Wilco- Lone Wolf - Book 3

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘Their Colonel has been forced to retire, two Majors gone, replacements found, a handful of SIB officers working alongside them, a captain forced out.’

  ‘So I can sleep safely?’ I teased.

  ‘Not sure about that, rank and file are still not fans of yours, or of me, but they know what will happen if they step out of line. Anyhow, may have a job in Mali.’

  ‘Mali West Africa, or Mali – capital of the Maldives?’

  ‘Not the Maldives.’

  ‘Bummer.’

  ‘You’d go in support of French ground forces, recon, some hostages, and to thin out the rebels.’

  ‘Correct me if I am wrong, but northern Mali is about a thousand miles of desert edge to edge, no so much as a lonely camel on the horizon?’

  ‘Yes, it’s a hell hole, home of the original French Foreign Legion and Timbuktu.’

  ‘What’s the timescale?’ I asked.

  ‘Whenever you’re ready. French have been there two hundred years on and off, a few more weeks won’t make much of a difference.’

  ‘Then I suggest we find a training area in Mauritania, on the border, an airfield, and acclimatise there.’

  ‘There is one, French helicopters there, a brigade.’

  ‘Send me the details, send a man down to brief us,’ I suggested.

  ‘Will do, soon.’

  The next morning I wandered over to the “D” Squadron morning briefing, saluting the Major – who puzzled the salute with a frown. Faces turned towards me, but no one stood.

  ‘After me?’ the Major asked, sat with Captain Hamble at the front and facing the men.

  ‘Partly, sir.’ I faced the men as they lounged around. ‘There’ll be a job a few weeks from now, West Africa, which may be volunteer work or regular work, that’s up to the Major and the Army – it’s not high priority. It would involve using jeeps across a thousand miles of featureless desert, so if you do attend we could call your section ... the Long Range Desert Group.’

  They laughed.

  ‘If there are any who wish to attend, put your names on the list, and if and when the job comes off the Major can decide on who goes.’ I faced Crab. ‘Sergeant Crab, I would – naturally – feel much safer if you came along.’

  The men laughed, because they knew I was taking the piss.

  ‘Someone has to watch out for you,’ Crab retorted.

  I exchanged a smirk with the Major, saluted and left.

  The following Monday I put many of the lads on jeep driving and maintenance, a few on flying lessons, and Moran was now nearing the point where he could sit his Private Pilot’s License. He would sit a dry run with an instructor but not do the real thing unless he paid for it himself, and flying was an expensive hobby. From my point of view I wanted basic flying skills, not licenses for flying safely in the damp UK.

  On the Wednesday we had an expert come down, an oil and mine prospector who had driven across every inch of the Sahara, and he gave us a lecture, followed by a quiz as we tried to work out miles per gallon on certain terrains, water used, supplies carried.

  He then got onto dead reckoning navigation, stars to use, and we all practised calculations and simple planning drawings. With all of us stood outside he described the features of his custom jeep, what to take, and how to get out when the wheels were buried in the sand.

  The next day he was back, and we drove to a place north of Brecon, a scree slope, and we practised using the winch to get the jeep up and down steep slopes, across rivers or mud, everyone tackling a steep slope in low gear – and many stalling the damn jeep.

  With the weather OK, we grabbed Mobility Troop lads the next day and drove up to Sennybridge early, all of us practising driving over a course designed just for this.

  On the Friday a man came down, sent by Bob, and he gave us a lecture on Mali, and its history, as well as current disagreements, tribal squabbles, and hotspots for rebel activity. He had brought ten paperbacks and they were handed out, the books detailing the troubles in Mali – my weekend study material.

  Before we closed up on Friday the Major came across to me. ‘We’ve had a formal notification about Mali, and we’ll send two troops with jeeps, so you can’t borrow our jeeps – not least because you threw two out of a fucking plane!’

  ‘French will have some,’ I suggested with a smile. ‘And your lads won’t be using them all the time.’

  He nodded. ‘Captain Hamble is down for it, and Sergeant Crab of course.’ We laughed. ‘And there’s a list, many names on it. But you know what’s wrinkled more noses than anything else?’ I waited. ‘Your damn sign outside; we came to fight not read about it! That gets a lot of hot air, but it seems to be doing some good.’

