forward to the ditch. He dived in beside Martin and checked his wound. ‘Steph, hold your arm out. I’ll put a dressing on.’

  When he had stopped the bleeding, McLaughlan said, ‘OK, Steph, I’ll take you back. You’ve lost a fair bit of blood, but I’m sure you can walk to the RV with the sergeant major.’

  ‘Mac, get the dressing tied off then leave me alone, mate. There’s no way – no way – I’m going back with that wound. No way. I’m staying here, commanding my section.’

  Snow’s fire support group were engaging the enemy positions with machine-gun and grenade fire. Tinkler’s mortars pounded the Taliban with fire mission after fire mission. The B1 dropped several more bombs before being replaced on station by a pair of Apache gunships, which peppered the enemy positions with 30mm cannon over the next hour. Then they were called off for a mission elsewhere in Helmand.

  Under this sustained assault, the enemy fire against 5 and 7 Platoons had fallen away, although 5 Platoon and the FSG continued to receive incoming enemy rifle, machine-gun and RPG fire.

  5

  The platoons moved forward again, clearing from compound to compound. Many of the attacks were at state red, blasting into the mud structures with bar-mines, lobbing in hand grenades and spraying the rooms with automatic fire. When ammunition was getting low, sometimes the assault teams would throw in a rock rather than a grenade, hoping to fool enemy fighters into taking cover, to give that split-second advantage that could be the difference between life and death.

  The heat relentlessly increased as the day wore on. The soldiers, struggling under their heavy battle loads of personal equipment, weapons, water and ammunition, became more and more exhausted as they cleared compound after compound. Crawling through stinking sewage ditches, climbing high mud walls, dashing from room to room, struggling through hedges, racing across exposed, open courtyards – this type of fighting, even without strong enemy resistance, can be the toughest there is.

  Virtually all the compounds were deserted – almost no civilians remained in the town, and there was little sign of the enemy. The Taliban were rarely caught in compounds. They were highly skilled at shooting from buildings then escaping along carefully reconnoitred, planned and prepared routes in dead ground – invisible to the advancing soldiers.

  Seal-Coon was suspicious when he found two men in one of the compounds. The older man claimed the younger was his son. They tried to stop the troops entering one of the rooms. Through his interpreter, Seal-Coon said, ‘Open the door or we’ll kick it down.’

  Inside there were piles of shell cases and US grenade cartridges. The Americans had been through the village before, and Seal-Coon figured out this man had cleared them up for recycling – a cottage industry in its own right in war-torn Helmand. There were no weapons, so Seal-Coon let the men go. He didn’t think they would have allowed themselves to be caught if they had been Taliban fighters.

  7 Platoon continued clearing from compound to compound. They went through two mosques. Mosques were not easy to identify until you were up close. Rectangular blocks like all the others, normally the only external distinction was a tannoy at the front entrance to call the faithful to prayer. Inside there was some matting on the floor for worshippers to kneel on, and the large rooms were dark with only a couple of small windows, usually high up in the wall.

  Seal-Coon and his men were well aware of the sensitivities, and they searched mosques with greater care than most compounds, showing proper respect to religious artefacts such as the fragments of an ancient Koran they found in one of the buildings. But searching mosques could not be avoided. Intelligence briefings frequently reminded the men that the Taliban used mosques to conceal weapons, hoping they would be less likely to be searched than other buildings. And it wasn’t unusual for the Taliban to fire at the troops from mosques.

  Seal-Coon heard Aston’s voice on the company net. ‘All stations, this is Zero Alpha. One Zero, go firm in current location. I want Three Zero to take over the lead. You push through One Zero’s position. Inform me when moving. Three Zero acknowledge, over.’

  ‘Roger out.’ Seal-Coon then called his section commanders to confirm they had heard Aston’s orders, and pushed Parker’s section into the lead.

  As Seal-Coon’s 7 Platoon moved through, 5 Platoon had gone firm around compound walls and on roofs, ready to open fire if the enemy raised their heads.

