Wilco- Lone Wolf - Book 3

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘In the next few days, let’s find our feet first and get into a routine. And make sure your lads are warned not to shoot at our patrols, eh. Bad boys will not be in a line and looking like soldiers.’

  An hour later, and my sat phone trilled as I sat near my bolt hole with Henri, both of us sunbathing.

  ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s Moran. We set-up that rocket and fired it.’

  ‘You ... fired it?’

  ‘Yeah. There was a village nearby, so we aimed at them, but it landed short. Still, woke them up a bit.’

  I laughed. ‘You gave the locals their rocket back.’

  ‘Just spotted another rocket crew, we’re waiting for them to come up to us.’

  ‘Henri’s boys got seven men in a rocket crew, plus two, that’s nine, so pull your finger out.’

  ‘We’ll beat nine today,’ Moran confidently stated before he ended the call.

  I turned my face to Henri. ‘My lads will ambush another rocket crew soon.’

  ‘Pah!’ came back.

  As the sun started to dip, Moran had reported seven rebels killed, another rocket launched towards the village, whose residents must have been getting pissed off by now. But Moran also reported movement across the valley west of us, lots of movement.

  Thinking about calling in the intel, my sat phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s Captain Harris, some more bad news I’m afraid.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘French aircraft bombed a rebel position, revenge for their patrol probably, but they missed and hit a school, fifty kids killed, locals kicking off all over the country, and a grenade was lobbed at us here, two wounded.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake...’ I let out.

  ‘We have lots of signals in your area, they may want reprisals for the kids killed.’

  ‘No doubt. OK, we’ll be careful.’ I called Bob.

  ‘Bob Staines.’

  ‘It’s Wilco, got some problems.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘French patrol got shot up, so the French Air Force bombed the rebels, missed and hit a school, fifty kids killed, now the locals are kicking off and wanting blood.’

  ‘Hell.’

  ‘Put a complaint in up the line, have our lot complain to their lot, and let’s ask them to stop any bombing campaign whilst we’re here, we don’t need a full-on uprising whilst we’re sat in their back garden.’

  ‘I’ll get right on that, damn French should know better.’

  Call ended, I found Henri with his men, and I pulled him away. ‘Some bad news. Your stupid fucking air force bombed the rebels, revenge for you fucking patrol, but they hit a school – fifty kids killed, rioting across the country!’

  He threw his hands in the air and cursed long and loud, some of his men coming over, and they started shouting when it was explained, but at their government and not at individuals here. It was not missed on them that we were on the front line. I left them to it, the English peering out and puzzling the shouting.

  I found Hamble, Crab and the SBS senior staff sat eating.

  ‘What’s up with them?’ Crab asked.

  I stood over them as they ate. ‘French tried to bomb the rebels, hit a school and killed fifty kids, rioting across the country.’

  ‘We’re a bit fucking exposed here!’ the SBS captain pointed out. ‘And now the locals will want revenge, and they’d think us French!’

  ‘Yep,’ I said. ‘It’s never easy, and there’s always the unknown. But it would be fair to say that four times as many locals will be heading this way tomorrow, so stay sharp.’

  ‘This is a good spot to defend,’ Hamble reiterated.

  ‘Only if we stop the rockets, and to do that we need men out there, and our men out there are spread thin. We need to patrol a mountainous area three miles across and three miles deep to stop all the rockets, and that would take all of us out there – spread thin. Any large attack would get some of the lads on the hillside.’

  ‘So what’s the fucking plan then?’ Crab asked.

  ‘We make a plan when we know what they’re up to. In the meantime ... we keep stopping the rocket crews, got three today, a good tally. But chances are we’ll need your men on patrol tomorrow, to keep the rocket crews beyond a thousand yards.’

  ‘And be spread thin,’ Hamble echoed.

  I nodded. ‘I came here thinking about attrition over several weeks, that we wear them down with hit and run. That’s still the plan, and the terrain around us won’t allow a mass attack unless up the access track, and we’d see them a long way off. Plan hasn’t altered yet.’

  ‘Not yet,’ Crab unhappily noted.

