by Andy McNab
‘I think I got him,’ said Odull across the PRR.
‘And the others,’ said Liam.
With the threat dealt with, they moved again. Around them other battles were raging as the KDF engaged with the terrorists, and the rest of Recce Platoon provided targeted fire support for Liam and his team. Some terrorists were trying to make a break for it, but there was nowhere to run to and they were met with a resistance that had them pinned down.
Liam was up and moving forward towards the buildings, the others slipping in behind him. Lieutenant Young might have held rank over them all, but Liam knew the ground and that put him on point. The others trusted him and that made him work his soldiering skills even harder. He wasn’t going to fuck this up.
Two men ran out in front of Liam, both firing wildly at nothing in particular, screaming and yelling with rage. Liam had his rifle up and took the first down, but as he moved onto the other his rifle clicked empty.
‘Magazine!’ Liam shouted as he dropped to the ground, making himself harder to hit while he changed mags, while also allowing the rest of the lads a clearer arc of fire. Slater was on the other gunman in a beat, shattering his chest with a calmly fired clatter of rounds.
Up on his feet again, Liam led on, past the two dead terrorists and on towards the latrine. The smell was thick in the air, filling it with a rotting foulness that was hard to ignore. He pushed on, quashing the memory of what had happened there the last time he’d passed by.
Liam came up alongside the building where he had hidden in the moments before his escape. Just beyond it, in the central area surrounded by the other buildings, smoke was billowing out from the vehicles destroyed by the Lynx.
Keeping himself tight to the building and edging left, Liam continued to lead the way, with Lieutenant Young behind him, followed in quick succession by Slater, Parker and Odull. He could hear them breathing, but it wasn’t out of exhaustion. They were all fit and this was what they trained for. They were alert and Liam knew he couldn’t be with better men.
A scuffle came from behind them, and as Liam shot a look down the line he saw Parker swing round at the back and drop another terrorist whose AK47 sprayed wildly into the air as he fell backwards.
Liam raised a hand, halting their advance. About ten metres across from him was a section of open ground, and beyond that was the makeshift prison. Liam hoped to whatever God might exist that its occupants were still alive and that his escape hadn’t caused their execution.
Liam lobbed a couple of phosphorous grenades into the gap, filling it immediately with thick grey smoke. He then nodded to the lieutenant to give covering fire and dashed across, slamming into the wall of the prison. Dropping to his knee, he then opened up with covering fire and the lieutenant, Parker, Slater and Odull quickly joined him.
‘They’re in here,’ said Liam across the PRR, knocking the wall with his fist. ‘There’s only one door in and out, and that’s round the front.’
‘Then let’s not hang about here chinwagging,’ said the lieutenant.
Liam led the way once again, and with the grey smoke from the grenades dancing around them like phantoms, they moved swiftly round the corner of the building and along its front, quickly coming up against the door.
Liam made to kick it down when it was suddenly pulled open. Another terrorist ran out, firing as he went. The rounds weren’t aimed but it was enough to make them drop to the ground. Then Parker had him in his sights and eliminated any further threat with a three-round burst that caught the terrorist in the face.
Slater held his position, covering the door, while the others moved into the building. The cages were still there – as was the stink.
‘Holy fuck, it’s the cavalry,’ came an all too familiar voice.
‘Nice to see you too, Pearce,’ said Liam, running over to his cage and knocking the lock clean off with the butt of his rifle. The lieutenant and the other two Recce soldiers did the same, moving quickly from cage to cage to release the others. Odull ran straight over to his brother and the other KDF lads.
‘We all thought you’d gone for a take-out, RB,’ Pearce said. ‘I could murder a good curry.’
Down the line, the rest of the section were edging out of their cages. They looked even worse than Liam had remembered. Stiff and bent over, thanks to their cramped conditions, they looked like the human versions of the pitiful dogs used in adverts by the RSPCA. Liam caught sight of Odull – the door to his brother’s cage had been ripped clean off and the two men were embracing. It didn’t last long, but it was enough to show the bond that only brothers can ever know.
‘Come on,’ said Liam, gesturing to Pearce to get off his arse. ‘We need to shift it.’
