Wilco- Lone Wolf 11

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘They just got a fresh delivery of weapons,’ Swifty suggested.

  ‘If they come out to play...’ Moran nudged, sounding worried.

  I made a face. ‘Heavy weapons are no good up here, but they’d wear us down and cut off our escape – unless on foot. Ginger, how would you attack them?’

  ‘I wouldn’t, I’d run the other way – like any sane person would.’

  I shook my head at him. ‘Swifty, how would you do it?’

  Swifty studied the town below for a minute. ‘They’re all bunched up, hardware is under lock and key, they’d need an hour to get going.’

  ‘They’d need fuel,’ Moran put in. ‘Must be scarce around here. They’d fuel the tanks first then run the engines then move them out.’

  Swifty said, ‘Hit the fuel, blow a road, damage that old shite castle and their hardware is going nowhere fast. Look, it’s all lined up and parked, not deployed ready. And how many will start first time when you turn the key? Could have been sat there all year.’

  Mitch said, ‘Hercules with some cement at the right moment.’

  ‘Cement?’ Ginger asked, making us smile.

  Moran explained how we had utilised cement previously.

  ‘Cement is a good idea,’ I put in. ‘Blind them for ten minutes. It’s a big compound, but the vehicles are all tight together.’

  Ginger faced me squarely. ‘We’re going to attack them?’

  ‘Job we came to do, Mister Lancaster, just need to be sure we can do it and survive. First we need to thin them out a bit and piss them off.’ I lifted my phone and called Captain Harris. ‘It’s me. Go see the Chinook pilots and mention we may have a job for them tonight, same for the Hercules crews – talk to the Squadron Leader.’

  ‘There’s a Hercules sat here.’

  ‘Mention cement bombing to them, and to get ready.’

  He laughed. ‘It could be the same crew.’

  ‘Find some cement quickly, and find some RPG heads, lots of them. Maybe the Kenyans have a stockpile. If so, buy them.’

  ‘There’re some Lynx buzzing about.’

  ‘There are? Navy?’

  ‘No, Army.’

  ‘Army Air Corp? Get in touch, and ask what they have and what they’ll do for me.’

  ‘Hang on ... three Pumas just landed; getting busy this place is.’ He was back on ten minutes later. ‘Army Air Corp are keen, colonel here is not so keen.’

  ‘What do the Air Corp have?’

  ‘Four Lynx from some exercise that was cancelled.’

  ‘Get their CO to call me.’

  ‘He’s here. Hang on.’

  ‘Captain Wilco?’ came a new voice. ‘Major Richely, 661 Squadron. Do you have a tasking for us?’

  ‘Am I allowed to give you one?’

  ‘Well they said we should support you if needs be, but to stay this side of the border.’

  ‘Then you’re no fucking use to me, sir, because all the action is across the damn border.’

  ‘Well ... do you have a dire and pressing need for assistance?’

  ‘That would be stretching it a bit. I have a big fat juicy target, tanks lined up, and I’d like you to spoil their day.’

  ‘Are they a threat to the border?’

  ‘Unlikely, we’re a hundred and twenty miles northeast, in the hills.’

  ‘Then why are they a threat?’

  ‘They’re part of a loose alliance of militias that straddle the Kenyan border but are linked to some idiots straddling the Ethiopian border, and they’re the boys that want to attack us, that have attacked the border, that sent heat-seeking missiles to Mombasa to bring down a airliner.’

  ‘Right, so they need their arses kicked. But I’d need to check with the MOD first.’

  ‘Do so please, and fast, like half an hour fast.’

  ‘Half an hour? Christ. I’ll get back to you.’

  ‘Will they come?’ Swifty asked as I put my phone way.

  ‘Maybe.’ I tapped my chin with the phone. ‘We need some ammo delivered.’ I called Libintov.

  ‘Ah, Petrov, how are things?’

  ‘I’m just trying to keep Aideed in power a little longer. As such, I would like to buy some weapons, Tomsk will pay the bill. But can you deliver to the Kenyan/Somali border?’

  ‘I can deliver most anywhere that does not have fighter jets wanting to shoot down my planes.’

  ‘No fighter jets around here. Got a paper and pen?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘I want four hundred RPG heads, no launchers. I want 200kg of explosives, any kind, carefully wrapped, and large CS gas containers, enough to gas a small town.’

