Wilco- Lone Wolf 5

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘FCO won’t be happy, I’ll explain it. Papers all have the story, and BBC news, but one outlet in Belgium is suggesting that the hostages died in the crossfire.’

  ‘Bodies have no bullet holes, Bob, relax. And we have a live witness.’

  ‘The Sun is claiming a first ever operational HALO by the British Army, but no one can point to one before, so you may have that title.’

  ‘I’ve not heard of one.’

  ‘They have a four page spread, lots of photos, maps.’

  ‘So now every gunman here knows about us,’ I said with a sigh.

  ‘They’d expect you to have left, and the story says it was an in and out.’

  ‘True, they won’t expect us to hang around, and Roach must be scratching his head.’

  ‘Yes, you’re in his back garden but not having gone for him yet. But I bet he moves location now. Call me when you have a plan.’

  ‘Plan for now is valuable wartime experience accrued in peacetime...’

  With the camp just about sorted I had Rocko take Pathfinders on a patrol northeast, Rizzo to take some 2 Squadron lads northwest for an hour or two. And the medics - they were operating on a nasty boil on one of the kids, plus an infected wound on the leg of another kid.

  George approached me. ‘It be OK, Boss, if ... some friend come to the doctor man?’

  ‘Yes it would, we’re here to help. And George, ask around about any hostages. And ... some clothes for the lady.’

  He nodded. ‘I will do, yes yes.’

  I closed in on the second 2 Squadron officer, a fresh-faced young man. ‘You OK to be here?’

  He stiffened. ‘Captain?’

  ‘I doubt you’ve killed a man, and you may have to. So ... you OK to be here?’

  He took in the camp. ‘Have to learn sometime, I’m paid to do a job. And my grandfather, he landed in Normandy, accidentally shot his best mate in the leg, got wounded and was taken home.’

  My smile creased a cheek.

  He continued, ‘So far ... I’m doing better on my first day.’

  ‘We’ll get you some training whilst you’re here. That is the benefit of this place.’

  ‘And the chances of a skirmish?’

  ‘High. Gunmen a few miles away.’

  Rocko and Rizzo returned, no shots fired, Moran and Henri sent out with patrols aimed at getting the Externals some experience. I sent the new 2 Squadron officer out with Moran.

  An hour later, as I observed a heavily pregnant woman ease out of a car, my sat phone trilled.

  ‘It’s Moran, we just killed four gunmen.’

  ‘You did? Where?’

  ‘Two miles or more northwest. We were about to turn back when we saw the smoke, so I figured we’d take a look – figured it forest workers, but it was four armed men in uniform sat about a make-do camp – and they had wellington boots on oddly enough.’

  ‘That new officer with you?’

  ‘Yes, he was involved, a few rounds fired.’

  ‘First blood,’ I noted.

  ‘Tracks from their little camp lead towards the prison, which should be five miles as the crow flies.’

  ‘Could be part of the same group,’ I suggested. ‘But unless you’re good with local accents and faces we’d not know. Any ID?’

  ‘No, nothing. Just weed and cocaine.’

  ‘Stay there, go southwest and circle, just in case.’

  ‘Will do, I mean ... Wil-co.’

  Smiling, I put the phone away, Haines sitting down. ‘Your officer pal just shot someone.’

  ‘He was a bit nervous coming out. He wounded?’

  ‘No. Well, the day is young yet.’

  He shot me a look before swiping a large flying insect off the table.

  ‘You remember that walk back up the hill in Djibouti?’ I asked him.

  ‘Yes, and your pep talk, and I don’t get the adrenaline sap now.’ He shook his head. ‘I felt like hell walking up that hill, completely drained.’

  ‘Does your CO whinge? You’ve had quite a few lads wounded?’ I posed.

  ‘Hell no, he’s loving it. He thinks of us like the Paras or Marines now. One of the big three ... which we’re not. We’re shrinking rapidly, what with RAF bases closing every week, could be half the size soon.’

  I nodded. ‘No more Cold War. I was in Wildenrath, loved it. Great atmosphere over there.’

  ‘Mothballed now,’ he pointed out.

  ‘So is the old SAS base. Was Brabury Lines, then Stirling Lines for a while, now modern air-conditioned buildings with desk computers. Who would have thought it, SAS soldiers using computers.’

