by Geoff Wolak
‘Standby.’ A long sixty seconds later he came back on. ‘They are mounting vehicles.’
‘Good, we’re moving. OK, Rocko, Rizzo, along the river, stay hidden, try and get in close. “G” Squadron lads, move down and cover that road and our rear, come forward when asked. Rest close up, on me.’
Facemask off, I stood, leading my team off at fast pace, down to the road and along it, motorists stopping to stare at us. I picked up the pace, soon running, hearing boots on the road behind. Passing shacks, women grabbed their kids and closed doors.
Reaching the corner fence post of the camp I kept going, a line of shacks preventing anyone in the base from seeing us, people sat there quietly stunned to see us as we passed. Reaching the gate I skidded to a halt, rifle up, two lazy guards shot at ten yards, and I rushed inside, benefitting from two vacant sandbag positions and a few parked jeeps.
Dropping to a knee behind one of the sandbag walls I opened up on men staring my way. They were stood out in the open, unarmed, and they stood no chance. Swifty began firing at my side, soon many outgoing rounds as men fell or fled, and seeing a white face I fired four times as he ran, spinning him. When he hit the concrete I fired again, sure I hit him.
Some of the lads ran past me, using jeeps as cover. Looking left I could see a dozen of my lads firing out from behind the sandbags or knelt close to the sandbags.
Peering through my sights at the far side of the camp, the fence next to the river, I could see gunmen firing towards where Rocko and Rizzo should be.
With the parade ground littered with dead and wounded gunmen, the lads firing into buildings, I clicked on the radio, ‘Henri, what can you see, any large groups?’
‘We are sniping at them, some trying to hide, no large groups.’
‘Watch your rear, Henri, just in case. Rizzo, report.’
‘We got quite a few this side, can hardly see anyone now.’
‘Move in, use grenades through windows.’
‘Moving!’
‘Salties, go left, grenades through windows.’
The sandbags in front of me were hit and torn up, men firing out of windows a hundred yards away, next to the burnt out building.
Glancing over my shoulder I could see an armed civilian, but he was unsure of what to do. I spun and killed him. ‘2 Squadron lads, turn around, watch the street.’
I saw them move, and they ran to a car and got behind it.
Blasts registered, like a door slamming in an empty warehouse, and I could see the Salties knelt next to a brick building, its windows shattered, additional grenades thrown in, blasts also echoing from the far end of the compound.
‘Salties, take a peek inside that building, then clear it.’
Seeing a wounded man run out, smoke following him, he was hit many times, and he did a little dance before he dropped. One of the Salties was now stood up, rifle over his head, firing inside on automatic and spraying it around.
Aiming at the windows, I fired a few bursts, keeping any gunmen hidden in there wary of leaving the building as the Salties approached a door. A grenade went in, followed by a smoke grenade, green smoke soon escaping the shattered windows.
Wounded men ran out, all cut down after a few steps. Moving right, I skirted around trucks and jeeps, firing into tyres as I went, Swifty and Moran right behind me. Finally we got position on the line of jeeps that had been made ready to leave, and I hit their tyres and windscreens.
It grew quiet.
‘Henri, cease fire. Rizzo, report.’
‘We cleared this building back here, no fucker left alive, killed a white guy an all.’
‘Try and set fire to the building, and any jeeps. Salties, report.’
‘No one left moving down here.’
‘Burn it. Rest of you, set fire to jeeps, but with men covering you, take no chances. Henri, report any movement.’
Ten minutes later the buildings were well alight, smoke wafting, most of the jeeps and trucks burning. On my command, Rocko and Rizzo withdrew the way they came, I called up the 2 Squadron lads from the road, and we followed behind Rizzo to the river, a headcount done.
Back at the start point we collected the “G” Squadron lads and began the march southwest, an exact reverse course, Henri moving north to his pick-up point. The column paused at the same stream, washed and cooled down, and pressed on, an hour left before we would lose the light.
I called Sergeant Crab on the sat phone and he reported that he was at his RV, and we reached our own RV half an hour later, the Pumas called in.
