Wilco- Lone Wolf 11

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘I’ll mention it, but missiles are serious – they could have targeted an airliner.’

  ‘I’m not sure if Tomsk would give me the man’s location, or allow me to go kill him, so discuss it up the line.’

  ‘OK, will do. What you up to over there?’

  ‘We’re a few miles short of the target camp, resting-up till nightfall.’

  ‘Some worried faces over here, had all sorts of shit thrown at us, a few men short of sleep.’

  ‘Damn good practise for them.’

  ‘White House is watching closely...’

  ‘You worried they’ll pull you out?’ I asked.

  ‘Political decisions are not always practical decisions.’

  ‘Ain’t that a fact. Wilco out.’

  With Swifty awake, I bedded down, the afternoon warm.

  My phone trilling woke me. That and Swifty tapping my leg. I yawned as I eased off my facemask, the sun behind the hills now, the sand turning grey. I pulled out my phone. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s Captain Harris. French Echo have been in action, hitting a large group north of you. The French got either side of a valley and fired down when a convoy moved, a battle over an hour that’s still going on, a few ricochet on the French side, plenty of dead fighters below them by all accounts.’

  ‘I’m an hour or two away from where they are, and we’ll move out after dark and hit the caves we know about. Anything else happening?’

  ‘The Lynx flew up and down the coast, no one engaging it, so maybe all of the missiles were destroyed when the Americans dropped their bombs.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I agreed.

  ‘Two French helos remaining to pick you up, plus the Americans, and now that Lynx. And the French destroyer due to arrive soon has a helicopter or two, so a few options.’

  ‘I’m not too worried about that last missile, could be anywhere, could be faulty. I’ll update you when we get near to the caves.’

  I sat in the sand as the day started to cool down, a brew on with Swifty.

  ‘So what’s the plan, Boss?’ Nicholson asked as he sat cross legged and boiled water.

  ‘We’ll move up this road slowly, coordinate with Moran, try and find those caves before they spot us, get position on the caves and pin them down. And I think I could get the Americans to drop a bomb or two, give those men inside the caves a headache. I’m not planning on going into the caves.’

  ‘Damn right,’ Swifty put in. ‘We always come unstuck when there are caves.’

  Half an hour later I glanced skyward, and then down at the valley floor, wondering if it was dark enough to move out.

  ‘What the fuck is that?’ Rizzo asked, pointing.

  We all turned south, a fireball falling from the sky, a huge blast as it hit the valley floor a mile away, my eyes widening as the echo of the blast ran up the valley.

  ‘That was an F18!’ I shouted. ‘Shit...’

  ‘There!’ Nicholson shouted, and pointed. ‘A chute!’

  ‘Everyone get ready to go! Now!’ I shouted, and moved over the rocks to the sandy slope down. A glance back, and men were getting brew kit away in a hurry. They moved towards me. A quick headcount, and I led them off in a hurry, down the sandy slope and to the right, to the south, my heart pounding in my chest.

  I knew that the pilot would attract interest from any fighters nearby, but I also knew that he could have a broken back and be on the clock. We were his best chance, and we needed to find him before they did.

  Rifle awkwardly slung, phone out, I called Franks as we jogged along. ‘It’s Wilco. We just saw one of your planes go down, pilot ejected.’

  ‘We got the mayday, helos launching now.’

  ‘We’re a thousand yards from him, so we might get to him first. If your helos get him, we’ll turn around.’

  ‘Are there hostiles near him?’

  ‘Not at the moment no, but they’ll be looking for him. Wilco out.’

  Reaching the flat valley floor I ran as best I could, soon on the road itself and sprinting, a rough idea of where the pilot went down. But we had only covered two hundred yards when headlights were seen further south.

  ‘On me!’ I shouted over my shoulder, and I moved left onto the sand, cutting a path for the eastern sides of the valley, but also for the downed pilot.

  Finding a dark ditch heading the right way, I jumped into it, easing to a brisk walk. I transmitted a headcount, men puffing as they answered, all of us walking quickly, and now aware of a large convoy of vehicles ahead, just five hundred yards away. The lead jeeps halted parallel to the burning wreck of the F18, so I halted.

  ‘Nicholson, what can you see?’

  A few seconds later came, ‘There are like thirty jeeps, but four are mounted fifty cal.’

