SAS Para-Ops: MEGA SET - SAS Para-Ops Books #1, #2, #3, #4, #5 & #6

by Casey Christie

  The driver then walked to the corner of the structure and placed a small chair and a slight stool opposite each other under the only light that lit the room.

  “Tie him to that chair and freshen him up a bit for me – I don’t want to get shit on my tools”

  Gate man helped Joey to his feet.

  “I should have let you go with the maniac as you wanted to Jesse” said Joey.

  “Thank fuck you didn’t bro. By the looks of things!”

  “Is this position safe – did you spot anything out of the ordinary?” asked Joey.

  “Negative, bro. This place is a safe as can be in this asshole of a country. And we’ve got a Sniper element on the roof – Colonel Brow insisted. Those motherfuckers on top could take out a tango from a mile away bro.”

  “Good, bro. Now let’s get this over and done with. Apparently that poor motherfucker in there has got all the Intel we need.”

  “Yeah, bro, if this guy is a good as they say he is we should be out of here in a couple of hours tops!” said Jesse enthusiastically.

  “Good? No way, bro, there’s nothing good about Black Hands, man. And after we have got what we need the world will be a better place without him” said Joey while moving toward the back of the van to retrieve his prisoner.

  What the fuck does that mean, does he mean the prisoner or the interrogator? Jesse thought to himself then shrugged his shoulders and went to help his friend.

  Chapter Eight – Mercenaries

  Colonel Brow and General Khan sat at the back of a fairly modern dark brown and dust coated 4x4 driven by a local driver. An armed marine rode shotgun, literally. Their vehicle was part of a not so low profile three vehicle convoy – all vehicles were identical and each of the front and back had three armed and fully uniformed marines apiece, each with a local man at the wheel. Not a standard military convoy in a Hostile Environment (HE) by any stretch of the imagination.

  “Why are you grinning, Bull?” asked Brow.

  “This reminds me of when you Yanks first invaded Iraq and then brought in your… what did you call them? ah, yes, ‘private military contractors’ – this was the only way we travelled.”

  “You must be referring to the Black Water guys, right?” said Brow.

  “Not only Black Water, Walt. I met operators from all over the world. Britain, US, Israel, Russia and of course South Africa. That is where I first met Kalahari – the man we’re going to see now.”

  “I’m sure and I’m sure they didn’t look as shit scared as the men escorting us now do” said Colonel Brow while silently nodding to the young marine sitting in front of him while clutching his shotgun so hard his fingers were turning white.

  “Exactly, Walt. These men are young, naïve and the majority are untested in enemy contact situations. They thought the army was something they would like to do, a dream. And as we both know dreams don’t always pan out -- unlike mercenaries or private military contractors as they are so called now – they are all armed forces veterans, most former special forces and they know no other life than war. They have no other skill set.”

  The convoy was travelling at high speed and the lead vehicle hit a jagged rock in the road, shredding the front left tyre. All three vehicle screeched to a violent halt and pulled to the side of the road.

  “Allah be merciful! I told them to drive in the middle of the road and to not stop for anything!! Oh god please shine your light upon us now” said the local driver of the command vehicle to nobody in particular as he pulled on the hand brake and got out of the vehicle.

  The amused look on Colonel Brow’s face vanished and he looked at Bull with a little more concern than he had liked. Colonel Brow was surprised to see that his friend did not answer immediately but seemed to think things through. Finally he spoke.

  “This is not good, Colonel. I won’t try sugar coat it or say anything clever.”

  Just then the back door opened and the driver of their vehicle was standing there, sweat soaked his forehead and chin and both commanders thought his head might explode from the high rate of his heart beat pulsating from his temple.

  “Good gentlemen you can not, we can not, stay here. We must go now!” said the man in a frightened tone. He continued: “We must leave that vehicle here and continue, the firing range is only a few more miles from here and under the protection of Kurdish forces.”

  Brow looked at the scared man and then at Bull and then at the marine who had, very unprofessionally turned in his seat to listen in on the conversation.

  “Soldier, eyes front.” commanded Brow. The soldier complied instantly.

  Colonel Brow got on his comms network and commanded that the three soldiers in the lead vehicle join the other two. Two soldiers were to enter the follow vehicle – one was to drive that vehicle and the other was to take a rear defensive position and the other soldier was to jump in the command vehicle with Colonel Brow and General Khan.

  The driver of the vehicle began to protest to Brow pleading with him and explained that the driver of the follow vehicle was his wife’s brother and if anything happened to him his wife would be devastated and would blame him.

  “Not my problem. My men come first. Just get your brother-in-law and your other friend to change that bloody tyre and join us as soon as bloody possible” he said and slammed his door shut.

  The man was still pleading with him as the last of Colonel Brow’s men took their positions – a marine was getting in via Bull’s side as Bull waited patiently outside. He had now produced a .45 ACP from his waist and was looking alert but not concerned.

  The driver finally relented and got back into the vehicle after Colonel Brow gave him an ultimatum – he was to either get in and drive or he would instruct one of his own men to put a bullet in his brother-in-law for him and save ISIS the trouble. The man quickly complied. Colonel Brow was pleased the man didn’t call his bluff.

