by Geoff Wolak
Still, it was a bad bleed, so I used narrow tape to help close the wound, winding it around the leg, and I quickly got five large stitches in. Cream on the wound, I wiped it down, got a pad onto it, narrow tape off - and finally I bandaged it.
Releasing the tourniquet, I helped Elkin to stand before I knelt and examined the wound, happy with my attempts to stop the bleeding. ‘You’re OK for a day or two,’ I told him as I injected him with a half dose of antibiotics.
‘We swap the tyre?’ Rizzo asked, kicking what was left of it.
‘What for?’ I barked. ‘You want to drive down that fucking track!’ I pointed as all eyes turned to me. ‘That was an anti-personnel mine. If it had been an anti-tank mine there would be little pieces of us spread around this hill.’
I turned up the track, and heaved a sigh. ‘Swifty, Smurf, double up that track – walk in the tyre marks, check the far side. Go! Rest of you, you’re stood in a mine field, stay on the tyre tracks or get off the fucking track!’
They moved cautiously across to the rocks as I considered my options.
Moran closed in. ‘Other way? Back down?’
‘It’s an option, but not till late tonight, be easy to ambush us that way. No, I think we have a long walk.’
‘Walk? With the wounded and the hostages!’
‘May not have a choice, Captain, and there’s no point worrying about stuff when we’re out of options. Besides, a mile down there is a road, roads have vehicles, we have guns, guns mean that people give us a ride – or else.’
‘We could hijack a jeep or two,’ he realised.
‘Provided ... that there’s no one on our heels,’ I cautioned as I took out my sat phone.
‘Captain Harris,’ came a voice just as sleepy as before.
‘Wake up, sir.’
‘I’m ready, fire away.’
‘We just drove over a mine, Elkin has a bad leg wound, our extraction is on hold till we find a way out. We’ll walk some and try and hijack a vehicle, and we’ll get to the extraction point with a bit of luck. Let the Major know we may need his lads on standby, as well as a large dose of luck.’
‘The local army must have helicopters, there are two on this base.’
‘I’m not putting my team in an Mi2 that is older than my dad. You’d have to convince me that there’s some safe transport, sir. Wilco out.’
I peered down the track as the light slowly improved, our rescued hostages looking worried. ‘Sorry, guys, we may have to walk a bit. But that’s better than losing your legs to a mine.’
‘Aye, right,’ the Welsh lad agreed.
Five minutes later and Swifty came over the radio. ‘We’ve got company, dozen men coming up the track, more down on the road. They’ve called in their fucking cousins!’
‘Double back down, watch where you walk.’ I studied Moran for a moment. ‘OK, I have a plan.’
He looked worried. ‘Which ... is?’
‘We give them what they want, and buy ourselves some time.’ I faced the hostages. ‘You, big guy, grab our wounded man and start down the edge of the track. Go two hundred yards, stop and make yourselves visible. Go!’ I turned. ‘Rizzo, your team, those rocks on the left hundred yards up, get hidden ready. Go!’
They ran up the track and over to the rocks as Swifty and Smurf came back down. ‘Swifty, damaged jeep, handbrake off, push it down a ways – three wheels and all, and off the track. Quickly! Smurf, that second jeep, turn it off the track here, rest of you push. Captain, fuel cans, set alight the first jeep!’
‘What?’ Moran queried before turning.
‘Batman and Robin, off to the right, those rocks, get a fire position up the track. Go!’
The second jeep hit a rock and halted as a shocked Captain Moran grabbed a fuel can.
‘Get some kit off the jeep and throw it around, make it look blown up, throw stuff down the track!’ I bellowed.
Smurf grabbed items and threw them, Swifty soon helping, the track littered as Moran leapt out of the way of a roaring fire and came back up.
‘That’ll do,’ I said. ‘No time. Smurf, Captain, lay down and look dead, weapons hidden under you.’
‘Play dead?’ Moran queried, looking horrified at the idea.
‘Quickly, sir, no time to explain. Play dead till the shooting starts. Swifty, on me.’
