Wilco- Lone Wolf - Book 4

by Geoff Wolak

  At 6pm I returned, banging on doors, bleary faces opening up. ‘Wake up, get a shower, we’ll have a traditional English curry and some beer.’

  An hour later we pulled up in two taxis, many of my team joining us, local police outside, and us Brits ordered Indian food for our guests, the beer flowing.

  I told Castille, ‘That’ll teach you not to volunteer for something you don’t have to do.’

  ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time,’ he noted. ‘But I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. That fucking artillery, and the dogs – I hate dogs chasing me like that, got bit a few times.’

  I faced Mahoney. ‘Mister Mahoney, man of steel. You came up through the ranks, yes?’

  He nodded. ‘Got a commission this year.’

  ‘Being an officer hasn’t slowed you down,’ I noted. ‘Great score.’

  ‘What did he get?’ Rocko asked.

  ‘Ninety-two.’

  ‘Good score,’ Rocko approved.

  ‘Rocko here got ninety-five, damn hard to beat,’ I told them.

  ‘And you select men who get high scores?’ Castille asked.

  ‘If a soldier can get ninety plus he’ll not crack in battle.’

  ‘So the rest of the SAS don’t do it?’ Mahoney puzzled.

  ‘Some do, it’s voluntary, and they get noticed. Rizzo here did it twice, to get his score up. Most of my lads are over ninety. Average SAS lad is around eighty.’

  ‘You work independently?’ Castille puzzled.

  ‘We answer to the Intel boys in London, and we were formed for special missions, off the books, but the format has changed a little and now rescue missions are a priority. And my team, any one of them could be called upon by Intel to go off and do a dodgy job someplace. Our Somalia rescue – if we had been killed – we would have been labelled as ex-services mercenaries, and it would have been covered up.’

  ‘Some of our guys do jobs like that,’ Castille noted. ‘Some never came back, some in prison. We say that we never leave a man behind, but that’s just Hollywood bullshit.’

  I nodded. ‘I’m using the apartment of a Captain who’s languishing in an African prison. Still, it’s a nice apartment, so I hope they keep him.’

  They laughed, loudly.

  When they could not keep their eyes open we put them in a taxi, Moran going with them to make sure they got to bed safely, and we said goodbye in the morning, a quick look around the base, a chat to the Colonel and the Major.

  Bob called me an hour later. ‘How did it go with the Delta Force men?’

  ‘Not sure they learnt a lot, they were good to start with, but as they said themselves - they got a different viewpoint and some different scenarios to make them think. I introduced them to some damp English countryside.’

  ‘Their CO has already spoken to the MOD, they want to put more of their lads through the same, and the three day. The captain told him that he learnt a few new things, and that it was very hard, which pissed their CO off greatly apparently.’

  ‘Why, what the fuck’s his problem with what we did?’

  ‘They’re supposed to be the best, you’re supposed to be learning from them.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘They described the three day as the hardest thing they had ever done, harder than selection. They want the detail, to replicate it over in ... wherever they are.’

  ‘North Carolina; mild winters, not summers, they described it as nice – but too damned hot in the summer.’

  ‘You spoke to Chuck...’

  ‘Bob, was that a loaded question? Are you some sort of spy chief?’

  ‘It says so on the door.’

  ‘He wants some newspaper inches, he’s willing to horse trade, rest is up to you.’

  ‘You’d do a job without recognition?’

  ‘Why not; we follow orders, not seek the headlines. I see the benefit of the headlines, but it’s not essential for us to function.’

  ‘Americans can exert a great deal of influence, it’s being discussed high up, yet secretly, some don’t like the idea.’

  ‘Same difference as with the French, they behaved like Somalia was their doing, so what. Getting the hostages out is what matters.’

  ‘We’d be taking a risk for some future good will,’ Bob noted.

  ‘Same risk, and flying up to Catterick in a Chinook is more of a risk than a job overseas, or a fucking French Puma going down. And I’d not do the job if I thought it would be a fuck-up, or risk the lads, you know that.

