by Andy McNab
‘Well, we’re certainly not going to sit around here discussing the weather,’ said the captain. ‘With your gallant escape we now have a chance to make good a rescue. However, time is of the essence. Although he will almost certainly believe you to be dead by now, Mr Abdul Azeez will be rather irritated, I should think, to have lost you, and I am definitely of the opinion that the sooner we get our men out, the better. Before Azeez gets any other ideas.’
‘So when do we go?’
‘Everyone is already set,’ said the lieutenant. ‘The compound the lads are held in isn’t exactly accessible. A land insertion would take too long and could ultimately fail. So we are going in with a direct aerial assault.’
‘You mean a smash and grab?’
The captain nodded. ‘Speed, aggression, surprise. We go in fast, hit them hard, grab our boys, and get the hell out.’
Liam was impressed. A part of him had been worrying that there would be a delay, that perhaps the powers that be wouldn’t want to go in straight away because of the risks involved. But the captain and lieutenant were clearly far ahead with the rescue plan.
Liam stood up. ‘I’ll get myself ready,’ he said, but Young’s hand reached for him and made him sit back down.
‘Listen, Scott,’ he said. ‘You’ve already been to hell and back. You were a mess when we found you. God knows what kind of stress you’ve suffered. We think—’
‘You think what? That I’m not fit to go?’
The lieutenant remained silent.
‘Well, bollocks to that, sir. I’m going in.’
‘We have men all ready to go,’ explained Owusu. ‘It is better that you rest, recuperate.’
‘You really expect me to sit back here with my feet up while you all go in to get them out? No fucking way!’
‘You have to understand—’ said Young, but Liam cut him short.
‘I know that place better than any of you,’ he said. ‘You need me on the ground – I can lead you right to the prisoners. What’s the point of having my eyes back here when they could help with the attack? It doesn’t make sense!’
‘And neither does going in there intent on revenge,’ said the captain.
‘That’s not what this is about, sir,’ said Liam, fighting to remain calm. ‘I got out, and in doing so had to leave them behind. There’s no way in hell that I’m staying back here. And anyway,’ he added, ‘Fish is still out of action, right?’
Young shrugged. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And pretty pissed off about it.’
‘Then you’re a man down after Azeez murdered Carter. I’m going in instead of Fish or Carter.’
Captain Owusu and Lieutenant Young stared at each other and eventually nodded.
‘You’re not going to let this rest, are you?’ asked Young.
‘It’s my section,’ said Liam. ‘They’d do the same for me.’
‘Then you’re in,’ said the captain. ‘But you have to promise me one thing.’
‘Of course, sir,’ said Liam, wondering just what kind of request Captain Owusu was going to put to him.
‘The latrine,’ he said. ‘If it’s all the same with you, I’d prefer it if you didn’t dump any more bodies down there. If you do, you can bloody well go and fish them out yourself.’
22
It was mid-afternoon and Liam went through a final check of his kit. No bergen this time, and he was pleased about that. Instead, he had his battle kit on and was bombed up with over three hundred rounds for his SA80, two hundred additional link rounds for his machine gun, phosphorous grenades, four high explosive fragmentation grenades, a field medical kit and a camel bak to keep him hydrated.
He’d handed back the SCAR rifle to the KDF and was now once again armed with an SA80 and side arm, the Glock. He’d been half tempted to keep hold of the SCAR, but he knew the SA80 inside and out. He’d used one countless times and could depend on it. Going into a hot situation with a new weapon wasn’t sensible. And looking cool didn’t keep you alive.
Around him, the rest of Recce Platoon were as restless as him – even Fish, despite not being able to go out on the ground. However, he wasn’t exactly a spare part, staying back at the FOB to work the radio comms. This was no ordinary mission. They were going in to rescue their own. And they were all raring to get to it sharpish.
Lieutenant Young called everyone together and a hush fell immediately, everyone quiet, not wanting to miss a word. They had already gone through what the operation involved and what they would be doing, so this was the final briefing to clarify it and make absolutely sure everyone knew the facts.
