Wilco- Lone Wolf 16

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘And if I told you that you had to patrol this forest for six weeks before a rotation home?’

  He shrugged. ‘I can do it.’

  ‘Well, as you do it, think about if you want to be somewhere else. My lads don’t want to be somewhere else, that’s the key. If you’re not comfortable, you make mistakes and people get killed. Thinking about home is a sure way to get yourself killed. What would you do … if you were out?’

  ‘Out? Our the services? Fuck … no idea, be a bit lost at first, I joined at seventeen. Not looking forwards to signing on the dole and sitting in a pub, rather be busy.’

  ‘Most soldiers get to do some training before they see action in a place like this, so you’re in at the deep end. Only test - if you’re a good operator or not - is if you enjoy being here and not daydream about being someplace else.’

  I stepped towards the Greenies building. ‘Patrol goes out when you’re ready, hour from now, so kick some men up. Have your senior men join me in the HQ room in an hour.’

  ‘Right, sir.’

  Inside, I told those French that were awake that they would patrol out in one hour, the same for the Wolves, Robby, and along the line. 14 Intel would not be going out.

  I woke Salome after I made a black coffee for her, and she sat crossed–legged on table and sipped it, Rizzo and Stretch kicked awake.

  Roughly on the hour I sent runners to get the senior men, a map laid out, my drawing on the wall annotated with the river and some hills, as well as radial compass points. I labelled the Seals area.

  When everyone that I wanted in attendance was in attendance, Max and the Press officers at the back and most with notepads ready, I began, ‘OK, I think that we’ve had enough time to acclimatise and to settle in, so today we patrol out.

  ‘Those patrols are hunt-and-kill patrols, not denial of area. The Guinea rebels know that we’re here, and their border is less than twenty miles away. They’ve been paid to come here and kill British, French and American soldiers by the same idiots over there that organised the coup in Guinea.

  ‘Gentlemen, they are not soldiers, they are criminal gangs, and they will show us no mercy, so you show them no mercy. They have orders to kill any white soldiers they come across, heads or hands cut off for trophies and to claim a reward back up north.

  ‘You will not … hesitate to open fire, and to kill them, or they will try very hard to kill you, and cut your balls off for a trophy. You will look for tracks, you will set ambush points at likely spots and wait, you will follow tracks, noises or smoke, and hunt them down.

  ‘You will not … fire on civilians, at women, a man surrendering, someone with a white flag, or if you’re not sure. You may see a black farmer with an AK47 across his back. Aim at him, then have someone approach, wave and smile. If he goes for his gun you can shoot him, but don’t assume that a farmer with a gun is hostile. Farmers have guns.

  ‘If you come across a village don’t go in, but if you come across civilians you can ask about armed men, always be nice, offer them some dollars and some food. If I hear otherwise I’ll string you up in the jungle and leave you there. You represent me, so I expect you to show the locals that we don’t kill for fun. White men are nice men – as well as Sambo.’

  My lot laughed.

  ‘Greenies, you have an area to search first. That area extends from the bottom of the mine up to the top here, and west a mile. Contact the SAS down at the bottom, patrol down there first, then start the search; they patrol the lower part of that square.

  ‘Pick up any weapons, drag bodies to the mine for burial if you can, get any ID cards, weapons back here, checked for booby-traps. Tomorrow you’ll patrol out. OK, Captain, go search some forest.’

  He headed out.

  ‘Stretch, take seven Wolves and go to the top left corner, then go northwest towards the river, look for tracks, look for a crossing. Find a crossing, go over and look for tracks the other side, back for dawn tomorrow, ambush point tonight. Get some men and go when ready.’

  He grabbed his kit and stepped out.

  ‘French, go get the bodies and search them, bury them in the mine, then search the treeline here, left and right to the end, and 400m deep. All day today, tomorrow you patrol out.’

  The officer stepped out.

  ‘Robby, take eight Wolves and one of yours, you go due north to the river and over, same deal, back for dawn, ambush point tonight. Monster, go with him. Robby, start training Monster how we do things, but he’s good anyhow.’

  He stepped out, Monster in tow.