  After sun down we got ready for possible rocket or mortar attacks, but none came. The French patrols reported no movement, neither did Moran’s patrol and OPs.

  At midnight I was worried. I faced Henri’s dark outline in our bolt hole. ‘They’re not sending anyone tonight.’

  ‘If they are holding them back, it is for a reason, a large attack some place.’

  I nodded, unseen, and thinking.

  My sat phone trilled an hour later, startling me. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s Captain Harris. We have a large group in your area, but they’re west of you, moving south.’

  ‘Moran reported them earlier.’

  ‘We have sixty plus radios in use, which puts the total around three hundred plus men. We’ll keep tracking them, so keep your phone on.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  I called Moran.

  ‘Captain Moran here.’

  ‘It’s Wilco. Any movement west of you?’

  ‘We can see lights in the distance, lots of vehicles moving south down a road and disappearing.’

  ‘Numbers?’

  ‘Got to have been fifty vehicles.’

  ‘A group of an estimated three hundred is somewhere west of us, moving south. My map says there’s fuck all south of us, so they may turn towards us.’

  ‘They can’t attack from the north, so south would be their only option, but it’s open country, you’d see them.’

  ‘Maybe they don’t care about being seen. If they’ve got mounted Duska and mortars we’ll be keeping our heads down as they move up.’

  ‘We could withdraw the medics, and get French reinforcements up the south road.’

  ‘We don’t know their intentions yet. Keep me posted of any movement west of us. Wilco out.’

  I eased out of the command centre and stood in the dark. Heaving a sigh, I strode across to the SAS. ‘Sergeant Crab.’

  ‘Here,’ came through the dark.

  ‘We have movement west of us. I want four men off on patrol inside half an hour, they go west and south a bit, follow the ridgeline, and they go out till they see a tight valley and a road in the distance. Then it’s eyes on and report back. Make sure they have a sat phone.’

  Turning, I headed to the RAF Regiment position. ‘Mister Haines?’ I called through the dark.

  ‘Here,’ came from a dark outline approaching.

  ‘I want four of your men on rotation, digging shell scrapes just to the right of you. Nine inches deep, two feet wide, six feet long, dirt piled up at the front and stamped down. They don’t need to be works of art, but I want as many as you can by dawn, two dozen would be good.’

  ‘Some intel?’ he asked, sounding concerned.

  ‘There’s a large group west of us, so this is just a precaution, they’d have to be mad to come up that track.’

  I stepped carefully through the dark to the French captain, remembering his position. ‘Allo?’ I called in my best attempt a French accent. ‘Cap-ee-tan?’

  ‘Here,’ came a voice through the dark as he eased out of his fox hole.

  ‘Captain, I want four men digging extra fox holes, left of you here in the soft ground. Two metre long, half metre wide, deep like my boot. Change the men every two hours, yes.’

  ‘We expect trouble, no?’

  ‘We have movement, but nothing certain
yet. Just to be safe.’

  ‘OK, we dig some more.’

  Back at the command hole I eased in, Henri looking at maps in torch light.

  ‘I’ve got men digging more fox holes south side,’ I told him.

  He looked up and then nodded, returning to his map.

  I added, ‘There’s a large group, west of us, moving south.’

  ‘Here,’ he said, a finger on the map. ‘It goes nowhere but around to the south. Maybe they cut the road below us.’

  The screech was loud, the blast felt through the rocks.

  I clicked on the radio, ‘It’s Wilco, anyone hit?’ I shouted.

  ‘It landed west of us,’ came Hamble. ‘A good three hundred yards. What the fuck was that?’

  ‘A rocket, but a bigger one by the sound of it. Stay down, everyone stay down.’

  ‘It’s Crab, we still going west?’

  ‘Yes, and urgently, we need to spot the launchers. Move out when ready.’

  ‘Be bent-fucking-double moving out,’ came Crab.

  I faced Henri. ‘You know what type of rocket that was?’

  ‘Yes, they have three types, small and bigger. That was second largest I think, but they have some old Scud, not accurate.’

  ‘What’s the range on that the type of missile that hit us?’

  ‘Three or four kilometre.’

