Attack State Red

by Richard Kemp

  Parker kept trying to get through on the radio. He was studying his map, figuring out the coordinates just in case he managed to raise anyone who could help him and his beleaguered section. He was also trying to work out some way to extract.

  He did not see a lone Taliban fighter rise up out of the grass 10 metres away. He did not see the man running at him, gripping an AK47 in both hands at waist height, with bayonet extended.

  Then Parker looked up, suddenly aware and suddenly startled. He saw the grim-faced, heavily bearded man bearing down on him. Everything went into slow motion. Parker tried desperately to bring his rifle round to shoot. But the man was too close, and even as he frantically tried to point his muzzle at the charging fighter, Parker knew he would never be able to fire in time.

  11

  Steve Veal was scanning away from the main enemy position across the canal, back off to the right, searching through his SA80 SUSAT sight for any enemy on the home bank. He had learnt on Silicon how skilled the Taliban were at using the ground to outflank them and hit them sideways or from behind. As his sight moved on to a treeline, he heard an explosion and then saw a dense cloud of smoke on the ground. An RPG missile was streaking through the air towards Martin’s section in the compound to the rear. As the smoke cleared Veal saw the firer, a tall, thick-set man, huge beard and dressed in a black turban and kurta. He had discarded his RPG launcher and was now running straight at Corporal Parker with his AK47.

  Veal brought the black arrow of his SUSAT on to the centre of the man’s running body, aimed slightly ahead and then saw the fighter jerk and crash backwards into the dirt as he emptied a full mag of thirty 5.56 bullets into him, pressing the trigger for each shot in rapid succession.

  That was not Parker’s only narrow escape that day. Moments later, he called across to the nearest soldier in Corporal Mann’s Guards section to his left, Lance Corporal Lockley, ‘Lockers, Lockers, I am going to increase our rate of fire in one minute. Get your section to do the same as soon as I do.’

  As he shouted he saw Lockley staring at him wide-eyed. An RPG had hurtled in from the left and skimmed off the ground right behind Parker’s feet, almost scorching the souls of his Desert Seeker boots. When Parker realized what had happened, his heart went into overdrive for the second time in a few minutes.

  Parker couldn’t get through on the radio and therefore couldn’t get the support he so desperately needed from mortars or artillery. He wanted to try a coordinated weight of fire by both sections to get the upper hand on the Taliban.

  He got everyone firing rapid. Josh Lee dropped a few more rifle grenades into the compounds and then started blasting away with his rifle. Taff, the Royal Engineer, was firing single shots with his rifle so fast it sounded like automatic. Booth was firing his Minimi across the canal in short, vicious and accurate bursts, and Ruecker was trying to add to the weight of fire by using rapid bolt manipulation with his sniper rifle. Behind, Lance Corporal Veal’s team continued to blast at the Taliban to the left and the right.

  The heaviest fire was coming from Thrumble with Mary, his GPMG. There was no need for Parker to tell Thrumble to lay down more fire. All he had ever had to do with Thrumble was slow his rate of fire down for fear of running out of ammo or melting his gun barrel.

  The enemy fire reduced a bit, but machine-gun, rifle and RPG rounds continued to land and around the platoon. Parker noticed trees to the left of the main enemy positions and remembered what had happened at Pasab just the day before. ‘Thrumble,’ he yelled, ‘swing left, shoot at the trees.’

  Thrumble didn’t need telling twice. He jerked the gun’s bipod round and started pouring bullets into the trees so fast that the tracer rounds looked like a laser beam arcing across the river. Parker counted seven or eight Taliban drop heavily from the bushes. He saw just the lower half of one man fall to the ground, cut in two by Thrumble’s gunfire.

  When the bodies stopped dropping from the trees, Parker noticed that Thrumble’s GPMG barrel was glowing white hot, even in the glare of the afternoon sun. ‘Thrumble – cease firing.’

  Thrumble continued working his gun up and down the treeline.

  ‘Stop firing!’

  Parker had to physically pull Thrumble’s hand from the trigger to stop him. ‘Thrumble, get back down behind the bank and let the gun cool off, otherwise we’ll get a breech explosion, and you’ll be a casualty too.’