  “These bloody South African’s better be worth all this trouble, my friend” said Brow.

  Bull didn’t answer. Instead he laughed and holstered his Forty Five.

  The now two-vehicle convoy pulled into a heavily guarded compound situated in a mountainous area, ushered in by smiling but vigilant Kurdish forces.

  “So what’s the deal here, Bull? What have the South Africans got to do with our Kurdish friends?” asked Brow.

  “But you already know that Colonel, if that intelligence report that found its way on your desk was any good.”

  “You have eyes and ears everywhere, don’t you, General. Well according to the report they are here to fight for the Kurds – to augment their forces in the fight against the Islamic State.”

  Bull shook his head and seemed to smile to himself.

  “Did something I say make you laugh, Bull?”

  “No not at all, Walter. It’s just that that is exactly what Kalahari told me the Intelligence reports would say, for all concerned, the US, the UK and of course the bloody UN” said Bull.

  “Well, is that incorrect?”

  “Technically yes, it is. They are here on a strictly training only basis. They are here to train the Kurdish forces in advanced warfare techniques. To train only by contractual agreement.”

  “Not much of a difference though is it?” asked Brow.

  “Ah but it is, Walter. Especially in terms of South African law. The South African government has been after South African Private Military Contractors since the high profile success of Executive Outcomes. Not to mention the UN” said Bull, who emphasised his feeling about his final thought by rolling down his window and spitting out the vehicle.

  “But why, former soldiers from countries all over the world contract their services to governments in conflict zones. The US and the UK lead the pack in those terms, so why the fuss about the South Africans?”

  A cynical, cold look took hold of the Iraqi General. An almost sour expression that the American commander was not used to seeing in the Iraqi General.

  “Simply - Because they are too suc
cessful in taking down dictatorships and terrorist organisations in Africa.”

  “What, surely that would be a good thing, Bull?”

  “One would think so but just look at the Western media’s reaction to the recent success achieved by the South Africans in Nigeria against those monsters Boko Haram while legally contracted to the Nigerian government. Google it, my friend. Ah, there they are.”

  The two vehicle convoy pulled to the side of a large firing range and the men started to filter out. All happy to be out of the confined space of the vehicles and the relative safety of an allied controlled compound. Colonel Brow nearly flinched at the unmistakable sound of the whip like crack of AK47 assault rifle fire. Colonel Brow noticed that the range was long, very long. Far larger than anything he had seen in the States.

  “Orders, sir?” one of the marines asked Colonel Brow.

  “Go and introduce us to the local Kurdish forces. Let them know we are here on routine business and when niceties are over offer to augment their gate and perimeter patrols. If anything happens I want us to know the same time they do.”

  “Roger that!’ said the soldier who then turned to leave but stopped midstride and added “We don’t have a sniper element with us, Colonel, they didn’t report last night?”

  “I am well aware of that, solider. I’ve tasked them elsewhere. I’m on comms, get me if you need me” said Brow.

  The soldier saluted and turned and transferred their briefing to the rest of the men who quickly fell into line and followed their superior to carry out their orders.

  Colonel Brow turned to see General Khan sitting on a makeshift bench at the top of the firing range chatting to what looked like a young Kurdish recruit. He walked over and joined them.

  “Please take a seat, Colonel” said General Khan.

  The young Kurd, who could be not be older than 18 years of age, immediately shot to his feet when he heard the word Colonel and saluted. Colonel Brow saluted back and the young man sat back down, his eyes transfixed once more on the activity down range.

  “So the boy speaks some English, General?” said Brow.

  The two commanders always referred to each other by their respective rank while in the presence of lower ranking soldiers, although a lot of American Officers would not deem it necessary to show an Iraqi officer such courtesy.

  “Only a few military terms and enough to understand commands but nowhere near fluent, yet. As taught by the Kurdish Forces” said Bull.

  “Why does he look so shit scared?” said Brow.

  “Because he is next.” said Bull while pointing down range.

  Colonel Brow fixed his gaze on proceedings:

  He could see a tall man, bald with a beard and broadly built wearing black boots, brown combat pants with a thigh holster equipped with a handgun. He had on a simple black O-neck over which hung a black battle jacket containing a bullet proof vest and trauma pack and all the goodies of war such as extra magazines, a grenade, flashlight, combat knife and more. Finished off by well worn fingerless gloves and an AK47 with its stock folded, slung over his chest via a tactical bungee cord. This man looked as comfortable in combat gear as most men would in flip flops and shorts on a sunny beach somewhere exotic.

  He saw a smaller, much smaller man, must be a boy, standing next to this man, firing rounds down range with his AK47. The taller man must be his instructor.

  Colonel Brow looked at Bull and said “pretty standard stuff, the boy has nothing to worry about, we all go through this type of training before deployment”.

  The Colonel then turned his gaze back down range just in time to see the taller man kick the legs from under the trainee which sent him flying face first to the dirt, the young man’s face meeting the top edge of the AK’s barrel as they both fell to the floor splitting his nose and causing torrents of blood to squirt onto his weapon and the dirty ground.