  ‘We take acceptable risks without being soft or holding back. So if you have a job that suits them, we do the rescue, they stand ready with a helo. If we fuck it up they go away and no one knows. It all comes down to what you can get in return, so you have to figure that one out.’

  ‘I have a long list, but I’m not sure they would budge.’

  ‘Use your negotiating skills. But ... might not have a suitable job for ages.’

  ‘I have one in mind. You’re familiar with Liberia?’

  ‘Yes, and it’s a shit hole, a swamp-infested bad place to have a fuck-up. Still, lads need some jungle training. Are there hostages?’

  ‘Lots of hostages, no one dumb enough to go for them, a handful of Americans being held.’

  ‘White faces or black faces?’ I asked.

  ‘A mix, but we could go for the white faces, I don’t think CNN would run the black faces.’

  ‘Hell no,’ I quipped.

  ‘There are two “E” Squadron men down there, somewhere.’

  ‘I’m not rescuing the guy whose apartment I have!’

  Bob laughed. ‘He’s in Mozambique.’

  ‘That’s OK then.’

  ‘A few Brits missing as well, quite a few.’

  ‘And if we thinned out the gunmen..?’

  ‘Wouldn’t make any difference, you’d have to clear the whole country before western interests moved back in to that swamp.’

  ‘So where would western interests like to move back into, including American companies?’

  ‘Iran, but you’d need more men.’

  ‘Quite a few more men,’ I quipped.

  ‘Sierra Leone is half and half, western interests around the coast, looking for oil, rebels inland causing trouble.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Couple of hundred, not many, a few across the border with Liberia. We could get French assistance there.’

  ‘Up to you, Bob, we’ll look at it job by job and make a plan.’

  I took Ms Turner out that night, but when I explained that I had enjoyed teaching Americans she was again pissy. I had had enough. I stood up, napkin down. ‘This is what I do, accept it or move on to someone else.’

  And I left her in the restaurant and walked out, and drove to Swifty, who was surprised to see me. He got the kettle on without saying a word.

  I finally said, ‘I walked out on my bird, left her in a restaurant.’

  ‘She still pissy about you not calling?’

  ‘And spending time with the Americans, instead of her.’

  ‘You don’t need a distraction when we’re on a job,’ he cautioned.

  I nodded. ‘That has been bothering me. I don’t need to be thinking about calling her when I should be shooting someone. It’s one of those jobs that needs focus.’

  ‘A messy slow break-up is where the stress comes from, that ... indecision, second guessing yourself.’

  I nodded. ‘I’m going to avoid her for a while, see what happens. No large breasts to play with.’

  ‘You can find other large breasts easily enough.’

  ‘Trip down to Cardiff?’

  ‘This weekend, yeah, I could do some cleavage staring.’

  Bob called me the next day. ‘I just spoke to Rawlson, he’s had an official request to place an American with the SAS, but they meant with you and not with the regular SAS – so he called me.’

  ‘I’ve got no problem with a man here, and if we do a job for them he’s the coordinator.’

&nbs
p; ‘Man is on his way, a lieutenant.’

  ‘Mahoney?’

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘They only had the one lieutenant with them, Mahoney, he got ninety-two on the three day.’

  ‘Then he won’t slow you down. Chuck still wants some newspaper inches, which he’ll claim as his own.’

  I laughed. ‘Some might consider that you live in a world of intrigue and double dealing, Bob.’

  ‘Talk of double dealing, I’ve taken your advice and converted Captain Samantha Hedge.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Her boss made use of the story, made himself look like an idiot, got mad at her for being played, so I intercepted her and had a chat. She’ll work for me, and behave.’

  ‘The road to Damascus conversion,’ I quipped. ‘She has seen the light. And you have matured a bit, Bob, and seen that people don’t need to be thrown away because they make mistakes.’

  After the call, I considered why Rawlson had not spoken to me, but had dealt direct with Bob. Was he trying to make a statement, that I was just a captain?

  Late than evening I picked up Mahoney from the train station at Bristol Parkway, and drove him up to the base, chatting as we went. He was glad of a break away from his boss, a bit fed up with exercise after exercise, and had been thinking of quitting or moving to another unit.