  Ruecker, still moving with 7 Platoon, saw 5 Platoon’s sniper team – Lance Corporal Dean Bailey and Private Scotty Fryer – on top of one of the buildings. ‘All right, Dean mate, how’s it going?’ he called up.

  It was now 1030 in the morning, and Bailey was sweating heavily on his rooftop in the full glare of the sun. He looked knackered, but had a big, broad grin on his face. ‘Got my first kill: dropped a Taliban at 900 metres.’

  ‘Static?’

  ‘No, he was on the move, running right to left, with an AK.’

  As Ruecker replied, ‘Well done, mate,’ Bailey could see the look of annoyance on his face. He put his thumb up to Ruecker and asked him the question to which he already guessed the answer: ‘How about you? How many have you got?’

  Ruecker replied to Bailey’s thumb with middle finger extended and carried on walking.

  The friendly rivalry that permeated every aspect of life in the battalion was just as strong between snipers as anyone else. After a tough selection, their skills had been honed to perfection in long and gruelling courses on some of the Army’s most demanding training areas. The qualification ‘sniper’ was one of the most sought after in the infantry, and with good reason. It was extremely difficult to achieve and it tested every single one of the most important infantry skills – shooting, physical fitness, camouflage and concealment, use of the ground, navigation and communications. The sniper badge, crossed rifles with the letter ‘S’ above, told you its wearer was among the best soldiers in the battalion.

  This was Bailey’s and Ruecker’s first combat tour as snipers. Along with the other battalion snipers, they had been itching for their first kill. They were not bloodthirsty men, but they were in a vicious struggle with a deadly enemy that was trying to kill them – and their mates.

  Although their trade was grim, they were like any other highly skilled professional, keen to see whether the skills they had trained in did actually work, and whether they could indeed kill a fast-moving man at long range in the tough conditions of battle in Afghanistan with a single shot. A very different situation to any practice firing range, even on the arduous exercises in the hills of Brecon. Here they were unbearably hot, on the verge of exhaustion, working in filthy, dusty conditions. And something that couldn’t be fully replicated in training – a skilful and ruthless enemy was trying to kill them.

  Ruecker, one of the most competitive men in the battalion, realized he had just been pipped to the post by his close mate, Dean Bailey. He was not best pleased.

  Over the next couple of hours 7 Platoon continued to search the compounds. Section by section, they raced across an alley, stacked up beside the compound wall, blasted a hole with a bar-mine or kicked in the door and charged in shooting, checking every room and outbuilding for Taliban. Once they heard the shout ‘Compound clear,’ the next section moved through and i
nto the compound beyond. The platoon continued this gruelling movement, leap-frogging through the town section by section, compound by compound. By now the enemy fire had been reduced to the odd shot or short machine-gun burst, plus an occasional RPG.

  The platoon moved through a graveyard on the slope to the right side of the main track leading through the village and down to the river. Most of the burial plots were marked by small piles of rocks supporting crooked, metre-long tree branches, planted vertically. Fluttering from each of the branches was a long, ragged pennant, mostly green or white strips of cloth.

  It was only 1130 hours, but the men felt like they had been at this all day. Aston ordered the company to halt temporarily to rest, take on water and rations. Each section commander posted sentries to watch for enemy movement, while the others took advantage of the shade provided by compound walls and the odd tree as they drained water bottles and munched their way through hard and flavourless compo biscuits. Company Sergeant Major Tim Newton motored forward in his Viking to replenish the troops with ammunition and water.

  Seal-Coon took the opportunity to move round his men, making sure everyone was OK. It is critical for a platoon commander in battle to keep his finger firmly on the pulse of the men’s morale and well-being. He must know for himself if there are any individual problems, and he must always understand exactly what effect a particular battle is having on the men so he can judge how far to push them, and which section to use for which task. The same applies at company level, but the company commander has to rely much more on the feeling of the platoon commander as he has too many men to see individually during a battle.

  Seal-Coon stopped briefly and chatted with several junior NCOs and privates. Morale was high. It had been tough going but exciting, and no one had been seriously hurt. He squatted down beside Martin, who was sitting up against a compound wall. ‘How’s your arm, Corporal M?’

