Wilco- Lone Wolf 6

by Geoff Wolak

  I planned to take extra water and rations, and to dump them at two chosen spots for the return leg. Happy with the plan, I took the map with me and gave the detail to Echo, then “D” Squadron, who I had elected to take along; they would hold the first fallback position.

  Stood assembled near the bivvy, I began, ‘Gentlemen, I want you along on this first job to hold the fallback position, so ... are you going to gripe that you’re not where the action is?’

  ‘Job is still important,’ Hamble put in, taking in the faces.

  ‘This won’t be the only job here, will it?’ one asked.

  ‘No,’ I told them. ‘Could be here weeks, or they abort today. Fuck knows.’

  ‘We’re keen, willing and able,’ a man put in. ‘A bit ugly, but good soldiers.’ They laughed.

  ‘We’ll be off to the airport around midnight, be ready. Take extra water and rations, ammo, dump it at your hold position. Don’t ... drink and eat it all, eh, leave some for us.’

  I called all of Echo together and stood on the firing point. ‘OK, we’ll be off around midnight, to the airport, three planes. I forgot to ask where our chutes were, but we might take them, just in case. But if there is a problem then these planes can set down on roads.

  ‘OK, pay attention. Team One, myself, Swifty, Captain Moran, Mahoney. Team Two, Rocko, Slider, Tomo, Nicholson. Team Three, Rizzo, Stretch, Smitty, Lassey. Team four, Gonzo, Slade, Henri, Jacque – Henri in charge. Team five, Dicky and the Salties. Team six, four Pathfinders. “D” Squadron will be together and coming along.

  ‘The plan is that we land in three planes, on a road, around 2am, a few hours to get to the hills west of the road. In the foothills, “D” Squadron will go to ground and cover our rear, and be there to cover the planes or helicopters if we need them in a hurry.

  ‘We will move into the hills without being seen, and that needs to be daylight because it will be hard enough climbing in daylight, let alone at night. When we get to the target village, teams Five and Six cover our rear, One to Four move forwards and spread out. We’ll observe, and if we see the main man we shoot him, and withdraw.

  ‘When we do withdraw we can expect to have them out looking for us, so we avoid roads and tracks, and we get to the road for a pick-up at 2am, hoping that it’s not crawling with bad boys.

  ‘If they do come out to play, fine, we have at them, since that is the whole point of being here. Make sure you get some sleep before we go, double check radios, sat phones. Max, no.’ They laughed. ‘You’re not coming along, this is too dangerous.’

  I stepped across and spoke to Sasha and the Wolves, explaining the plan, asking that they train and stay busy, and that there may be a job for them after this initial job. The Pathfinders captain, Mac, selected four men for this first job, 2 Squadron asked to be on standby, and to keep training.

  I got some sleep from 3pm till 6pm, but then couldn’t sleep any more, I was wide awake, so I wandered up to the French command tent and checked that everything was as per the plan. They all seemed happy enough.

  On the way back down I phoned Bob and gave him the outline, soon sitting with Batman and Robin, chatting away. When they asked about grenades I took a bag back with me, each man getting two grenades, but I doubted we would use them.

  Rocko, Rizzo, and many of Echo admitted to eight magazines each, despite what I said about taking four, and I reminded them that the dump bags would have spare ammo in them. I also reminded them that we’d be climbing up rocks, and not to be too heavy. Most had slings for rifles, a few to take bungies along and make do.

  As the sun set we were sat about cooking and chatting, the Major wandering up to chat to various groups, and I sat with Sasha for a while, his four in good spirits.

  Bob called, and I stood and stepped away. He reported, ‘HMS Fearless will be in position from the early hours.’

  ‘We have the planes, and French pilots, as well as French helicopters for extraction, but have them ready anyhow, good for morale.’

  ‘The Marines will land on a beach, extra practise for them, fire some blanks.’

  ‘I’ll be gone three days, but then I can arrange something for the Marines.’

  ‘Are all the groups playing nicely?’

  ‘So far. I’m taking Pathfinders and “D” Squadron, no Wolves on this job. We leave around midnight.’

  ‘Well good luck, but you don’t need it.’