  Seemed that no matter what unit a man was in, in whatever country, there was always some arsehole wanting to make life hard, and I sympathised with him.

  He had been married, but that had not gone well, soldier’s wife and all that, and she had cheated. Well, he had also cheated, with hookers, none of whom she knew about, but his wife had been caught red-handed by an old school chum, a quick end to a short marriage. His infidelity was just some hand relief from a Chinese hooker in Singapore, her infidelity was more a case of having feelings for someone else.

  I got him a key for a room, and he settled in. ‘Just like basic training,’ he noted about his new small room. ‘I’m a ten year veteran, you know,’ he said with a smile.

  Having shown him where everything was we headed out for a beer and a curry.

  ‘What are the hours?’ he asked after we sat.

  ‘Orders are done most mornings at 9am or just before, after that people head off to courses or to train. We don’t watch the clock much, and no one will care if you slope off early. If you need a day off to do something, or to go shopping, then just let us know.

  ‘But a word about regular SAS lads; don’t expect them to salute you, they might call you “Boss”, or just take the piss. You’re not their CO and you can’t give them orders. If they give you any shit, let me know and I’ll deal with them.’

  ‘And your lads?’

  ‘Better than regulars, and they’ll respect your score, you won’t get any shit from them, they fear me too much – and they fear being kicked out.’

  ‘So you keep yourselves separate?’ he puzzled.

  ‘If the regular SAS had a better attitude then we wouldn’t exist. We get the good jobs from Intel direct because we don’t fuck about. Regular SAS lads might shoot each other in the foot or dick about on a live job somewhere. They think they’re good to be SAS, so they have attitude.

  ‘But the French and others, and your lot, they don’t have attitude, and you salute officers, it’s just this one small section of the British Army that has bad attitude passed down to the new guys. And they’re not that good at the job, most want to go home to their families at the end of the day not risk their lives.’

  ‘And you cherry-pick the best lads?’

  ‘Best skills and a good attitude. If someone is good, but doesn’t have a good attitude, then I won’t work with them. I’d rather a lad with a good attitude, the skills come later.’

  ‘Now there’s a policy I can agree with, a bit too much politics in my unit.’

  I dropped him back late, and in the morning he surprised the lads when he wandered in. I made him a coffee, introduced the officers, and we sat for orders.

  ‘OK,’ I began. ‘We have with us today Lieutenant Mahoney, a Yank, and he’s on loan for a while from their Delta Force; he’s come to see how we do what we do so well. And, since he scored ninety-two on the three day, he won’t slow us down. He’s had a week’s training at The Factory and covered most things, and he tackled the Catterick scenario, so all we need now ... are some UK combats and boots, webbing and rifle.’

  I turned my head to O’Leary. ‘Please kit him out fully, and when he’s around here he looks like one of us.’ I faced the group. ‘OK, we may have a job coming up, Sierra Leone and Liberia, West Africa: jungle, heat, flies, and nasty gunmen. So, with that in mind I’ll be organising some suitable training very soon, and some new kit.

  ‘In the meantime, Troop Sergeants, carry on with whatever you think is suitable till I have the detail, but don’t make any plans for courses in the weeks ahead, we may ship out suddenly. Swifty, take our new LT, Tomo and Smitty, and organise a day’s sniper work, 500yards. Troop sergeants and officers remain, rest of you, go away for ten minutes.’

  After the lads had headed out, some to the running machines, some for a route march, Swifty leading off Mahoney, I faced those left, and took in their faces.

  ‘This job in West Africa ... is not essential, and it’s a rough spot. It’s good, in that we need jungle training, it’s good to keep the guys sharp, there are hostages, but ... as I said, it’s not essential, and we could pick up wounds and lose people.’

  ‘Same as the other jobs,’ Rizzo noted.

  ‘Close-up jungle fighting will be a fur ball,’ the Major noted. ‘Not pleasant.’

  ‘Can’t hold back just because it’s dangerous,’ Rocko noted. ‘No more dangerous than a fucking ride in a French helicopter.’