  ‘Nice to know we’re having an effect, sir,’ I quipped.

  ‘How do you rate Hamble?’ he asked, Moran in earshot.

  ‘He’s not like Captain Moran here, but he could get there in time.’

  ‘Not like ... in what way?’ the Major pushed, a glance at Moran.

  I shrugged. ‘Captain Moran is fucking crazy. He likes getting shot at.’

  The Major focused on Moran. ‘A ringing endorsement, I suppose. Still, I’d prefer all my troop captains to be a little more like you.’ He faced me. ‘Monday, new colonel visiting, and he takes over a week later.’

  ‘You know him, sir?’

  ‘No, but I am asking around. He’s done many tours of Northern Ireland, and they expect him to make general one day soon. He’s spent time with the Paras, Engineers, Guards even.’

  ‘His ... name?’

  ‘Peters.’

  ‘Don’t go anywhere,’ I said, lifting the phone. I got through to General Dennet.

  ‘Wilco, my lad, staying out of trouble.’

  ‘Certainly not, sir, what do you take me for.’

  He laughed. ‘A trouble maker. What you after?’

  ‘My new colonel over here, Peters, you know him, sir?’

  ‘Yes, he started in the Guards, blue blood, right family, right connections, Eton and Oxford, a real career man.’

  ‘What’s he like, sir?’

  ‘Ambitious, and ... I’d go so far as to say that he’d go to great lengths to avoid a stain on that career.’

  ‘Be hard when I’m under his care, sir.’

  ‘It would, damn hard. Oh, he was in Riyadh, you should have met him.’

  ‘I may recognise his face, sir. Did he attend any illegal fights?’

  ‘Hardly, he’s squeaky clean.’

  ‘But a good man..?’

  ‘He’s a good officer, yes, but ... I wouldn’t choose to spend time in a bar with him, he has his head up his own arse.’

  ‘Thanks for the heads-up, sir – pardon the pun.’

  ‘This rape allegation all put to bed?’

  ‘Yes, sir, girl was bribed by 14 Intel,’ I stated.

  ‘Fucking potential mess that was, we could have done without that, but their ambition has always been a problem. When I was OIC over there they were a handful.’

  ‘Hopefully, sir, they’ve learnt their lesson, but I doubt it.’

  ‘And your new relationship with the press? That has a few worried.’

  ‘Always pays to have them on our side, sir, and the public behind us. Recruitment is up across the board, and in the weeks ahead I have a job going in West Africa, and we’re taking an embedded reporter.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘Don’t worry, sir, all his material and photographs will go through the Army Press Corp first. Cabinet Office knows, and no screaming so far.’

  ‘Another good headline hopefully, but if it goes wrong – that man is right there.’

  ‘We’ll just have to be lucky, sir.’

  Call ended, I faced the Major. And took a breath. ‘New colonel is right wanker.’

  He also sighed. ‘That always helps,’ he quipped.

  ‘He’s practically royalty, his heads up his arse, very ambitious, will not tolerate failure.’

  ‘He’ll have a shock here
then,’ the Major noted. ‘Be lucky if anyone salutes him.’

  ‘When you moving over, sir?’

  ‘Whenever it suits, and if the new CO is a pain then sooner rather than later. My replacement is waiting in the wings, good man, came up through the ranks.’

  ‘Monday then, sir, I’ll chat to Bob today.’

  I called Bob later, from home. ‘Bob, you down the pub?’

  ‘Hardly. My driver drops me home and I get some work done before collapsing in a heap.’

  ‘Listen, new Colonel here turns up Monday, and apparently he’s a complete wanker, so your life may get a little more stress.’

  ‘I heard about him; blue blooded, career minded. But he has a good record.’

  ‘I asked around, and he does not tolerate failure, to the point of covering it up or blaming others. He’ll like the good newspaper headlines, but what if something goes wrong?’

  ‘I’ll meet with him soon, sound him out, but you can brief him on how we work – and you’re great at reading people.’