  ‘You will make yourself popular.’

  ‘And a chemical that smells very bad.’

  ‘Smells bad? Chlorine?’

  ‘That would make their eyes water, yes. A tonne of it, glass canisters if possible.’

  ‘When do you need it?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow! Be hard work.’

  ‘Do what you can, please. And delivered it to this airfield.’ I gave him the name.

  ‘That’s in the hands on the Kenyan Army, ten miles inside the border!’

  ‘It is all arranged, your plane will be safe – or we pay for the plane.’

  ‘Oh ... OK. I have the RPGs near you, the other items I find out about.’

  ‘Get back to me, please.’

  ‘What was that?’ Moran asked, my conversation having been in Russian.

  ‘I ordered up some weapons from the same man that supplies these idiots.’

  ‘Should you not shoot that guy?’ Moran nudged.

  ‘No, because they’d just get it from someone else. He tells me what they get, when and where.’

  ‘The other day job,’ Moran complained.

  ‘Other day job?’ Ginger asked.

  ‘Not open for discussion,’ I told him.

  ‘Wilco, there’s a white man down there,’ came from Tomo.

  ‘Advisor,’ Mitch noted. ‘But who is he, and what does he know?’

  ‘Could be one of ours,’ Moran noted. ‘We’ve come across a few.’

  Major Richley called back 45minutes later. ‘Captain Wilco, we’re allowed to assist you yes, but I have to make a risk assessment and target valuation.’

  I sighed. ‘We’ll do it without you, go back to bed.’ I hung up.

  ‘Back to bed?’ Swifty asked.

  ‘That was the Army Air Corp, and they need to make a risk assessment and target valuation before they assist us.’

  Moran began, ‘So ... if Russian tanks were rolling towards the white cliffs of Dover ... they’d get the kettle on and weigh up what to do?’

  ‘Fucking knobbers,’ Swifty let out. ‘Peacetime soldiering attitude – don’t waste ammo, and pick up the litter before you leave.’

  Captain Harris rang five minutes later. ‘You pissed off the Army Air Corp,’ he said with a lilt in his voice. ‘Max was here, so he tore into that major in front of everyone, said you were risking your life and that his men were afraid to get dust on their nice shiny helicopters. He threatened the major with a two page spread!’

  ‘Thing is ... it would be nice if they assisted, but it’s not critical, so tell that to Max, eh, keep the peace.’

  We left the snipers in place and walked back down, Stretch and his team coming up the north road. I stopped and waited for him. ‘Well?’

  ‘There’s a culvert under the road, storm drain kind of thing, so we can pack it with bits and make a fire, we have fuel, should do it.’

  ‘Get ready, because we’ll need to blow that quickly if they get mobile – a tank sent up that road. Put everything in place ready, leave a team nearby but hidden and safe.’

  He nodded and headed off.

  Back at our jeep, we got comfy.

  ‘What is plan?’ Sasha asked.

  ‘We should have a Chinook helicopter distraction after dark, then we blow the road and make it look like it was not us, then we wear them dow
n a little, and then we hit them, but we need to be careful – there are lots of them, tanks, APC, the works. Go up and have a look.’

  He led his team off with Casper.

  ‘Drop RPGs?’ Moran asked.

  I nodded. ‘And we fire some RPG at the same time, that way they don’t know about us.’

  As the sun started to dip, my phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘General Dennet.’

  ‘Been a while, sir. How’s the pen pushing?’

  ‘Just had a loud complaint about you, upsetting the Army Air Corp, at least your reporter chap did.’

  ‘The mission is not critical, sir, I don’t need them.’

  ‘Well they’re damned unhappy, and damn worried. That reporter said he would run a story about what cowards they are.’

  ‘Their major told me he might assist after a risk assessment had been made.’

  ‘Risk assessment? God’s sakes, what’s he paid for.’

  ‘Peacetime mentality, sir.’

  ‘They’re supposed to be ready for war! And now a hot border issue.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll order them to assist, you speak to that damn reporter and see if they can’t get a good story!’

  ‘I’ll make a call, sir.’ I rang Max. ‘You been making friends?’

  ‘Did I upset that major?’

