by Andy McNab
Silence.
Liam mouthed, ‘What was it?’ half wondering if the sergeant was taking the piss – no, more likely testing his reactions. Keeping him on his toes.
Still nothing from Biggs. Then, just as Liam was about to voice his suspicions, he heard it too. The rustle of movement. It was off to their left, down in the valley. Though ‘valley’, Liam thought, was a very grand description for what was essentially a shallow basin about two kilometres across. The bottom was probably no more than a hundred metres or so below them.
Liam listened for a while longer. Whatever it was, it definitely sounded like it was approaching. Probably more wildlife, he thought. They’d heard plenty of unexplained sounds since arriving, as well as a fair few they all recognized. The cackling howl of a pack of hyenas in particular had sent a chill through Liam and he hoped that the sound wasn’t them closing in.
Then he heard something else, and Biggs signed again, this time opening and closing his hand like a mouth. Christ, thought Liam; there were people out there, and they were getting closer. In that moment, he became super aware of everything around him, his senses upping their game. He couldn’t just hear the wind playing in the trees, but also bushes twisting and swaying, the faint crack and snap of twigs.
Pearce snored.
Biggs reacted immediately, clamping his hand down on Pearce’s face. Pearce was awake in a beat, struggling against the hand over his mouth, but a split second later he realized something was up and lay still. Silent communication between him and Biggs was enough to let him know things could soon turn bad. He rolled over and woke Cordner.
Liam was still listening in. The voices were definitely drawing closer. A nod from Biggs and Liam was back on the SLR to see if he could get eyes on. The zoom lens was excellent, so if there was anything out there he’d be able to see it in high definition. He’d also be able to snap a few photographs off, and that was an added bonus if whoever was approaching them was Al Shabaab.
A couple of minutes later, Pearce and Cordner were out of their bags, SA80s in the shoulder. No one wanted this to kick off, but if it did, they were ready for it.
And still the voices grew closer.
Biggs risked a whisper. ‘RB – anything yet?’
Liam shook his head and murmured, ‘Pearce – punch through to Waterman. Warn them. And see if they can get a visual.’
As Pearce contacted the other team, Liam kept working with the SLR and Biggs joined in with the spotting scope. Patience paid off.
‘Got them,’ said Liam. ‘Four men approaching. Left. One hundred metres.’
Biggs confirmed it. ‘All armed too,’ he added softly. ‘Fuck . . .’
It was exactly what none of them wanted. Now it was a waiting game, and Liam knew they had no choice but to sit it out. They were there to observe, not go in hot. Even if that meant having someone pretty much walk right over them.
‘Fifty metres,’ said Liam, and snapped a flurry of photographs. At this range, he had as good a view of them as he could ever want. They were all men, wearing grubby T-shirts and trousers, sandals on their feet. The weapons were AK47s, and at that moment he didn’t care if they were in good enough nick to put a hole through a five-pence piece at three hundred metres, or so beaten up they’d miss a Humvee at point blank. That the men were armed was enough. It was as good a sign as any that they weren’t just out for an evening stroll.
As the men continued to approach, Liam knew they were all thinking the same thing: had they been pinged? If they had, then surely there would be more than four, for starters. Not only that – wouldn’t they have come in hard rather than just doing a walk-by?
The voices were clear now. Liam didn’t understand what they were saying, but the tone was telling. They were laughing and chatting, rather than talking in hushed tones. Perhaps they were safe . . . but they couldn’t take any chances.
Biggs signed to Liam to make ready with his own SA80. This he did, quickly removing the SD card from the camera. If they were going to have to hightail it out of there, he didn’t want to leave behind any of the INT.
Biggs signed again, this time ensuring everyone knew the order of play if it kicked off. Pearce and Cordner would be up and out first, with Biggs and Liam covering them.
Snap.
The sound of a twig breaking just outside their hole made them all freeze. The terrorists must be just a few paces away now, thought Liam. His heart was thumping hard and adrenaline was surging through his veins, readying him for a fight.
A telltale smell slipped through the camouflaged roof. Cigarette smoke, realized Liam – but there was a sweeter note to it as well: cannabis.