  ‘Shit!’ I pulled out my phone in a hurry and called Franks as we knelt in the dark ditch, peering out south down the valley as it grew darker. ‘It’s Wilco, wave off your helos, they have four mounted fifty cal sat ready!’

  ‘Standby...’ I could hear shouts in the background. ‘Wilco, can you direct an airstrike on the fifty cal?’

  ‘It’s dark, and they have their fucking headlights on!’

  ‘How many vehicles?’

  ‘Thirty. Hang on.’ I stood tall and had a look, many of the jeeps now off the road, headlights going out. Knelt again, I said, ‘They’re dispersing, headlights off. They know you’ll send helos for the pilot, so they’re getting ready. Must have RPG as well. You’d have to hit a wide area.’

  ‘How close is our pilot?’

  ‘If he’s down where I saw him land, they have him already.’

  ‘Shit. I’ll get back to you, try and get a close look.’

  Phone away, I led the lads east towards the hills, some cover afforded us. Two hundred yards on, rocks to hide behind, and Swifty issued a ‘Psssttt.’

  We all got down and froze.

  Movement. Fifty yards out. A man limping.

  I transmitted, ‘Our downed pilot is coming right towards us, so stay down and stay quiet.’

  My sweat cooled as I knelt there, the dark outline of our limping pilot getting closer. I transmitted in a whisper, ‘Who’s the last man in the line?’

  ‘Me, Sasha.’

  ‘Don’t you call out to him. Nearest British citizen, call out when he’s close.’

  A minute later came, ‘Hey, Yank!’ from Tomo.

  Swifty started laughing, Rizzo and Stretch joining in.

  ‘Over here!’ Tomo added. ‘Limp this way, fucker.’

  I moved down the line of men, a slap on the head for Tomo as I passed him, our pilot slipping into the ditch, pistol in hand.

  ‘Knew you Brits were around here someplace,’ came and American accent, our guest just a black blob against the lighter coloured sand.

  ‘You hurt?’

  ‘Ankle is twisted, but I can walk.’

  ‘We’ll get you away from the fighters down there and call in a helo for you. You can put your pistol away.’

  A flare bursting into life had us all diving down, and now I could see our guest in his green flight suit.

  ‘You can lose the life jacket as well.’

  ‘What? Oh, yeah.’ He took it off and dumped it, and eased back against the ditch wall.

  ‘Were you hit by a missile?’ I asked as we kept down, the flare drifting.

  ‘Saw it too damn late. Launcher was up high when they fired, only a few seconds to reach me, flash and blast, red lights, warnings sounding out. We practise in the simulator over and over, but when it happens for real your heart gets going and your sphincter opens up.’ He took out his sat phone and studied it.

  Another flare burst into life high above us.

  ‘How long you been flying?’ I idly enquired as I sat back and faced him. He looked young to be a pilot.

  ‘A year. This was my first live tour, and my CO don’t like me, so he’s going give me some shit for losing a bird. I can hear him now: that’s the taxpayers’ plane, son.’

  ‘No
t your fault.’

  He put his sat phone away. ‘I was a little low over the hills, we were warned to stay high, so I’ll sit an enquiry.’

  ‘I’ve sat quite a few,’ I told him. ‘I’m Captain Wilco.’

  ‘I know the name. I’m Ramirez.’

  ‘Hispanic?’

  ‘A quarter.’

  I took my phone out and called Franks. ‘It’s Wilco. Your pilot, Ramirez, is now with us.’

  ‘Thank fuck for that.’

  ‘We’ll move north and find a safe place, you can come get him. Wait my call, standby.’

  When the flare died I moved back down the line, Ramirez with me, and we moved out of the ditch and towards the hills. Closer to the start of the rocks we found some cover, another flare fired.

  None of us were visible, so when the fifty cal hammered our position I was puzzled. Faces were in the sand between rocks as the rounds came in, twanging off the rocks.

  ‘It’s Rizzo, I’m hit.’

  I jumped up behind a rock, standing as tall as I dared, and scanned the immediate area north. ‘On me! Run!’

  I led them off bent-double, a fifty yard dash with rounds pinging off rocks around us, long dark shadows being created by the flare, and I led the team into a tight crevice. Inside, there was room for us all - and no chance of being hit.

  ‘Rizzo, to me!’ I shouted as I knelt, first aid kit out, torch on and clipped onto my front.