  Thrumble opened the top cover of his GPMG and removed the belt, allowing air to circulate through the barrel and cool the gun. He was desperate to get it back into action as quickly as he could, and while he was waiting, he started getting the rest of his ammo sorted out.

  12

  Back in the village, Major Aston had called forward Captain Will Goodman, the Viking Troop commander, to give orders for the extraction of the company. Aston needed to get out of the compound he was in to have a face-to-face. As with Sergeant Woodrow’s compound, the only entrance was into the teeth of the continuing storm of enemy fire. He told an engineer with Tac HQ to blow a hole in the opposite wall.

  The engineer prepared his bar-mine and leant it against the mud wall. The men of Tac took cover in the courtyard. There was a huge explosion as the bar-mine blasted a gap in the wall. Aston led Tac HQ back in through the thick dust that the explosion had created and out through the wall into the alley beyond.

  He needed to get across and into the next alleyway to see the Viking troop commander, but they were exposed to fire. As they crouched beside the wall, an engineer officer with Tac lobbed a red phosphorous grenade down the alley to screen their movement. It landed too close, and the men of Tac HQ were showered with burning phosphorous particles. Despite this, the red phosphorous smoke did its job, and they raced across the alleyway.

  Aston ran into Lieutenant Seal-Coon. He was shattered, covered in dust and mud and soaked in sweat and ditchwater. Unable to get comms to sort out the extraction, he had run, walked and crawled back, using whatever cover he could find, but for much of the way exposing himself to intense enemy fire. For part of the way he had moved with Private Aaron McLure, helping evacuate the wounded Private Gillmore. Seal-Coon had taken a big risk, a lone figure moving in the open under the Taliban’s guns, but the need to organize his platoon’s extraction overrode any consideration for his own safety.

  ‘Come with me, George,’ said Aston, and they ran up the alleyway to where Royal Marines Captain Will Goodman was waiting. Ben Howes, commander of 5 Platoon, who were still in the graveyard, was also there, waiting for orders.

  ‘OK, Will,’ said Aston, ‘there is only one way to get George’s guys back from the bridge. You need to get some Vikings down there to bring them out under armour. Otherwise we’re going to take more casualties.’

  Goodman nodded.

  ‘It’s going to be extremely dangerous for your men. They will be completely exposed to enemy fire as soon as they break the compounds at the edge of the village. They’ll need to really motor. Pete Ridley is trying to get some artillery and mortars on to the enemy now, and air as well. If we get it that should help you, but we can’t wait for it if it doesn’t come in time. So go anyway and look on it as a bonus if you get covering fire. I want your vehicles down to the edge of the village as soon as you can. Move slowly until you break cover, keep the dust and the engine noise down. Let’s try and reduce the chances of the Taliban working out what we’re doing. When you break cover, drive like hell.’

  He turned to Seal-Coon. ‘George – get back down there if you can. Call Will as soon as your guys are ready to move and then get maximum fire from your blokes to cover his movement down. Above all we’ve got to try to stop them getting accurate RPG fire on to the Vikings. When the vehicles are in position, I want your men mounted up as rapidly as possible. I mean quick. We can’t afford to have them stationary for a second longer than necessary.’

  Looking at Howes, Aston continued, ‘Ben, your guys have been doing a good job smashing the Taliban from the graveyard. Keep it going and, when the
Vikings start to move, you also need to really hammer the fire down. Hammer it. No time for questions, let’s get on with it.’

  As the three officers headed off, Aston turned to the FST commander, Captain Ridley, ‘How about that fire support, Pete?’

  13

  Minutes later, after surviving his second dash of death, Seal-Coon appeared beside Parker. ‘Parky, the Vikings are coming to get us out. When they move forward you need to put rapid fire down across the canal. Corporal Mann’s section will extract back into the Vikings first, with covering fire from you and the Vikings. Once they’re in, get your guys back too. If the Vikings are able to get in line abreast they should be able to put down a fair bit of fire to cover us in.’

  Parker turned to Thrumble, ‘Back up here with your gun and get ready to open up. How much ammo?’

  ‘Only a couple of hundred rounds.’

  ‘OK open up on my command only. Got it?’

  He shouted fire orders to the other members of the section.