I led Swifty off to the right and into the rocks, getting a half decent fire position and some cover. I clicked on the radio. ‘This is Wilco, listen up. The scene looks like both jeeps hit mines, we have people playing dead, hostages down the track and visible with Elkin – and he don’t have to pretend to be wounded.
‘Let the fighters come over the ridge, assess the scene and come down, then we kill them. Rizzo, when they’re all dead ... you rush up the ridge and hold it. Standby.’
Less than a minute later Rizzo came on with, ‘Movement, men on the ridge.’
‘How many?’ I asked.
‘Four ... now six, so far. They’re jabbering on their radios.’ A minute later he added, ‘Eight now, some walking down.’
‘Standby everyone,’ I called over the radio, and I peeked out at the lead fighters.
‘Eleven now,’ Rizzo called. ‘Main group is walking down.’
Heaving a big breath, I set automatic, pulled out the mag and weighed it, placing it back in – and wondering if I was doing the right thing.
Judging the fighters to now be a threat to Moran and Smurf, and questioning the sanity of my own plan, I spun out and fired, emptying my magazine in one long burst – seeing my rounds impact the dirt, fighters knocked back or bent double. Cracks sounded out from all sides, the fighters taken by surprise and doing a little spinning dance as they were hit, only one returning fire.
Two fighters at the top turned and ran, both cut down, none making it over the ridge.
‘Rizzo, get your team to the ridge!’
I ran out and towards the track, double-tapping the bodies, others joining me.
Bateman said, ‘These fuckers must be getting short of warm bodies by now.’
‘They probably called in help from around the region,’ I said. ‘Could be hundreds of them.’
‘Fucking marvellous,’ he let out.
Moran closed in on me.
‘Still alive, sir?’ I asked.
‘That was nerve racking,’ he complained. ‘But it did the trick.’
‘It did,’ I agreed. Loudly, I said, ‘Down the rocks beside the track, down to Elkin. All of you. Go!’
I pinched away four magazines from a dead fighter and followed the lads down the rocks – glancing back up the ridge with concern, the going hard, and not very fast. Reaching Elkin I waved them on, Elkin able to put weight on the leg, the bone not shattered.
‘Rizzo, report?’ I asked over the radio, staring up at the ridge.
‘Some movement down below, and we killed two fuckers coming up the track,’ crackled into my ear.
‘Stay there till I call you, need the team down here on some level ground we can cross quickly first.’
Swifty called me as he knelt down. He pointed. ‘Anti-tank mine.’
I heaved a big breath. ‘I keep telling people it’s just a matter of luck. Step left, mine, step right, beetle.’
Smiling, and shaking his head, Swifty pressed on down the slope as the daylight came on fully.
I looked back and halted, staring at that mine, a chill coming over me.
Reaching a bend in the track I led them straight on, and we found a dried-up stream bed with a rocky bottom. It meant that we could move quickly, as well as hunker down and shoot out.
‘Rizzo, you hear me?’
‘Just about.’
‘Come down now.’
‘Moving.’
Rizzo and his team got down to us a long fifteen minutes later, all looking a bit spent and battered in the bright daylight, blood and dust on faces. I led them on, down the ditch at a reasonable pace, soon glimpsing square fields and low mud walls in the distance, something bein
g grown.
A hard slog for half an hour and the ditch came to an end, and in the distance I could see the road, a car moving along it. Problem was there was not much cover around.
I clicked on my radio. ‘OK, listen up. Road is five hundred yards left of us, not much cover, but they can’t hide either, and I don’t see any vehicles looking for us. So we have to chance it in daylight. Close up, on me.’
In a brazen move we walked across the open ground for 500yards, not seeing any vehicles, and reaching the road I could see a low stone wall the other side, everyone told to get behind that wall. Kicking up dust, and wary of the road, we got down, and we waited.
‘What time’s the next bus?’ crackled in my ear, people laughing.
Ten minutes later, and a jeep laden with fighters passed us, heading towards the site of the fighting. We remained hidden, the day warming up, unseen so far.
‘Elkin, how’s that leg?’ I asked.
‘Don’t hurt so much, just throbs.’
‘Can you move your toes?’
He tried. ‘Yeah, feels OK.’