  He ran in and knelt, the lads huddled and knelt, and I soon found a piece of stone under his scalp, plenty of blood. Opening the wound, I poured water and wiped, seeing no other debris as the wound quickly filled with blood. Two large stitches to some colourful language, and the bleeding was almost under control. One more stitch as Stretch held this torch, and it would have to do for now.

  ‘We are boxed in here!’ came from Sasha at the mouth of the crevice. ‘More jeeps come, from the north.’

  I glanced down the dark crevice. ‘Swifty, see if we can climb up.’

  Swifty slung his rifle and started climbing, easy progress to start with. Two minutes later he transmitted, ‘There’s a crevice up here, almost like a cave, good cover, big enough for all of us.’

  ‘Tomo, Nicholson, get up there, and get fire positions. Go. Sasha, your team behind them, French, Rizzo with Stretch after our pilot.’

  ‘We in a bind?’ came through the dark from Ramirez.

  ‘Fuck knows how they spotted us, unless they followed your tracks when the flare went up. They don’t know there’s a team of us, they want to capture you and ransom you back.’

  The lads were now climbing up, and helping each other.

  ‘Ransom?’ Ramirez asked.

  ‘Somalis like ransom, they wouldn’t kill you, and Aideed – the man in charge, served ten years in your Marine Corp.’

  ‘He did? So why ain’t they our fucking friends?’

  Stretch said, ‘Maybe he was passed over for promotion.’

  I assisted as Ramirez started to climb, and I was right behind him as we felt our way in the dark, the going not too difficult, the fifty cal rounds still making a racket behind us.

  Hands came out of the darkness and pulled us inside, someone with a torch on up ahead. I moved to the front of the cave, plenty of room, and peered up. Swifty was shining his torch up at a ledge.

  ‘Go up and have a look,’ I encouraged him, and he started up as others held their torches for him. Turning around, I transmitted a headcount, Stretch being the last man, Henri, Jacque and Sambo accounted for.

  ‘French lads?’ Ramirez asked through the dark as Swifty climbed higher.

  ‘Three French, one Russian,’ I told him. ‘And a New Zealander with our second group north.’

  ‘Russian?’

  ‘Yeah, but he’s OK.’

  ‘He’s OK?’ Sasha’s black outline repeated, the lads laughing. ‘I am just OK?’

  ‘Have you ever introduced me to a girl?’ I teased.

  ‘A girl? This is about soldiering, not disco dancing,’ Sasha mock protested. ‘I am not your wing man on dance floor!’

  I faced Ramirez’s dark outline. ‘He’s been bitchy ever since I pushed him out of a helicopter.’

  ‘You pushed him out a fucking helo?’

  ‘He did,’ Sasha complained. ‘I was in hospital for months.’

  ‘Why the hell you push him out of a helo?’ Ramirez asked.

  ‘Heat seeing missile had locked onto us,’ I told Ramirez. ‘I jumped, and took him with me. We were over jungle at the time, and we hit the trees.’

  ‘Jesus. And the helo?’

  ‘Took a hit, crashed, no survivors.’

  ‘Fucking good job you jumped then,’ Ramirez noted.

  ‘Fucker pushed me out a helo as well,’ Rizzo complained.

  ‘He did?’

  Rizzo’s dark outline explained, ‘Helo was going down, so Wilco opened the doors, saw the lake, timed it, out we went, crew killed.’

  ‘You special forces guys lead dangerous lives,’ Ramirez noted.

  Stretch’s voice came from the back, ‘And this from the supersonic jet jockey who just got a missile up his arse.’

  ‘You there?’ Swifty called down.

  ‘How’s it look?’ I asked.

  ‘A cave, a big old ledge, a plateau, plenty of cover. Looks like we could climb higher.’

  ‘OK, everyone make a start up, slow and steady, no risks.’

  ‘Wilco,’ Nicholson transmitted. He was behind me, at the mouth of this crevice. ‘Fucking hundreds of them down there now, searching for our pilot. They’re following his tracks and about to find our tracks.’

  ‘Silencers on, open fire, closest men first.’

  ‘Won’t that give away our position?’ Ramirez nervously asked.

  ‘We really low on options,’ I told him. ‘Circumstances dictate.’