  ‘Yes. He rang London, and they’re going to throw you from a helicopter.’

  ‘What’s his problem anyhow?’

  ‘Play nice for me, or the MOD will send you home. The Air Corp will assist me, you say sorry, and ask them if you can sit in a Lynx – and promise them a good write up.’

  ‘OK,’ he sighed. ‘What you up to over there?’

  ‘About to hit a large garrison. They have hundreds of men, and tanks, we have Rizzo.’

  ‘Can I come out?’

  ‘What score did you get on my three-day?’

  ‘That ain’t fair!’

  ‘Stay there, don’t get shot. Now go snuggle up.’

  When my phone went, twenty minutes later, it was Major Richley. ‘Captain Wilco, we’ve been granted permission to assist, but warned off shooting that fucking reporter.’

  I smiled widely. ‘He’ll run a good story on you ... if you let him tag along and take photos.’

  ‘Might throw him out the damn helo!’

  ‘That’s what I told him you’d do, but his newspaper would crucify us all. So please bring him back.’

  ‘What’s the tasking?’

  ‘Got a paper and pen?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  I gave him the coordinates and town name. ‘On the eastern slope is an old fort, quite big, and inside is some hardware. Old T72, APC, mounted fifty cal, jeeps. I want you to come in from the hills northeast unseen - so go around in a loop, come in fast and surprise them, and stick a missile in that old fort.’

  ‘We hope to hit the tanks?’

  ‘No, that would be blind luck, but if you see a target of opportunity ... take it. They might have heat-seeking missiles, so surprise them and be gone in thirty seconds.’

  ‘We have four Lynx available.’

  ‘Send two before we lose the light, two later on or at dawn.’

  ‘OK, we’ll make a plan now. And if a Lynx goes down?’

  ‘Have the Chinooks and medics ready, and my men are close by, we’re in the hills above that town.’

  ‘We’ll get ready now, we’re armed ready to protect the border anyhow, and we’ve be practising against rusted old tanks.’

  ‘If you are coming out, tell the Chinooks they won’t be needed yet for a bombing run.’

  ‘Chinooks? On a bombing run?’

  ‘Ask Captain Harris about it.’ Phone away, I began, ‘The missiles the Lynx have ... they explode just above the tank, magnetic proximity fuse – clever stuff. The blast goes out, and it sucks the air out, making a temporary vacuum, and the tanks turret lifts up, often thrown off. First the pressure wave hits the men in the tank, then the vacuum, then the final pressure wave when the vacuum collapses. The missile doesn’t touch the tank at all.’

  ‘That could make your ears go funny,’ Swifty noted.

  I added, ‘In the Gulf War, the Americans used depleted uranium rounds, thin, like an inch thin and long. They go up and over at speed, and when they hit the tank they make a small hole, but the uranium compresses and becomes white hot, and the metal it hits becomes white hot, and it breaks through into the tank, and the inside is vaporised at two thousand degrees or so – so it explodes. You heat air that quickly and it goes bang, and the turret is blown off.’

  ‘Poor fuckers inside,’ Mitch noted. ‘Friend of mine, his father killed himself, steel worker, and he jumped into the molten steel. Whoosh, gone, no trace of him.’

  ‘I’d not like to go like that,’ Swifty said. ‘Sounds painful.’

  ‘And getting shot..?’ Ginger asked.

  ‘Wait a few days and find out,’ Swifty told him.

  ‘Cheerful fucker,’ Ginger complained.

  When my phone trilled it was Captain Harris. ‘Two Lynx took off, heading for you.’

  ‘OK, I’ll report if their aim is any good.’ I eased up. ‘Come on, show is about to start.’ I transmitted as I walked, ‘Listen up. Lynx on their way to hit that town, and we’ll blow the road, after which we might see a reaction. Stay sharp. Stretch, you hear me?’

  ‘Just about, bad signal.’

  ‘If you hear any large explosions ... blow that road.’

  ‘OK.’

  I led my team back up the track over fifteen minutes, finding Sasha’s team still there, peering down. In Russian I said, ‘Helicopters on their way, to hit that compound.’

  ‘Ah, we are ring side, no,’ Sasha noted.