  ‘Can’t just do exercise after exercise forever,’ Rizzo noted.

  ‘No,’ I agreed. ‘But we could wait for a genuine need, British hostages, a genuine conflict.’

  ‘When’s that going to be?’ Rocko curtly asked.

  ‘Question is,’ the Major began, ‘do you risk men to keep them sharp, and it’s something I’ve dealt with before. If they don’t get the action they go stale, but if they see a lot of action they quit.’

  ‘None of my lads want to quit,’ Rocko insisted. ‘Some have been on every job.’

  Rizzo nodded.

  ‘And if Tomo was killed?’ I posed.

  Rocko took a moment, and made a face. ‘Way he drives, be lucky to live till next week. Crazy fucker. But he’d not want to hold back, get bored otherwise.’

  Moran put in, ‘It’s a balance between the two, training benefit and risk.’

  I faced him. ‘This job is not essential, so do you want a few weeks in a jungle hell-hole getting shot at?’

  ‘Personally ... yes.’

  I faced the Major. ‘Put this man down for a psychological examination.’ They laughed.

  ‘What are your concerns?’ O’Leary asked.

  ‘Getting the right balance,’ I began. ‘I just feel that ... someday ... someone is going to turn around and accuse me of getting a few people killed for a training exercise, and we lost a few SAS lads recently.’

  ‘And if you were ordered to go?’ the Major posed.

  ‘I’d have no problem with it, and I have no problem with risking myself. If Bob says it must be done ... we go, but this is finding a job to suit us rather than the job needing us.’

  ‘I’ve had this conversation with myself many times,’ the Major told us. ‘To get that balance. And the Regiment sent men to Mali for experience and two got killed, two wounded. Major Horrocks is not beating himself up over that, nor the Colonel, because it’s the game we’re in.’

  I nodded. ‘If the Russians were landing in Dover, fighting would be straight forwards, black and white, this is a grey area.’

  The Major said, ‘You’d rather had a definite requirement, urgent rescue of British hostages. But that may not come around for a year or more.’

  ‘Can�
�t sit here for a year,’ Rocko noted.

  ‘Under normal circumstances,’ the Major began, ‘I’d not want my men to be in action more than every three months, but this detachment is not normal, and the lads here like what they do, and they’re very capable, and I don’t see anyone complaining about being worked too hard – they want the next job, risks and all.’

  ‘Been back six weeks from Mali,’ Rizzo noted. ‘Time for a new job.’

  ‘Best get training for it then.’ I faced O’Leary. ‘I want twenty of those paint guns - tomorrow, I want thirty new AKM sniper rifles, bunch of magazines, forty green ponchos, and some paint.’

  ‘Paint?’ he puzzled.

  ‘Paint suitable for rifle metal and paint suitable for ponchos, we need camouflage. And get me a shit load of plastic plants, you know, rubber plants.’

  I faced the group. ‘When we’re in the jungle we’re invisible, and that way we stay alive. My sniper outfit is great in some place like Bosnia, a bit too warm in the jungle. So ... we need a jungle equivalent. All of you ... start thinking about kit. We’ll need puri-tabs, waterproof dressings, strong green chord – hammock style.’

  I pointed at Rocko and Rizzo. ‘See what stores have. Go!’

  I got on the phone to Bob. ‘Bob, we need some uniforms for the jungle, existing kit is too warm. Can you see what’s available readymade, and send someone down, like right away.’

  ‘I know the people who sell it. Leave it with me.’

  I called Bessbrook and got through to Madge. ‘You still there, love?’

  ‘Wilco, my darling boy, you made my career with this new gear, they all want one. I’ll make enough to retire soon,’ came a rasping voice that could curdle milk. Still, she smoked fifty a day.

  ‘What I need is some jungle gear. So can you make a facemask exactly the same, but cotton, no leather, maybe plastic in the top to stay dry. I then want the same gloves, but cut a hole out the back and put in mesh, let the air in.’

  ‘Aye, easy enough.’

  ‘My order takes priority, I have a job on soon.’

  ‘I have two assistants now, right fucking posh we are as well.’