“Yes, West. Normally I would agree with you, except for the location of where we are to hunt down and kill this shooter…”
“It’s still Syria, though, surely?” said Andrews.
“Iraq perhaps?” said West.
“Shit!” said Lee. “He’s in Raqqa isn’t he, Boss?”
Without words Captain Taylor nods the affirmative.
“Ah, fuck me sideways, we really have become the expendables haven’t we, Boss!” said White who looks at Andrews and silently mouths the word “Thanks!” with as much sarcasm as his face can muster.
“All right lads, gather around me, let’s brainstorm this bitch and work out the details.”
As the troopers stand and move towards their captain to, in quintessential SAS style, collectively create the mission plan, Mark grabs his friend’s shoulder.
“Henry, what’s so bad about going into Raqqa?”
“It’s a suicide mission, Mark. Raqqa is basically the Capital of the Islamic State. It’s crawling with IS soldiers and hired guns, we’ll be lucky to make it into the city alive let alone leave it still breathing.”
“Fuck!”
“Exactly. It seems command really do think we’re dispensable. Anyway, we’ll sort something out, we always do. Come on.”
“Wait, one more thing, who is this Captain Mann and why is life, or Karma such a bitch?”
For the first time during the briefing Andrews sees the expression of his friend lighten and a smile appear on his face.
“Old Sharpe and Mann were stationed together once, and they hated each other, both Sergeants and.. well.. to cut a really long story short.. Bob had Mann’s wife and Mann walked in on them, perfectly timed as well, right at the finale.”
Sergeant Lee pauses as if searching his memory.
“’It was a thrilling climax’ were Bob’s exact words!”
“Shit, this just gets better and better.”
“So remember, Mark. Never cuckold a man, not even your enemy!” said Lee with a wide smile.
Chapter Eight – Deployment
Incirlik Air Base, Adana, Turkey.
After carefully creating and detailing specific mission objectives and a gruelling marathon three-hour mission planning session, Captain John Taylor’s SAS Para-Ops Team finally landed in Adana, Turkey.
Their 11 hour journey from Sennybridge was smoother than any of the soldiers had dared anticipate. Except for Mark Andrews, who could find no rest on the plane, instead every time his eyes closed just long enough to find sleep he would be jerked awake again, his soul shaken and disturbed by images of bloodied dead bodies of unknown women, children and fighting men.
He could not identify the corpses and he had no idea from what conflict they emanated and could only assume they were Syria’s dead. Though they all had one thing in common – the accusatory eyes with which they glared at the cursed seer of the SAS Para-Ops Team.
On his final attempt to sleep he cried out in pain, as in his final vision that jerked him awake once more he took a long deep drag of a cigarette; he felt his front teeth crash inwards and then an excruciating pain as the back of his head was blown out. Then with clear focus he saw his killer, half a mile away, hidden under rubble in a building. Only the eyes and a battle scarred face of an older man.
Sniper Lee had seen his friend jerk awake and cry out in pain and had tried to comfort Mark, as he had done so many times before. Perhaps the reason the two were now such good friends was because neither could find sleep the traditional way. Henry often found it through the bottle, as Mark had done for many years previously, something which he now replaced by physically exhausting himself through exercise and training – part of the reason for his great physical stamina, strength and the stature he now so powerfully carried. A gift born from his curse.
“Another shitty dream keeping you from slumber, my friend?” Lee said.
“Not this time.” Andrews answered, rather than explaining to Lee that he thinks he has just seen Ash’abah – The Ghost of Raqqa.
“All right lads, get your gear ready, we still have another four hour, 200 mile, trip overland via motor vehicle to make to a shit pit town called Bozova - this will be our final staging point, about 130 miles from Raqqa. Let’s Move!” boomed Captain Taylor’s voice, bringing Andrews’s mind back to the present moment.
Bozova, Turkey.
The trip to the small farmland area of Bozova in South Eastern Turkey took the team six hours to complete, not the estimated four. Suffering two flat tyres and one broken down vehicle they felt lucky to arrive at all. Eight men in total now stood in a small walled compound used for water storage and irrigation -- the six men who made up the SAS Para-Ops team for this mission and their local fixer and driver. The other fixer they had hired stayed with the broken down vehicle, this after a brief argument with Abdullah, the team’s current guide who had just showed the soldiers to a small room that contained maps, food and other paraphernalia they would find invaluable during their mission.
“Excuze me, Captain Taylor, can I speak wiz you?” asked Abdullah.
“Hold on a minute, Abdilli.”
“It’s Abdullah.”
“Sure, I’ll be with you in a minute, Abdulli. Now, gentlemen, tonight we take rest here and move out at 04:00 hours tomorrow morning. Get your kit ready, clean your weapons and prepare to kill our enemy. I’ll also be looking ..”