  Moran came back on with news of more gunmen seen, so I sent Rocko, Rizzo and their teams out, to join up with Moran.’

  Bob called after sun down, all teams now back – no further action, a stag set-up. ‘I have some intel,’ he began. ‘Those men you killed, they were not the kidnap gang, the hostages were handed over to them for safe keeping.’

  ‘That what you call safe keeping, eh.’

  ‘Well the main group just raided another mine, more hostages, and they set fire to buildings, a lot of damage. So...’

  ‘Let me guess. Rio Tinto, party donors, are putting pressure on the Prime Minister to sort out next year’s profit and loss statement to the city.’

  ‘You’re wasted as a grunt, you know that.’

  ‘So what’s the bad news, Bob?’

  ‘It comes in two parts. First, the kidnappers are looking for you, and the locals will report your loud aircraft. Second, PM wants you to move to Zambia and deal with the gangs.’

  ‘Why Zambia? Where are these gangs?’

  ‘On the Congo side -’

  ‘So why the fuck Zambia?’ I pressed.

  ‘Show of force, extra concessions from the Zambians.’

  ‘And “A” Squadron in Kenya, sat around getting a tan?’ I nudged.

  ‘Would be included in an enlargement, at your discretion.’

  ‘That Major Chalmers is no fan of mine, and a captain should not be telling him what to do.’

  ‘Could get Bradley out there,’ Bob floated.

  ‘I’ll chat to him now. When do we move to Zambia?’

  ‘A few days.’

  I called Bradley at home. ‘Major, got a minute, sir?’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘Fancy a holiday?’

  ‘Why? What’s happened?’

  ‘Enlargement has happened, and “A” Squadron is at my disposal, but I need you to liaise, not a lowly captain.’

  ‘You’d want me in the Congo?’

  ‘No, Zambia, we’re moving over there.’

  ‘O’Leary mentioned a big old airfield in Zambia as a possible FOB for you.’

  ‘I guess that’s the place Bob has in mind.’

  ‘If you say I’m needed ... well ... then I’m needed.’

  ‘Cut the crap, sir. You want to come out for a week or not?’

  ‘Could do with a jaunt, yes. Wife is off soon to Scotland, horrid relatives up there.’

  I laughed. ‘You mean to say ... you’re using me as an excuse, sir?’

  ‘You called me, Captain, not the other way around.’

  ‘Pack a bag, sir, chat to Bob, explain the problem with Major Chalmers.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘How are my Lone Wolves?’

  ‘Still on weapons this week, then next week is intensive first aid – self administered first aid. They’ll have to draw their own blood and inject themselves like junkies.’

  ‘I’ll know more soon, sir, but check out that airfield for me please. Goodnight.’

  Phone away, I called, ‘Stand to, everyone!’

  I called most together ten minutes later, on the strip, but in the light from the camp. ‘OK, listen up. The gang we found with the hostages were not the men who kidnapped them, and those men are looking for us as we stand here yapping. To spite us, they wrecked another mine.

  ‘We will, in a day or two, move to an airfield in Zambia and e
nlarge this operation. In the meantime, Captain Moran, Mahoney and the Salties, plus four 2 Squadron men, go southwest a mile or two, set a camp in a good spot, listen out for large groups of men. Set a stag, sleep, stay there.

  ‘Rocko, your team, plus four 2 Squadron, go northwest two miles, set a camp, same deal. Rizzo, Stretch, Pathfinders, hidden ambush near the road, rotate, sleep and stag.

  ‘Mister Haines, final men, close in patrols around the strip, dead quiet, stay sharp. Mister Morten, weapons to hand just in case. OK my keen volunteers, move out when ready.’ They shuffled off through the dark.

  ‘And me?’ Sasha asked.

  ‘Stay with me and Swifty, we protect these people.’ I stepped across to George. ‘You have a sat phone I saw you use.’

  ‘Yes, good phone.’

  ‘Call anyone you know in the town, have them look out for Zambians. And tonight.’

  ‘More Zambian men come?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Not good for business, no no.’

  I turned my head to Sandra as I sat. ‘Carry a weapon, just in case.’

  The pilots, sat in their casual civvy clothes, asked, ‘We expecting trouble?’

  ‘Yes, so what happened to that engine?’