  ‘It’s great, sir. Stings a bit, but it’s fine.’

  Knowing exactly what the response would be, Seal-Coon smiled as he asked, ‘You sure you don’t need to be CASEVACed? The sergeant major’s Viking is just over there; he could take you back and get you looked at by the doc.’

  ‘Sir, with all due respect, there’s no way in the world I’m going anywhere. I’ve never disobeyed an order before, sir, but if you order me to go back, I will disobey. Apart from anything else, there’s no way I could stand the piss-taking from the troops. No way.’

  Seal-Coon nodded and moved on. Private Aaron ‘Ronnie’ Barker was propped against a compound door, arguing with Private Luke Geater while chewing a bag of corned beef hash that had become almost liquefied in the heat.

  Barker had had a tough life as a young boy, and things at home had not been good. He had been taken into foster care, and his grandmother had also played a major role in his upbringing. He joined the Army at seventeen, found the close-knit family he craved in the barrack blocks at Pirbright and never looked back. He was one of the most popular characters in the company, mainly because he was strong, loyal and utterly reliable. But also because he was one of the easiest to wind up.

  And the ragging continued just as ferociously during every lull in battle as in the boredom of garrison life at Pirbright. Geater was saying, ‘It’s a good job your team’s West Ham, isn’t it, Ronnie? I bet you picked it because there’s no r in the team name. West Ham’s easy for you to pronounce, isn’t it? Must have been something like that because it can’t have been anything to do with the quality of football they play – if you could even call it football.’

  ‘Well, your mob aren’t exactly doing brilliantly, are they? Boring team, really boring.’

  ‘At least I can pronounce it, Wonnie. Go on, say Arsenal. You can’t can you, that’s why you don’t support the gweatest team in the land, because you can’t pwonounce their name. While you’re at it, you best change your name, Wonnie, mate. Even Awon isn’t the best for you, is it?’

  ‘Geater, I’m going to shove this UGL down your neck in a minute if you don’t shut up…’

  ‘Oh, hello, sir.’

  Seal-Coon was grinning at this familiar exchange. ‘All right, Ronnie? Don’t waste the UGL on Geats. It’s not even worth wasting a blank round on an Arsenal supporter, is it? Anyway, have you fired any yet today?’

  ‘No, sir, just thrown a couple of grenades and a few bursts of 5.56. These UGLs aren’t much good in compound clearing: just as likely to bounce back at you and blow your face off. Pity we can’t get hold of more of the American ones that don’t bounce so much.’

  Ruecker now appeared. ‘Boss, just come over the net the OC wants a face-to-face with platoon commanders. He’s in that compound next to the sergeant major’s Viking.’

  6

  When Seal-Coon arrived for the company commander’s orders, Aston, Howes and the fire support coordinators and signallers were waiting. Aston said, ‘Didn’t get you up, did I, George? Don’t worry about us here, we don’t mind hanging about all day.’

  He grinned, but he was only half joking – he hated being kept waiting, whether it was anyone’s fault or not. ‘How’re your lads?’

  ‘They’re fine thanks, sir. Knackered but fine. Did you hear Corporal Martin got some shrapnel from a Taliban mortar? Thought it was ours at first. But he’s OK. Doesn’t need to be CASEVACed.’

  ‘OK, well done. Yeah, those mortars had me going too, and I nearly beat the crap out of Will.’ He glanced over at Wilsher, the MFC. ‘I was on my way up the hill to do the same to Tinkler till I realized it was the Taliban. Should’ve known anyway: the Taliban are more accurate than our mortars, aren’t they, Will?’

  He clapped the slightly hunted-looking Wilsher across the shoulders.

  ‘Anyway, enough of that. That was all a bit sporty at times, wasn’t it? But the lads did well. Plenty of momentum getting through those compounds. Now we’re going to push on down to the canal and across the bridge. I don’t think I’ve got much of a handle on the enemy here yet, and I want to know how much this place means to them.

