by Chris Ryan
I whipped out my shamag and twisted it up into a sausage to make a tourniquet above the wound.
'Get on the radio to Stew,' I ordered. 'Tell him we need the trailer forward, as close behind the OP as he can get it.'
I got the tourniquet in position, broke out two thick wound-dressings from my emergency pack and bound them into place with Norm's shamag, one on either hole. When I shone the torch on Pat's face he looked deathly pale, and his eyes moved slowly. I felt round his neck for the sachet of morphia. It was still in place, so I jerked the cord in half, pulled off the cap and banged the needle into his good thigh.
'He's lost a lot of blood,' I said. 'He needs an IV, fast.'
Suddenly a brighter glare blazed out of the camp, and the beam of a searchlight swept over the desert to our right. 'For fuck's sake!' called Whinger. 'Let's get him into a deeper hole.'
He and Norm took Pat by the arms and began dragging him backwards over the sand, ignoring his protests. I picked up his rifle and went after them. Then I saw the beam of the light swinging fast towards us.
'On the deck!' I snapped. 'Down!'
Down we went, but not quick enough. The light beamed on to us, swung past, then checked and came back. The operator had seen us. A second later rounds came flying down the line of the beam. The air all round my head was suddenly full of vicious snapping and crackling. It was a machine-gun, firing long bursts.
We were pinned down fifty metres short of the dunes and good cover. If we'd all been fit we could maybe have rolled into hollows and got away with it.
But Pat couldn't move on his own. To me his body showed up as big as an elephant's, caught in that lethal beam. If anyone had good binos at the other end, they were bound to see it.
There was only one thing to do. I rolled a couple of metres to my left, came up in a firing position and let drive at the light with my AK-47: one, two, three short bursts, raising my point of aim slightly each time. I was aware of someone else firing too, on my right. At my fourth burst the light vanished, but rounds were still snapping close overhead.
'Keep down!' I yelled. 'Give 'em time to lose their point of aim.'
In a few seconds the firing stopped.
'OK,' I called. 'Let's go.'
Whinger got hold of Pat again, but Norm wasn't with him.
'Norm!' I called. 'Where are you? Norm?'
I scuttled four or five steps to where I'd last seen him, and there he was, flat on his front, slumped face-down over his rifle. Feeling desperately exposed, I knelt with my back to the camp and flicked on my torch. Blood was welling from a hole at the base of his neck. A bullet had gone in on the inner end of the collar bone, killing him instantly. The round must have raked through his chest and-out through his spine.
I found I was shaking. 'Norm's gone,' I said.
'Want me to carry him?' Tony was lying beside me.
Tll manage him. You help drag Pat.'
The volume of incoming fire increased again, green tracer now added to the red. There must have been twenty or thirty guys loosing off from various areas of the camp, and now two machine-guns were firing.
Praise be, the whole lot was going high. Looking back, I saw that the power had been partially restored: a few lights were showing dimly, as though w.orked by emergency generators. More sinister was the fact that vehicles were lining up one behind the other, facing the centre gate, as if a sortie was about to be launched into the desert.
With the air full of lead, everyone's instinct was to stay on the deck and crawl into shelter. But you can't crawl in soft sand dragging a heavy weight. Scary as it was, the only thing to do was to stand up. With Tony's help I got Norm over my shoulder in a fireman's lift, his arms hanging down my back. Even though Tony had taken his Nile, he seemed a hell of a weight. I started taking very short steps, but my feet slid in the sand and I made practically no progress.
Then out of the air came Stew's reassuring voice: 'On the move with the trailer. Can you give me a steer?'
I was panting so hard I could hardly speak. 'Stew,' I gasped, 'we're in the shit. Norm's been topped. Thirty seconds, someone'll be on the back of a dune. Give you two flashes, repeated.'
I struggled on a few more steps. I could feel Norm's warm blood dripping down the backs of my legs. The other two were dragging Pat on, drawing ahead. Tracer was still sailing high over us. Somehow we had to make the back of the first big dune, in dead ground from the camp.
No breath left. I had to put Norm down. I got hold of his limp left hand and started trying to drag him, but in the deep sand his weight and the pouches of his belt- kit made it almost impossible.
Dimly I realised that Tony and Whinger had got Pat over the lip and into a temporary refuge. A second later Whinger was back beside me. He grabbed Norm's other hand, and the two of us got the body moving. By the time we had it in dead ground Tony had started giving Stew double flashes. With incredible relief I heard the engine of his quad, purring towards us. In a moment he was alongside.
'What happened?'
'Norm got one smack in the chest,' I said.
'Instantaneous. Pat's got a gunshot wound to the right leg. He's lost a lot of blood.'
I knew we ought to put more ground between us and the enemy before I started work on the casualty. On the other hand, I didn't think Pat could last very long.