  ‘Henri, take seven Wolves plus Sambo, go east to the town and look for any bad men in the town.’

  He stepped out.

  ‘Mitch, Ginger, er … Parker, Sasha’s four boys plus … four Wolves. Mitch, you’re in charge. You go north a mile then northeast, sniff around, same deal, back at dawn. When you’re ready.’

  ‘What about me?’ Salome asked.

  I considered that. ‘Mitch, she’s with you. Make sure she has poncho and flysheet, rations and water. Have Greenie as her partner.’

  Mitch led Ginger out, looks exchanged, Salome following on with her kit, and her M4.

  Walking along to Dicky and Mouri, I had 14 Intel form up ready. Outs ide, I pointed Dicky to the middle of the mine and the abandoned buildings. ‘Go down there for a few hours, teach them all about storming a building, rifle and pistol work, get them up to speed fast. Use plenty of ammo, we have plenty here.’

  They kicked up white dust as they moved down into the mine. Behind me, I could see the French dragging bodies, and I called Nicholson to give him an update, to pass onto the Seals over the road from him.

  Moran called half an hour later. ‘We have 2 Squadron and the RAF medics. Do they come out yet?’

  ‘Yeah, safe enough, send them.’

  ‘And the Engineers?’

  ‘By road convoy, but make it a big road convoy, well spaced-out.’

  ‘OK, they’re itching to go.’

  ‘Slider well?’

  ‘Medics gave him something, Crab and Duffy are delirious with fever, two Wolves as well. Got three spare British veteran Wolves here.’

  ‘Have them lead patrols of Paras, no NCOs, and to teach them. You teach some Paras as well. Who’s up country?’

  ‘Regular Army are on the roads, more Welsh Guards here, and the Pathfinders split in two and are tabbing north, all experienced men from the coup here and after.’

  ‘I’ll have patrols going west from here tomorrow probably. Have a big Paras patrol led by a Wolf, right up to the border then to me, but have them call before they arrive – and warn them off shooting at shadows.’

  ‘I’ll brief them now. How is it there?’

  ‘Had a large group come at us last night, not well planned. We’re burying them now, patrols out looking.’

  An hour later a Chinook landed twenty 2 Squadron lads plus the RAF medics, bags lugged off, the medics seen lugging heavy green bags down the ramp. I waved them over, Haines striding in, several of his lads lugging GPMGs as the Chinook loudly departed.

  ‘Mister Morten, inside, any room you like facing the mine, the big room is the HQ room.’

  He led his team in, nice smiles from the lady doctors and nurses as they passed me, all weighed down with heavy backpacks.

  I shook hands with Haines. ‘Welcome to FOB2. Right, grab a room for down time, then get up on the roof, get sandbags filled and up there.’ I turned west. ‘See the high point, I want GPMGs up there. The Americans have some sandbags up there, get more, send their men down, tell them they’ll patrol out and that you’re here to protect the base.’

  They moved inside to dump kit, all familiar faces, all smiling confidently – and looking a lot like Echo men.

  In the HQ room I made Morten a brew, his first order of business being to check the walking wounded, most of whom had been seen at the old FOB. He started with me, my trousers dropped, pads peeled off, my legs examined. I was, apparently, still alive, so I did up my trousers
.

  Next willing patient was Sasha, a quick check-up, soon a line of French boys to see, all with fresh wounds, his staff busy from the get go.

  Back outside, I could see 2 Squadron lads being assisted by a few American Wolf recruits, sandbags being filled and passed up onto the roof, old stone blocks piled up to make it easier to get up there.

  In the Greenies building I climbed the stairs, still ten men here, and to the top floor, Haines making a happy home in a corner with his sergeant, two of his men on the roof above us.

  ‘What’s the plan here?’ he asked me.

  I pointed out the features, his sergeant keenly listening in. ‘Patrols are out, so it’s unlikely many rebels will get here, and your lads can patrol close in.’

  ‘Lot of bodies down there,’ Haines noted, the French still dragging bodies.

  ‘A large group hit us last night, but they had no clue.’

  Echoing gunfire from the mine had them turn. ‘Just my lads teaching 14 Intel.’