‘To recap, the situation is as follows,’ said the lieutenant, his voice commanding and measured. ‘We have six of the original eight-man section currently held hostage by Abdul Azeez. In addition, we have four surviving KDF hostages. One of ours is already confirmed dead; the other is Lance Corporal Scott, who managed through some quite extraordinary efforts on his part to escape. It is thanks to him that we are able to do what I’m hoping Azeez thinks is practically impossible – go in and get our lads the hell out.’
There was a murmur of agreement, which quickly roused into cheers of ‘Too bloody right’ and ‘Absofucking-lutely’.
‘One other soldier is injured,’ continued the lieutenant, ‘but only superficially. However, under the conditions of his confinement, there is every chance that he will be immobile.’
Liam thought about Bale. He’d been lucky to receive only a graze from the bullet: it could just as easily have smashed through his leg, caught a main artery, and had him bleed out. But they had all been lucky. Azeez could have slaughtered them on the spot.
‘Everyone listen in,’ said the lieutenant. ‘Mission: to release the hostages. Mission: to release the hostages.’
Liam knew that the way the lieutenant had just spoken would sound odd to a civilian, but the reason a mission statement was said twice was so that everyone understood exactly what they were about to do. Once on the ground, everything they did would be to achieve that goal and advance the mission. Nothing else mattered.
‘We go in, we find them, and we get them out,’ continued the lieutenant. ‘That is our objective. Anything else that happens is a by-product of this. And by that, I mean the apprehension of Abdul Azeez.’
‘You mean we can’t nab the bastard?’ called out one of the soldiers.
‘That’s not exactly what I said,’ replied the lieutenant with a wry smile. ‘So if we happen to apprehend him in the process, all well and good. But it is not the priority.’
Liam understood this completely. If a mission had two objectives there was a good chance that confusion on the ground could lead to both objectives being screwed. Focus on one, and there was a much better chance of it being successful. And by stating it loud and clear, the lieutenant was making absolutely sure that everyone knew what they were doing and when they were doing it, as well as why.
‘As you all know, we will be going in as a direct aerial assault,’ continued the lieutenant. ‘There will be enough daylight to make finding the hostages easier and to minimize the risk of any blue on blue. Fire support will be provided by a Lynx Mark 7 attack helicopter. The KDF, with our support, will draw out Al Shabaab and distract them. This will enable us to send in a team to secure the hostages, then get them the fuck out and into the Chinooks. It will be a fast-rope insertion, so remember your gloves. Firing a weapon with your hands half melted is no fun at all.’
Everyone knew the reputation of the Lynx. Holding the world air-speed record for helicopters, it was armed with miniguns. Loaded with 7.62 rounds, they could spit fire out at a rate of between two and six thousand rounds per minute. And if you got in the way of that, there was no getting up again.
As for the fast-rope insertion, it was something Liam had done in training but never for real. And each time it had been pretty bloody exciting. With only his hands to slow him down – the use of boots was not advised as boot polish could scrape off onto the rope and make it dangerously slippery
for those coming after you – he and the rest of the lads would exit the helicopters via a 40mm thick braided rope. It was fast, which meant the helicopter could drop its load and get out sharpish, and also pretty risky. But it worked, and so long as everyone was wearing gloves, as the lieutenant had just reminded them, Liam figured it made total sense. Speed, surprise and aggression were the foundation stones of the operation and a fast-rope insertion was the natural choice.
‘We will drop in plenty of smoke to cover our advance, and will go in hard and fast,’ Lieutenant Young concluded. ‘We’ll get out just as quickly.’
As the lieutenant finished speaking, the distant thrum of twin helicopter engines buffeted in on the wind. Liam recognized them immediately as the rotors of a Chinook and soon spotted two helicopters heading their way. Tailing them was the Lynx. Seeing them approach gave Liam a boost of confidence in the mission ahead. If it all went according to plan, Azeez and his pals really wouldn’t have a clue what had hit them.
Briefing over, everyone gathered themselves together, ready for the off. Liam was with Lieutenant Young, Corporal Slater – ‘Bull’ – and Lance Corporal Parker.
