Wilco- Lone Wolf - Book 4

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘I’ll contact them now.’

  I went and found Captain Taggard. ‘Rest of your squadron will be here in the morning, as well as some of “B” Squadron.’

  ‘Quite a ramp up,’ he noted.

  ‘Prime Minister wants this sorted. And tomorrow some of your men will come with us on the attack, rest of your squadron will protect this place and acclimatise.’

  He nodded. ‘Men are ready, they’ve got a few patrols in, acclimatised.’

  I found Haines as he organised his men on the roof. ‘Tomorrow I’ll take all my men out, and the other SAS here, so you’ll hold the fort. Be more SAS arriving, they’ll help defend this place. Have four of your lads, one GPMG, hold the ambush point from midnight.’

  He nodded. ‘I think we hit that plane many times, lads saw holes made it came over so low.’

  ‘Pilot was a former British officer.’ I left them looking shocked and angered.

  I dispatched Rocko and the Salties north, a long patrol to the druggies village, four “G” Squadron lads on the road north, Pathfinders on the road south, Rizzo northeast, the rest of the “G” Squadron lads inside the tree line. It was as much as we could do for now, and at least we were dispersed, so mortars would have less of an effect.

  An hour passed, the tension palpable, and I checked the battery levels on my phone every ten minutes, expecting a call that informed me a large force was bearing down on us. But no call came, and I sat on the roof next to the radio man, watching teams rotate.

  French Pumas lifted our tedium with a delivery of tents, and we set up most of them up south of the building, out of the line of fire north.

  I chatted to as many of the men as I could, reassuring them, trying to lift spirits when some were clearly concerned, but most of the RAF Regiment lads were in high spirits, the SAS directing staff couldn’t care, and my lads would have failed a psyche evaluation.

  Rocko came back before sun down, Rizzo soon after, Henri setting out northeast, and still no attack had materialised. Men were told to sleep in full kit, weapons to hand, “G” Squadron having created a camp inside the tree line with a tent, supplies stacked up. They had their own mini ambush point hidden nearby, the RAF Regiment lads warned about its location – and not to fire at them and piss off the SAS lads.

  I finally got some sleep after midnight, fully kitted and sat against a wall cradling my rifle, and I woke stiff, badly in need of a stretch. After a cup of tea I checked and re-checked my kit, grabbed grenades, magazines, and I spent fifteen minutes cleaning and checking my rifle, men stirring – not least because the baby started to cry.

  Outside, I walked across to the forward trench, a quick chat, the gunners a bit bleary-eyed, and then ambled across to the tree line and to the “G” Squadron tent, a delicate mist hanging around the trees and slowly moving – like ghosts chasing each other. The tent was quiet, its surface sparkling with dew, so I stepped around it, seeing faces turn towards me. I closed in on their ambush point and sat on a log, four lads waiting some action under ponchos.

  ‘If you get some facemasks you won’t have something crawl up your nose, or have any mozzies bite you.’

  ‘We have the cold weather facemasks, a bit warm for this pigging spot. Saw your new kit, we’ll order some.’

  Remembering the elastic net, I put down my rifle and pulled it out the back of my kit, walking forwards. I tied off one corner above a poncho, stretched it right out and tied off the second corner whilst being curiously observed, pinning down the front with sticks.

  ‘What’s that for, Guv?’ a trooper asked me. ‘It’s a bit see-through.’

  I grabbed a pile of leaves and debris and threw it over the net. ‘You use local foliage.’ Grabbing a branch, I ran my hand down it, collecting many leaves, and I scattered them over the net, a trooper coming around to assist.

  ‘Handy that,’ a man agreed.

  ‘Ask Major Bradley for details of the guy who supplies them, cheap enough, and very handy for hides. Our stretch fabric cammo flysheets are fucking marvellous, you’d get ten men under them. Great for keeping the rain off and getting a brew on.’

  ‘It true what they said about that pilot who bombed us?’

  I sat, lifting my rifle, ‘Yes, former troop captain of ours.’

  ‘We’ve been in the papers, he must have known we were Brits, and SAS.’

  ‘Yes, so ... he has issues with the Regiment,’ I suggested. ‘Either that or he was being paid a shit load of money.’