Waiting, we cooled down a little, the light fading, torches made ready, a few cars passing, a guy riding on a dead slow donkey trundling past us, whipping his slow ride. At least he had clothes on.
The drone grew and echoed, lights seen, and we waved torches, two Pumas setting down, the Salties and 2 Squadron sent off with the “G” Squadron lads. The rest of us would wait. I had to be the last man out, because if I went first and someone waiting was ambushed, then my golden bullshit reputation would be tarnished – as Swifty pointed out.
Cars again passed us, the tree frogs serenading us, moths flittering about, dark shadows peered at, whispers exchanged.
Our loud rides appeared on time, and we ran across bent-double, clambered aboard in sequence, soon passing over black jungle, no features to see, the odd village lit up, a few houses lit up, and little more than ten minutes later we bumped down on the FOB’s dirt runway, out and running bent-double.
‘Went off well, I hear,’ Major O’Donnell noted as I closed in on him and Haines.
‘Yes, sir, no wounded on our side, and we destroyed that base, maybe a hundred rebels killed.’
‘So the main force is still out there.’
‘It is, sir, in Liberia hopefully, not close to us here.’ Inside, I told the lads, ‘Get some food, a cuppa, get re-stocked, more water, we’ll be out tonight, can’t afford to be sleeping in here and getting bombed.’
I shook off my kit and checked for bugs, soon sitting with Swifty, Moran and Mahoney for a cuppa and some rations.
‘We patrol tonight?’ Moran asked.
‘No, we sleep out, but inside a mile, can’t sleep here, too many men, one good bomb and we lose half the fucking Regiment, or all of our detachment.’
‘And if they move on this place at dawn?’ Mahoney asked.
‘That ... has been on my mind – where best to fight. If it was four of ours against twenty of theirs then the jungle is best, and we’d win. But if they outnumber us ten to one it tips the balance, we’ll get worn down by lucky shots. They probably have RPG as well, and could hit this place from the tree line.
‘They probably have some mortars, so could hit this place from a mile out, they have Duska to keep us pinned down, and probably have a good supply of GPMGs.’
‘GPMG and Duska is no good in the jungle, neither are RPGs,’ Moran stated. ‘So what tips the balance? Those weapons are open country weapons, good against us here, no good in a tight forest.’
‘Maybe,’ Mahoney began, ‘they attack from a few sides. Jeeps drive down that road, GPMGs firing forwards, very effective. Duska a mile back, keeping our heads down, mortars keeping our heads down, then the infantry comes from the east and tries to surround us. Trick is to hit them on the road outside their own base.’
I pulled out the map and studied it. ‘They have a river bridge to cross, so we could hold them there for a while.’
‘Would flank us eventually, it’s not a deep river,’ Moran noted. ‘Plenty of men with canoes.’
‘There’s also a tight valley they have to drive down,’ I added.
‘They’ll be cautious about convoys,’ Swifty warned. ‘Be well spread out next time.’
‘There is one thing, and that’s their base,’ I said. ‘They must figure we’d not get permission to enter Liberia.’
‘They think they’re safe over there,’ Mahoney noted.
My phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’
‘It’s Bob, anything ne
w?’
‘We hit the original camp today, the one the Navy hit with missiles, killed a hundred, burnt it down, burnt their jeeps.’
‘That’s something, reduced them again. “G” Squadron there?’
‘Yes, they got here today, and “B” Squadron lads, most of them dispersed to the tree line – which we’ll do after getting some grub, we’ll sleep outside just in case.’
‘The Chinooks arrived today, at the airport, bulk of the men and their jeeps. Be jeeps on the street soon.’
‘That’ll be reported to the rebels, who will wait for them to leave.’
‘You’ll have attacked them before then.’
‘We were just saying ... they must think we’d not get permission to enter Liberia.’
‘We have been warned off entering Liberia, but the PM is pretending that I never told him. It’s OK for rescues ... so long as they’re successful.’
I laughed. ‘If we’re still in one piece tomorrow we’ll make an attack plan, or go have a look. Oh, warn the British soldiers about jeep patrols north, they’d be sniped at from the trees.’