‘No can do,’ said Pearce, and Liam knew immediately from the tone of his voice that he wasn’t joking. He quickly ducked inside Pearce’s cage.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Got myself a good beating,’ said Pearce. ‘I tell you what, RB, these Al Shabaab fuckers have no sense of humour.’
‘I warned him,’ came another voice, and Liam turned to find himself staring at Cordner. ‘Jokes about pies just don’t translate.’
‘I found them fucking hilarious,’ said Pearce.
‘Exactly,’ said Cordner. ‘And that should be warning enough.’
‘Still coping without the fags?’ Liam asked.
‘Mate, if I’d never smoked in my life, after an experience like this, I’d be taking it up.’
Liam quickly checked Pearce over. He looked worse than the others. Whereas they were dirty, at least their cuts and bruises had faded – Pearce looked like he’d just got into an argument with a grizzly bear.
‘Can you walk?’
Pearce shook his head. ‘The bastards stamped on my left ankle. Probably broken. The fucker’s so swollen it’s close to bursting out of my boot.’
Lieutenant Young took control. ‘Pearce and Bale need carrying,’ he said.
‘Waterman?’ asked Liam.
‘Just point me in the right direction and I’m there,’ came Waterman’s reply from somewhere in the dark.
‘Odull has the KDF lads under control,’ said Young. ‘I’ll take point with Parker. Scott, you bring up the rear. Slater, you grab Pearce.’
Liam saw a familiar figure step forward. It was Sergeant Biggs. ‘I’ll do that,’ he said, ‘if only to get the bastard to buy me a beer when we get home. Slater can grab Bale.’
‘It’s just take, take, take with you, isn’t it?’ said Pearce. ‘Besides, you owe me one after we had to lug your fat arse around.’
Cordner stepped up next to the sergeant. ‘Seems like the first round is yours, mate,’ he said. ‘Come on, Biggsy, let’s get his sorry arse out of here.’
Liam edged back as the sergeant and Cordner carefully helped Pearce out of the cage, then had him lean across their shoulders, spreading his weight.
‘The extraction point is being covered by the rest of the Recce lads,’ said the lieutenant. ‘When we leave the cover of this building, we shift it. No stopping for souvenirs or holiday snaps.’
‘Bit unfair,’ said Pearce. ‘What am I going to show the wife when I get back?’
‘You don’t have a wife,’ said Biggs.
‘That’s it,’ said Pearce. ‘Hit a man while he’s down.’
Lieutenant Young called everyone to order. ‘We move on my mark!’
The men shifted into a line.
‘Go!’
Moving out through the door, the lieutenant led the way back along the edge of the building, the rest of the Recce lads following behind in quick succession. Odull and the KDF were in the middle of the huddle, the big Kenyan hoisting one of the KDF prisoners – a man clearly in a bad way – onto his shoulders while his brother helped another to limp to freedom. At the back, Liam was alert and looking for potential threats. So far so good; the KDF had clearly done their job, and with the support of Recce Platoon, the terrorists had been cleared out. He had no doubt, though, that there were stil
l a few stragglers hanging on. Another thing that was bothering him was the whereabouts of the kingpin of the whole thing, Abdul Azeez. Just where in hell was he?
Out of nowhere an RPG blasted past Liam, just missing the line of men in front of him. It hammered into the wall of the building opposite, the one where their kit had been hidden. The wall didn’t put up much of a fight as the warhead took it apart, spraying everyone with shards of rubble and clouds of dust, knocking most of them to the ground.
Liam coughed, wiped grit from his face and tried to stare ahead through eyes watering painfully. He looked at the rest of the soldiers with him. They were covered in dust and some were bloodied, others shaking their heads, stunned by the explosion. Then, to his right, Liam glimpsed a figure approaching through the smoke. He wasn’t running, but walking almost nonchalantly, like he hadn’t a care in the world. The smoke cleared and Liam saw the face of his nemesis. Azeez had been here all along.