  ‘The chap drove off with the part, no sign of him since.’

  ‘He’ll be back,’ I assured them. ‘And keep your pistols handy, protect that plane.’

  The man in question arrived back an hour later, smiling. I had been sat with a cold Fanta chatting to a ten year old about London and the Queen – did I know her, and I observed as the pilots again tried to start the engine. On the second attempt it burst into life, and they revved it up for ten minutes.

  Engines shut down, they came over to me. ‘We need to push it back. Then we can get the Mi8 in here.’

  I nodded, just as Morten shouted for me. I ran.

  ‘It’s Slade,’ Rizzo said. ‘Something bit him.’

  ‘Look for the marks, quickly!’ I shouted, bright lamps used.

  ‘Here,’ a nurse said. ‘Two small puncture marks.’

  ‘That’s a spider,’ I said.

  ‘We have anti-venom, snake and spider,’ Morten stated as Slade flopped. An injection in the arm, and Slade lost consciousness.

  ‘On the plane, two medics, we’ll get him to Tanzania,’ I called. ‘Any spare men, push the plane back now!’ I bellowed.

  With George helping, his kids in the way, we pushed the Skyvan back and turned it, Slade and the medics in the back with the Mi8 pilots.

  Engines bursting into life, the pilots checked the map; thirty miles northeast to Kabalo, then due east to Tanzania – and a decent hospital. They just about had the fuel but could refuel in Kabalo. I called Bob and he would call his man in Kabalo, and the Skyvan burst down the runway and off.

  Sasha said, ‘If there is shooting tonight, you need that plane.’

  ‘Should have an Mi8 soon,’ I assured him.

  Back in the camp, Sandra was helping to cook, shoulder holster on over a green t-shirt, AK47 slung, her boobs showing through.

  George came over with his ear to a sat phone, finally lowering it. ‘There is de men near de town.’

  ‘How many men?’

  ‘On de lorry, maybe five lorry and de car.’

  ‘A hundred plus men,’ I noted, a look exchanged with Sasha. ‘George, if there’s shooting, get your family on the floor.’ I clicked on the radio. ‘It’s Wilco, listen up. Any local patrols, come in now, we have trucks approaching. Rizzo, get ready. Spare men to the road, then turn right and go down in your teams, solid fire positions. Standby.’

  Sasha checked his weapon, Sandra doing likewise when she heard the clatter of rifles being cocked.

  ‘Sandra, protect the family,’ I firmly told her, getting a nod as boots on the dirt echoed, men running in. ‘Max, stay with her, pistol to hand.’

  Phone out, I called Moran, ordering him back on the double. I led Sasha, Swifty and a group of 2 Squadron men through the trees. ‘Rizzo, where are you?’

  ‘We’re either side of the turnoff.’

  ‘OK, I’ll be twenty yards down the road. Listen up, everyone, we need to get the men in the trucks before they get out the trucks. Rizzo, lead jeeps when they come, point blank range. Everyone else, when I fire you fire, aim into the canvas backs on automatic, and then watch for men jumping down. Those of you that were in Angola, this is just the same, so relax and do the job.’

  ‘Just like Angola,’ Swifty noted. ‘Apart from the smell of chicken.’

  I stood behind a tree, Swifty and Sasha close by, all of us keenly peering down the dark road. Twenty minutes later, a few cars having passed, I spotted the convoy, but they stopped half a mile away and dismounted.

  ‘Listen up, Zambians have dismounted, they’re in the trees down the road. All 2 Squadron group together, in your flights, across the strip and into the trees, spread along to the end of the strip west, in pairs, a long line. Go!

  ‘Rizzo, all your lot to the camp lights, Pathfinders to the lights. Move it!’

  We ran back in the short distance to the camp and grouped. Expectant faces stared towards me, some in masks. ‘Rizzo, your lot left of me, Pathfinders to the right, we advance between the road and the strip in a line. They may come this way or around the other side towards 2 Squadron.

  ‘Mister Morten!’ I shouted, and he came running, rifle in hand. ‘Get ready for casualties, but get your people down on the deck behind a tree, lights out. And don’t shoot at shadows, only shoot at what you are 200% sure about! Go!’

  He ran off.

  ‘OK, everyone else on me,’ I called.