“Excuze me, Captain but I must talk to you. I muzt be going now, I can not wait here any longer, I muzt be leaving here.”
It was the pitch of Abdullah’s words more than the words themselves that alarmed Captain Taylor the most.
“Get on with it, lads. I’ll be back shortly. And keep your heads on a swivel, my big toe is beginning to twitch” said Captain Taylor while shooting his seer, Andrews, an almost imperceptible look.
Captain Taylor then turned and took Abdullah by the shoulder and walked with him in the direction of the 4X4 they travelled in, then out of sight of the rest of the troopers and outside the compound.
Andrews witnessed this look of questioning and was about to run after his commander when Sergeant White caught him by the arm and pointed to the top of a large water silo overlooking the entire farmland and beyond.
There lying prone, barely visible to the untrained eye was Sniper Henry Lee looking down the scope, in the direction of his commander and their vehicle, of his Israeli made DAN.338 Lapua Magnum Bolt Action Sniper Rifle. After a decade of working with the Regiment’s trusted L96A1 and to the surprise of the rest of the team, Sniper Lee had decided to go with the DAN.338 and “pop it’s cherry” with another sniper’s scalp, he had said.
“A Sniper Element’s first duty is to provide over-watch, Andrews” said White curtly.
Mark was caught completely off guard. As he got out of the vehicle he could have sworn he had told his friend that he needed to relieve himself, and that Lee had replied that he would be right behind him.
“Don’t just bloody well stand there for fuck sake man! Get to your sniper!!” boomed White who quite obviously took great pleasure in Andrews’s rookie mistake.
Andrews ran towards the water silo and hurriedly made his way up the rickety makeshift ladder until finally he was lying next to his partner.
“Sorry about that old chap but I must admit I’m not used to working with a spotter, you see, because of all the nanite technology it’s usually redundant for me to have an extra pair of eyes” said Lee while taping the side of his temple next to his monocular eye.
“So you just forgot about me?” asked Andrews indignantly.
“Well, no. I knew you were here, I just forgot about the fact that you were meant to be spotting for me. Besides, that’s your job.”
Andrews blushed at his friend’s words as he knew they were true. He had fucked up, in the first possible moments of his first operational tour. His size, strength and his training had given him a new-found confidence in his own abilities now gone by committing a stupid mistake.
&nbs
p; “You know the best thing about making a rookie mistake early on, in training or when nobody dies or gets hurt because of it, my friend?”
“No, what?”
“You’ll never make the same mistake again.”
“Too fucking right, mate. From now on you can consider me your Siamese fucking twin!”
“I’m okay with the twin part, Mark. But could we do without the fucking?”
At that moment the sniper element heard the 4X4’s engine start and then the screeching of tires on sand and stone as it pulled off in a hurry. Through his spotter’s scope Andrews could see Captain Taylor walking calmly back to the compound.
The mission comms radio crackled into life in Mark’s ear, causing him to almost fall off of the water tower. Being a soldier was not coming naturally to the former banker.
“Sunray, give me the word and I shall happily send one of my little friends to rendezvous with the engine block of our quickly disappearing former form of vehicular transportation?” said Lee rather a little too hopefully.
“Negative, Sierra Lima. All is in hand. Over.”
“Roger that, over. Ah, damn it, my finger is particularly itchy this sweltering afternoon” said Lee to Andrews.
“You wanted to shoot the vehicle because it drove away?” asked Andrews.
“Of course old chap. Rule 101, or something – always stay with mission transportation. And if it’s compromised or stolen, disable it. Besides my new lady here has a reputation for being able to slice through engine blocks and you know, there’s nothing like a real life field test” said Lee with a wide smile.
Mark Andrews had never seen his friend happier.
“So the Captain must have a plan then, he must have let them go?”
“Looks like it. Or he’s just putting a brave face on the fact that we have just been betrayed by a local Arab fixer. Who would have thought… who’s ever heard of such a thing.”
Seeing the look of worry on his friend’s face Lee thought he would try and put Mark’s mind at ease, a little at least.
“Don’t worry about it, old chap, our commander is the canniest man I know, I’m sure he is two steps ahead of the game. Now focus on our surroundings, look through your scope and talk to me at the same time, it may sound easy but it’s not, specially after we have been doing it for four or five hours.”
Andrews really didn’t know what to say, he felt completely out of his depth, even useless. And if truth be told would do anything to be back at his desk in Canary Wharf counting the clock to his next pint while piling on the pounds to his fat belly. Or would he? Then as if hit by a moment of surreal realization he took in his surroundings and actually acknowledged where he was: in some obscure location in the Middle East on a mission to kill an elusive and deadly sniper known only as The Ghost with the elite and world renowned Special Air Service – one of the best and most secretive Special Forces Units on earth. Why? Because he met the unit’s commander at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in London. Or had the enigmatic Captain John Taylor had his eye on Andrews for quite some time before that chance meeting? Once again he felt insignificant and inadequate.
