Wilco- Lone Wolf 10

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘What for, there’s nothing here. You come with us. All of you, be ready to move an hour after dark, have some food, a shit, then we go, a ten or twelve mile walk – medics an all.’

  Rizzo returned just as we started to lose the light, his dusty patrol being observed by the Legionnaires. ‘Past that ridge is flat desert, but hard under foot, then a mile on are some nasty ditches, then dunes off to the right – but we avoided them, then small hills, and from up on them hills I could see south, and there’s some nasty hills down there.’

  ‘Get some food and a brew, because an hour from now you’ll leads us back that way.’

  He nodded and sloped off.

  I stepped to the medics at their tents. ‘Pack up what you can, we’re walking after dark, ten or twelve miles, so don’t be too heavy. If you have heavy kit, ask my lads to lug some, or the French. Leave the tents, might be able to move them by helo tomorrow. If you have sore feet, let me know. You have an hour to pack up.’

  Morten said, ‘If we take the tents down, they could be grabbed and brought up later.’

  ‘Yes, do so.’

  I gave “D” Squadron their marching orders as it grew dark, and that we’d establish a new FOB ten miles away. Excess kit could be left here with the medics tents. Grabbing rations, I stuffed my own backpack full, a plastic water bottle to be stuffed into my webbing, and I encouraged others to do so.

  Ready, I blew a whistle, groups forming, the French ready, and I checked on the medics, a few bags handed to the nice French soldiers, those handsome ones - the lady nurses told me with a laugh.

  Mister Morten assured me that all of his people could walk ten miles fully kitted, and I asked “D” Squadron to bring up the rear - and to carry the nurses if they were too tired.

  Swan and Leggit had returned, and were now ready, and with Rizzo remembering the way – we hoped, teams formed and moved off, the base abandoned for now, a pile of kit left under camouflage netting.

  As we kicked up dust I updated Captain Harris, a sitrep for SIS, and we put one foot in front of the other through the dark. But it was easy going, and the desert was easy to walk across at night, bushes seen, ridges seen, holes seen before falling into them.

  On the hour I had them all rest for fifteen minutes, and I patrolled back along the line, a long line, the nurses OK and in high spirits.

  Pressing on, sand dunes on our right, we negotiated the ditches that Rizzo had warned about, all through without broken ankles, and onwards over undulating low ridges. Ahead I could see the black hills in the distance, under the Orion Constellation.

  On the two hour mark I gave them fifteen minutes again, but on the three hour mark we could see something ahead and off to the right. I had Rizzo change course, and we edged towards it. Getting closer, we could see buildings, but that they were abandoned, and we tripped across a wide dry river bed, just a few inches of water at its centre.

  To my team, I said, ‘That’s the river that goes left, east, and around the hills, back west the other side of those hills. This is the border.’

  Moran said, ‘That looks like a dam, half built and abandoned.’

  ‘That’s our new FOB, because the other side of those hills are the bad boys. Come on.’ I led them west, and we examined the small concrete dam, what it was, and found a long straight road, concrete and not tarmac. A check of the map and it was shown heading west then north, but could be used to land a plane.

  At the back of a concrete building with no windows, and no second floor – just concrete supports for a missing roof, I found a large metal shed with a few panels missing, the remainder rusted in places. I had the shed allocated to the French, the British in the building, but “D” Squadron were allocated a series of abandoned worker’s huts stretching out west. They were tasked with watching the road.

  Inside the concrete building people claimed corners, cooking started, no worry about naked lights in here, men put up on the roof on stag – a convenient set of concrete steps in the centre of the building. Thinking, I had Crab, Duffy and Whisky allocated to the medics, to keep them safe.

  Tea made, brew in hand, I wandered up concrete steps to the roof and sat on bags of cement that had turned into solid rock over the years. Max drew level, plenty of light to see him by. ‘Your kit heavy?’ I asked.

  ‘Nah, I gave Slider some, Stretch some. So what’s your plan?’

  ‘Over those hills is a small town, barracks full of rebels, so we’ll get eyes on tomorrow, then decide. You got a story on the Legion?’