  Little more than ten minutes later we heard the drone, suddenly shocked by two loud green Army Lynx above us and moving slowly over the ridge as our necks craned our heads upwards.

  A whoosh, and a missile was streaking out, soon a second, a flash, smoke, the blast registering a few seconds later, a second flash, two more, a pause then two more, and the Lynx slid forwards and left, noses down as the old fort stood shrouded in smoke.

  But, as I observed, the Lynx banked around in a wide circle and flew quickly down to the airstrip. We lost sight of them. A flash, and the blast registered with us many seconds later, a second and third flash, and the drone of the Lynx pegged them as leaving.

  ‘Job done,’ Moran noted. ‘Now we see how they react.’

  A dull blast echoed around the hills behind us, and we all turned.

  ‘That should be Stretch,’ I told them. I turned back. ‘Nicholson, what are they doing?’

  ‘Running around shouting at each other.’

  ‘Is the main gate blocked?’

  ‘Full of smoke, can’t see. Something on fire in there though, maybe a few things on fire.’

  We waited.

  Nicholson reported, as we lost the light, ‘Looks like two tanks on fire, and the APC and some jeeps, so they’ll have a nasty insurance claim to file.’

  ‘They hit the tanks?’ Swifty questioned.

  I shook my head. ‘As I said, missiles go off above them, don’t need to hit them.’

  My phone trilled. ‘It’s Tinker, and the traffic just spiked.’

  ‘Army Lynx put a missile or five in their compound.’

  ‘Ah, that would do it.’

  Phone away, we observed as the fires grew, suddenly a blast, orange embers flying high, followed by a second eruption of orange sparks.

  Nicholson reported, ‘There was like twenty men shredded by that blast. I think they’ve given up the old fire-fighting bit.’

  Another blast had us all gasp quietly, sparks reaching up a few hundred feet and arcing over.

  My phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘Major Richely. Do you have a damage assessment?’

  ‘The tanks and vehicles in the compound caught fire and exploded nicely, lots of damage, more than I had hoped for. But we can’t see what your boys did at the air
strip.’

  ‘They hit an Mi8 sat on the deck, a T72, and some jeeps.’

  ‘In that case, excellent work, Major, thank your pilots for me.’

  ‘And the second pair of helos..?’

  ‘Unless altered, same mission at dawn, targets of opportunity.’

  ‘We’ll get there at first light then.’

  Phone away, I reported, ‘They hit an Mi8 at the airstrip, a tank and some jeeps.’

  ‘These guys are well out of pocket,’ Swifty noted. ‘Wasting that Saudi fucker’s money.’

  ‘He’s got it waste,’ Mitch complained.

  Stretch jogged up, puffing hard. ‘We blew the road.’

  ‘Well done,’ I offered.

  ‘Was a three-jeep convoy on it when it blew, they might be ticked off with us.’

  ‘Did they see you?’ I worried.

  ‘No.’

  The fire at the compound raged for an hour before I set a stag and had men rest. And so far the small army camped out below us had not decided to come and search these hills, or to find out what happened to their dickers watching that road. Maybe they were a bit busy, I considered.

  At 4am I was awake, and I snuck away quietly as the team slept, a brief chat to Dicky and his lads as they stood on stag, soon walking up the track.

  A dark grey body moved and eased out, stretching like a cat. ‘Fucking ‘ell, Boss, I’m stiff all over,’ came Smitty’s voice. ‘Gets cold as well.’

  ‘You’re young, you’ll cope. Who else is here?’

  ‘Rocko and his team are in them rocks on the right, they found a hollow. Fuzz is just over that rock on the left, four Wolves are twenty yards further.’

  I peered down at the town in the grey light, seeing little. ‘Anything happening?’

  ‘Nothing, Boss. Fires raged for hours, then they got them out, or they went out of their own accord like.’

  ‘Get Fuzz, and we’ll have a brew.’

  ‘Best thing I’ve heard all night,’ Smitty approved.

  We sat cross-legged and started to warm the water.

  When my phone went it was Colonel Mathews. ‘I had expected to hear from you sooner, sir,’ I began as I stepped away from the lads.

  ‘It’s been hell. I argued for Desert Sands to be under my direct control, got it, then this. I sat an enquiry, two in fact, more to come, had some letters to write, not been sleeping well.’