  As he had been moving forward to join Parker, Seal-Coon had heard Goodman calling his vehicle commanders on the radio. He told them the plan, said he would lead the move down to the bridge, and asked for volunteers to join him in what came close to a suicide mission, with volleys of RPGs, each capable of destroying a Viking and its crew, still screaming across the river.

  Every single Viking commander had answered on the radio, volunteering immediately. Goodman nominated two vehicles to go with him.

  Again Goodman’s voice crackled in Seal-Coon’s headset. ‘Hello, Copper Three Zero Alpha, this is Mud Two Zero Alpha, now on the edge of Heyderabad, ready to move. Are you ready for me? Can you talk me in? Over.’

  Seal-Coon replied, ‘Copper Three Zero, roger. We’re ready. Move straight down the track to your front. You will not see the bridge till you break cover from the compounds. Bridge is four hundred metres forward of compounds. Enemy are all along the far side of canal. Some enemy have infiltrated on to the home side. They may have RPGs. Enemy are still putting down heavy fire. You will be exposed to fire as soon as you move forward of the compounds. Five metres short of the bridge, halt. Callsign Three Three Charlie are left on the canal line. Three Two Charlie right. Three Three Charlie will move to you first, then Three Two Charlie then my callsign. Good luck. Over.’

  ‘Mud Two Zero Alpha, roger, moving now. Good luck to you too. Out to you.’

  ‘All Mud callsigns, this is Mud Two Zero Alpha. Stand by. Five – four – three – two – one – move now! Move now!’

  ‘Raaapid – fire!’ yelled Seal-Coon. Parker and Mann repeated the command to their sections, and a hail of bullets crashed into the Taliban positions across the canal. At the same time a mass of fire poured in from the GPMGs, Minimis and rifles of Howes’s 5 Platoon up in the cemetery. They had to do everything in their power to prevent the enemy from firing RPGs accurately at the Vikings. A single hit could easily destroy the vehicle and kill the crew.

  The Viking drivers slammed down on their accelerators, metal on metal, as they left the cover of the compounds. With clouds of exhaust smoke, the roar of engines and the screaming grind of tracks biting into rock, the three Vikings surged forward and hurtled down the rough track, bouncing and lurching. The lead Viking had a .50 calibre Browning heavy machine-gun mounted on its turret. The other two had the lighter 7.62mm GPMGs. The gunners opened fire as the vehicles careered towards the bridge, machine-gun bullets flying wildly over the heads of the 7 Platoon soldiers.

  The Taliban onslaught was now focused in on the Vikings. Machine-gun bullets flew towards them, bouncing off the vehicles, streams of tracer flying vertically upwards as bullets were deflected sharply by the armour. Several deadly RPGs screamed out of the enemy compounds, some missing the vehicles by what seemed to Seal-Coon like inches.

  The lead Viking juddered to a sudden halt in front of the bridge, almost standing on its nose. The other two peeled off left and formed a line abreast, to bring maximum fire down over the canal.

  From his turret the .50 cal marine gunner shouted at Parker’s section, ‘Where are they? Where are they?’

  Thrumble shouted back, ‘Watch my tracer,’ as he poured a line of tracer bullets straight into the centre of the enemy position.

  The marine held down the trigger of the .50 cal and turned the traverse handle. The heavy gun, with its distinctive loud, deliberate, thumping noise, rained its devastating stream of bullets all along the enemy position. The other two vehicles were raking the Taliban positions, and the sustained machine-gun fire almost silenced the enemy.

  Corporal Mann’s section were already on the move, crawling at high speed across the poppy field and into the the nearest Vikings.

  ‘Move now, Parky,’ yelled Seal-Coon as the last of Mann’s soldiers got in. Parker sent Thrumble back first, almost out of ammo.

  Parker and Seal-Coon were the last men into the vehicles. Lieutenant Seal-Coon threw himself into an overcrowded Viking. Sprawled on top of Thrumble, as the vehicle lurched forward his forearm touched the red-hot GPMG barrel and there was a horrible smell of burning flesh. Ignoring the searing pain, Seal-Coon pulled on the headset so he could talk to the vehicle commander. The marine asked, ‘How far forward of the bridge have you cleared?’

  ‘We haven’t,’ yelled back Seal-Coon, above the revving of the vehicle’s engine and the thump of the .50 cal machine-gun.