  ‘Need luck whenever you fly, man was not supposed to fly.’

  I called Credenhill and asked them to get Rawlson to phone me, but he was working late anyhow.

  ‘Captain?’

  ‘We’re about to go do the first job, sir, and I’m taking “D” Squadron along. We’ll insert by plane, landing on roads, and your lads will hold the first fallback position.’

  ‘And the risks?’

  ‘If they get spotted they’d have a hundred men down on them wanting blood. But, they will be in the hills, and they have sniper rifles, so the bad boys won’t get close.’

  ‘Safe aircraft?’

  ‘They were tested today, several touch and goes. So fingers crossed, sir.’

  ‘And this job?’

  ‘Three days. Move into the hills to the target village, observe, see if the main man is home, and if so shoot the fucker then withdraw. But as we withdraw they will come out to play, so we may evac by helicopter at night. HMS Fearless is offshore, it’s Sea Kings available to us if need be.’

  ‘Is this your plan or a French plan?’

  ‘My plan, sir, the French plan ... I poured cold water over.’

  ‘You told their colonel to fuck off, so I heard.’

  ‘His plan was ... basic, sir. Casualties would have been high for his men, not ours.’

  ‘They wanted to attack hilltop villages by helicopter, a bit daft.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Well good luck.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Phone down, I figured that the Major must have spoken to him.

  At midnight we bid the Major and the support team farewell and walked down to the bus, a short trip to the airport, our planes sat waiting, engines soon starting.

  Stood on the floodlight tarmac, moths flittering about the yellow lights, I called, ‘Teams One and Two, “D” Squadron, first plane. Teams Three, Four, Pathfinders, second plane. Teams Five and Six, last plane. When we get off the plane, turn left – left of the nose, walk west in the footsteps of the man in front. Last man, try and hide those prints. Make sure weapons are unloaded for the flight. OK, board now.’

  I led my team aboard the Skyvan, finding a few seats at the front, “D” Squadron claiming the floor, backs against the aircraft sides. And we did not bother with chutes. I sat on a bench, Swifty next to me, Moran and Mahoney opposite, the pilot tapped on the shoulder.

  He glanced back, the ramp powering slowly down to close. Brakes off, and we were moving, following green cat-eyes in the tarmac, the cabin lights knocked off. Power on, the vibrations felt, we picked up speed, the nose soon gently lifting, and we left the lights of habitation behind us, banking left and heading east over black desert and hills, soon little to see below. I checked my watch, the men around me just dark outlines.

  Forty-five minutes later I checked my watch again, radio earpiece in, radio checked, the lads closest copying me. The cabin lights flashed.

  ‘Hang on tight!’ I shouted, and gripped my seat.

  The Skyvan nosed down, engines throttled back, flaps down, and we began the corkscrew, a most unpleasant experience for anyone to endure – the “D” Squadron lads less than happy and totally unprepared, little to hang onto.

  I caught sight of the road, black against the dark brown, and just when I thought we’d hit the desert we pulled up, a gentle touch down, the ramp powering up. The lads ran out, and to the west fortunately, following the first man and walking in his footsteps.

  I stopped and knelt after twenty steps, the others halting further along – just indiscernible black blobs, the Skyvan al
ready powering away. ‘Radio check by team.’

  They all sounded off, the Nomad touching down about a hundred yards away, and I flashed my torch. Whoever had emerged, they knelt, waited for the Nomad to power past me – a blast of sand to the back of my head, and they jogged along the road. I sent them on ten yards, where they knelt and waited.

  The second Nomad landed where I knelt flashing my torch, which I should have done for the first Nomad. Engines roaring in my ears, the props a little too close for comfort, the teams ran out and around, soon kneeling, the Nomad powering off. It grew quiet, a black star-filled sky above, dark brown desert around me, a black road, that damp smell again.

  ‘Dicky.’

  ‘Here.’

  ‘Walk over that road, hundred yards, leave tracks, back to me. Go.’

  He walked over the road, his dark outline diminishing as we waited, no car headlights seen, and soon returned to me.