The lieutenant pulled Liam, Slater and Parker aside. ‘We’ve been through this already, but it doesn’t hurt anyone to go through it again. So, Slater?’
‘Lieutenant?’
‘Give us a run-through.’
Liam wasn’t small, but standing next to Slater made him feel tiny. The man’s shadow was so big it could create its own microclimate, he thought.
‘Our job is to find and secure the hostages,’ said Bull. ‘With the KDF drawing fire from one direction, we – with fire support from the rest of Recce Platoon – will be using RB here as our search dog to locate the hostages. And we’ll be going in on the Lynx, which if you ask me, is fucking blinding!’
‘You don’t get to use the miniguns, though,’ said Parker. ‘That’s the pilot’s job, Bull. Sorry, mate.’
‘He’ll let me have a go, surely,’ said Slater. ‘I’ll be careful.’
‘That’s what the bull said just before it went to buy a dinner set,’ quipped the lieutenant.
‘The nickname suits him,’ said Parker.
‘Well then,’ said Lieutenant Young, ‘what say we hitch a ride and get shifting?’
Behind them, the rest of Recce Platoon were loading up into one of the Chinooks, with a platoon from the KDF into the other. As Liam and the others jogged over to the Lynx, Liam caught sight of a figure legging it towards them. It was Odull. He was supposed to be jumping into one of the Chinooks, not racing over to the Lynx.
‘Who the hell’s that?’ asked Slater.
‘Odull,’ said Liam. ‘Had two brothers. One’s dead, the other is one of the KDF hostages.’
‘Fuck.’
‘Exactly.’
In all that had happened, Liam had almost forgotten about the big Kenyan and his own personal reason to get Abdul Azeez. If this went well, he thought, then he’d make sure to go and have a decent chat with him afterwards. Odull was a good man and Liam already knew he was the kind of soldier he would happily fight alongside any day.
Odull stopped in front of him. ‘I wish to come with you. I must be there for my brother. It is my duty.’
Lieutenant Young stepped in. ‘Odull, your place is with the rest of the KDF. So get back there, sharpish!’
Odull shook his head. ‘The KDF soldiers who are prisoners – their English is bad. Also, they will trust me. Perhaps, after so long as prisoners, they will not trust you? But if they see my face—’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Young. ‘You’re too close to this. We can’t risk you going off on some personal mission.’
Odull turned his attention to Liam. He did not speak, but his eyes said everything that was on his mind.
‘I think Odull has a point,’ said Liam. ‘I’ve been there, sir, and it is a shit hole. Those KDF lads are in a real mess. We can’t afford for them to go crazy on us. Odull is a guarantee that they’ll know we’re the good guys.’
Young paused for a moment, then glanced at Slater and Parker. ‘And your thoughts on this?’
‘Fine by me, sir,’ said Slater. ‘Big lad like Odull running with us can only be good, right?’
With a nod, Young turned to Odull and ran through what they were going to do. ‘Clear?’
‘Sir,’ said Odull, grinning wide.
‘Good,’ said Young, then handed Odull a spare of gloves he was carrying. ‘You’ll be needing these!’
And with that, they all clambered into the back of the Lynx.
Sitting in the helicopter, Liam focused on his breathing, calming himself for what lay ahead. Opposite him was Parker, who stared out through the open side of the helicopter, probably writing a poem in his head as part of his preparation routine. Slater was just sitting there like a massive happy ape, and Lieutenant Young was eyes on the Chinooks. As for Odull, Liam could see the determination set in his jaw. This was a man going to rescue his brother and Liam sensed that there was little Al Shabaab could do to stop him.
Then the two big Chinooks took to the sky, and like a bird of prey the Lynx upped and followed.
Keeping low, at points barely metres above the tree line, the Chinooks and the Lynx chopped their way through the air. A trek that had taken Liam days to walk would now last less than half an hour. Even if they were spotted and a message was passed along through the Al Shabaab communication line, they’d be on with the attack before anything could be done about it.
