by Geoff Wolak
I faced Hicks. ‘You can insert before dark. Tell Captain Holsteder to make a quick assessment before landing, then to stay put in the dark - sneak down in the daylight, small patrols to all compass points – or to whichever direction offers you a way down without breaking your necks.’
He stepped out.
I faced Kovsky. ‘I want a flyby of that dirt strip airfield north of the main camps, assessment of numbers seen.’
Harris pointed it out on the map.
To Harris I said, ‘Tomorrow, fist light, two Lynx fully fuelled, and they scout ahead of the SAS, right to the end of the wadi and back.’
‘And the Wolves?’ Franks asked.
‘They get a day’s rest, maybe two, boots off and feet drying out.’
‘Langley is excited with the Intel,’ he told me. ‘Getting some good links thrown up.’
‘Any … links to the Saudis?’ I teased.
‘Ha! Like fuck.’
Harris noted, ‘The 14 Intel captains were hoping for more to do..?’
I considered that. ‘Put them in a Lynx for a few hours a day – say ten hours, part of the search teams.’
Harris wondered what I was up to with a frown, and made a note.
I was on the apron when the Pumas whisked away the Greenies, an hour of daylight left, two Lynx to shadow the Pumas. Forty minutes later Holsteder called me.
‘How’s it looking?’ I asked.
‘Odd really. We have this mountain top which is dead flat in one place, maybe two hundred yards square, then it slopes down and drops off, gentle in places, sheer in others.’
‘It will be dark soon, so look for lights in the distance and note compass points. And with the noise you made on landing you may get someone trying to climb up, so set a good stag.’
‘There’s a gully with sand in, big enough, so we’ll hide in there, men out watching the approaches.’
After my evening meal Holsteder called back. ‘Helicopter flew over us, from the west heading east. Boys think it sounded like a Mi8.’
‘Got any Elephant Guns?’
‘We borrowed two, tungsten rounds.’
‘Should be none of our helos overhead tonight, so try and shoot it down, eh, earn your keep.’
‘Boys are keen to give it a go, yeah – and to earn their keep.’
Ten minutes later the loud drone of Hercules had many of us out on the apron, two Hercules setting down, USAF Hercules, pallets and trolleys pushed off under the apron lights, a long line of American military personnel stepping down with heavy bags.
A tall and thin silver–haired colonel approached, Hicks and myself saluting.
‘Colonel Mush, yes Mush – M – U – S - H, 381st Medical Transit Unit,’ the colonel stated, dropping his bags and taking in the base. ‘We move tents around, and train for wars that never come, so this is a welcome diversion.’
‘I’m Major Wilco, the man in charge, and I’ll try and rustle up some action for you, sir.’
We shook.
‘I saw the film,’ he told me. ‘So I’ll need you to autograph a t-shirt, be worth something when you’re dead.’
I blinked as Hicks coughed out a laugh. After squinting at Hicks I told Mush, ‘There is a small officers mess -’
‘We’ll use the tents, Major, since the general I answer to expects us to prove we can do the damn job we’re supposed to do.’
‘Jeeps and buses can take you around to the tents you dropped off, now empty. I’ll make sure you have Omani guards. Drive over here for water, sir.’
Buses and jeeps organised, kit loaded, I told the Omani major I wanted the medics to be well protected – or else. I had six American Wolves that were awake and with it sent over as I led the Colonel and his adjutant inside, coffee made with Colonel Clifford.
Sat in Clifford’s office, Colonel Mush began, ‘What you got for us?’
‘Question is, how much danger do you want, sir?’
‘How much danger is there at this base?’ he puzzled.
‘Islamists fighters with rifles and suicide vests have been walking in from all sides, we had trucks ram the front gate and explode, a Cessna packed with explosives tried to crash here and blow up, and an old Russian cruise missile landed here – wiped out a brigade of Omani paratroopers.’
The colonel stared at me, then turned to Clifford. ‘He’s shitting me, right.’
‘Unfortunately not,’ Clifford responded. ‘All true.’
The colonel’s eyes widened. ‘You have something more dangerous than just being here?’