  ‘Yeah, and sent it out.’ He sniffed. ‘Funny smell. Concrete, plus mud from the river, plus that desert dampness at night.’

  ‘You’re becoming a veteran at this,’ I teased. ‘A proper field soldier. So what do you do when you’re not with us?’

  ‘Usual reporter job, trying to get a scoop, but mostly I go and photograph small wars.’

  ‘You mentioned a woman in your life before.’

  ‘We’ve had this on-off thing for six years now. Too good for me she is.’ We laughed. ‘We break up, I earn money, get fit, then we get back together, I stop making money, put on weight, we row, then she goes. But the thing is, when I’m with her I’m relaxed, and I want to be relaxed at home.’

  ‘You want to be a couch potato, she wants superman.’

  ‘Well, something like that.’

  ‘Six years is a long time to be pissing about,’ I nudged.

  ‘Well, when it’s good it’s great, and it’s good six months of the year. And your bird?’

  ‘She wants another kid.’

  ‘But you’re not together?’

  ‘Correct. She wants my good genes, not to have me around, although she does like to show me off at parties.’

  ‘Odd woman.’

  ‘And yours is normal..?’

  ‘Well, some of the time she is.’

  Back downstairs I did the rounds, checking that the medics were OK, that “D” Squadron were not whinging too much, and that the French were OK. My Wolves were all keen and happy, and they were always a pleasure to work with.

  Since mounds of sand had blown into the building over the years we used it to sleep on, a soft bed for weary bodies.

  As a thin shaft of grey dawn light invaded my facemask I opened an eye, but it was thirty minutes later that I eased up, stepping out for a piss. Up on the roof I found two of Sasha’s team on stag, and we chatted in Russian as the ambient light grew, as the grey turned brown, the sand starting to turn yellow.

  But the sun was stuck behind the hills east of us, dawn delayed a little, finally part of the hills on fire as a grey crane with stick-thin legs landed on the roof, turning its head to see what we were, how much of a threat we were.

  ‘What’s a bird like that doing around here?’ one of Sasha’s team asked.

  I explained, ‘That river has fish, and when the level gets low they hide in the mud in a sack of mucus, and that crane looks for them.’

  It decided it didn’t like us and flew off down the river bed.

  Downstairs, Swifty stirring, I got the water boiling again, a brew handed to him when he took his facemask off, a dozen groups now sat cooking and chatting quietly.

  ‘All quiet out there?’ he asked.

  ‘For now.’

  ‘We go take a look today?’

  ‘Yep, OP set-up. I’ll have Tomo make a sketch.’

  ‘If Tomo makes a sketch we might get the wrong rebel base - or hit the local hospital instead.’

  ‘He has to learn.’

  ‘Could have just driven down to this place.’

  ‘If we knew it was here,’ I countered with. ‘Had to see the ground first, and now we know exactly what’s behind us. Besides, it was good exercise.’

  After breakfast I had Echo and the Wolves form up, the French asked to rotate men on guard, south side, east and north, “D” Squadron would watch the west and the approach road. The medics would sort kit, keep Max company - and eye up the nice French lads.

  After a fina
l chat to each team, I led Echo off south, fording the soft river bed, soon up the bank and on a firmer footing, and we kicked up sand for a mile till we reached the hills, many areas offering us steep sharp rocks.

  I transmitted, ‘Rocko, your team goes west a mile and then up and in, create an OP, call me. Rotate sleep. Rizzo, go east a mile, same deal. Everyone else with me for now till we see what’s over there. Careful on the rocks, no broken ankles!’

  Rocko turned left and plodded off, Rizzo turned right and kicked up sand, and I picked out an area I figured we could get up without breaking our necks. An hour’s hard work, all sweating a little, and I crested a sandy ridge, my view suddenly full of distant green trees, between the trees small brown houses. And there, a mile away sat the barracks.

  Below me the river meandered in from the left, heading off to the right, a natural barrier between us and the sprawling barracks. Finding a good spot, I had the lads get into crevices and hide. Swann and Leggit were called forwards, sent off to the right, and OP to create, sketches to make on their pads, detail to be noted.

  On our stomachs, on soft sand blown high, myself, Swifty, Moran and Mitch peered down at the rebel base whilst being treated to a gentle cooling breeze.