'Get the body in the trailer,' I said. 'And Pat. I've got to give him an IV right away.'
While the others lifted Norm and lowered him into the bottom of the trailer, I broke out the med pack and sorted an IV drip. My hands were shaking so much I had trouble with the packaging.
'Watch that fucking gate for me, Whinger,” I said.
'Tell me if the bastards start out.'
I slit away the sleeve of Pat's shirt and got the needle in his arm, but I had nothing to hang the bag of fluid from, so I handed it to Stew and said, 'Hold that a minute.'
'Watch it, Geordie,' called Whinger, who was observing from up on the mound. 'They're at the gate now.'
'Tell me when they've got it open.'
'Wait out.'
We got a minuteor so's respite. Then Whinger called, 'They're coming through. Six, seven, eight vehicles.'
'Head for the LUP, then. Gimme the bag, Stew. I'll ride with him.'
But could we move? When Stew went into gear and revved up, his wheels just spun in the sand. The weight in the trailer was too great. I leaped out, preparing to walk beside Pat, holding the IV above him. But still the trailer wouldn't shift.
I pushed as hard as I could with my free hand. Tony was on the other side, heaving like he was in a rugger scrum. Whinger was still up top, observing the enemy.
The temptation was to call him down and get him pushing too, but we needed him where he was.
We made maybe fifty yards at a desperately slow speed, before the quad slewed sideways and slid, dropping into a deep, steep-sided hole, with the trailer jack-knifed round against it. The fall had jerked the needle out of Pat's arm, and I was left with it dangling on the end of the tube. At that very instant Whinger called down, 'Watch it, Geordie, they're turning to come in along the new road ahead of us.'
I took an awful decision: we had to ditch Norm, and Pat we must save at all costs.
'Where's yur Semtex?' I asked Tony.
'Some here,' he patted his pouches. 'Most of it's in the trailer. Why?'
'I want you to get rid of Norm's body.'
'Aw, shit!'
'I know. But we've got to do it. Those are our orders. If we keep him with us we'll put everyone at risk.'
By then we were in one hell of a mess. Our only hope of getting the trailer out of the hole was to empty it. But Pat was lying on top of the heap, and before we could get Norm clear we had to shift Pat back on to land, causing him horrendous pain.
I broke out a fresh wound-dressing, wrapped the IV : needle in it and laid the whole kit on top of my AK-47.
Then I went to work. The body was still warm as in life.
Holding it under
the arms, I hauled it out and dragged :, it ten yards clear. Tony came with me, carrying his gear.
'What shall I do?' I asked. 'Put him on his side in a fetal position?“ '
'I guess. I've never done this before.'
'How much Semtex have you got?'
'Twelve pounds.
'Put five in his midriff, and we'll wrap him round it.
Tie his hands behind his knees.'
'What about the fuse?'
'Wait till We've got the trailer sorted. Then give us fifteen minutes.'
'OK.'
'Can you manage?'
'I guess so.'
'Sorry, Tony.'
I felt round Norm's neck to make sure he wasn't wearing his ID discs on a chain, then scuttled back to the quad. Stew had already unhitched the empty trailer and pulled it up on to level ground. I broke out a rope and called Whinger down to help pull. With Stew driving and us two heaving, the bike scrabbled its way back on to the flat. All the time I was working, my mind was on Tony and his horrible task.
We were all moving fast and silently, shocked by the realization that Norm, our taciturn but ever-reliable mate, was about to be blown to eternity. We also knew that we were rapidly being surrounded. Still not speak ing, we hitched up again, reloaded Pat and the two spare weapons into the trailer, and tried another start.
This time the quad went forward without anyone pushing, and I knew We'd made the critical difference to the load.
I got the IV needle back into Pat's arm and told him to hold the bag up above his head with the other hand.
'Keep it up as long as you can,' I told him. 'Then have a rest, and up again.'
Turning to Tony I called, 'How are you doing?'
'Finishing now. What about the fuse?'
'Start it going.'
Whinger had scrambled back to his lookout post.
'Lights moving out,' he said. 'Coming across our line of retreat.'
'Shit!' I muttered. 'Let's go.'
We reached the LUP without further incident. Stew had already ripped down the cam-netting, so we folded it over into a makeshift blanket, to give Pat some padding from the bumps and insulation from the air. In the distance behind us the Libyans were still filling the air with lead.
'Booby trap both spare quads,' I told Tony. 'Pile most of the Semtex on them, and put a jerrican of petrol underneath. Quick as you can.'
I put my head close to the casualty's and said, 'Pat?'
'Yeah.'
'You hear me all right?'
'Sure.'
'Listen. We've got to motor. Keep the bag up for as long as you can, OK?'
'Right.'
I turned to Tony and said, 'Pat's pulled back a bit already. I reckon he's stable now. How are you doing?'