  ‘Money is no fucking good when you’re dead.’

  ‘We killed six white men the other day, so they won’t be getting paid either,’ I commented.

  ‘I would never come down here playing silly buggers,’ one said. ‘Bodyguard work maybe, but training the blacks – not fucking likely.’

  ‘Some men just don’t want to stop playing toy soldier,’ I told him.

  ‘What about you, what would you do after the Regiment?’

  ‘Civvy intel work, they keep asking. But I doubt I’d live that long.’

  ‘Cheerful fucker.’

  ‘Guys, there’s an excellent chance of five hundred well-armed and well-trained men coming down that track very soon. Your lives are not worth spit ... unless I get to the bad boys first and slow them up.’

  ‘Then have a Mars Bar, a coffee, splash your face with cold water and get on with it.’ They laughed.

  ‘Rest of your squadron will be here today, so I can take a day off, all safe and secure,’ I quipped.

  ‘Wouldn’t bet on it, they’re as crap as we are.’

  Helicopters disturbed the tranquil forest an hour later, three Pumas setting down, men with heavy Bergens easing off and directed to the tents at the rear for now as I greeted Major O’Donnell, another Scot, formerly from the Scots Guards.

  ‘Welcome to the FOB, sir.’

  ‘Came down in a rush, but I slept on the plane. Got nay jeeps or helicopters of our own just now.’

  ‘Driving around here is risky, sir, men in the bushes. You’d lose half your men before dismounting.’

  ‘Aye, maybe.’

  ‘We’ve attacked the enemy jeep convoys with great effect, sir, hard to shoot back into the forest at someone you can’t see.’ I turned and introduced Haines and Morten. ‘You can use the tents, sir, or there are some rooms left inside, and your lads are in the tree line in a tent over the runway.’

  ‘I’ll make an assessment today.’

  ‘Make it a quick assessment, sir, you could have incoming fire in an hour.’ He glanced at the tree line with a renewed interest. ‘I’d like to take my men out today, so you’re in at the deep end, could be an attack on this place at any moment.’

  He took in the base. ‘A few more trenches might help. What’s beyond those trees?’

  ‘More trees, sir, three miles of jungle up to the druggy village.’

  ‘Druggy?’

  ‘They’re always stoned, sir, but there’re not many left up there, we killed many of them. The real attack will come from the ex-SAS mercenaries being paid to attack us.’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’

  ‘No, sir, we’ve killed half a dozen already. Captains Malloy and Trellasy amongst them.’

  ‘I knew Trellasy, and Malloy was working at a private security firm.’

  ‘They were being paid to train a force to topple the government here, but the British Government have a great deal invested down here, so the Prime Minister wants the existing idiot kept in power – at any cost.’

  He nodded. ‘Rest of the men are still at the airfield, we’ll get to defending this place when you move out.’

  I led him inside. ‘There are twenty RAF Regiment lads less two wounded, and they know what they’re doing, so put them to work, sir, and there are Marines offshore who can be here quick, French soldiers at the airport that might come out.’

  ‘Might?’

  ‘They’re keen to protect the airport, not us.’

  Morten’s people got the water boiling, our remaining L
iberian woman cooking, her kids running around and under people’s feet as usual and seemingly oblivious to the recent deaths.

  ‘You have locals working for you?’ O’Donnell queried, our cook stood in a t-shirt that revealed her boobs every time she leant forwards.

  ‘She was a hostage we liberated, sir, her friend was wounded yesterday, her kids killed. Got nowhere for her to go till we can take her back to Liberia, government here won’t help her. Kids are buried around the back.’

  ‘Local officials a bit useless then.’

  ‘Pretty much, sir.’ I led him to the map, and gave him a rundown of the local area, the druggy village north, the camp we attacked two days ago, the road ambush location. ‘I need to borrow your men already here and acclimatised, for today’s attack.’

  He nodded.

  ‘What about us?’ Sergeant Crab asked.

  ‘If Colonel Rawlson gives the OK you can come with us.’ I faced O’Donnell. ‘I’ll go back to the compound we hit and ... finish the job, before we head into Liberia, sir.’

