Attack State Red

by Richard Kemp

  ‘Yeah, yeah, Sarge. Actually, looking at you, did you eat quite a lot on R and R? Few too many pies. Looking a bit podgy now?’

  ‘That’s enough, Nicey, I’m going to see the sergeant major. I’m putting in for a posting back to the Rear Party. I’m more scared of you than Major Stef.’

  10

  Late that night Captain Hicks gave orders for a patrol the next morning through the Taliban-dominated village of Regay and on to the Jusulay irrigation project, to provide security to the locals working in the surrounding fields. After a few short hours of sleep, the company deployed out of Inkerman in darkness at 0430 hours, Friday 10 August. Wearing helmets and Osprey body armour over their T-shirts, sweating under the weight of weapons, ammunition and water, the men entered the Green Zone, moving fast to reach Regay by first light.

  Lieutenant Manie Olivier’s 11 Platoon led the company. The combination of R and R and casualties of various types left the platoon short of troops, and each of Olivier’s three sections was down to four or five men instead of the usual eight.

  Corporal Matty Willan had four soldiers in his section – Privates Tony Rawson, Matthew Cain, Curtis Cumberbatch and Scott Garrett. As they moved fast through the ploughed fields and dense foliage, they heard bursts of fire in the distance. All around the Green Zone, Taliban sentries were alerting their men to the imminent arrival of the British troops. Interpreters monitoring the Taliban radio frequencies reported the net had come alive with messages as the enemy tracked the British movement and ordered fighters into their pre-planned positions.

  Willan had been to Regay many times before and was confident they would have a battle with the Taliban. Next to a large re-entrant leading down to a shallow crossing point over the river, Regay was an easy place for the Taliban to infiltrate. But the extent of the fire and the intensity of the radio chat was different. He thought, That is a combat indicator of a scrap if ever there was one. I reckon this is going to be big.

  Snaking down the Green Zone in a single long line, tramping across the baked mud, stumbling over unseen obstacles in the dark, jumping streams and wading through irrigation ditches, every man in C Company had his own thoughts about what was signified by the volleys of fire echoing around the valley. The mood of most soldiers as they advanced towards the inevitable firefight was, as ever, one of apprehension. The initial contact would almost always be on the Taliban’s terms: at the time and the place of their choosing. It was impossible not to be unsettled by the thought that the first bullet could come at any time and from any direction, and it could have your name on it. Once battle had been joined apprehension disappeared in an adrenalin-fuelled burst of intense activity as the soldiers raced to take cover, identify enemy positions and return fire all at the same time. Then things were more level, and the race was on to tip the balance one way or the other. After the battle, the mood generally switched to elation. Happy to have got some fire down, even happier still to be alive. If anyone had been killed or wounded the feeling of elation was tempered by sadness and perhaps loss. But that would take hold later on, after the patrol, back in base. For now, the men were apprehensive, alert, switched on, covering arcs, ready to react.

  The company entered Regay at 0515 hours. As they approached, the sun was rising into the cloudless sky, with every promise of a hotter than usual day ahead.

  In the middle of the typical lush Green Zone foliage, densely planted fields and deep irrigation ditches, Regay was a devil’s lair of near-impenetrable compound systems, high channelling walls, rat-run alleyways, ambush ditches criss-crossed by narrow foot bridges and streams with oozing beds to slow you down just at the moment you were in trouble. The village was controlled by hard-core Taliban, many brought in fresh from Pakistan, well trained, determined and unwilling to give a single inch of what they regarded as their territory. It was in Regay and places like it that the Taliban were consolidating, building back up, intent on re-establishing themselves in the Green Zone, intimidating the local people, attacking the foreign forces and striking back into Sangin.

  It was C Company’s job to prevent this from happening, to unsettle the Taliban, deny them any safe haven in the area, kill as many as they could and drive the others away. And behind these actions, the intent was always to reassure the local population and demonstrate to them that they would not be abandoned to their fate, under the heel of the Taliban, who wanted to control them, prevent any prosperity that could be attributed to foreign governments or the Kabul regime and extort from them their property, produce and money.