  ‘Two miles away,’ I noted. They were beyond our planned patrol range at the moment.

  My sat phone trilled. ‘Wilco, it’s Moran, you OK in there?’

  ‘Yes, no one hurt, fucking big rocket landed.’

  ‘We saw it launched, long way off, more than a mile from where we are now.’

  ‘I have an SAS patrol going out that way, they should be in position in under two hours.’

  ‘There’s no movement where we are, you want us to relocate?

  ‘Not yet, stay put.’

  ‘Another rocket!’ Moran shouted.

  I lowered the sat phone in a hurry and clicked on my radio. ‘Incoming! Rocket incoming!’

  It hit ten seconds later, rocks raining down on us.

  ‘Where did it land?’ I asked.

  ‘Northwest,’ came Hamble’s voice.

  ‘Sergeant Crab, you OK?’

  ‘Yeah, we got down in time, it was north of us by two hundred yards.’

  ‘Quick as you can, Sergeant, but don’t risk broken ankles, follow the trails.’

  ‘We’re moving, want to be away from those fucking rockets.’

  I lifted my sat phone. ‘Moran, you still there?’

  ‘Yeah, anyone hurt?’

  ‘No, we were lucky, but our luck won’t hold. Keep reporting that movement. Wilco out.’

  I called Captain Harris. ‘It’s Wilco, we’re on the receiving end of larger rockets, they have a range of two miles plus, a hell of a blast when they hit.’

  ‘Anyone hurt?’

  ‘Not yet, but we’re on the clock. I have a patrol going out towards them, may stop them or scare them off, but the launchers can keep moving. Moran saw the damn things being fired, launch site about two miles west of us.’

  ‘I’ll update the French, they could always try a strafing run or something.’

  Fifteen minutes later, and the screech had us all diving down, the rocket aim almost perfect, and it slammed into the middle of the camp, my ears ringing, sand raining down on me, smoke wafting.

  I shook my head and clicked on the radio. ‘Anyone hurt? Report.’

  Nothing came back. Knowing that it would take time to prepare another rocket, I eased out and ran through the smoke, past the crater and to the medics. ‘You all OK?’ I shouted, turning my torch on.

  ‘Anyone hurt?’ sounded out from the medics themselves as I entered the larger tent, my torch highlighting faces as they turned up from the floor. They had all been lying down next to sand bags, and some now sat up.

  A doctor said, ‘Big hole in the tent,’ and we looked up, stars seen.

  ‘Stay down, and if one of those rockets hits the mark you’ll be knee deep in blood in no time, so be ready.’

  ‘Been quiet all day,’ the same man noted.

  ‘We killed the rocket crews close-in, these are long range rockets, two miles or more, so we have a patrol moving out towards them.’

  Outside, I turned left and ran to the 2 Squadron position. ‘Mister Haines, you there?’ I called through the dark.

  ‘Here,’ came his voice, from the rocks. ‘We gave up digging for a while, got a few done.’

  ‘OK, stay down. No one hurt?’

  ‘Not so far. What the heck were those?’

  ‘Long range rockets, but they can’t have too many of them, expensive fireworks to be throwing away.’

  ‘One of those lands close and we’ve had it,’ he noted.

  ‘Spread your men out if you like, dig deeper while you can, use the rocks. Up to you.’

  I ran back and slid into my bolt hole, now wishing it was a bit deeper.

  ‘No one injured?’ Henri asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ I responded.

  And we waited, heads down, sandbags repositioned, and nothing happened, we had just a few crickets for company as we waited and chilled in the blackness.

  When my sat phone trilled it was Sergeant Crab. ‘Wilco, we’ve gone as far as we can this way, fucking great drop off down into the valley, but we can see them across the valley and lower, the fuckers ain’t being stealthy.’

  ‘How far from you?’

  ‘Say ... eight hundred.’

  ‘Open fire on them, aim high, it may cause them to move, and that buys us time.’

  ‘We got a GPMG with us, give ‘em a headache now. Call you back.’

  When my phone went again it was Moran. ‘Wilco, I can see tracer firing out, onto the launchers.’

  ‘That’s Crab, his aim any good?’