He couldn’t believe it. Had these four really walked off for a fly smoke to get high?
The next few minutes dragged on and Liam almost wished things would kick off just to break the tension. Then, at last, they heard movement again, this time heading away from them.
Liam waited for a minute or two, then was up again on the SLR. Confirmed: they were moving off. He turned to Biggs and a simple nod was enough. He saw the sergeant relax, but not one of them made a sound for another fifteen minutes.
‘Fuck,’ said Biggs, at last.
‘I’ll second that,’ said Cordner. ‘The smell of that tobacco is like nectar to a bee for me.’
Liam nodded, working on calming himself down from what, a few minutes ago, had seemed very much like it was going to turn into a firefight.
‘Can’t believe you woke me up for a couple of weedheads,’ said Pearce.
Liam had another look through the SLR. ‘They’ve definitely gone. That was close.’
‘Look on the bright side,’ said Cordner. ‘It’s as good a confirmation as any that we can play a decent game of hide-and-seek.’
The tension broken, everyone relaxed a little.
‘Now that you’re awake, Pearce,’ said Biggs, ‘you’re on with RB for replen. It’ll be dark in thirty, so make sure you’re ready to move that lazy arse of yours.’
‘Needs his hand holding, does he?’ said Pearce.
‘I know where your hands spend most of their time,’ said Liam, ‘so if it’s all the same with you, keep them to yourself.’
‘My hands are clean,’ replied Pearce.
‘Yeah, but your mind isn’t,’ said Cordner. ‘You know you can go blind, don’t you?’
Liam looked to Biggs. ‘The SD card’s full and my map, if you can call it that, is done. Notes?’
The sergeant pulled a pad from a pocket of his jacket and handed it over. ‘I’m hoping this is making sense to them back at the FOB,’ he said. ‘I can’t see that having us stay out here much longer is going to be any use.’
Half an hour later, when it was time for Liam and Pearce to head off to the dead-letter drop, Liam clambered across the hole to the only exit.
‘Any last-minute requests?’
‘A hot-water bottle would be nice,’ said Biggs.
‘And some proper chocolate, instead of that shite the army puts in the ration packs,’ said Cordner.
‘Air freshener too,’ added Biggs. ‘I know we’re sent out here for our health, lots of good clean air, but Pearce’s arse has ruined that.’
‘Noted,’ said Liam. ‘Pearce, you ready?’
‘I was born ready,’ said Pearce.
‘Good,’ said Liam and handed him the map. ‘After you.’
To the untrained eye, the dead-letter drop was utterly invisible – which was the whole idea. There was no point in having a secret place stashed with kit or intelligence if it had flashing lights and sirens. Liam knew they could have easily missed it if they hadn’t known its exact position and what to look for.
In between two small acacia trees, and concealed beneath a layer of branches and twigs, the drop consisted of a well-hidden hole that was just deep enough to contain ration packs, water and SD cards for the SLR. Liam and Pearce quickly stashed the INT they’d collected, then weighed themselves down with the supplies.
‘So this
is what it’s like to weigh as much as Biggsy,’ said Pearce, hoisting his bergen onto his back ready for the trek back to the OP.
Liam did the same. ‘I’ll take point,’ he said.
‘Good,’ replied Pearce. ‘Because, if I’m honest, I just can’t be arsed.’
Liam set off, Pearce a few paces behind.
The night was at its blackest now and, as Liam trudged onwards, at times it seemed as though nature was conspiring against them. Branches reached out to snag their kit as they went past, and brush hooked at their ankles to trip them up. Wildlife that woke to the light of the moon could be heard all around. Every couple of hundred paces Liam stopped to check his navigation. Getting lost out here was dangerous not just for him, but for the rest of his section. So he’d check the map against his compass, and then cross-reference that with what he could see in the sky above and any landmarks he’d picked out that he was aiming for. The paces were measured out courtesy of a length of olive-coloured paracord, on which were threaded twenty black beads. For every ten steps, he would flick one through his fingers, all the way up to two hundred paces. It worked a little like a Catholic rosary, though Liam had yet to use it for prayer.
About an hour into their hike back, Pearce called out. ‘RB – you sure this is the right route?’
