The New Enemy

by Andy McNab

  We sat down in front of the slime (Int Corps personnel) and finished off our dinner.

  ‘We still have seen only X-ray (terrorist) Two. All the negotiations are still being conducted by the woman.’

  We could hear her voice on the loudspeakers.

  ‘Can you turn that up!’ someone shouted from the back of the team.

  The terrorist’s words filled the room: ‘If you do not put our statement on the BBC 9 p.m. and ITN 10 p.m. news we will start to kill people. We have shown you that we are not savages, you have your old man and children . . .’

  ‘I want to help you,’ said one of the negotiators. ‘None of us want this to turn out a bloodbath, do we? I cannot make any promises, but I assure you that I am making all efforts to help you. Everything I said I would do has happened. We need to work together . . . you must understand I need time.’

  ‘It is obvious you are not listening. We will start to kill if the broadcasts are . . .’

  Somebody turned the volume down.

  The slime continued: ‘As you heard, the old man and two children have just been released. He is in shock and cannot give any information of any use apart from that he thinks there are four or five and only one of them a woman.’

  One of the scaleys shouted out: ‘Stand to the IA!’

  We ran to the vehicles and turned our radios on. Weapons were made ready and respirators put on while we screamed off to the start line. The people with the entry charges were checking to ensure they were OK, and putting on the claymore clacker that would initiate the charge.

  ‘Alpha, Tango One and Two at the start line, over.’

  ‘Roger that, out to you. One, this is Alpha, over.’

  ‘One, rotors turning and stood to, over.’

  ‘Roger that, out.’

  On the net, we could all hear the snipers giving information on the target: ‘More movement on White Two One and White One One. There is screaming coming from the ground floor, I can’t tell what room.’

  ‘Roger that, Sierra Two.’

  I heard two bursts of automatic fire and knew it wouldn’t be long before we went into action to rescue the hostages.

  ‘Hello, One and One Alpha, this is Alpha One. Move to your holding area.’

  ‘One, roger.’

  We could not see them, but we knew that both helis would now be flying off to an area where they couldn’t be heard by the terrorists, waiting for the order to move on target. It was dark by now and all lights were out. Steve and Jerry would be using their NVGs.

  The chief constable now had to wait for confirmation that people had been killed. The sound of shots was not enough.

  He was soon to have his confirmation: a body was dumped at the main door with the threat of another one in five minutes if the TV statement demand was not met.

  The policeman spoke to COBR (Cabinet Office Briefing Room) and the decision was made.

  The squadron OC (officer commanding) got on the net: ‘Hello, all stations, this is Alpha One, radio check, over.’

  We all answered.

  ‘All stations, I have control, I have control. Callsigns One and One Alpha, commence your run in.’

  ‘One and One Alpha, roger that, out.’

  It was on.

  The helis dropped low over the trees, still on their NVGs. The doors both sides of the Agusta 109s were open. Each helicopter had four men aboard. The No. 1, who was going to come down the fast rope, was looking out of the helicopter as it screamed in, respirator on, looking at the approach. He had two hands on the fast rope, which was six inches in diameter. The rest of the rope dangled around his right foot ready for him to kick it out; he’d put two hands around it, grip also with the sides of his assault boots, and slide down, very much like a fireman coming down a pole.

  ‘That’s thirty seconds, thirty seconds.’

  This was the last chance to cancel. The OC would have looked at the policeman for confirmation.

  ‘All stations, I have control. Stand by, stand by . . . go, go, go!’

  The vehicles moved off with the teams holding on for grim death. As we turned the corner we could see the building; Tango Two came up level with us and I heard the helis making their approach. They were flying low towards the building; lower than the building itself.

  A little arm sticks out from each side of the aircraft with the fast rope; as soon as the helicopter starts to hover over the target the No. 1 kicks out the rope. As soon as the rope goes out the No. 1 goes with it; he slides down the fast rope before it hits the bottom of the roof.

  I looked up. The helicopters were coming in, lots of noise, lots of downblast, shit flying off the roof. They flared just ten feet above the roof. There were flashbangs exploding, and by now the pilots have taken their NVGs off. The instruments are on a swivel on their helmets; they just push them up above their helmets as NVGs are affected by flashbangs and would be whited out.

  The helicopters were straining in a flare position, then started going backwards and forwards two or three feet in a hover. The blokes were streaming down the rope. The No. 3 on each team had quite a task, because as he fast-roped, as well as his equipment, he would be bringing down a rectangular charge over his shoulder. He’d have to be really careful with it so he didn’t rip off the det or mess up the wiring.

  At one time there were all four of them on the fast rope. As soon as each man’s feet hit the bottom he moved out of the way. As they came down they were looking around, looking at the floor, making sure nobody was coming out of the skylights to start taking a pop at them.

  Seconds later, the helis were gone.

  Someone put his head out of the top left-hand window; we knew Sierra One had him in his sights; there was no need for us to worry, that was his job. He didn’t get on the radio, he just got his telescopic sight on him, covering the assault as it went in. If he was a threat he would soon have a 7.62 Lapua round in his head to make sure he stopped being one.

  On the Standby the other two snipers around the back, Sierra Three and Four, had gone running forward with G3s, choosing areas where they could cover two sides each. They didn’t need telescopic sights because they were so close; their G3s had normal iron sights. They had the outside covered, they could take any runners that were coming out. If the X-rays ran out beyond the snipers they’d get caught in the police cordon, but that never came into the equation; as somebody in B Squadron once said, no one runs faster than Mr Heckler & Koch.

  As the Range Rover stopped, flashbangs were going off.

  We jumped off and ran to the main doors. They were locked and still covered over with curtains. Dave secured the charge to the left-hand side door with double-sided tape; there was enough explosive to blow the whole thing in.