I told him, ‘We have forward bases, sir, closer to the enemy strongholds, but the US Marines base would be safe enough for you, many men there. What I want is a medical team here to support our British medics – there’s just eight of them; they go out on the helos for casevac.
‘If you handle this base, sir, and the helos, my medics could move forwards, or a mix – and you send a team to the Marines.’
‘I’ll send a team to the Marines, yes, plus we’ll set-up a triage area here; we have a field surgical team, a good one.’
‘Have a team ready to move forwards by helo in the morning, sir, those Marines could see action tomorrow.’
He nodded, and sipped his coffee. ‘I got a four-man team of hotshots that would love some front line action. These guys parachute in their spare time.’
‘They could be landed by helo to the Green Berets position, sir. Thirty men or more there.’
‘Sizeable force. OK, I’ll have them ready in the morning.’
‘And have someone over here in the HQ room, sir, and in the ATC, ready for a fast reaction to wounded coming in.’
He smiled. ‘I always loved that TV show M.A.S.H. as a kid. Might have had something to do with my name, and as a kid I was bullied and so stayed in reading and turned out to be a doctor. My comms sergeant I called “Radar” after the guy in the series – but he loves it.’
I asked, ‘You drink martinis in the afternoons, sir?’
He laughed. ‘That would be breaking a few regs. Modern day army is nothing like that TV series, all regs, regs, regs and no sense of humour.’
‘Ask for a few sandbag walls, sir, this is a lively spot.’
‘Well the question is … can they do the job in the heat and the sand and the danger - or not?’ He nodded to himself affirmatively. ‘This will be an excellent field study.’
I introduced him to Morten, and they stepped outside chatting as only doctors could.
I claimed my bed at midnight, a few of the lads still awake.
‘Who landed?’ Nicholson quietly asked.
‘American MASH unit.’
‘Always good to have doctors on hand,’ Swan noted as he lay back fully clothed, boots off, hands behind his head. ‘Any tasty nurses?’
‘Looks like plenty of women in the group, yeah, but I avoid lady doctors.’
They laughed quietly.
My phone trilled, but I got to it quickly. ‘Wilco.’
‘It’s me,’ came from Swifty. ‘We just clambered up a hill, good safe spot to bed down, but we can see a shit load of men hidden south of us, towards the road. Looks like this is what you said: men ready to ambush us on the road.’
‘How far is that road?’
‘Say … four hundred yards from the end of the rocks they’re in.’
‘Observe them in daylight, don’t be seen, then we’ll think about a Lynx strike. Don’t be close when that happens. How far are you from them?’
‘Less than three hundred yards, but they can’t get up to us unless they climb, steep drop off. We’re like two hundred feet above them.’
‘Hide well, get eyes on in daylight, then we’ll talk about the next step.’ I walked to the HQ room and updated the map, the overnight team having something to do.
Swifty called back at 9am in the morning. ‘They’re sat around waiting, but they have RPG and 105mm, some Russian fifty cal on tripod legs.’
‘How many men with you now?’
‘I got t
welve left with me, rest back down the road, and Mitch is south.’
‘How far away is Mitch?’
‘Not far I think, I’ll call him and find out – he could create a diversion.’
‘How many men below you?’
‘Say … fifty at most, but there are some parts we can’t see.’
An hour later the MASH unit boarded Pumas as I observed, but they also made use of six Seahawks that glided in, and a large team headed to the Marines wadi base as a Lynx took the four die-hard medics to the Greenies, the Greenies warned about their approach, those Greenies having failed to shoot down the Mi8.
Swifty called back an hour later. ‘Mitch is not far but he has some nasty cliffs near him. He wants to stay and observe the road junction and the wrecked APC.’
‘OK, I’ll sort a Lynx to fire on those men below you, then you can snipe down.’
Driving around to the Lynx, three now sat on the deck, I found Commander Phillips. ‘I need a crazy pilot.’
‘Ahmed!’ he shouted with a smile.
The man walked over and faced me. ‘Major?’
‘Ahmed is crazy, he’s your man.’