Liam laughed. It was typical of Pearce to mess with his head. ‘No, I’m not,’ he answered. ‘I’m getting us lost on purpose.’
‘That would explain why I don’t recognize this bit then.’
Liam stopped, checked the map. ‘We’re here,’ he said, pointing out their position to Pearce. ‘Another hour and we’ll be back.’
Pearce studied the map. ‘Look, mate,’ he said, ‘I’m not being funny, but this doesn’t feel right. We should’ve hit a rise by now, but we’re still on the flat.’
Liam checked the map again. ‘No, we’re definitely right,’ he said. ‘We’re just walking slower, that’s all. We came down with empty bags, and now we’re carrying a shedload on our backs. That’s all.’
Pearce grunted.
Setting off again, Liam was a little pissed off. Pearce was a gruff bastard most of the time, but suggesting that he didn’t know what he was doing was out of line. Perhaps he was just trying to rile him?
Fifteen minutes later, when Liam checked again, he started to think that Pearce had a point.
‘What’s up, RB?’
‘Nothing. I mean . . .’ Liam’s voice faded. He was staring at the map, checking the night sky. Something was wrong.
‘You’ve got us fucking well lost, haven’t you, you dozy bastard?’
‘Just give me a minute,’ said Liam.
‘Bollocks to that,’ Pearce snapped. ‘If we’re lost, then we don’t have a minute. And wandering around with fuck all clue which direction we need to head in isn’t going to help. Give me the map.’ He reached out and grabbed it from Liam.
‘There’s no need to be a dick about it!’ Liam snapped, gripping the map even tighter.
‘I’m not being a dick,’ said Pearce. ‘So grow some, will you, and give me the fucking map!’ He tugged hard and it eventually came free of Liam’s hand.
‘We’re not lost,’ said Liam. ‘We’re just not exactly where we’re supposed to be.’
Pearce shook his head. ‘And if that’s not the biggest pile of double-talking shite I’ve ever heard then I don’t know what is.’
Liam forced himself to stay calm. But it wasn’t easy. Like Pearce, all he wanted now was just to get back to the OP. And arguing wasn’t going to help matters.
‘Well?’ said Liam. ‘Where are we then?’ He knew he sounded churlish, but he was knackered, grubby and starving. The earlier contact hadn’t helped either. His nerves were still on edge.
‘I haven’t the faintest fucking idea, RB,’ said Pearce.
Liam swallowed his pride and leaned in to stare at the map. ‘We’re supposed to be there,’ he said, laying a finger on the line they were meant to be following.
‘Supposed to be is no fucking good,’ said Pearce. ‘Either we are or we aren’t. And it looks like we aren’t.’
Liam’s gut twisted hard into a knot. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I think we went wrong about a click back,’ said Pearce. ‘We’ve wandered off left down this section here when we should be heading up a rise, then veering right.’
Liam sensed the thin claws of panic start to scratch at the back of his neck, pushing up into his brain. ‘Biggs will have my balls.’
‘It’s not Biggsy we have to worry about,’ said Pearce. ‘If we’re still out here in daylight, we’ll have to dig a scrape and hope no Al Sha-fucking-baab stumble by.’
Neither Liam nor Pearce said a word for the next couple of minutes as they both studied the map. Pearce checked and double-checked their position with his compass, cross-referencing it with the lay of the land around them.
‘You should learn to use one of these,’ he said, holding the compass up in front of Liam’s face. ‘Pretty fucking useful if you want to find your way from one place to another. Come on – we need to head back. If we can find the dead-letter drop again, at least we’ll know where we are and get our bearings straight.’
Liam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘But if we do that we’ll be wasting time!’ he said. ‘We’ll have no chance of making it back before sun-up!’
‘Well, we’d better just suck it up and get moving,’ said Pearce. ‘You got enough water in your camel bak?’
‘Definitely,’ said Liam.
‘Good,’ said Pearce. ‘Because you’re going to need it.’
For a complaining, sour-faced git, Pearce could move when he had to, thought Liam, doing his best to keep up. It wasn’t easy – the pace he was setting had them both running as much as walking, and Liam had to force himself not to stop and throw up.