  ‘Then there’s a problem,’ said the marine, ‘we’re across the bridge.’

  Seal-Coon heard him yell over the intercom to the driver, ‘Turn this thing round – quick, quick. There’s enemy all round. Get me out of here.’

  As the Viking manoeuvred sluggishly in the cramped space on the enemy side of the bridge, the gunner traversed the .50 cal firing in every direction. Seal-Coon heard the commander calling into his mike, ‘They’re everywhere, they’re everywhere.’

  The men inside could hear bullets pinging off the vehicle’s sides. They were just waiting for an RPG to blast into the vehicle’s armour.

  Not realizing how much danger they were still in, as the Viking moved back across the bridge, Private Pearson, in the back with Parker, said, ‘That was a bit close out there, wasn’t it? God knows how we didn’t all get killed.’

  As he said it he pressed his face close to the small window in the back door to look out. A bullet smacked into the armoured glass right between his eyes and ricocheted away.

  14

  As 7 Platoon extracted away from Heyderabad in the Vikings, Company Sergeant Major Newton was loading the injured McLaughlan, Gillmore and Lewis on to the Chinook for the flight back to the field hospital at Camp Bastion. The two Apache attack helicopters accompanying the Chinook had launched a devastating attack against the Taliban on the canal with their 30mm cannon as the Vikings headed back up the hill.

  Aston brought the company into a leaguer in the open desert, 2 kilometres away from Heyderabad, near the helicopter landing site. The soldiers sorted out their kit, recharged magazines, found their correct vehicles and clacked down water. Having survived the toughest fighting they had been through so far, every man was in high spirits.

  ‘I always said it was a bridge too far,’ said Veal to Parker, mimicking Dirk Bogarde from the film.

  ‘Yeah, maybe, Steve,’ laughed Thrumble, ‘but Arnhem was nothing to what we’ve just done.’

  ‘Do you know what I was thinking all through it?’ asked Foster, pouring the remnants of a bottle of water over his sweat-drenched blond hair. ‘I just wanted a cheese sandwich, that’s all, just a cheese sandwich.’

  ‘Shut up about your friggin’ cheese sandwiches,’ said Thrumble, and added, imitating Foster’s Essex twang, ‘“Rods, rods, I need rods.” I reckon you did that stoppage on purpose, Fozzie me old mate. Got too hairy for you. Needed the pros up there really, me and Mary.’

  Laughing, Foster kicked him in the leg and ran off to take cover behind Stu Parker.

  Once Sergeant Major Newton had completed his head check and confirmed th
at everyone was present, Aston ordered the column to move back through the desert to rejoin 6 Platoon at FOB Robinson. Snow’s fire support group WMIKs led the way, followed by the two platoons, the ANA and the logistics package with its go-anywhere Oshkosh tanker.

  Aston travelled in the front of the Viking driven by Captain Goodman, the troop commander. As they started moving, he gave himself a moment to take stock. The mission to Heyderabad had been successful. They had identified a sizeable force of Taliban, and by a combination of ground fighting, mortar fire and air, they had killed large numbers of enemy. He was intensely proud of what his men had achieved in Heyderabad, in the face of the toughest resistance. Neither he nor any of his men had ever before seen fighting of that intensity. And he felt moved by the individual acts of bravery he had personally witnessed or had reported to him – by his own B Company soldiers, by the marines of the Viking troop and by the attached soldiers, especially the Royal Engineers.

  As he ran over in his mind what had happened, he felt a sudden sense of relief. There had been numerous close shaves. Many of his men, and he himself, had been near to death over the last few hours. He was amazed that no one had been killed, and that more soldiers hadn’t been injured. He started to think about the three casualties they had taken – Gillmore and Lewis, but in particular Corporal McLaughlan, his outstanding company medic. He knew Mac was in a very bad way when they got him on to the chopper. He hoped against hope that he would survive, but didn’t expect to see him again until they got back to England after the tour. What happened was tragic for Mac himself, thought Aston, but he would also be a huge loss to B Company. Everyone knew and liked him. And above all they had great confidence that if wounded, he would give them the best possible chance of survival. Ironic, thought Aston, that he had effectively had to save his own life by talking the team medics through the medical procedure.