  I stood and moved forwards. On the radio, I said, ‘Team One up, rest stay there.’ I joined my team and led them off. ‘Team Two up, follow in our tracks, Team Three up ...Team four ... Team Five ... Team Six ... Pathfinders ... “D” Squadron. Last man, try and kick sand over our tracks, then catch up.’

  With black hills just about discernible in the distance, we plodded on at a brisk pace under the stars, but I had not gone more than four hundred yards when I smelt cigarette smoke, coming from the right. There was an isolated ridge, the man had to be behind it, and there could not be many of them hidden there. Maybe a farmer.

  I clicked on the radio. ‘Listen up, keep moving, act normal, man on the right, one man, hidden. Nicholson, Tomo, duck down, wait for us to pass, and then sneak around and kill him. Everyone else, standby for contact right, stay sharp.’

  I plodded on, rifle ready, eyes everywhere, and I kept going till I heard two quiet cracks. I knelt, so did everyone else.

  ‘It’s Tomo, got the fucker. But he’s got a clever sat phone.’

  ‘Bring me the phone, on the double.’

  ‘He was waiting for us?’ Moran hissed.

  ‘He wasn’t guarding his fucking sheep,’ I retorted through the dark.

  ‘How’d they know about us?’ Moran complained, whispered conversations breaking out.

  Thudding footsteps felt through the ground resulting in a dark outline. Tomo ran up and handed me the phone. I dialled a familiar number with it, my face lit up, as Tomo ran back.

  ‘Duty officer.’

  ‘It’s Wilco, in Algeria. Trace this number, fast as you can, we’ve been compromised. I need a report back inside thirty minutes.’

  ‘I’ll get back to you.’

  ‘We abort?’ Mahoney’s dark outline asked.

  ‘Depends,’ I began. ‘If he reported us, they’ll try and ambush us at dawn. Thing to do, would be to ambush them. Either way, we need some cover, we’re well fucking exposed out here.’

  ‘We could be walking into a trap,’ Moran hissed.

  ‘A trap ... where? What direction did they think we’d walk in? Straight line to the village, use the road? How’d they fucking know what route we’d take? Their only option would have been an ambush closer to the village, not way out here.’

  I clicked on the radio. ‘Listen up, we’ve been reported, and someone knew our plan by the look of it, so we’re moving at the double. Anyone with a twisted ankle, sing out. Dump the spare kit right here. On me.’

  I lifted up and ran, the going easy for a while, followed by soft sand that dragged our feet like glue. Finding a track, a long straight track heading roughly the right way, I took a risk and ran quickly along it. If we had been reported, it would be a report of men walking west, not running like idiots southwest.

  When my phone trilled it was good to rest; I was puffing. I stopped and knelt. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘Duty officer. That number made a call just before you called us, tracks to a sat phone in a village -’

  ‘Nohar-bar-ell.’

  ‘Yes, that’s it.’

  ‘We’ve been rumbled, but we’re going to move on them anyway. Do me a favour, let me know if that village phone starts moving or makes any calls to anyone near us.’

  ‘Will do.’

  I called Captain Harris. ‘It’s Wilco, they had a man waiting for us, they knew the fucking plan in detail, a man with a sat phone. We killed him, got the phone, and he’s been calling someone in the target village.’

  ‘What’ll you do?’

  ‘We’ll have at them.’

  ‘There was a leak here?’

  ‘At the airport I saw the pilots around a map, so maybe someone got a look at it. Have the French investigate, let everyone know it’s going to be a scrap, standby helicopters for dawn.’

  Lifting up, I clicked on the radio. ‘Listen up. Intel tracked the phone that the dicker used back to the bad boy’s village, so they’ll set an ambush somewhere. We have a few hours to try and get in place before they do. On me.’

  I started jogging, and I maintained a steady pace, the track still being followed. In sight of the foothills the track split left and right, so I went left – to the south, and when I cut across fields I slowed and walked, avoiding what looked like a distant house.

  From a low ridge I could see a road off to the left, so moved parallel to the road, starting to climb into the foothills, and soon we had the odd rock to move around, the ground uneven under our feet.