It was with mixed relief that they found themselves less than an hour later back at the dead-letter drop to then set off in what they both hoped was the right direction this time. Liam, accepting he’d fucked up, acquiesced to Pearce’s clearly superior navigation skills, instead just making sure he didn’t trip and twist an ankle. Being injured out here would compromise everything.
‘You still with me, RB?’
They had been out two hours longer than they should’ve been and Pearce was somehow still keeping up a breakneck pace. Liam was fit – he made sure of that with a daily exercise routine that put him up with the fastest in Recce Platoon – but he was now close to the end of his reserves. Giving up, though, wasn’t an option.
‘On you like a rash, Pearce,’ he said, but wasn’t sure Pearce heard him. Not that it mattered. Neither of them was in any way interested in sparking up a conversation.
At last, and with the sun already breaking a golden glow across the horizon, Liam and Pearce dashed across the last hundred metres to the OP and slid in.
‘And where the fuck have you two been?’ Biggs was pissed off.
Liam, attempting to speak between breaths sucked in hard and deep, eventually answered. ‘It was me. I screwed up the navigation. Took us off route. Pearce sorted it.’
Biggs fell silent.
‘You look shagged,’ said Cordner.
Liam wanted to vomit.
‘Had to make it back before sun-up,’ said Pearce. ‘Didn’t fancy being out there with those weedheads strolling about.’
Liam screwed his eyes shut, saw sparks, calmed his breathing, sipped water. ‘Can’t believe I fucked up,’ he said. ‘I was sure I had it sorted.’
‘Well, you clearly fucking didn’t,’ said Biggs. ‘And lucky for you Pearce was switched on enough to realize and get you back here.’
Liam said nothing more, had nothing to say.
‘Now that you’re back, though,’ said Cordner, ‘any chance of a foot massage?’
10
Odull’s grin was enough to crack even Pearce’s grouchy persona.
‘Well, fuck me if it isn’t Odull, the happiness fairy,’ the Geor
die corporal said, as Liam and the rest of the section slipped out from where they had been hiding just a few metres away from the edge of the track. Darkness was giving way to dawn, but the sun had as yet not broken the horizon.
‘Did I just see you smile?’ asked Cordner.
‘Make the most of it,’ said Pearce. ‘It won’t last.’
Odull quickly ushered them all into the back of the truck that had taxied them out to the same point six days ago.
‘Hard to believe, but I reckon this journey back is going to seem comfortable compared with that army hotel we just left,’ said Waterman. The other four-man section had met them back at the original drop-off point.
This time, Liam allowed the others to clamber in first, before squeezing himself in at the last minute. He didn’t fancy being all squashed up at the front by the driver’s cabin, and instead wanted to be closer to some proper fresh air. Their subsurface observation hole had, he was convinced, almost destroyed his sense of smell. And as for his sense of taste, well, the army had done away with that since he joined Recce and began living on cold ration packs.
‘You look well, Lance Corporal Scott,’ said Odull, as he lifted the tailgate.
‘Don’t talk bollocks,’ Liam replied. ‘We all look like a crock of shit.’
Odull laughed. ‘No, you look like that too,’ he said. ‘But at least you are alive!’
‘If this is alive, then being dead must be fecking terrible,’ Cordner quipped as Odull dropped the hood.
As the truck swung round and headed back the way it had come, Liam reflected on all that had gone on since leaving the FOB. They’d been lucky. The close call with the Al Shabaab weedheads could have turned nasty, and his cock-up with the navigation . . . it wasn’t even worth thinking about. Once they were back and had had a chance to hose themselves down and get some proper grub and rest, he was going to make time to gen up on what could have cost him his life.
Back at the FOB, some of the other sections had already returned, and a few others were still due to come in. Working almost on autopilot, Liam got himself into human form once again, ridding himself of his filthy kit, showering and donning clean clothes. Despite his weariness, he cracked on with sorting his equipment, cleaning his weapons and making sure everything was in place for whatever happened next. At last, with everything done, he collapsed down in the dorm and passed out, the exhaustion of the last few days finally washing over him in a tidal wave.