  With 10 Platoon behind, 11 Platoon patrolled through the back-alleys of Regay and arrived between two high mud compound walls. So far all quiet. No sign of the enemy. The platoon went firm, stacked up behind the cover of the compound walls. They had been moving virtually non-stop for the best part of an hour, mostly at speed. Olivier ordered them to pause briefly to draw breath, adjust kit and gulp down half a litre of water.

  Olivier had a quick look around the men to make sure they were OK, then a few minutes later said, ‘Let’s go. Corporal Watson, lead off.’

  Lance Corporal Dale Watson led his five-man section away from the cover of the wall, out across a wide, open dirt area between the compounds, the size of a football pitch. Olivier followed him out, and Corporal Darren Farrugia’s section was close behind. This was an incredibly dangerous place for any infantryman to be – in the open. They had almost got through the village, and nothing had happened. After all the firing earlier, it just didn’t add up. The men were spread out, weapons in the shoulder, hands tightening on pistol grips and trigger guards, alert, covering their arcs – expecting trouble at any moment.

  Willan’s section followed. They were now 30 metres from the wall, and Willan saw that Watson’s men had almost reached the other side. Willan was tense, poised to react. His eye caught a sudden movement and in the same instant he heard a shot. Ahead, Watson jerked up his rifle and fired across the high, green flag-leaves of maize to the left, towards a compound 70 metres away.

  Immediately Watson’s and Farrugia’s sections were engulfed in a storm of machine-gun and rifle fire. RPGs whooshed overhead, airbursting in the distance. Watson’s men threw themselves into the tree-lined ditch to their left, with gunfire following on their heels, kicking up clouds of dust and and hurling stones and dirt in every direction. Farrugia’s men, further from the ditch, threw themselves to the ground and crawled fast through the dirt.

  Taking in the maelstrom ahead, Willan rushed to the earth bank running beside the ditch to the left. He was desperate to take the heat off the two forward sections and yelled out, ‘Rapid – fire!’

  It was an unnecessary command. As each man hit the bank he started firing through the corn towards the compound beyond. Rawson, an outstanding Minimi gunner, was first into position, firing as he landed on the bund-line, his gun spitting out 5.56mm ball and tracer at a devastating rate.

  Private Matthew Cain was on the left of the section. He headed for a tree and lodged himself against the trunk, getting some protection. He began firing, then unclipped his daysack and dragged out more belts of ammo. Scanning through his sight, he could make out three enemy beside a white compound in the treeline, about 100 metres away through the cornfield. They were moving fast up and down the treeline, changing positions.

  Willan glanced over to the area where Watson’s section had taken cover and saw a large tree virtually disintegrate under his eyes, enemy fire tearing off branches and splintering open the trunk, sending a shower of shredded bark all over the troops below.

  Rapidly identifying his position, the enemy switched fire away from the other two sections and began blasting Willan’s section. Cain heard the crunch of bullets smacking into the tree-trunk above his head. Willan realized there must be at least eight enemy firing at his section, and they were beating him. As bullets scythed in around them, he yelled to his men, ‘Into cover! Into cover! Get back down the bank!’

  11

  Sergeant Matt Waters, acting
commander of 10 Platoon, raced along the alleyway that 11 Platoon had come from before breaking out into the open ground. Captain Hicks was standing on the corner with his Tac HQ, rifle in one hand, studying an air photo and talking to his JTAC, who was back at Inkerman, on the radio.

  Waters looked at him. Hicks had just run forward to this point himself and was pouring sweat. But he looked calm, and was giving measured instructions over the net to coordinate fire support. When he had finished he looked up and, raising his voice above the crescendo of two-way fire behind him, said, ‘Sergeant Waters, 11 Platoon is pinned down out in the open. There must be at least ten Taliban in prepared positions over there, in the treeline beyond the maize field. I’ve got mortars coming in now.’

  As he spoke, Waters heard the whizz of 81mm mortars arcing above in their high trajectory, fired from Inkerman. Moments later there came the crump-crump-crump as three rounds impacted in the distance. Kneeling on the other side of the alley, where he could observe the fall of shot, the MFC immediately started calling adjustments into the net, bringing the mortars closer to their target.