  ‘Mitch,’ I called. ‘Start making observations, and a map, and sketch. Moran, assist him please.’

  ‘Big fucking base,’ Swifty noted.

  I could see the dead ground near the dried river bed, kids playing, and back from it sat sandbag positions, a few manned, concrete bunkers – no one seen, mortar pits – men seen cleaning mortar tubes. I could see mounted fifty cal Duska, and what looked like a 105mm on a jeep, trees sat between the buildings and hiding much of the detail.

  Small huts nestled between trees led my eye on to the rooftops of the four barrack blocks, a large building to the left of them looking like the HQ building. I could see the distant main gate, manned by a dozen soldiers, the town beyond, the main road heading south.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ Swifty asked.

  ‘I think ... I’d put “D” Squadron ten miles down that road, on a ridge, ready to ambush them if they drive off before telling us they’re driving off. Then, I’d want to fuck with that base whilst making it look like someone else.’

  ‘Sneak through the town, fire at them, withdraw. They’ll go kick doors in and hassle the locals. But that won’t tie up many of them.’

  ‘How far, from here, are those sandbags?’ I posed.

  ‘I’d say two thousand.’

  ‘I’d say sixteen hundred.’

  ‘Fifty cal will hit, Valmect will hit. Then what, they send out a patrol or waste mortars?’

  ‘Bit of both I guess, depends on who they think is shooting at them.’ I pointed. ‘Off to the right is open ground, but shrubs and gullies, so snipers in there could do some good, as well as below us. If ... someone was shooting at them, and they thought that someone up here, then snipers below with silencers could kill men in a patrol and not be spotted.’

  ‘How many men will they lose before changing tactics?’ Swifty argued.

  ‘That’s the question, and they might just drive off south and start their coup.’

  Movement registered behind me.

  ‘Boss, we found a cave.’

  I eased back with Swifty and we followed the Wolf back down, twenty yards and off to the west fifty yards. ‘I went for a shit, spotted it.’

  We followed him as he squeezed through a narrow opening almost full of sand – but no shit, and stood up inside, bright light streaming in form several points, the base of the cave being flat, sand that had blown in over the centuries, the walls brown. Walking forwards and ducking in places, we found a ready-made OP, a view of the base below.

  Swifty began, ‘Someone in here firing out would be invisible, and those mortars would be useless. Fifty cal in here would be good, but you’d need your ears blocked or go deaf.’

  ‘It’s a good find, and maybe this type of rock is full of caves,’ I told them, leading them back out. I called down Swann and Leggit, and the cave would now be their OP, the rest of the Wolves tasked with finding more caves – without breaking ankles or necks in the process.

  I called Rocko. ‘We found a cave, good OP. Have a look for caves where you are.’ I gave the same message to Rizzo.

  Fifteen minutes later, as we observed the base again, a Wolf came on the radio. ‘Wilco, we found a cave complex, fucking huge.’

  I eased back, but grabbed Moran and Mitch as well, soon down and east, dangerous rocks negotiated, and in through a small entrance, soon emerging into a high cavern, enough room for fifty men, three small holes at the front facing the base.

  ‘Excellent,’ Moran enthused. ‘They’d never see us or hit us.’

  Mitch said, ‘They’d be fucking confused as to where the firing was coming from, and a patrol up here might not spot these caves.’

  I stuck my head and upper body out of one of the holes and peered down. Back inside, I told them, ‘Steep drop off, they’d not get up to us that way. If they sent a lot of men up here, they’d lose them.’

  ‘Are they that dumb?’ Swifty asked.

  ‘Depends on whether they know about these caves or not,’ I suggested. ‘Locals probably know, the old men, but there are no signs that anyone has ever been in here.’

  Back outside, I had four Wolves sent in to man the position till further notice – one to watch the entrance, and I handed over some of my rations, asking Swifty, Moran and Mitch to do likewise.

  With two additional caves found, one lower down, all of the Wolves were hidden away. Rizzo had found a nice cave and was now in it, all snug.