‘Will do, but they’re tasked with protecting the president and the capital only. Sleep well.’
With the phone away, I said, ‘We have Chinooks to use.’
‘Could pay the rebels a visit tomorrow,’ Moran suggested as he cooked.
‘Five or six hundred men?’ I posed. I shook my head. ‘No, we need an edge. How about ... we go out tonight, have a look, but leave teams in OPs. Eyes-on, the bridge and the tight valley.’
‘We’d know they were coming,’ Moran agreed.
‘Yeah,’ I signed. ‘But with British jeeps now seen driving around the capital, and British helicopters buzzing around, would they bother to come over here? What seemed like a good plan yesterday is not so good now, not that the main force of infantry is here.’
‘We still need to get rid of them,’ Moran suggested. ‘Or they come back when we leave.’
I nodded as I ate. Taking out my phone, I called Bob. ‘Listen, can you chat to the president and try and pinch a few dozen RPGs – his barracks must have some, plenty of ammo, and see if the British infantry have any GPMGs we can borrow – say ten, and ... we’d like them tonight, and any plastic explosive.’
‘I’ll get back to you.’
‘Extra firepower?’ Swifty asked as he ate.
‘Set piece ambush, decoy and attack,’ I said. ‘They won’t be expecting us.’
‘With Chinooks at the airport, we could abandon this base,’ Mahoney suggested.
I shook my head. ‘If we go into Liberia we don’t want people seeing us; this is ideal, the border is a mile away. I’d bring the Chinooks here, far from prying eyes.’
‘We got a freaking reporter with us,’ Mahoney pointed out.
‘He’ll cooperate,’ I insisted. ‘And we give him a good story if there’s a good story to be had. There are hostages in Liberia, Americans, and maybe the would-be president over there has a few locked up himself.’
An hour later, as we made ready to leave, Pumas announced their arrival and loudly set down, boxes unloaded, waves given by the crewman, the Pumas pulling away.
Using torches, many lads advanced on the boxes and carried them back. Each of the long boxes contained two GPMGs.
‘Stretch, Slider, Jacque, Travis, GPMG each, get plenty of ammo.’
A square box contained chain ammo for the GPMGs, those chains soon stuffed into kit bags and attached to webbing, short chains stuffed inside bandoliers. With more GPMGs in other boxes, I issued one to the 2 Squadron lads and one to the Pathfinders.
Finding a box of four RPGs, I handed them out to lads not lugging GPMGs, the bags of rockets to men with neither a GPMG or an RPG. It was like a family gathering at Christmas, and I was Santa Claus.
The final two GPMGs I gave to Haines for the roof, but told him that the SAS lads might whinge and want them.
‘A bit weighed down,’ Major O’Donnell noted.
‘I have a plan, sir, and now that we have this hardware we’ll go put that plan into place. I’ll take your eight lads again, and can you have the rest of your lads on standby before dawn to come and either join in the fight, or to rescue us. Chinooks are sat waiting ready.’
‘And the plan?’ O’Donnell pressed.
‘Plan is to find them, then assess the ground, we might just come back empty handed. Plan is fluid, sir.’
‘I see. And where will you be, exactly?’
‘We’ll walk northeast, across the river and then across the border and have a look. On the map in there you’ll see the rebel base, runway near it, town is to the southeast of their base. We’ll be this side of that base ... somewhere.’
‘And if there’s an attack here?’
‘We could ask for the Chinooks to come get us, sir. But the whole point of this exercise tonight is to move along the route that they might take to come attack us, so ... if they’re moving tonight we’ll go head to head, and if we attack their base there’ll be no attack here, sir.’
‘A pre-emptive strike, yes,’ O’Donnell agreed.
A dark figured moved into the light. ‘Can I ... come along?’ Max tentatively enquired.
‘You are determined to get yourself wounded or killed, aren’t you.’
‘No more risky that staying here,’ he pointed out, a look exchanged with O’Donnell.
I sighed. ‘OK, get rations and water.’