  Hicks continued, ‘I need you to get at least one of your sections into that compound, just to the left of 11 Platoon.’ He indicated towards a large brown compound surrounded by a high wall, slightly left, just behind the ditch, beside Willan’s section. ‘Blast your way into it, get some guns up on the roof and try to suppress the enemy that are engaging 11 Platoon. My plan is to use your fire, and the mortars, to get the enemy’s heads down so we can manoeuvre 11 Platoon back across the open ground, then smash the enemy from the air. F15s will be on the way shortly, I’ve just briefed the JTAC.’

  ‘Roger, sir, will do. I’ll go back now and brief my lead section. I’ll get my platoon sergeant to get some fifty-ones down as well.’

  ‘Let’s do it. I’ll call 11 Platoon and let them know what you’re doing.’

  He clapped Waters on the shoulder and, as the sergeant tore back down the alleyway to brief his men, Hicks hit the pressel switch to radio Olivier.

  When Willan pulled his men back down the bank under a horrible weight of enemy fire, Cain, protected to some extent by his tree, stayed in position, blasting away with his Minimi. The enemy fire shifted again on to Farrugia’s men, and Willan called to his section, ‘Lads. Get back up the bank. The minute you’ve got muzzle clearance get firing as rapid as you can. We will only beat them if we can get their heads down before they switch back on to us.’

  Willan crawled back up and started firing rapid shots with his rifle. The enemy again started blasting into his section. He heard the impact of a bullet and out of the corner of his eye saw Rawson’s head spin. He looked at Rawson, a metre away to his right, and yelled, ‘That was close, Tony, you lucky…’

  He stopped mid-sentence. There was blood everywhere. A bullet had ripped through Rawson’s helmet and into his head.

  Privates Garrett and Cain continued pouring fire back at the enemy as Willan crawled over to Rawson. He was not moving and not making a sound. His eyes were open. No pulse, no breathing. Tony Rawson was dead.

  Willan shouted, ‘Man down! Man down!’

  He called into his mike, ‘Three Three Alpha this is Three Two Charlie, I have a T Four casualty. T Four casualty.’

  Sergeant Major Taylor cut straight in with a shocked voice, ‘Three Three Alpha. You know T Four means dead? Confirm over.’

  ‘Three Two Charlie. I know it means dead. T Four, over.’

  Hicks was on the net. As always, calm. Efficient. But beneath it he was devastated to hear that one of his men had just been killed. ‘This is Zero Alpha. Air will be on station very soon. When they attack, Three Zero callsigns are to extract. As I said previously, Two Zero Alpha will also give covering fire when he is in position.’

  C Company’s JTAC had called for air as soon as the ambush began, and as Hicks spoke into the radio, NATO jets were screaming towards the position.

  Willan weighed up exactly what that meant. It would be a 30mm strafing run along the enemy position. With any luck it would take them out, and it would also throw up so much dust that any surviving enemy would be blinded for at least a couple of minutes. Vital time for him to extract his section.

  Olivier, further along the ditch with the other two sections, called into the radio, ‘All stations Metal Three Zero, this is Metal Three Zero Alpha. When the air comes in callsign Metal Three One Charlie is to move to compound immediately to our right, clear and secure it and give covering fire from there.’

  Three One Charlie was Watson’s section. Olivier ordered Willan’s section, with the casualty, to move in to join them in the compound. Farrugia’s section would remain in position until the other two were firm, giving covering fire. He was then to move in himself, covered by fire from Watson in the compound.

  Willan acknowledged Olivier’s orders then started removing Rawson’s daysack, webbing and body armour. However slight Rawson was, getting the dead weight of his body across the open ground, perhaps under fire, was going to be a struggle, and every bit of unnecessary gear had to be ditched.