“I’m glad to have you by my side, you know, Mark. You have a real gift” said Lee so calmly it actually scared Mark somewhat.
“Really, Henry?”
“Yes, Mark, really.”
Mark found himself scanning the area in front of him but not actually looking at the area in front of him. He mentally admonished himself and focused on actually seeing what was in front of his range finder. He immediately found that the more he focused the more his nerves calmed. His focus was momentarily broken as his friend began to speak once more.
“We all feel useless and inadequate on our first Op Mark, it’s totally normal.”
“I would imagine so but the difference is that I’m not actually badged, I’m not actually SAS.”
“You passed selection, right, with the last intake? You passed the marches, the physicality of it and all the tests they could throw at you, right? And for a man of your height that is something, passing the marches that is, let me tell you. They just couldn’t badge you as you’re not even a soldier. What do they call you? A Special Consultant, that’s good enough for me. And from what I hear you excelled at close quarter combat – and that really means something, to me! As I have said before Mark the weakest part of my game is close quarter. I’m weak with a pistol and even weaker hand to hand and please don’t ever go spreading that around. So I need you to have my back when the action gets close, you hear me?”
“I’ve got your back, my friend, I promise you, I’ve got your back, that I know with every part of my being.”
“Your friend? No, old chap, you’ll learn, you’ll learn real quick. Out here, we’re not friends. We are brothers.”
Mark could feel a lump begin to form in his throat. He had heard the soldiers talk about the camaraderie formed between the men out in the field and he had seen enough documentaries about why the men of any army fought, they didn’t fight for the politicians or for their generals, no they always said they fought for the men next to them, their brothers in arms.
But he couldn’t show any emotion, any weakness, he thought, he must be detached and as nonchalant as possible. He had to think of something to say, he had to continue the conversation as though what Sergeant Henry Lee had just said was not the most affectionate thing anyone had ever said to him since he was a little child.
With as much bravado as he could muster he spoke.
“Your kit, you know, your special, Shadow, gear everyone talks about, where is it? The nanite stuff.”
“Budget cuts. They cut deep. Everything was taken away and all funding for special weapons and development suspended. Although talking to Sunray, he thinks it may have been given to the SAS/Delta sniper element. You know to impress the Americans who seem to always out-do us, and everyone else for that matter, when it comes to weapons tech.”
“Do you miss it?”
“What, being almost completely invisible? Of course I bloody well do. But mind you that suit is hot as hell and I really don’t know if it would actually be a viable option in this heat… guess I’ll never know.”
“You could always ask the SAS/Delta Sniper when next you see him at HQ” jibed Andrews.
Andrews felt awful when Lee didn’t respond and was only now fully starting to understand how important being a sniper was to Lee. It seemed it was his everything.
“Well at least you have that beauty then!” gesturing towards the DAN.338 snuggled safely in Lee’s expert arms. “I’ll bet you no one else in the British army is using one operationally”.
“Too damn right, she’s probably the most beautiful lady I’ve ever held in my arms. And the most deadly!”
Chapter Nine – Echo and Echo
Robert Sharpe puts his hands into a dirty bowl of luke-warm water and swiftly brings them back up towards himself splashing the liquid against his face. It’s not clean and it’s definitely not cold but anything helps to ease his burnt features and cool his overheating body.
It’s around lunchtime and the prisoners have been let out of their pit to “wash,” eat and empty their bowls.
The last remaining Iraqi prisoner walks over to the former SAS trooper and offers him a stale piece of hard bread and some dried goat’s meat. Sharpe gratefully accepts the food.
“Thank you, Bull.”
“No need to thank me my friend, if we are to stand any chance of getting out of here with our heads still attached to our shoulders then I need you as strong as can be.”
“So you actually think we can escape?”
“Yes. Where do you think I got the goat’s meat? More than a few of the IS fighters here are disillusioned with what is going on. Their commanders are corrupt and have double standards, a lot of them smoke and drink alcohol yet they beat and kill civilians and lower level fighters for doing the very same thing. And there is one particular fighter here whom I may be able to persuade to be of som
e.. assistance.”
“So they are going to help us escape?”
“No, not necessarily. But they are demoralised and won’t offer us too much resistance and may even look the other way. Tonight we will make our move, after they put us back in our pit and the sun has been set for a good few hours we will make our move, in the dark of night we shall, what do the Americans like to call it.. ah yes, Escape and Evade.”
“Or die trying” said a snivelling Richard King who had been eavesdropping on the conversation from behind the dirty well that provided the barely drinkable water. And without another word he stalked off towards the cover of a tree while being carefully watched by an Islamic State fighter clutching an AK47.
SAS Para-Ops: MEGA SET - SAS Para-Ops Books #1, #2, #3, #4, #5 & #6 Page 20