  ‘14 Intel?’ Haines loudly queried.

  ‘All new blood, no old enemies,’ I assured him. ‘And they have a few tasty ladies in the mix.’

  Haines peered south out the window. ‘I’m due to get married this year.’

  ‘And..? I nudged.

  ‘Well … she already complains when I’m away. When I said I worked with you she sulked for a week.’

  The two Greenies still here laughed loudly.

  ‘What’s wrong with working with me?’ I mock complained.

  ‘Rumour has it … it’s dangerous work,’ Haines replied.

  ‘Then you should find a desk job and raise a family,’ I suggested.

  ‘Well, not sure about that either.’

  ‘Best sort your head out fast, because stress and indecision gets men killed.’

  As I descended the steps, rifle in my left hand, a sergeant said, ‘Sir, we got enough men for another patrol now that these other boys are here.’

  ‘Tomorrow you’ll have a twenty-four hour patrol, then longer patrols, so appreciate the rest while you have it, you won’t have much rest after tomorrow.’

  ‘We’ll be in the bush a lot, sir?’

  ‘You will. And we still need to protect this place, Charlie in the treeline. Have them stay sharp up top; if we miss a patrol, you get a round in the head.’

  At the edge of the mine I peered down, 14 Intel teams assaulting a building, and I could just about see “D” Squadron men moving around down at the river.

  Back at the door near the runway I observed the sandbagging, chatting to a few 2 Squadron lads as Swifty led his team in.

  I told them, ‘Get inside, get a room, you’re down for 24hrs.’

  Swifty stood with me as the Wolf recruits passed us, Smitty asking if there was cold beer.

  ‘You well?’ I asked Swifty.

  ‘No injuries so far today.’

  ‘Patrols are out, all directions.’

  ‘We passed Robby heading out. Was that a lady with him?’

  ‘Israeli.’

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  ‘Don’t ask. Anyway, got a big team here, plenty of men,’ I told him. ‘This will be a new base, runway fixed, teams heading out in all directions, make this place quiet for the oil boys.’ I tipped my head and he followed me to the Greenie building.

  ‘This mine was run by the idiots paying for the coup. All those attempts on us, they were paid for by this lot.’

  ‘They wanted to mine over there?’

  ‘Under our feet is enough oil to make a man very rich, a vast reserve.’

  ‘So the little shits wanted at it.’ He glanced up at the faded sign. ‘Who’s NordGas?’

  ‘Norwegian company, a front for someone else, but NordGas suffered a bomb blast recently, directors all killed, building burnt down.’

  ‘Tut tut.’ He shook his head.

  I pointed at the plaque. ‘Bastion. They also suffered a bomb blast. And the fuckers who funded them, they had nice big shiny office block, so some rude fucker with a Valmet long casing shot out the windows then destroyed their computers.

  ‘All their cash machines and bank branches worldwide went down, a bit of an issue. EU is now bailing them out, they’re a bit skint.’

  Swifty grinned widely. ‘So who’s paying these Guinea boys now, because I don’t think they’d get out of bed otherwise?’

  ‘We have an idea, and he’ll run out of money soon enough. He’s over in Ivory Coast, an airfield, but the US Navy tore up his runway yesterday.’

  ‘Expensive things, runways,’ Swifty noted, a look up at the plaque.

  ‘Yep, and I’m hoping to fix the one here.’

  Inside, I made him a brew and handed him a tin of mixed fruit, the offering wolfed down, Swifty soon catching up on the gossip with Rizzo before needing a good long sleep.

  When my name was called I found the same man with his truck trundling towards us, turning around and halting. Morten had followed me out and now bought provisions, as well as chickens and pigs – to be kept alive for now. Many hands lugged items back inside, Morten paying in dollars.

  At 2pm a convoy was spotted and reported, British Army jeeps and trucks, and we soon caught sight of them on the runway come road, but it took ages for them to reach us. It was a long road.

  The convoy parked in a line facing the jungle, eleven jeeps and two trucks, men easing out, most with rifles to hand.

  An RAF officer, a Squadron Leader, walked over. ‘You Major Wilco?’