  An hour later, and Rocko had found a cave big enough for a truck, a view of the base, his team now in it. I did, however, tell him to leave his sat phone at the entrance. Calling Rizzo, I could not get through, and had to mention the problem to the Wolves, Swann and Leggit, team at a time, all asked to have a man watching the rear – phone in hand.

  Back on the ridge, lying on the sand on our stomachs, Mitch made his observations as I made mine. Attacking the base was not an option, from any angle, but drawing them out was an option.

  We could also piss them off and restrict movement around their base, making life hard for them. Question was, would that send them south. And if so, should Echo be south and “D” Squadron up here with the Wolves maybe.

  ‘The hostages,’ I began as I peered down. ‘If they move south, would they take the hostages with them?’

  Mitch asked, ‘If they move south, what’ll they do when they get there?’

  ‘Fight the regular army,’ I told him.

  ‘Can’t do that with a lorry full of hostages tagging along,’ he suggested. Moran agreed.

  ‘So if we piss them off by sniping at them, will they move south given that they’re supposed to move south anyway inside a week?’

  ‘Yes,’ Moran suggested. ‘They don’t want to lose men, or be tied-up here. They may see it as a trick to keep them here. I’d go south, not send patrols over here.’

  ‘I have a doubt ... about either “D” Squadron or us sat above a road for five days.’

  ‘Long time,’ Mitch noted. ‘Could be spotted, would need the rations, and legs get stiff.’

  Swifty said, ‘If they fuck off south, and leave the hostages, do we care about that road. We get the hostages and fuck off.’

  I explained, ‘Part of this is to reduce those idiots down there before the man in charge down there becomes the new unelected leader of Senegal.’

  Swifty said, ‘So we get the hostages, fly south after and use hit and run tactics. That lot will drive so far, meet the regular army, and have a scrap. Gives us time.’

  ‘It does,’ I agreed. ‘There’d be no quick victory unless the current idiot flies off with the gold reserves – which is normal.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Swifty hissed.

  We all looked as an AN12 appeared, a steep descent, flaps down, and it landed beyond the town.

  �
�There’s a strip over there,’ Swifty noted.

  ‘And now they have some extra weapons,’ I suggested.

  ‘Look,’ Mitch hissed.

  We all peered at the camp as men ran around, positions take up as if they were expecting an attack, GPMGs placed and made ready.

  ‘They know we’re here,’ Moran sullenly stated. ‘Someone spotted us, a local.’

  ‘Does that change things?’ Mitch asked. ‘We want them driving south, not sat ready here.’

  ‘Makes no sense,’ I thought out loud. ‘Six hundred soldiers down there, and a local reports what? Twenty men in a foot patrol? What are they afraid of, we can’t hurt them.’

  ‘Hostages?’ Swifty posed. ‘They think someone will go for the hostages?’

  ‘Someone not afraid of six hundred well-armed men..?’ I teased.

  Ten minutes later and trucks were seen to drive in, boxes unloaded.

  ‘Well they’re well armed now,’ Swifty said with a sigh.

  I eased back and called Captain Harris. ‘It’s Wilco, we may have been spotted, the rebel base is on alert, and we’d need an infantry division to get near it. We’re on the north side, a mile out, hills with some excellent caves.

  ‘Listen, plan is that we wait till they move south, which Intel says they will do soon, and we then try for the hostages. Between now and then we may probe them and piss them off, not the actions of hostage rescuers. Plan is to use the Pumas to fly south when we think we can ambush them, so let the French know. Got a map?’

  ‘Yes, go ahead.’

  ‘From the rebel base, go north a mile and you’ll see the hills.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s where some of us are. Go northwest two miles and there’s an abandoned dam, a few buildings, that’s where the medics are, “D” Squadron and 2 Squadron and the French. Have the Puma bring supplies, in particular I want some GPMGs and a shit load of chain ammo. Drop it at the dam, but ask the pilots to only approach and leave from the north, low level. Pick up Crab and Duffy from the dam, and go fetch the supplies we left behind, ten miles north.’

  ‘OK, got that, and there’s more French here that are available.’

  ‘I need a plan first. Tell Hunt I might wait till they move south, then we engage them further south. Here they’re dug in tight.’