'Matter of seconds. I'm giving this one fifteen minutes of det cord.'
'How long till Norm goes?'
He shot a quick glance at his watch. 'Eight minutes.'
'Let's get moving then.'
'OK. It's burning.' Tony stood back for a second, then crossed to his own quad and jumped aboard.
At last we were properly under way, heading due south, myself in the lead. Already the sand was firmer, the going faster. With every minute that passed, the noise of firing faded behind us. I uttered a silent prayer of thanks for the Magellans. With the coordinates of ER.V Six punched in, the needle on my little illuminated dial was giving me our course, and warning me every time I deviated to right or left.
Yet as the seconds ticked away, I felt terrific tension rising inside me. Norm was about to be vaporized. The idea was disgusting, incredible. I thought of the bomb at WarrenPoint which had killed nineteen Paras. Two of them had literally disappeared into thin air; no trace of them was ever found.
Lights! Lights ahead of us and below, maybe three hundred metres from us.
'Everyone stop,' I called. 'Standby to see how far they're going.'
Like the twats they were, the Libyans were driving slowly along the new road with headlights full on. The vehicles were maybe a couple of hundred yards apart, engines and gearboxes grinding in low gear.
'First explosion imminent,' said Tony's voice in my ear - and then, before I had time to agonise any more, it came. A terrific flash split the sky behind us, and a heavy booth! buffeted through the air. Norman was gone. I tried to shut my mind to details about which bit of him might have been blown where; I just hoped there was nothing whatever left. Annihilation.
When I tried to swallow, my throat felt desperately dry, and I was shaking with reaction. Concentrate on the job in hand, I told myself.
I looked at the road and realised something was wrong with the picture I could see.
'Whinger,' I called softly, 'you said you counted eight vehicles through the gate?'
'Correct,' he answered. 'There's only six still mov ing. Two of the bastards have stopped off somewhere.'
'Wait one.' I pulled up my kite-sight and switched it on. Sure enough, I picked up the two delinquents, one a couple of hundred yards to the left of our line of retreat, the other twice that. 'They're putting out a cordon,' I said. 'The next one will stop in a moment…
There he goes.'
A third vehicle came to a halt and doused its lights.
Scanning the ground with the night-sight, I saw that fortune at last was favouring us. From where we were a shallow gully ran down to the new road; rolling down it we would be invisible, and the sides would contain the sound of our engines.
'We'll slip through between them,' I said. 'How long till the next bang, Tony?'
'Four minutes.'
'We'll use that as a diversion. Give us a countdown.
All stations get your eyes shut before the flash. As soon as it goes, we roll. Whinger, stay back to cover the rest of us across. Once we're over, we'll stop and cover you.'
Roger.'
While we waited, I kept scanning with the sight. As I had expected, Gadaffi's fearless warriors preferred to do their soldiering from the safety of their vehicles.
Nobody got out and started to walk about.
'One minute,' Tony announced.
I tucked the sight down the front of my shirt and settled my PNGs back over my eyes. At fifteen seconds I closed my eyes - and it was lust as well, because the flash and bang came fractionally before Tony called them.
This second explosion, being much closer, sounded far more dramatic. Anyone looking back towards the camp would have got an eyeful. Before the echoes had rolled away we were bobbing down the gully and across the road. I held my breath and kept going steadily until we were well clear, then stopped everyone and turned to cover the crossing while I called Whinger on.
Now we were on the hard ground and up to full speed. We had a much shorter way to go than on the run-in, because our pick-up point was only a couple of kilometres beyond the south bank of the big wadi.
After twenty minutes of steady travel, I called, 'M1 stations - comms halt now. Close on me.'
With pickets out ahead and behind, Whinger set up his Satcom and started aligning the little dish-aerial. I thought of the big aerial in the camp, still functioning, and tried to put that minor failure behind me. As Whinger fiddled, I took another look at Pat. When I loosened the tourniquet, blood started to seep through the wound-dressings, so I tightened it again and got another IV going. I stayed with him while Whinger was getting through to Hereford, chatting quietly to encourage him, trying not to think about Norm.
'Fucking great bang,' Pat muttered hazily. 'What was that?'
'Tony put your quad into orbit, to stop anyone else getting their hands on it.'
'Shit hot!'
'Going through,' said Whinger.
I passed the IV bag to Tony and took the handset.
'Zero Alpha, Zero Alpha, this is Delta Four. How do you hear me?'
'Zero Alpha. Loud and clear. Over.' It was Mac's voice, his Glasgow accent unmistakable even via the satellite.
'Delta Four. I confirm the bird is down. We're clear of the target ar
ea and heading for the pick-up point.
ETA there between figures four zero and figures six zero minutes from now. Repeat from four zero to six zero minutes.'
'Zero Alpha. Roger. Your transport is en route to you. Will confirm your timings to Captain Steve.
Over.'