  I shook his hand. ‘You good with runways?’

  ‘This is the runway? It looks like a road?’

  ‘It is a road, but it was supposed to be used to land aircraft. I need to know what I can land here.’

  ‘Well it’s long enough to land anything, looks in good condition. I’ll make a report. How about some spare men clear small stones from the road.’

  ‘I’ll get that organised. There are also some holes, but we have cement. Can they be filled?’

  ‘Yes, cement is OK. I’ll have these Engineers do that anyhow.’

  I pointed back down the road. ‘Good enough for a Hercules?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he insisted. ‘A 747 could take off on that. That’s as long as Heathrow! Odd really, to see it here in the jungle. Very odd.’

  Very odd, I repeated in my mind. Did the bank think like me, a long runway for large aircraft, to get men in and out regardless of the conditions of the roads around here? Maybe they had done so back then. Get the oil workers in and out by aircraft, but what about getting the oil out? They would have needed trucks, or a pipeline, and a pipeline could be blown up easily.

  I greeted a Major in charge of the Engineers, and they had bags for an overnight stay. ‘Go inside, any empty room you like just take it, but facing the mine.’

  He led his team inside as supplies were offloaded. I rounded up spare men to grab the supplies and to lug them inside, and we had twenty camp beds set-up quickly in the HQ room.

  With the supplies moved inside I had eight spare men walk slowly down the road in a line abreast, throwing stones off the wide road and into the mine, branches and twigs, some quite large. They had a long walk ahead of them.

  Back in the HQ room I found more Gerry cans, ration packs, flysheets and ponchos, plus shovels and pickaxes. I had a big sergeant try and make some holes for people to fire out from, and a hole for our roof here, already a crack in it and a small point of light.

  With a brew in his hand, I asked the Engineers Major, ‘Can you fix these windows, some doors? This will be in use for years to come.’

  ‘If we can get the supplies locally, yes. I saw some glass panes as we came in, they local?’

  ‘Yes, but some of the builders were killed. They’ll come back if they know we’re here now. What I need, is a gate at the start of the road – to stop a local truck when a plane is landing, maybe some fencing, and to make this a transit centre for foreign oil workers.

  ‘So it needs to be more hotel and less concrete, and there m
ust have been running water in the past, toilets working, so have a look and make a start.’

  ‘I’ll do a survey of this place, check the water, but it’s up on a ridge, so water would have probably been pumped up from the river. Pump won’t be any good after all this time, but the pipes should still be there. It safe to walk around?’

  ‘Not yet, so be careful; we might get some idiot in the treeline shooting this way. Fifty to bury so far.’

  ‘Crikey. What about we cut down some trees?’

  ‘Sure, get local men or chain-saws or axes, keep the wood for us to use. Tell your men not to go anywhere without a man on stag with a rifle and one of mine, always tell Mister Haines, RAF Regiment, what your plans are. He’s camped out on the top floor of the tall building.’

  Dicky came back up at 3pm, all their boots white, faces covered in sweat, Swify stood in the doorway and yawning whilst scratching his balls. Dicky handed me a large rough diamond, the size of my thumb, and lifted his eyebrows as 14 Intel walked past. ‘Is that..?’

  ‘Yes it is.’

  ‘Value?’

  ‘More than you’ll earn in a lifetime.’

  ‘Shit…’

  ‘Dicky, I think you just solved a puzzle for me. Well done, bonus when you get back.’

  Smiling, he followed on behind 14 Intel. I took out my phone and called David Finch. ‘I just solved a problem, the lights finally switched on.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m not following?’

  ‘In my hand is a blood diamond, worth … enough to fund SIS for a year or two.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘It was found here, at the mine abandoned by NordGas due to the civil war, a mine with an abnormally long runway. You could get a plane from Europe to touch down here and return to Europe.’

  ‘With a tonne of blood diamonds in the cargo hold. Bloody hell, they were not just interested in the oil after all. And Amsterdam is the heart of the diamond market!’

  I told him, ‘They may well have wanted some oil, and some mining, but diamonds are far more profitable as far as weekend side lines go.’