  ‘Seems to be close, must be hitting someone down there. Some are driving off anyhow, further south.’

  Ten minutes later Crab was back on. ‘They’re fucking off, and I reckon we hit a few, tracer was spot on a few times, one jeep on fire.’

  ‘Stay there, unless you can move south a little?’

  ‘There’s a trail going south, yes, you want us to follow it?’

  ‘Four hundred yards, then reassess. I don’t want the rocket crews left alone, hassle them.’

  ‘We’re moving now, call you later.’

  I faced Henri’s dark outline. ‘We hit the launchers, they’re moving further south.’

  ‘But where do they go, they move towards open country?’ he asked with a big shrug.

  I clicked on the radio. ‘RAF Regiment, resume digging please, rocket launchers have been hit ... for now anyway.’

  ‘Acknowledged,’ came back.

  An hour later, and Crab was back on. ‘Wilco, we followed them south, they’s across the valley, and we just pissed them off a bit, got another jeep on fire, and they’re moving south again, but we’re low on GPMG ammo now.’

  ‘OK, observe and report.’

  ‘They’re coming left a bit, I mean, east, towards the main road down there, and we can see vehicles on parts of that main road.’

  I heaved a sigh. ‘Come back, quick as you can.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Come back in, move it!’

  I clicked on my radio. ‘RAF Regiment, I want all men digging, and on the double, use torches if you like it don’t matter. Tell the French captain next to you I want all his men digging slit trenches flat out.’

  ‘We expecting trouble?’

  ‘We are, get to it, please.’

  I faced an expectant Henri. ‘Have your men on the north move south if they can find shovels, and to dig slit trenches. Bring your patrol men back in.’

  His dark outline blew out hard, and he eased out.

  I dialled Moran. ‘It’s Wilco, come back, collect the guys, don’t risk injury, but fast as you can.’

  ‘Company for breakfast?’

  ‘I’d bet good money
on it.’ I eased out and jogged across to the SBS. ‘Get everyone up and on me, now! Leave your weapons and webbing there. Quickly.’

  They placed down weapons and got their webbing off, soon a line of men as I turned and ran, the men hot on my heals. I stopped at the tall sandbag wall. ‘Those sandbags on the top, take them off and to the south wall, that low stone wall, make positions, take this wall down to about four feet. Quickly!’

  I poked my head inside the medical tent, my torch on, but they had two lamps going. ‘OK, listen up: looks like an attack from the south is likely, so we’re pinching your sandbag wall. Make your sandbag walls higher to the south a bit. Move the jeeps outside away a little, put ponchos down, create a triage area, it could get hairy.’

  I left a very worried group of medics and stepped to the south wall, if you could call its twelve inches a wall, as the SBS lugged sandbags across. ‘Two sandbags is enough for a man to hide behind,’ I said. ‘A third sandbag side-on to rest his left elbow when he shoots.’

  I put my torch on and helped them adjust sandbags, twelve suitable positions made quickly, but they would be firing over the heads of men below, a clearance or three or four feet - enough.

  A screech, and everyone dived down where they were, the rocket landing south two hundred yards, a bright flash and sparks flying high through the dark. Easing up, I used my torch to find the French captain, Henri’s men resuming their digging nearby.

  ‘Captain, warn your men, attack from the south, maybe at dawn. We need holes for all our men, not deep.’

  ‘We are working, yes.’

  Back up inside the camp I found Henri by torch light. ‘Henri, some of your jeeps here, men under, it will protect them some.’

  He shouted orders in French, engines started, the jeeps repositioned.

  ‘Your smallest men,’ I said. ‘with GPMGs here, under the jeeps.’

  Ten minutes later, as I observed the work, Henri appeared at my side. ‘You think an attack here?’ he asked. ‘Why not flank us?’

  ‘If they want to flank us, where are they? They should have men moving now, into position before dawn, but they drive south and around.’

  ‘So they come up from the south?’

  ‘They’ll only do that if they have an advantage,’ I said. ‘So they must have many small rockets and RPG, and mortar.’

  ‘They come up when we are face down. They get to the walls down there and behind, and they have cover. From mortars ... we will take casualties.’