  ‘Ben, I want 5 Platoon to move up on to the high ground where the graveyard is, then George, take 7 Platoon down to secure the bridge. When you’ve done that 5 Platoon will pass through and clear the first few compounds on the other side. Then we’ll send the ANA over to talk to the locals and see what we can find out.’

  ‘When do you want us to move?’ asked Howes.

  ‘The boys’ve had more than enough rest. They’ll start thinking they’re on R and R. So get going as soon as you get back and brief your platoon. Give me a call when you’re moving, and tell George when you’re in position. Then he can start dealing with the last of the compounds straight away. OK, George?’

  Parker briefed his section on the new plan, ‘The OC wants us to get across the bridge, and then 5 Platoon will move through.’

  Lance Corporal Steve Veal, the section 2IC, said, ‘You are joking? I thought we were going to head back now we’ve pretty much cleared the village. Across the canal? God knows what’s over there. It’s a bridge too far.’

  ‘Yeah, bridge too far,’ Parker laughed. ‘I’ve seen the film too. Good film. Now get ready to go.’

  As the section sorted themselves out, Parker heard the whoosh of a rocket flying over his position and then a loud explosion a few hundred metres away. Seconds later Snow was on the company net, his voice calm as always but betraying a little more concern than usual, ‘One-oh-seven, one-oh-seven, impacted on my position. Can anyone see a launch point?’

  The Taliban often used the Chinese-designed Type 63-2 107mm rocket. This weapon was used by armies and insurgents around the world and had been used by the Afghan mujahideen against the Soviets. It was designed as a multiple-launch system to be towed or carried on the back of a truck; the Taliban used individual launch tubes disintegrated from the multiple system. They fired them electrically from the ground, crudely propping up the launch tubes on a pile of rocks to achieve the right trajectory and direction of flight.

  The 107 is
far more lethal than RPGs or the 82mm mortars that had been fired at 7 Platoon earlier that day. The 18.8kg rocket contains an 8.3kg TNT fragmentation warhead. When it detonates it can produce a devastating blast of jagged metal fragments out to 12.5 metres. It was imperative that B Company identify and destroy the launch site as quickly as possible before they started taking casualties.

  Capable of a maximum range of 8.5 kilometres, used singly the rocket is notoriously inaccurate, especially at longer ranges. The fact that they were now hitting close to Snow’s position suggested both an experienced and capable enemy rocket team, and that they were being fired from somewhere near by.

  More 107s were now impacting close to the FSG. Parker called Seal-Coon: ‘Hello, Copper Three Zero Alpha, this is Three Two Charlie. I can hear the 107s getting fired. I estimate approx 200 metres forward on the other side of the canal. Can’t identify the exact location from my current position.’

  Before Seal-Coon could respond, Aston interrupted, ‘Three Zero and Three Two Charlie, this is Zero Alpha, roger that. Get yourselves forward so you can identify the launch point and then destroy it or send me a fire mission so I can hit it with indirect. Over.’

  Parker responded, ‘Three Two Charlie, roger. I may need to cross the canal.’

  ‘Roger, well get down there and get across it if you have to. Get eyes on to that launch point and give me a grid and compound number. Over.’

  Several more rockets were impacting around the FSG’s position as 5 Platoon moved rapidly up into the graveyard to provide overwatch for 7 Platoon’s move forward.

  Seal-Coon called in the three section commanders for a quick brief. ‘Corporal P, get down to the bridge and see if it’s clear to cross. If you ID the fire position before you get there call the OC direct and tell him. Corporal Mann, get your section off to the left and give cover. You move now. Corporal Martin, keep your section back in the next compound to cover the rear and the right. Corporal Parker, move to the bridge as soon as Corporal Mann is in position. If the bridge is clear, push across it. Corporal Martin, you will then move down and follow him over. When they’re firm, Corporal Mann, you get your guys over. We can’t afford to have just one or two sections isolated on the other side of the canal. I will move directly behind Corporal P’s section and we will get cover from 5 Platoon up here. Let’s go.’