Stretch approached, a box in his hand. ‘I got plastique and detonators, but these detonators ain’t great, thirty second fixed. And I know this brand of plastique, cheap crap.’
‘It’ll have to do. Issue some, warn the lads about its handling, eh.’
‘This lot wouldn’t go off if you stamped on it or poured hot tea on it! Be lucky if it goes off with a fucking detonator.’
Ten minutes later we were ready, Haines and Taggard wishing us luck, and I led the team off, a few men clanking as they went, carry positions adjusted, rags used. But they still clanked a little through the dark.
I clicked on the radio, performing a head count, every team checking in, and we reached the black tree line without meeting a large force coming the other way. There was a track to follow, a bit of a risk, but we moved slowly, my team being the scouts for the main body - not bungling into ambushes being our responsibility.
An hour of steady slog through the dark night led us to a point parallel to the river and its tall reed banks, and we moved north, a hut with a light on seen across the wide river. There were few trees around us, just bushes up to our chests, and in places we found streams by sloshing through them.
A further hour of slow movement and we found the main road by accident. To the left it would have taken us to the druggy camp, to the right the river bridge. But anyone wanting to move on the FOB would have the choice of two suitable bridges, one being a further six miles north. This bridge offered the most direct route, and the least chance of ambush, so this bridge was the one most likely to be used.
Turning right, I led the teams into fields, unsure of what crop we were stomping on, the road some sixty yards to the left of us, a few trees and bushes for cover. To my right was a dense wood, our escape route.
I clicked on the radio. ‘Listen up. Left of us is the road, right is jungle, so if you see a car you kneel, and if you see a large convoy we run like fuck into the tree line.’
Pressing on, I noticed a hut with a light on over the road, perhaps two hundred yards away, and we all advanced quietly for fifteen minutes, soon seeing the bridge ahead. Moving into trees next to the river I had the lads bunch up, and when a car passed we got down and waited.
‘Captain Moran, Mahoney, sprint across that bridge without being seen, get eyes on that road, time it for the rest of us.’
They moved off through the trees, and as we waited I could see them at this end of the bridge.
‘Wilco, there’s a footpath next to the road, a barrier about four feet tall, enough to hide behind if a convoy comes.�
��
‘It’s a fallback, but I don’t want to meet a convoy on that bridge, get across and call it out, please.’
We could see them moving across, and they made it without incident.
‘Wilco, I can see down the road maybe five hundred yards,’ Moran reported.
‘Rocko, Rizzo, on me,’ I called, and I led them and their teams to the start of the bridge, checking to the west. We sprinted across, soon into trees on the other side. ‘OK, Henri, come across.’
I could see them jogging across, and they slid into the trees as a car was called out on the radio. Hidden, we waited as the car passed, loud music blasting out from its open windows.
‘OK, Salties, 2 Squadron, come across.’
They made it without incident.
‘Wilco, there’s a man walking right towards us,’ came from Slider. ‘Looks like a rifle.’
‘Use a silencer and a rag, shoot the fucker.’ The crack sounded out a few seconds later. ‘Go check who he is. OK, Pathfinders, come across, “G” Squadron come across now. Rest of you, spread out, get fire positions.’
‘Wilco, this guy is in uniform, good kit.’
‘Then he’s a sentry, and there has to be others around here, he won’t be alone. Look for a suitable sentry post.’
Boots on tarmac preceded a line of men approaching, ducking into the tress and rubbing shoulders with us, whispers exchanged.
‘Wilco, this is Slider, I can see someone smoking.’
‘Sneak up with your team, make sure you get them all.’
I waited, whispers exchanged, finally hearing numerous dull cracks sound out through the black night.
‘Wilco, we got three of them, there’s a hut back here.’
‘Search it, be careful, use torches, cover each other. Look for a phone or radio.’
‘If they’d been this end of the bridge...’ Moran pointed out.
‘Yes, a shootout. That’s why I sent my best men first.’
I could hear laughing.
‘Wilco, one of these guys has a sat phone,’ came Rocko’s deep voice.
‘Bring it, hide the bodies. Everyone get ready to move in a few minutes.’
Three minutes passed as we waited.