  “For fok sakes man, look what you’ve bloody well gone and done now, man!!” said the Instructor while simultaneously reaching down and grabbing the youth by the back of his bullet proof vest and lifting him clean off of the ground before placing him upright. He then tilted the teenagers head back and made him put pressure on his wound. “In a prolonged contact with the enemy chances are you might fucking fall at some point and when you do fucking fall you must know how to! Now, let’s try this again shall we! Aim!”

  The young man at first didn’t follow the command not wanting to take pressure off of his wound. A repeat of the command and a swift smack to the back of his head soon cleared his head and he diligently took his hand off his wound and took hold of his weapon once more, which now hung from his chest much like that of his instructor’s. Blood began to pour once more but the young warrior kept his composure, lifted his weapon, aimed and began to fire accurately down range. Then without warning the instructor kicked his feet from under him once more, this time though the young man remembered his training and gently let the weapon fall flat against his chest while extending the palms of his hands and bending his elbows. He landed against the hard stone and sand floor with ease and very quickly resumed firing in the prone position until his magazine was empty.

  “Much fucking better, man!” said the instructor while once more lifting the youth to his feet with one hand on the back of his BP vest. “Well done, I’m proud of you, you’re not dead. Now fuck off and go and see the fucking medic!” The boy beamed with pride and his smile made brighter through the slick of blood now covering his face. “Next motherfucker up for a shave!”

  The poor boy sitting alongside Colonel Brow could hardly stand and then with a resolve known of the Kurdish People he gritted his teeth stood tall, grunted and marched towards his fate down range. Colonel Brow turned and was momentarily caught unawares to find the instructor looking straight at him. Or through him. Then the moment was gone and the barber got back to business.

  “Hurry up, man! I haven’t got all bloody day!”

  “What are they doing, Bull? That is hardly standard” said Brow.

  “Stress Testing, Walter. They’re getting the heart thumping, the blood flowing and the adrenalin pumping. As in real contact situations.”

  “But surely that’s too far.”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet, Colonel, keep watching.”

  The recruit reached the instructor and was greeted by a flat handed smack to the chest which sent the boy backwards a few steps but he kept his balance and stayed on his feet.

  “Cycle. Aim. Centre Mass. Fire!”

  The young recruit cocked his AK, took aim and hit the middle of the chest area of the paper target.

  “Safety on. Weapon easy. Give me twenty!”

  The trainee did as he was commanded and diligently did twenty push ups made all the more difficult because of his plated bullet proof vest and weaponry. Not too mention the full weight of the instructor who had his right foot on the trainee’s back.

  “Up. Aim. Head. Fire!”

  The boy got to his feet, took aim and hit the middle of the head of the target.

  “He’s good” admired Brow.

  “They’re pretty much all of that standard” said Bull.

  The South African Instructor had taken 10 strides backwards and commanded the trainee to come to him. The young man did as he was instructed – he walked backwards never taking his weapon off of the target. When he came level with his instructor he also got the kick to the legs but performed the falling forward move flawlessly and began firing in the prone position, expertly hitting his target. But…

  “Why the fuck are you firing, who the fuck said fire, fuck damn it, man!”

  A kick to the young mans partly exposed ribs emphasised his ill-discipline. Then to Colonel Brow’s shock he saw the instructor reach for his rifle and cycle a round into the chamber and place the barrel of the weapon unnervingly close to the recruit’s head and begin firing in fully automatic function.

  “Jesus Christ! Surely that’s bloody dangerous and too far!” said Brow who had to look a
way and meet Bull’s eyes.

  “When was the last time you heard of a South African contractor losing a gunfight or getting killed in action, Walter. You get the same PMC reports as I do.”

  “Rarely, I suppose. But that in itself is dangerous, too dangerous particularly around fresh recruits.”

  “They’re blanks, Walter. Highly primed blanks. But the recruits don’t need to know that.”

  “I’m sorry Bull but I can not abide by that, it’s too far. If I trained my men like that I would be up for a court martial before you can say ‘shit hit fan’”

  “Ah, now that’s exactly why we want these guys going in after our guys. Besides, I’ve heard these crazy bastards often say to each other: ‘Better our blood in training to ensure our enemies blood spilt in battle.’”

  Colonel Brow turned from down range and produced a water bottle from his hip and drank deeply. He then busied himself on his comms network getting an up to date SITREP from his 2IC.

  The intense combat stress testing continued for what seemed like an eternity or so before finally it came to an end. The last recruit leaving what Colonel Brow saw as more of a battlefield than a training ground to a cheering class of young Kurdish Warriors. Colonel Brow was lost in his own days of training and was shaking his head in a mixture of nostalgia and disbelief. Is this really the type of training young soldiers really need to deal with the liked of the Islamic State and Co? he thought to himself before confirming in a whisper: “Perhaps it actually is.”

  The Colonel’s moment of nostalgia was rudely interrupted as through the corner of his eye a shard of sunlight pierced his vision, he looked towards it and saw that it came off the ice cold blade of a large hunting style knife. The knife was brought to just under his chin where it halted and hung in the air. Something was on its tip.