  Protected though he had been by his tree, Cain had decided a few minutes earlier that he had been firing from that position for too long and was tempting fate by staying there. He had crawled further down the bank to the left and was now firing from just beside the compound Waters and his men were heading for. He glimpsed movement over his shoulder and looked back. 10 Platoon soldiers were near the compound and seemed to be waving and shouting to him. He couldn’t hear them over the din of the gunfire, so shrugged and carried on firing. Seconds later there was a huge explosion as 10 platoon’s bar-mine detonated. Lumps of compound wall and rubble cannoned into Cain’s back, and he was covered in dust and debris.

  Corporal Farrugia heard the call, ‘Air in thirty seconds,’ and passed it along his section, who were up on the edge of the ditch firing across the cornfield. With the enemy so close, he thought, I hope the air doesn’t get us instead of them.

  There was the roar of an F15 overhead, then Farrugia was shocked to hear a rapid-fire succession of loud explosions as 20mm shells splattered the ground directly behind his section. They have got us – or very nearly.

  To his right Olivier was yelling into the radio, ‘Stop the air, they’re strafing us. They’re 70 metres out.’

  Farrugia’s blood ran cold when he heard, from his left, ‘Man down! Man down!’ the second time in just a few short minutes.

  Lance Corporal Ben Lake, Farrugia’s 2IC, called out, ‘It’s Snowy, he’s been hit in the face.’

  Private Johnathon Snow from Scunthorpe had been firing his Minimi when the shells impacted behind him. He was hurled sideways and thought he had been punched. Then he felt warm blood fill his mouth and drip down his chin. A shard of red-hot shrapnel had torn into his cheek and out through his lip, ripping away two teeth.

  Private James Budd, firing next to him, rolled across and looked at his bleeding face. He reached into the map pocket of Snow’s combat trousers and pulled out a first field dressing. ‘Hold still, Snowy, I’m going to put this on you.’

  10 Platoon had not been able to get on to the roof of their compound, but Waters’s gunners had positioned themselves on top of the compound wall and were blasting into the Taliban positions. The combined vicious rate of fire from the two platoons had not beaten the Taliban, but their fire had slowed, and was now divided, firing at both 10 and 11 Platoons.

  Olivier decided it was worth taking the chance and trying the extraction, even though the air had not found its target. With Snow wounded, he changed the order of extraction, telling Farrugia to move first with his casualty. Olivier spoke into his radio to Waters: ‘Two Zero Alpha, Three Zero Alpha, my callsigns extracting now. Increase to maximum rate of fire, over.’ Not waiting for the response, he yelled, ‘Corporal Watson, keep the fire going down. Corporal Farrugia, get your men into the compound. Move now!’

  As Watson’s rate of fire intensified, Farrugia led his men racing under heavy enemy f
ire across the open ground and into the compound. Dripping blood from his face, and aided by Budd, Snow managed to run into the compound behind the section. As he slumped down on a step, Farrugia came across. In his invariably quiet, calm and reassuring way, he said, ‘You all right, Snowy mate? Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here, you’ll be fine.’

  Snow nodded and attempted a grin that didn’t work through a bleeding and ripped-up face. Farrugia patted him on the shoulder and, leaving him to Budd, hurried back to the doorway to find a way of getting fire down to help the others get across the open ground.

  Olivier was on the radio and ordered Willan to extract. He was further away from the compound and would have more ground to cover – dragging Rawson with him.

  ‘Lads,’ shouted Willan, ‘we’re extracting right, to that compound over there. Garrett, you give me a hand with Nicey. Cain, you give us whatever covering fire you can with your Minimi. Keep as low as you can – we don’t want anyone else getting it.’

  Willan and Garrett began to drag Rawson towards the compound, each with a hand hooked under his armpit. As they left the cover of the bank, bullets started pinging near by. They kept as low as they could, trying to crawl as they dragged him. It was impossible; they were making virtually no progress.

  ‘We’re going to have to get up,’ said Willan. They crouched as low as they could, sometimes throwing themselves to the ground as the bullets got too close. Watson’s men were keeping up a furious rate of fire at the enemy and getting incoming themselves.

  Keeping pace with the other two, and determined to give as much cover fire as he could, Cain was standing up, exposed, as he rattled down belt after belt. He could no longer see the enemy, but he knew where they were and was firing in their direction, hoping to keep their heads down.