  The Pumas returned, more men setting down with their kit and rifles, and soon the place was bustling, the Pumas set to return for us in an hour, after refuelling.

  I stepped around to the tents with O’Donnell. ‘Everyone outside!’ I shouted. ‘Front and centre!’ O’Donnell shot me a questioning look.

  They peeked out and came out, and I recognised the troop captains and troop sergeants.

  ‘Get your weapons, all of you! Now!’ I shouted, and those without weapons fetched them, a few of the men not pleased at being barked at by me. ‘Listen up. You’re now on the front line, and this base has been attacked many times in recent days. Around you is jungle, so it’s damn easy for someone to sneak up and take pot shots, and those fucking tents are not bullet proof.

  ‘You could be attacked here in five minutes by a lone gunman, or you could be facing five hundred well-armed men in the morning.’ They now looked worried, looks exchanged. ‘This is a bad spot for a holiday, so get your Bergens tucked away and your rifles ready, and stay sharp at all times.

  ‘North of us three miles ... is the druggy camp, so called because you’ll come across a big black guy in his white underpants walking around with an AK47 and taking pot shots at you. Trust me, there is nothing quite so scary.

  ‘Twenty miles northwest is a rebel base, a few hundred men, all trained by ex-SAS instructors, well armed and well motivated, waiting to move on the capital here and take power. We hit them two days ago, a Navy Lynx stuck two missiles into their canteen and killed many of them, and we hit a major road convoy the other day, killed more than a hundred.

  ‘In response to our attacks on them ... they hit this base with rockets fired from a light aircraft, civvies killed, five men wounded. We could come under mortar attack or rocket attack at any time, or the main force may move on us.

  ‘When moving around or going out on patrol, always let the RAF Regiment officer know or they may shoot you by mistake. They have GPMGs up on the roof, and there’s always a man with a radio up there. There are fixed ambush points north, so be damned careful where you wander, and use the fucking radios first. Captain Taggard has the detail, always check with him before going beyond the tree line.

  ‘Just a hundred yards west is a road. If you wander along it then there’s a good chance of going head to head with a rebel patrol of two hundred men, mounted fifty cal. Don’t just set a patrol route, talk to us first or you’ll be very fucking dead ... very fucking quickly.

  ‘You gentlemen have landed in a war zone. Troop sergeants, you have a matter of minutes to disperse your men before some fucker drops a mortar on your heads. And ... welcome to the FOB.’

  ‘I guess that covers the briefing,’ Major O’Donnell noted.

  I nodded at O’Donnell and left them to it.

  Half an hour later, and all of my lads were lined up ready in their teams, kit checked, ammo grabbed, grenades tucked away, water bottles topped up, first aid kits checked. The Externals would all be coming with us, as well as eight men from “G” Squadron, Sergeant Crab and his two mates – Rawlson had released them to me.

  With Major O’Donnell, Taggard and the “G” Squadron officers and Haines listening in, I drew a map in the mud.

  ‘My lads, you remember the compound we hit. East to west is the river, bridge on the east side. Across the river is a ridge we used to snipe down at. Here ... is the camp, nestled into the river bend, here is the village – which we avoid at all costs, and here is the road south.

  ‘One helicopter will land Henri and his team, plus Sergeant Crab’s team, a few miles north, and they’ll walk south to the ridge that Henri made use of before. Once there they’ll offer us eyes on the camp, and will snipe at the camp when we say.

  ‘The main force will land southwest along the river two miles, and we’ll approach along the river, so navigation is easy enough, and we’ll try and avoid any locals. Once we reach the camp we’ll spread out in our teams, and assault the camp, assuming that only a residual force is left from our last attack.

  ‘Part of this mission is to see if they’re rebuilding, or if they’ve abandoned the camp, or if it’s full of nasty gunmen. We’ll modify the plan as we go – and maybe run like hell away.

  ‘Extraction point for the main team will be the same place as we land, casevac for wounded will be the open fields southwest of the village. Our insert will be three helicopters making two trips, it’s not far, hardly sixteen miles away, and those helicopters will fly a circular route to avoid giving the bad boys any advanced warning.

  ‘I got a call into the MOD, who may ... have the Navy Lynx available again to hit the camp with rockets.’