Liam was sitting in the cabin of the helicopter, the wind gusting in and keeping him cool. He ran over the plan again in his mind, taking a step-by-step walk through the compound they were approaching, making sure every bit of it was absolutely clear. It had to be. In the confusion of their attack, and the smoke that would be dropped to cover them, they all needed to know exactly where they were going.
A signal from the co-pilot came through. With a thumbs up all round, they knew they were only a couple of minutes away from going in. There was no point trying to communicate on the PRRs as all sound was drowned out by the rotor engine above their heads.
Slater got ready with the rope for the fast insertion as Liam, Parker, Odull and the lieutenant checked their gloves were on good and tight. They would be ripped off on landing as the descent would render them useless and trigger feel was always better against bare fingers than through a glove. The co-pilot would then haul the rope back into the cabin.
Liam noticed the telltale change in the sound of the engines as the Lynx pulled itself into a hover. With a nod from the lieutenant, Slater dropped the rope. They were poised at approximately ten metres up. A fall from this height was out of the question unless you wanted a broken back. Then, leading the way, Lieutenant Young was out of the helicopter and sliding down the rope. Liam followed, and behind him came Parker, then Slater, with Odull bringing up the rear. It took fifteen seconds to get them all onto the ground.
Now it was time to rescue his mates.
23
Running forward with four other heavily armed soldiers, Liam watched as the Lynx unleashed hell, opening up the miniguns on the truck that had transported him and the rest of the section to their prison. A number of other vehicles had since joined it, and they suffered the same fate. The rounds tore into them with abandon, ripping them to shreds. When the fuel tanks were hit by the searingly hot metal, they were sent skyward as the liquid ignited. He caught sight of the Chinooks held in hover, ropes down, men zipping out and onto the ground like wasps racing from a nest. Once they were out, Liam knew the aircraft would hop to a safe distance then come back for a pick-up when called.
‘Knock knock,’ said Slater across the PRR as they lobbed in a few phosphorous grenades to add some smoke to the confusion.
The Lynx pulled away as the KDF and the rest of Recce Platoon advanced.
The plan was simple. With confusion brought on by the attack from the Lynx, the KDF would draw the fire of the terrorists by attacking them from on
e direction. This would allow Liam’s squad, and the rest of Recce Platoon, to swoop in, deal with any threat and rescue the hostages. And with the element of surprise, it was hoped the terrorists would be too confused to have time to think while they led the hostages away and got them into the Chinooks and the fuck out of there.
Liam spotted the latrine and guessed the guard was probably still down there somewhere, his body being slowly preserved by the huge amounts of shit he was covered in. He quickly signalled to the others as from round the corner of one of the buildings a group of gunmen appeared. Liam counted five, four of whom were armed with AK47s, the fifth with one of the KDF’s SCARs. They were all firing from the hip.
Liam dropped to his knee and had his SA80 up into the shoulder. To his left, the lieutenant, Slater and Parker did the same. On his right, Odull followed suit, fitting in with natural ease to their first live contact as, with short sharp three-round bursts, they all opened fire.
The man with the SCAR was hit first, spinning backwards and away from his mates like a puppet cut from its strings.
Liam brought his barrel round to bear on another of the men when movement caught his eye. Far off to his right, hidden by some bushes, was a shadow. He swung his weapon round and, staring through the sight, got eyes on what he’d seen. It took a split second for him to make out a silhouette that didn’t belong. And it was definitely human. He stared a moment longer and registered an immediate threat. The figure was holding a weapon. And it wasn’t a rifle.
‘RPG!’ Liam yelled ‘Two o’clock! One hundred!’
Odull switched his attack and hammered the bushes with a rapid succession of bursts from his rifle. A flash of light exploded from where Liam had spotted the figure and they all ducked instinctively as the RPG blasted out like an expensive firework. But it wasn’t heading towards them. Instead, it swung off wildly and piled into the men who had come to attack them. None of the terrorists registered its approach and it hammered into the ground directly amongst them. The explosion kicked dust, rock, stone and the shattered remains of the terrorists high into the air, disintegrating the men in an instant. It wasn’t pretty, but it was certainly effective.