Ahmed smiled widely, a finger raised. ‘There is a fine line between being brave and being foolhardy. I assess the risks, and fly with the luck of my ancestors,’ came in a posh accent.
I showed him the map over the nose of his Lynx and gave him the local topographical features. ‘They have RPG, fifty cal, 105mm, no heat-seeking missiles seen, but they could be present. You need to be in and out quickly.’
‘If I come in from above and behind I will have the element of surprise. Two rockets, and they will be blinded for a minute, door gunners firing down.’
‘Up to you, just don’t damage your ride – or you’re walking back. And don’t just hover or you’ll get hit. My men are in the high areas, and they’ll open up when you do. Don’t fire into the high ground, warn your door gunners. If they fire at my men – don’t come back here.’
‘I will warn them that they will be staked out in the sand, yes.’
I dispatched a Lynx to Mitch, with supplies, and it paused and hovered above two high points to drop supplies to British Wolves on its way back up the road. As it was coming back, the attack Lynx and its reportedly crazy pilot were on their way southwest. That Lynx took a high position a mile north of Swifty, Swifty using his aircraft radio to guide them in.
The Lynx came in fast, diving down, rockets fired, four of them, the fighters camp shredded, the area shrouded in smoke as the Lynx banked over, door gunner opening up on fighters seen below. But luck was not on our side.
My phone trilled so I stepped to the window. ‘It’s Swifty,’ came a scream. ‘Lynx is down, hit by three missiles!’
My heart stopped. ‘Is the crew alive?’
‘We got them out, they crashed on the high ground, but they’re all busted up.’
‘Stay on the high ground, move the wounded north away from the fighting, they’re your top priority! Expect a Puma or two.’
I turned to find expectant faces. ‘Lynx was hit by three heat-seeking missiles near Swifty.’ I rushed out and to the ATC, finding Flying Officer Deloitte there with her trainees.
‘A Lynx has been shot down, the one just sent on an attack run. I want the three Pumas ready to go and over here, two medics in two of them, one empty, and some Lynx top cover. Alert the medics, four seriously wounded crew coming in! When the Pumas fly out, they fly down the Yemen road southwest till they see smoke north of the road 600yards, a burning Lynx!’
I rushed down and around to the American Wolves, finding their officers and NCOs stood outside. ‘Get eight men ready to go now, fully kitted, water and rations, backpacks full! When the Pumas come over, load the men!’
Names were shouted as the NCOs ran into the billet. I headed back to the HQ room, expectant faces looking up as I entered. ‘I’m dispatching three Pumas, two with medics, plus eight Wolves to bolster Swifty’s position.’
I pointed at Kovsky. ‘Get some F18s down that road playing chicken, see what they can see. Have them look for the smoke column!’
He stepped out.
Franks complained, ‘More damn missiles, and maybe a shit load more.’
‘I’m surprised they haven’t targeted an F18s yet,’ I told him as I studied the map.
‘Waiting the chance,’ he suggested. ‘Helicopter, low and slow, was an easy target. But why fire three at one helo?’
‘Amateurs,’ Harris scoffed.
I was stood on the apron as the loud Pumas drifted over, the Wolves split up and placed aboard the Pumas as my hair was thrown around, Morten seen poking his head out of one. I ran to him, and shouted in his ear, ‘Impact spinal injuries, like an ejector seat!’
He nodded as he eased back, men finally loaded, the loud Pumas buffeting me as they pulled off and sped southwest, a single Lynx high above and following as I cursed at great many people.
Commander Phillips turned up in his jeep and stepped down. ‘Ahmed?’
‘Spinal injuries, bad ones by the sound of it.’
‘Hell.’
‘When a helo hits the deck a spine is jolted, like an ejector seat egress. Let his CO know. And warn the other pilots about the heat-seeking missiles, no hovering, always fucking moving!’
His head dropped. ‘I’ll break the bad news to them now about Ahmed, they’re a close team.’