Grabbing his rifle, Liam brought it round and pulled the trigger, but for the first time ever, his weapon jammed. With no time to try and sort it, and with the prisoners and the rest of his squad as yet unaware of Azeez, Liam jumped to his feet and threw himself at the self-proclaimed prince of Al Shabaab.
Azeez, taken by surprise, tried to dodge, but wasn’t quick enough and Liam caught him in the chest with his head, his helmet lending added impact. The terrorist leader was thrown backwards by the force of Liam’s attack and stumbled. He tried to bring his weapon round, but Liam kept on pushing and then they both dropped, Azeez falling backwards, Liam on top of him.
Liam raised himself up to straddle Azeez. Still half blind after the RPG, he went in hard and wild with his fists, but Azeez came back at him, blocking the punches and then reaching beneath his bloodied tunic.
Out came an evil-looking blade. The glint of metal caught Liam’s eye. Knife fights were the one thing you never got into. They were nothing like how they were portrayed in the movies, but instead were short, violent and bloody. Liam had to deal with it before Azeez skewered him.
He grabbed the wrist holding the knife with both hands. Azeez struggled, but Liam had the advantage of being on top. He rocked himself forward, forcing Azeez’s hand above his head. Then, as the terrorist’s hand touched the ground, he drove in hard with his helmet again, head-butting Azeez in the face.
Liam pulled himself up to come in hard again, but one look at Azeez told him it wasn’t necessary. The smile was gone and the eyes were closed. Abdul Azeez was out cold.
He rolled the Al Shabaab leader onto his front, snapped his wrists together with a plastic tie from one of his pouches, then scrambled to his feet and hoisted the still unconscious man onto his shoulders. Then he was back in the line with the others, who though dazed were up and ready to get the hell out.
‘Come on, let’s shift it!’ he yelled out. ‘Move!’
From the front, Lieutenant Young led them onwards, and they headed off through the dust and smoke. Liam kept his eyes on Slater in front of him, ignoring the weight of the body now across his shoulders. His legs were burning, his eyes stinging, but the welcome sound of a Chinook’s twin propellers kept him moving onwards. Then the downed ramp of the helicopter appeared and before he realized what he was doing, Liam was inside and dropping Abdul Azeez to the floor. Coming in behind him were the rest of the Recce Platoon.
Liam grabbed a seat and buckled up. Opposite him, Pearce was quickly strapped in by Sergeant Biggs and Cordner. They all stared at the comatose body of Abdul Azeez on the deck of the Chinook.
Pearce caught his eye and winked. ‘Thanks, RB,’ he mouthed across the rattle and hum of the engines.
Then Liam’s stomach churned as the Chinook lifted off.
24
Liam was standing to attention with the rest of Recce Platoon and the KDF back at BATUK. In front of them a Chinook waited for its cargo, the loading bay open, rotors stilled. Silence reigned.
In front of the soldiers, lying on a simple platform of two trestles and a plank of wood, was a box draped in the Union Jack. Inside lay the body of Carter. In a search of the area to flush out more Al Shabaab terrorists, the KDF had found his remains and brought him back. Though the loss of one of their own had hit them hard, they were all relieved that he had been found – it had been unthinkable that they might have to leave his body behind and be unable to award him the respect he deserved.
Six men walked forwards and lined up, three down either side of the coffin, with Lieutenant Young standing at its head. On his signal, they faced each other, took hold of the coffin and lifted Carter up onto their shoulders. Then, slowly, they made their way past the platoon and up into the dark belly of the Chinook for the coffin’s repatriation to the UK.
Liam stared as the rotors gathered speed and then, almost impossibly, lifted the huge beast of a craft up into the air with consummate grace. Death was something every soldier knew was a risk of the job and Liam had faced it more times than he’d dared count. From his two tours in Afghanistan to what had gone down in Kenya, it was a reality that he had been forced to deal with. But it didn’t make it any easier saying farewell to another mate gone in the line of duty.
With the Chinook fading from sight, the platoon fell out and everyone quietly made their way back to anything that would take their mind off Carter’s death.