  Finding a track winding around a hill I adopted it and took a risk. ‘Spread out in teams, ten yards at least between you,’ I puffed out. ‘If we’re ambushed, tail end closes up and flanks them. Stay sharp.’

  Remembering the detail from the map, I could see the hills leading to the plateau in my two o’clock position, and we were a few miles south of the intended route.

  The dicker’s phone trilled, and I halted, wondering what to do. ‘Shhhh,’ I told my team as I walked on, the green button pressed.

  ‘Omah?’

  In Arabic I said, away from the phone, ‘Can you hear me?’

  ‘No, it’s a shit line.’

  ‘Can you hear me now?’

  ‘No, idiot.’

  I cut the call. ‘They think their man is still alive. And those fuckers can’t track a call.’

  Instead of jogging I kept a brisk pace, long strides, and we made good progress as the sky turned dark blue, then grey. Seeing the road off to my left, and below us, I led my line of men down a narrow track to a point above the road as it cut through a rocky valley, that road now some two hundred yards below us, and we stepped over a low mud wall and into what might have been some sort of water storage area. It was a hundred yards long and offered a low crumbling wall, so I had the teams lie down and hide.

  Above us we had sharp rocks and steep hills, and as I lay there I studied the high ground. ‘Nicholson, Tomo, up the rocks a hundred yards or more, find a good eagle’s nest.’

  They ran off, scrambling over the rocks as the day grew brighter.

  ‘What’s the plan?’ Moran asked as he peered down at the road.

  ‘Plan is to out-think them. That’s the only road, and if they were to try and surround us - assuming they figure on where we would have been at this time - they have to come down that road.’

  I sipped my water, taking in the hills behind us, and wondering if they could get behind us, passing the plastic water bottle down the line. My sat phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘Duty officer. A few calls made and received, and it’s moving, but not much. But two of the numbers called are moving, down the hill towards you.’

  ‘That’s good news.’

  ‘It is?’

  ‘Yes, because we’re above that road. I’ll call you straight back.’ I cut the call and dialled. ‘You there?’

  ‘Yes, me again.’

  ‘Track this location, and then tell me when those phones near us.’

  ‘Will do.’

  I clicked on the radio. ‘Listen up, bad boys are being tracked by London, sat phones in use, and they’re coming thi
s way. Break holes in this stone wall, get ready. “D” Squadron, look left, you’ll see a bunch of bushes. Go hide in there, cover the road both ways, Go.’

  They scampered off bent-double as Swifty and Moran pulled apart the wall, soon deep holes that we could fire out from without lifting our heads. I set my sights for two hundred, placed down a magazine, and checked my rifle, my elbows in accumulated dried mud.

  The dickers phone trilled. I pressed green.

  ‘Omah?’

  ‘Sorry, I was sleeping.’

  ‘Sleeping? You pig’s hind -’

  I cut the call and turned it off, tucking it away. ‘I think I lost that guy his job.’

  Swifty laughed. ‘Much call for dead dickers in these parts?’

  I lifted the dried skeletal husk of a long-dead fish.

  ‘Fish?’ Swifty puzzled. ‘Here?’

  ‘Someone must have brought them here, this was a water tank of sorts.’

  A minute later my phone trilled, heads turning. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘Duty officer. Those phone are two miles away and closing.’

  ‘Roger that, Wilco out.’

  I clicked on the radio. ‘Five minutes, everyone, five minutes.’

  ‘It’s Tomo, I can see a convoy coming.’

  ‘How many vehicles?’

  ‘More than I got fingers and toes, Boss.’

  ‘Listen up, well-aimed single shots; drivers, wheels, men in the back. Wait the signal. “D” Squadron, first three vehicles. Salties, next two. Nicholson, Tomo, hit the tail end. Rest of you, ignore the first five vehicles, then have at them. Tomo, call it out.’

  Tomo came back with, ‘Jeeps loaded with men. Say ... twenty jeeps – not men I mean, like six men in the back of each jeep, but not the first three like.’

  ‘That you for that concise technical report, Tomo,’ I transmitted, the lads laughing. ‘”D” Squadron, watch that road the way we came. Have one man face that way. Standby.’

  I could now see the first vehicle.