  We cautiously advanced as a line, around the medics getting ready, the road on our left, the strip on the right, an area a hundred yards wide to play in.

  I took out my phone and called Bob in a hurry as we slowly advanced. ‘It’s Wilco, camp is about to be attacked, need that Mi8 pronto – pilots are on the way to it.’

  ‘I’ll contact them now.’

  We slowed right down, the angles checked, dark shadows checked, and we made it to the end of the strip without contact.

  My phone trilled, but I knocked it off quickly, cursing. I knelt, everyone else knelt.

  Then my radio crackled. ‘This is Captain Moran, you hear me?’

  ‘This is Wilco, where are you?’

  ‘Coming in from the west, but there’s a group sneaking along, hundred yards from us.’

  ‘When we fire, you close in and fire on that group. One minute. Standby all teams, and watch your damn fire in here, it’s dark as hell. And get solid fire positions, not a fucking bush.’

  I could feel Swifty breathing to my right, Sasha to my left, the tree frogs serenading us.

  Voices, a foreign tongue, orders being given it sounded like.

  I knew where they were from the sounds, before I saw them. But I waited, the tension palpable.

  The first dark outline came into view, soon ten in a line, more behind, some smoking.

  I aimed, and I squeezed the trigger, bright flashes all around as the advancing line was torn up. But each wounded man fired as he fell, the trees around me splintered.

  Shouts, orders, distant fire echoing.

  I clicked on the radio. ‘Hold the line, double tap. 2 Squadron, what do you see?’

  ‘It’s Haines,’ came a strained voice. ‘We fired on a group, rest ran off.’

  ‘Don’t get flanked, eyes behind you.’

  ‘It’s Moran, they’re heading to the road.’

  ‘Rizzo, left to the road.’

  ‘Moving.’

  I could hear them run, soon the cracks sounding out.

  ‘It’s Rizzo, they’re scattering,’

  ‘Hold that position. Moran, report.’

  ‘We got many of them from behind, all bunched up, and as they ran.’

  ‘Moran, back-up a few yards in your teams, go to ground, dead quiet. Wait the stragglers.’

  It grew quiet, the odd shot fired through the dar
k.

  ‘Any wounded?’ I called, not getting a response.

  ‘How many you reckon?’ Swifty whispered.

  ‘Those trucks could have had a hundred men,’ I whispered back.

  Swifty began, ‘Twenty here, ten on the road, ten with 2 Squadron, twenty or more hit by Moran, that’s more than half.’

  I nodded. Transmitting, I said, ‘Moran, can you hit their trucks?’

  ‘Distant shot, but yes.’

  ‘Do so. Wheels.’

  The cracks echoed, thirty or more rounds fired before it grew quiet again.

  A short sharp exchange, and I radioed, ‘Report.’

  ‘Five of them,’ came Mahoney. ‘All bunched up.’

  ‘Did it look like they were coming our way?’

  ‘Nah, just wandering around fucking lost.’

  ‘Captain Moran’s team, if you have grenades, smoke out the dark areas.’

  Thirty seconds later a blast loudly echoed, three more to follow.

  Twenty minutes later, the creatures of the night calling out, and we had witnessed no new contacts. ‘Captain Moran, go north and around, dead slow, dead quiet, come in where our chutes were. 2 Squadron, one flight back to the camp, all round defence. Those with me, back up slowly to the medics.’

  Inching backwards, rifles forwards, we moved quietly till we had covered the two hundred yards to Morten.

  ‘Medics!’ I called. ‘Fingers off triggers, stand down. Lights on. Rizzo, to the road, rotate it. Pathfinders, four men here, rest rotate.’

  In the camp I found George peeking out from behind a truck. ‘It’s OK, we dealt with them,’ I assured him, and the kids came running.

  Sandra moved into the light and stood proud. ‘I was ready to fight.’

  ‘Can I take pics?’ Max asked.

  ‘After dawn, not before,’ I said as the 2 Squadron flight came in from across the strip.

  ‘How’s your first day working out?’ I asked the new officer after he had taken his facemask off.

  ‘Second day, and I held my nerve, so I think I did OK.’

  ‘Then be a professional, and make safe your weapons.’

  He ordered his men to unload as I took out my phone. Bob had called so I called him back.

  ‘I just got into bed,’ he complained.