  ‘OK. And what about Bradley, they’re nudging him to go?’ I pressed.

  ‘I see no issues, I’ve met with him several times recently to discuss the move, he knows what we want to achieve as far as direction goes. He may not take to some of the “E” Squadron work, but he’s a better candidate than most.’

  ‘Then move him over Monday, and he can run the Mali operation admin.’

  ‘OK, I’ll chat to him over the weekend, get Richards to sign off on that before he goes.’

  On the Monday morning I briefed the lads. ‘Major Bradley will be joining us today, he’ll be in charge, two captains and two staff sergeants. You will ... show the correct amount of respect or I’ll kick you out the detachment. When I was a trooper I said “sir” and I saluted, because I don’t have an axe to grind with authority.

  ‘If anyone here has issues with authority, then I can’t trust you, and you won’t stay here. Major Bradley and I have worked together since I started here, and he and I have been involved in secret operations that none of you know about, and he knows what he’s doing.

  ‘Rizzo, you will show him the same respect as before, if not more, or you won’t be a staff sergeant here. Same for you Rocko, you toe the line. As you respect the officers above you, so the men under you respect you – simple.’

  ‘Why he moving over?’ Rizzo asked.

  ‘This unit is far more important than first anticipated, and has grown, and may grow again, so it needs oversight and proper structures. We’ve lost men in the past, but the hope is that if I’m killed, or you and Rocko are killed, that all the talent is not lost and the detachment carries on. In the past, if me, Swifty and you - Rizzo, were killed, the unit would have disappeared – which would be a shame. Someday, a very long way in the future, Smitty may be staff sergeant.’

  They laughed, taunting him.

  ‘There will also be time in the future when one troop goes off to do a job, the second troop someplace else. It’s not a small concern anymore.’ I checked my notes. ‘OK, Swifty, make contact with the SBS and 2 Squadron, some training and testing, I’ll notify them about Mali.

  ‘Rocko, Rizzo, we need desert camouflage, light brown cloth for rifles and to hide ourselves out in the desert, goggles, face masks for sand storms. We would, probably, carry small shovels as standard kit out there for shell scrapes in flat terrain. Start thinking about what we need.’

  Colonel Richards sent for me a while later, and I knocked and entered his office, saluting, the new colonel in with him.

  ‘This is Colonel Peters,’ Richards began as I sat, and I recognised the man from Riyadh, and a chill went through me, but I hid it.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, sir,’ I offered, and he stared back as if he was assessing an opportunity.

  Richards stood. ‘I have to pop out, could you bring Colonel Peters up to speed on your unit.’

  I stood. ‘Yes, sir.’

  With Richards gone, I said, ‘I assume that you’re knowledgeable, sir, about SAS work?’ I sat.

  ‘Yes, I came across you in Northern Ireland, and I had my history lesson and structures briefing, I read the history of the unit again recently. But your detachment is an aberration, so why don’t you give me a run down.’

  ‘To start at the beginning: during the Second World War we had SOE, an independent body under Mi6 – civilians with guns and explosives, although it would be fair to say that they were ex-military men. Prime Minister Harold Wilson disbanded the military arm of Mi6, and later on “E” Squadron was formed, under the SAS but for the purposes of Mi6, and today it exists for that same purpose.

  ‘I’m here on this base with my men, but I answer to the head of operations at Mi6, and they fund us, although it’s all made to look like it comes through regular SAS work, and therefore Army, and therefore the likes of Harold Wilson - in his day - would tolerate it.’

  ‘A bit of a fudge, yes.’

  ‘In the past, sir, “E” Squadron was kept well away from here, because they were loose cannons, often ending up in prison. That changed with my arrival, not least the fact that I’m disciplined and not about to shoot up Hereford High Street.’

  ‘Good to know,’ he quipped.

  ‘So my men are tolerated as a unit since they operate like a unit, with discipline and structures, whereas in the past “E” Squadron has been a bunch of unstable drunken ex-troopers doing naughty jobs for Mi6.

  ‘But what really made a difference was the ambition – shall we say – of Bob Staines at Mi6. He wanted his own private army, like SOE, but the Army most definitely did not like that idea, and Colonel Richards did not like that idea – because such a unit would take work away from the regular SAS, who would have a wartime role but not a peacetime role.’