  I could hear Tomo and Nicholson firing out as the lads climbed up to the ledge. Our pilot had gloves on, so that helped as he scrambled up. I made sure Stretch was next to Rizzo in case our staff sergeant blacked out, and soon it was just me on the sandy base of the crevice.

  A horrendous roar preceded Tomo and Nicholson rushing to me and ducking down. ‘They got us zeroed with their fifty cal,’ Nicholson reported as the twang of ricochet echoed around the rocks, pieces reaching us as we hid.

  A blast nearby, and we knew it was an RPG.

  ‘They ain’t trying to capture that pilot no more,’ Tomo noted. ‘They want him toasted.’

  ‘They must figure us up here,’ I told them. ‘Here.’ I handed them both a magazine since they were doing all the shooting. ‘On me.’ I slung my rifle and started up, Swifty peering down with his torch to guide me, Tomo and Nicholson hot on my heels.

  Over the ledge, I helped Tomo and Nicholson up, a flash below and a blast of smoke, and an RPG had penetrated the crevice deeply, a lucky hit for them, lucky for us we were not still down there.

  I moved forwards past the lads, finding a nice cave, a hole in the ceiling, stars seen. But from that hole I could hear the fifty cal tearing up the rocks around us. We certainly weren’t popular with these guys.

  Out onto the flat ledge, I peered down at the distant jeep lights, just making out fighters moving in closer, the fifty cal Duska still loudly hammering out rounds. Behind the ledge sat a sandy bank, so ricochet was less of a problem.

  ‘Get positions, open fire!’ I shouted through the dark. I called Franks. ‘It’s Wilco. We moved off with your pilot, but they used flares and followed his tracks, opened up on us so we had to duck into a crevice, got pinned down taking casualties so we climbed up. We’re now trapped, hundred yards up a rock face, but with plenty of cover to hold out.’

  ‘Would an air strike help?’ he asked as cracks sounded out.

  ‘Probably not, you’d hit us. Wait till dawn. If we can we’ll climb higher till we reach the top of these hills, then call in a helo. I’ll update you every hour.’

  Phone away, I set automatic, selected a new full magazine, and po
ured out rounds at the fifty cal jeeps, and I silenced the two that had been firing at us. At least, I hit the operators, but those operators could be replaced.

  Twenty minutes later, Swifty said, ‘Can’t see fuck all now, they’re hiding in the rocks.’

  ‘Save ammo, get a brew on, some brew for our pilot,’ I ordered. ‘Henri, Jacque, Sambo, watch where we climbed up, but get a brew on. Nicholson, Tomo, look for a way up, a safe way up.’

  The lads eased back from the edge, to the sandy rear, and sat cross-legged, heaters started, the odd round cracking overhead.

  ‘We stopping for a coffee break?’ Ramirez’s dark outline asked.

  ‘You in a hurry to be somewhere?’ Swifty asked him.

  ‘Yeah, kinda. Want my cosy bunk back on the ship. My safe cosy bunk.’

  ‘Sit,’ I told Ramirez. And I called Moran.

  ‘I was just about to call you,’ Moran began.

  ‘Where are you?’ I asked.

  ‘Pushing north.’

  ‘We went south after an F18 was hit with a heat seeking missile, pilot ejected, so we went and fetched him, now trapped up a cliff, fighters below us.’

  ‘Need us down there?’

  ‘You’d have to come south down the valley, and then they’d open up with mounted fifty cal. For now, just try and hit anyone coming to reinforce these guys.’

  ‘We let a convoy pass, figured there would be fewer in the camp.’

  ‘There’re plenty of them down here now, but we’ll wear them down then get this pilot away. Might climb up all the way. I’ll update you later. Wilco out.’

  Phone away, Ramirez noted, ‘You don’t sound too concerned.’

  ‘We have the high ground, good weapons, good lads, and half the fighters below are dead or wounded already. No big deal.’

  ‘No big deal..? I survived being shot down, and now the men down there want my fucking head as a trophy!’

  ‘Like I said, if they took you alive they’d treat you well and ransom you back.’

  ‘And the rest of you..?’ he posed.

  ‘They’d slice us up if they had the chance.’

  ‘Your boys don’t seem too worried...’

  ‘Staff Sergeant Rizzo?’ I called through the dark, burners going. ‘Are you worried?’

  ‘You think my hair will be patchy afterwards? Where the wound is?’