Liam walked over to where he had been sleeping for the past few nights. After his ordeal, the general order had been to rest and recuperate, and that was exactly what he’d done, allowing his body to finally recover and heal. He still ached, and the cuts and grazes that covered his body were scabbing over, but he was alive, and it could so easily have turned out differently.
A voice called his name and he stopped. Odull was walking towards him, his brother at his side. They ducked into the dorm tent.
Liam smiled. ‘Your mum will be pleased,’ he said.
Odull laughed. ‘Yes, she now has the ugly one to worry about again, not just me!’
Liam reached a hand out to Odull’s brother, who took it and shook it warmly. ‘He’s definitely the ugly one,’ joked Liam, nodding to his friend. Then he saw Pearce making his way over on crutches, his left foot bandaged up. ‘You’re making a lot of fuss over just a sprain,’ said Liam, as Pearce dropped down onto his own bed. ‘Must be going soft.’
‘It’s all for show,’ said Pearce. ‘The ladies love a man on crutches. Appeals to their caring side.’
Odull and his brother went back to the other KDF soldiers as Liam and Pearce chatted on.
‘And BATUK is just rammed with ladies,’ said Liam as Cordner came in. ‘Oh look, here’s one now. Just your type too.’
‘It’s that sweet Irish lilt,’ said Pearce. ‘Melts a man’s heart.’
‘Biggs is looking for you, RB,’ said Cordner.
‘Really? What for?’
‘Didn’t tell me,’ said Cordner. ‘Told him you were probably over here. He was talking to Young.’
‘Oh, so it’s a secret,’ said Pearce. ‘What’ve you been up to now?’
Liam was about to say he hadn’t a clue and wasn’t much fussed, when in walked the sergeant.
‘Here he is,’ said Cordner. ‘Just like I said. Typical of RB, really, to be lounging about doing nothing. He’s a slacker, Sergeant. Frankly, I’m sick of having to cover for him and so is Pearce.’
Sergeant Biggs walked over and sat down on his own bed.
‘So what did you want to see me for?’ Liam asked.
‘Just a bit of news, that’s all,’ said Biggs. ‘Just been speaking to Captain Owusu and the lieutenant.’
‘You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’ said Pearce.
‘Oh, it’s more serious than that,’ said Biggs, and looked over to Liam with a grin creeping across his usually stony face.
‘Well, whatever it is, just tell me,’ said Liam.
‘You’ve been recommended for a Gallantry Award,’ said Biggs. ‘It seems that the powers that be want a few more people to notice what you’ve been up to.
’
Pearce and Cordner laughed.
‘Fuck me, a medal!’ said Pearce. ‘You’ll be able to start a collection soon!’
Liam was stunned. ‘Are you serious?’
Biggs nodded. ‘You deserve it, so don’t go thinking otherwise. Your actions not only got us out of the shit, they brought about the apprehension of Azeez. And that’s a big deal. A key player like him is a gold mine of information. Not only that, without him running the show, Al Shabaab will be a little lost, at least for a while. The KDF can use that to their advantage.’
Liam fell quiet. A few months back, he’d been questioning his decision to go for Recce Platoon; now here he was, up for a medal. If there was any confirmation needed that he was in the right job, then this was it.
‘A medal,’ he said. ‘So I’ll have to go and see the Royal Family again, I guess.’
‘Yeah, tough life,’ said Cordner. ‘Must be terrible.’
Liam shrugged. Being recommended for such a thing was humbling, but it wouldn’t bring Carter back. And as far as he was concerned, they all deserved one after what they’d been through. So why should he be singled out?
Rising from his bed, he watched as Biggs, Cordner and Pearce walked away chatting. Medals weren’t easy to get, and were often given in recognition of achieving something against the odds. Liam had no problem with that – after all, the life of a soldier was a dangerous one. But more than ever, he was struck by just how quickly things could change.
What enemy would he face next?
Liam had no answers. But he realized then that he didn’t really want them.
He was a soldier. And a damned good one at that.
Yes, it was an uncertain life – but he had never felt more alive.
Bring it – he was ready . . .
One of the scaleys (signallers) came in while I was still eating.
‘Can we have both teams in the briefing room at 1930 for an update, I thank you!’