  ‘What’s the worst case scenario?’ O’Donnell asked.

  ‘That would be five hundred well-trained men sat in the camp.’

  ‘And the chances of that?’

  I made a face. ‘Fifty-fifty’

  ‘Those are not good odds, Captain,’ he noted.

  ‘Those men may be stood where you’re now stood, sir, in an hour. How are those odds?’

  ‘Not good either.’

  ‘Then we’ll both take our chances, sir, and see who’s alive at the end of today.’

  ‘I’m on this trip?’ Max asked.

  ‘No, stay here.’

  Teams were checked and re-checked, kit was double checked, rifles re-checked, ammo levels topped up. We were set.

  I approached Smitty. ‘How’s that ankle?’

  ‘Bound it up, Boss. OK so long I don’t need to run a few miles.’

  ‘You can fight sat down,’ I told him. Loudly, I shouted, ‘Make safe all weapons!’

  The Pumas roared in, Henri’s team loaded in the first helicopter, my team loading with the Salties in the second, Rocko and Rizzo in the final helicopter, and we pulled off, soon climbing to a safe height over the jungle, villages and cultivated land glimpsed, a short ten minute flight west and around in a circle, the Pumas setting down on a road, the lads scattering to the tree line in their teams.

  ‘All round defence, we hold this spot,’ I issued over the radio.

  And we waited, crickets chirping away, the road surface shimmering in the heat, flies buzzing around my facemask. A car came past, but we were hidden, soon a cart slowly pulled by oxen, its driver naked, and I hoped that it would pass before the next Puma landed.

  ‘Is that guy naked?’ came over the radio.

  ‘Hey, it’s a hot day,’ I quipped, those near me laughing.

  ‘I reckon he had a thong on,’ Mahoney suggested.

  ‘Do they have thongs in Africa?’ Swifty idly asked.

  The cart had just rounded a bend when the roar grew, and I stepped out, waving, three Pumas coming in at the same time and setting down on the road, men jumping down and running to the tree line.

  It grew quiet as I led my team off. I clicked on the radio. ‘Team leaders, headcount your teams. Rizzo, you there?’

  ‘Here, Boss.’

  ‘Rocko?’
/>
  ‘Here, Boss.’

  ‘2 Squadron lads?’

  ‘Here, Boss.’

  ‘”G” Squadron, you there?’

  ‘Bringing up the rear.’

  ‘Pathfinders, you have Nicholson with you?’

  ‘Here, Boss.’

  ‘Every man right next to his oppo, two steps from his team mates, gap of five steps between teams. We’ve got two miles to go, river to cool down in if we need to.’

  I led them on through thick trees, glimpsing the sparkling river to my left on occasion, a canoe spotted, a few people fishing but avoided, and an hour later I found a stream feeding into the river.

  ‘In your teams, five minutes each, use the stream to cool down.’ Facemask off, gloves off, I splashed my face next to Swifty and washed my neck, and then stood watch the other side of the stream as Mahoney and Moran washed. When they were ready we advanced ten yards and halted, eyes everywhere.

  Forty minutes later I could see the village off to my right, and I wondered if there were patrols out in these trees. I stopped and knelt, my team copying. Looking over my shoulder, I could see that Rocko was knelt ready, his bulk giving him away, even in a facemask.

  ‘Henri, you read me?’

  ‘Yes, good signal, you must be close.’

  ‘What can you see?’

  ‘There are many men still, and I see two white faces.’

  ‘More men than before?’

  ‘Less men.’

  ‘What jeeps?’

  ‘About twelve vehicles, trucks, some have damaged glass, so they are from the ambush.’

  ‘Any mounted fifty cal?’

  ‘One is in good condition, some burnt out vehicles on the side.’

  ‘Look to my position, do you see any patrols?’

  ‘No movement outside the camp. Standby.’ We waited. ‘Wilco, we have a patrol near us, maybe twenty men.’

  ‘Wound them, allow them to leave, I want your position reported.’

  ‘OK, standby.’

  Five minutes passed, and I thought I heard weapons fire echoing, coming from across the river.

  ‘Wilco, it’s Henri, we hit them, killed a few, and the others pulled back.’

  ‘What’s happening at the camp?’