‘That’s a good sign,’ I commended.
Swifty said, shaking his head at Elkin, ‘First job out and you let yourself get blown up. That’s SBS for you.’
‘Bollocks, it’s your fault. That fucker Rizzo was driving. I’m claiming off his fucking insurance.’ Elkin focused on me as we hid behind the wall, all of us dusty. ‘Wilco, this wound ... what do you reckon?’
‘It missed the bone and the nerve, so two weeks off and back at it. If you can wiggle your toes it’s just calf muscle that was hit.’ He seemed reassured.
A long twenty minutes later and I jumped up, a dated blue truck trundling towards us from the site of the fighting. ‘On me!’
I hit the road and stopped, rifle aimed at the driver, who slowed down, looking terrified. Then I noticed that he had a kid with him, and that he was old and grey, a long beard noticed as I ran to his cab and yanked the door open. In Arabic I said, ‘Do not worry, we will not harm you if you drive us down the road. What is in the back?’
‘Produce.’
‘Swifty, in the cab, rest in the back, on the double!’ I ran to the rear, lowering the tail gate, the floor covered in what appeared to be large orange pumpkins.
Everyone scrambled up and in, Elkin assisted in, the lads moving aside the pumpkins or just sitting on them, a tight squeeze with everyone inside. Tailgate up, the road checked both ways, I scrambled up and into the back, easing forwards awkwardly bent-double and opening the sliding glass pane to the driver.
‘Go, drive quickly, you will not be harmed. Swifty, get down and hide.’ We set off, the gears scraped, and we slowly picked up speed as I scanned the road ahead. ‘Driver, I apologise for this, but your countrymen kidnap and kill, so we come to fight.’
‘They are criminals, those men, I want no part of them. I know who you speak of.’
I turned around. ‘Watch our rear, get fire positions, get ready.’
Sitting on a wooden box, I peered through the windscreen, nervous as hell. This was a risk, a hell of a gamble, the sides of the lorry just fabric. If we were spotted, and they opened up on us, I would have dead men and dead hostages very quickly.
I fumbled for my sat phone in a hurry as an afterthought and dialled.
‘Captain Harris.’
‘It’s Wilco, we’re mobile and heading to the drop-off point, have the Hercules on standby for immediate take-off, but don’t send them yet, we have to get there in one piece. Have doctors at the airfield, we’re coming in with wounded. Copy that?’
‘Got that.’
‘Standby for our next call.’ Leaving the sat phone on I tucked it away, and I took in the expectant faces. ‘If all goes well ... we’ll be at the pick-up point in ... half an hour or less.’
I sat and watched the road ahead, and we passed people on the side of the road a few times, a few parked cars noticed, the damn lorry vibrating something terrible, the rear full of exhaust fumes. Glimpsing my first oncoming jeep, Swifty got down and I shouted at the lads to get down as low as they could. The jeep passed us without incident, no fighters seen in it.
A second jeep passed us ten minutes later, but with fighters in the back. It did not turn around and follow us.
‘Wilco!’ Swifty called with some desperation.
I peered ahead. ‘Shit!’ I let out. A checkpoint. I turned my head. ‘Get ready, checkpoint on the right, open fire as we pass.’ Facing the driver, I said, ‘Slow down when you near them, wave, then speed up and don’t stop. Have the boy lay down low, please.’
The driver slowed as we neared the checkpoint, three fighters stood looking bored, and as we drew close the driver waved on cue and sped up, a burst of fire from the rear as we passed, then a racket as five lads opened up, the fighters not standing a chance and knocked off their feet.
Speeding down the road, and looking back, I could see a man running towards the checkpoint, radio in hand. ‘Shit! One left alive!’
I grabbed the sat phone and recalled the last number.
‘Captain Harris.’
‘It’s Wilco, we need a hot extraction, so warn the Hercules pilots - they may not want to come out, but we won’t be alone at the pickup. We’re almost to the pick-up point, so I’ll update you soon. And if you have local helos – reliable ones - let us know. Wilco out.’
‘Will that Hercules come for us?’ Moran asked above the noise of the truck.