Thirty minutes later, and after some pacing up and down, the Pumas returned, and I drove around to them as stretchers were used to move the four crewmen, helmets still on the men. Each stretcher had at least six medics, and inside the American triage tent the wounded men each got ten medics to fuss over them.
As boots and clothes were cut off with practised ease my mind went back to Bosnia, and the Zagreb hospital; I knew what it was like to be on that bed.
Morten appeared alongside me. ‘Broken legs and arms on the door gunners, a dislocated shoulder, but they’ll recover well enough. Pilots were strapped in and suffered spinal injuries, heavy helmets bashing about.’
‘Will they recover?’
‘If they do they’ll be out of service for a year,’ he sighed. ‘It won’t be quick.’
Outside, I called Swifty, squinting the bright sun as loud Lynx came in to land or lifted off. I walked to the edge of the tarmac and to the dirty brown sand.
‘Yeah?’
‘You got the Wolves with you?’
‘Yeah, eight of them.’
‘Send them around the long way, a safe way, they go after the fighters who fired those missiles. Tell them not to get close, but I want paperwork.’
‘Still some men alive below us.’
‘Move position, wear them down, get the paperwork.’
‘We’ll need to get to the low ground and sneak around, so I’ll leave some up here to cover us. The crew back with you?’
‘Yeah, and they’ll be off work a year, spinal injuries.’
‘Fuck, I’d rather be shot than have a broken back.’
‘You and me both. Keep me updated.’
My next call was Prince Kalid. I heaved a sigh and recalled his number.
‘Hello?’
‘Sir, it’s Major Wilco, can you talk?’
‘At home with my family.’
‘I never asked about your other kids.’
‘Three daughters.’
‘Listen, sir, some bad news; one of your Lynx was shot down by a heat-seeking missile.’
‘The crew is dead?’
‘No, they were rescued, but they’re hurt bad, broken bones and spinal injuries.’
‘Bad news for the families of the men, we are a proud people.’
‘We are making progress here, we’ve killed hundreds of them, destroyed a vehicle convoy of APC and light tanks. We’re wearing them down for very few casualties.’
‘I visited the SAS men in hospital, it was in the newspapers here, the men now sent back to England.’
‘Anyone in earshot your end?’
‘I found a few cruise missiles, so we turned them towards Saudi and fired them.’
He laughed loudly. ‘A bright spot in all of this; I was wondering why al-Qaeda would target the Saudis.’
‘We disarmed the warheads first, one fired at the US Navy.’
‘They shot it down, much fanfare in the press.’
‘Winning the war in the media, sir, is important.’
‘The people here talk of nothing else, all behind me and our military, all angered by al-Qaeda and the Islamists. The newspapers here run the story front page each day as if we are at war.’
‘We are winning, sir, slowly.’
‘And the strategy is..?’
‘Wear them down, kill as many as possible for few casualties. The White House does not like casualties.’
‘My people do not call for an end to this because of casualties, that is not our way, we fight to the end.’
‘Good, because if you were an American president you’d have probably made a crap decision by now.’
‘The president there, he has too many advisors all talking at once!’
‘True, very true.’
‘The American doctors are there now?’
‘Yes, and treating your aircrew as we speak, ten medics for each crew member.’
‘At least they have good care, yes. But I worry about these missiles; what if they target a plane here?’
‘I’d say you have a fifty-fifty chance of that happening, sir.’
‘My god. I shall have the airports watched closely. Anything you need, Major?’
‘No, sir, it’s unfolding as I hoped for, we’re even a little ahead of where I thought we would be.’
Back at the HQ room we discussed the turn of events, and we’d keep the helos away from that road southeast.
Franks suggested, ‘They have men ready to ambush convoys on that road, so … they have missiles ready to hit F18s that target those men.’
‘Makes sense,’ Harris told me.
I posed, ‘Seven missiles fired, two destroyed on the ground, so … how many left out there?’
Kovsky took a call, then asked me, ‘Marine CO wants to know the objectives for his men.’
‘They patrol south of the wadi, radial points of the compass, no group less than twenty men I’d say. Up to him how far they go, but it’s a big area. Start with day patrols, then increase the distance day by day.