  ‘This regiment would go stale,’ he noted.

  ‘Yes, sir. So we have a compromise, and everyone’s happy, and my team is often involved with joint operations with the regulars. Take this next job, in Mali, West Africa. Two troops of regular SAS will support us, as they did in Djibouti and Mauritania, and part of that is my suggestion that they do – or it might just be us, as it was in Somalia.’

  ‘What’s the difference, exactly?’

  ‘It’s a grey area, sir. Somalia was “E” Squadron SAS, and if we had been killed or caught we’d have been labelled as mercenaries, a success and we’re labelled as SAS.’

  ‘And the chances of a bad newspaper headline from your lot?’ he asked.

  ‘Very high.’ His eyes widened. ‘Some of the jobs we do we don’t discuss with others here, they’re Mi6 jobs, and if we got caught – be hell to pay.’

  ‘So who do you answer to?’

  ‘We would answer to you for admin and kit, wages and medical care, training schedules, joint resources, but you could not send us on a job.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No, sir, but you could ask for us to come along, same difference. We get orders from Operations at Mi6, but they would generally offer to consult with you, and I always try and have regular SAS backup, so it’s a close relationship.’

  ‘And Mi6 choose the jobs?’

  ‘No, sir, that’s normally Cabinet Office, political level, it was in Djibouti and West Africa, a joint venture with the French, an exercise to help sell weapons to certain countries. This next job, Mali, will make no difference at all to anything, but if we get a good newspaper story then the politicians are happy – and it’s them we work for.’

  ‘Yes, quite. And this trouble with 14 Intel? I know them quite well from Northern Ireland, have seen some of the issues with them first hand.’

  ‘They want Mi6 disbanded, sir, and for the SAS and SBS to be part of them.’

  ‘Well that’s not going to happen, but I understand their ambition, and there was a time when the Army wanted Mi6 reigned in, but the politicians won’t go for that.’

  ‘No, sir, and a word of warning about Bob Staines. He’s an ambitious man; clash with him and the police will find some cocaine in yo
ur car.’

  He stiffened. ‘He’d go to those lengths?’

  ‘He kills people who piss him off, sir.’

  ‘Oh, right. And he’s your boss?’

  ‘Yes, sir, but we have a good working relationship, and I’ve made his career with my successes – which he claims were all his own of course.’

  ‘Of course. And if some of your men step out of line?’

  ‘I’d deal with them very harshly, and I don’t mean a court martial or reprimand, sir, I’d put them in hospital or kick them out. You’ll have no trouble.’

  ‘Officers don’t punch enlisted men, as a rule,’ he testily pointed out.

  I made firm eye contact. ‘I kill people most every week, sir, some with my hands. I’m not like other officers.’

  ‘No, quite.’

  ‘Best way to deal with my lot, and Bob Staines, is through me, sir, a quiet word off the record. There are always ways to get things done on the quiet.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind, yes. And the rest of the rabble here?’

  I smiled. ‘A rabble, sir. Don’t expect too much.’

  Outside, I called Bob Staines on my mobile as I stood outside the hut. ‘Bob, got a problem; the new colonel.’

  ‘He’s difficult?’

  ‘Not so far, but ... I remember him from Riyadh, and he likes small boys.’

  ‘Oh hell.’

  ‘Do some digging, and fast, we don’t need a scandal.’

  ‘Christ, this is all we need. OK, I’ll get a discrete man on it.’

  I cornered the Major after I saw the Colonel return. I led them to a quiet corner. They waited, looks exchanged. ‘Your replacement, Colonel, I’m going to get rid of him, I may even kill him.’

  ‘You what?’ the Colonel hissed.

  ‘What did he say?’ the Major asked, wide-eyed.

  ‘It’s not what he said today, I ... recognised him from Riyadh. He ... likes small boys.’

  ‘He what!’ the Major hissed.

  ‘Jesus,’ the Colonel let out, glancing over his shoulder.

  I said, ‘I’m not going to see him arrested, a newspaper headline, my team discredited because of it.’