‘I doubt it, not unless I say it’s clear. If it’s not clear then the Hercules could get an RPG in the belly – with us in it at the time.’
The lads were now clearly concerned, looks exchanged.
‘Need to buy some time again,’ Moran suggested.
‘Only way to do that would be to leave a few men behind to cut this road,’ I suggested. ‘That’s not something I’ll go along with; we stick together for max firepower. If we have to, we kill every fucker in a fifty mile radius ... and drive out!’
Cresting a rise and dropping down I could see the straight road. In Arabic, I asked the driver to pull over at an outcrop just at the southern end of the straight stretch.
‘Everyone out, get to cover!’ I bellowed. Waiting to jump down, I finally sat and eased down over the tailgate, and I walked around to the driver. ‘Thank you, may your god reward you. If they ask you, say we held guns on you. Go now.’
The old man scraped the gears and sped off down the straight stretch as we claimed the outcrop, not a great deal of cover to be had.
‘What’s the flight time?’ Stretch asked.
‘Thirty minutes plus,’ I said. ‘If we report it clear they may abort after flying over and having a look. We can’t board a Hercules under fire.’
‘There are two Hercules,’ Swifty mentioned. ‘Pity they’re not armed.’
I stared at him, then raised the sat phone.
‘Captain Harris.’
‘Is the Major there?’
‘Yes, and the lads ready to come get you if need be.’
‘Get me the Major.’
A minute later came, ‘Wilco?’
‘We’re at the pickup point, but the bad guys are ten minutes behind us. Listen, ask one of the Hercules crews if you can put lads with GPMGs in the doors and on tail ramp, they could shoot up anyone bothering us while the other lands.’
‘Are you mad? A Hercules with guns?’
‘If they can drop cement and kill fighters, they can open a door and fly low and slow. Ask them, sir, because we’re hurting here and running out of options. Do you have any local helos?’
‘Not worth a damn, no.’
‘And sir, the Hercules that touches down for us, if they do, have Sergeant Crab in a jeep, two GPMGs mounted. He needs to cover us boarding for sixty seconds.’
‘That might work, I remember practising something just like that. OK, I’ll ask.’
‘If we don’t get the ride, sir, we’ll lose men and hostages. It’s eighty miles of hills and fighters to get back.’<
br />
‘Hang tight. Bradley out.’
I blew out, and took in their expectant faces. ‘Waiting to hear on the Hercules.’
‘We got company!’ Stretch shouted, and we got down, two jeeps halted some three hundred yards away.
‘Open fire!’ I shouted, cracks sounding out, but the men who had been in the jeeps were in the rocks already.
Swifty, now sat next to me, turned his head. ‘They’re close enough to damage the Hercules,’ he noted. ‘We’d have to hit them, buy some time, and then try and get to the ride. If not, we need another lorry.’
I pointed towards the straight stretch of road. ‘Thousand miles of sand that way, eighty miles of hills with snaking roads between us and base. If we try and drive out of here we’ll lose people. So ... fingers crossed.’
Rounds pinged off the rocks in front of me and I eased lower, several of the lads returning fire.
Ten minutes later, and Rocko shouted, ‘We got three, but some other jeeps back there, further down the road.’
‘How many men can you see?’ I asked.
‘Maybe eight, hard to tell,’ came back.
When my sat phone trilled people glanced at me for some good news. ‘Wilco.’
‘It’s Major Bradley, Hercules in the air, they’ll do a fly by and make an assessment. I can get a radio message to them, what’s the situation?’
‘We’re at the southern end of the straight road, clump of rocks. Three hundred yards further south are the local fighters. We’re pinned down.’
‘OK, I’ll get them that info. Keep your heads down.’
Putting the phone away, I announced, ‘Hercules on their way, but they may not land.’
‘Not like we can rush those fighters,’ Swifty said, sounding frustrated. ‘Or flank them.’
‘Not till sun down,’ I said. ‘If we’re still here then ... we take them and nick their jeeps.’
‘Eighty miles?’ Swifty challenged.
‘Might not have a choice,’ I pointed out. ‘We’re low on options. But I reckon we could counter-attack tonight, get the Hercules down at dawn. We only need five minutes clear.’