  Everyone was back against the wall, looking up with weapons covering the windows. If anyone poked their head out with bad intentions they would not enjoy the view for long.

  As he moved back, Dave checked with his hand the line of the det cord to the detonator, and then to the firing wire, a last check to make sure everything was right. By checking, he could say, ‘Bin it,’ if it was screwed up and we’d go straight in with the axes, just as Tiny had had to do at the Embassy. He was rushing, but he was still taking his time to make sure the charge was complete. The last thing he wanted to do was push that clacker and have nothing happen.

  Both teams were ready. As Dave went past, Tim, the No. 2, was ready with another flashbang.

  I had my weapon up in the aim, ready to go in. As I took off the safety, I shouted, ‘Go!’

  Our charge and one of the first-floor team’s went off at the same time. I started to move. The flashbang flew past me and I followed it in: it would be no good going in after it had finished, I had to be there with it.

  The hallway was dark and was starting to fill with smoke from the flashbangs. Another one exploded and I felt the effect of the blast. The noise jarred my whole body and I could feel the pressure on my eardrums. The flash was blinding but I had to work through that
. We’d trained enough in these situations; my hands still carried burn marks from when one of the maroons had hit me.

  The whole building was shaking with concussion and seared by sheets of blinding light.

  On my right I could see the other team moving. I didn’t look but I knew that my group would be heading for that first door.

  The hallway was clear.

  I turned and saw that I was No. 2 at the door. The last two of my lot had gone straight for it and were waiting. I heard flashbangs and firing from the other floors.

  I ran over, pulling out a flashbang and getting right behind the first man. I put it over his shoulder so he knew that we were ready.

  The No. 3 on the opposite side of us kicked the door open. As soon as four inches of gap appeared the flash-bang was in and so were we.

  Nobody was worried about what was inside or what would happen when the door was opened. We’d done it so many times. There was no time to think about danger or the possibility of cocking up.

  The lights were on and the noise and flashes were doing their job well. Dave went left; as I came in I saw a group of people huddled together in a corner but no people with masks or weapons.

  I heard an MP5 fire. One of the group pulled an AK and was bringing it up.

  I got my torch onto his head and gave him a quick burst.

  The Yankees (hostages) were screaming and crying and had to be controlled.

  Tim, who was covering both of us as we took the room, shouted, ‘Get down, get down!’ He pointed his weapon at them to make them understand that he was serious – and because there could be terrorists in the group.

  He was now dragging them down onto the floor if they weren’t doing what they were told. This was no time to be sensitive and caring.

  Dave moved forward at the same time to clear the room. Because he had to move a settee he let his weapon go on its sling and pulled his pistol.

  At the same time Tim was shouting: ‘Where are the terrorists, any more terrorists?’

  Once we cleared the room we were going to the next one. As I came out Tim was pushing people onto the floor and shouting, ‘Stay there, don’t move!’

  The other teams were still doing their stuff. I ran past our No. 4, who was covering the hallway. He was in a corner so that he dominated the whole area and at the same time could see up the staircase.

  I got to the door and became No. 1. The bottom of my respirator had filled up with sweat and I was breathing so heavily under all the body armour that I could feel its diaphragm clanking up and down. Tim came up behind me and shoved a flashbang under my nose. Once we had a No. 3 we were ready and in we went.

  The room was empty.

  Shouts echoed from other rooms as the Yankees were controlled. My breathing was laboured, I was listening to the net, listening to two lots of people speaking at once. Oral commands were being shouted through respirators; hand signals were flashing from man to man. Throughout the building there were weapons firing, maroons exploding, smoke and people everywhere.

  It was very claustrophobic inside the respirator. I was a big sweaty mess, trying to do my job and think of about ten things at the same time.

  We still had a problem. We didn’t know if any X-rays had hidden among the Yankees – or maybe the Yankees were actively shielding some. The Stockholm Syndrome bonds victims to their captors; they had to be covered with weapons until we knew who was who.

  Tim started to move up the stairs, covered by a member from the other team. He moved very slowly, his pistol out, ready. He was making sure there was no threat on the stairs, and ensuring that he didn’t have a blue-on-blue with the other link man he was to RV with. They linked up and I got on the net.

  It had been just over two minutes from the ‘Go, go, go!’ The firing had stopped but the shouting had not. Smoke was billowing everywhere and now all the callsigns were sending information back on the net that their areas were clear and what the casualty state was.

  Fat Boy said, ‘We have a wounded woman.’

  I looked around and one of the Yankees was holding her leg.

  I got onto the net: ‘This is Three, we have a wounded Yankee, request medic back-up, over.’

  ‘Roger that, Three. He is on his way, out.’

  Dave went to the door to lead him to the casualty. I then got on the net and gave my sitrep.

  By now the whole of the front of the building was floodlit and the hostage reception were ready for custom.

  ‘All stations, evacuate the Yankees, evacuate the Yankees.’

  It looked like a human conveyor belt as we moved people out. They mustn’t have time to think, they must be scared; you shout and holler to control them into the arms of the hostage reception. Everybody was picking them up and shoving them, shouting: ‘Get up, get up! Move, move, move!’

  They got as hard a time as if they were confirmed terrorists, lined up face down on the floor and handcuffed.

  ‘Stay still, no talking!’

  They were covered with pistols.

  The SSM came along with a torch, grasped hold of each person’s head and pulled it back, shining the powerful beam into their eyes. ‘Name?’

  When he was satisfied that everyone was who they said they were, they were put on transport and moved away to the police cordon.

  ‘Hello, Alpha One, this is Two. We have a possible IED. We have marked it and are moving out. Over.’

  They would put a small flashing yellow light on it. The same would be done for a man down; yellow light penetrates smoke better than white.

  Someone else was getting direction from CRW.

  ‘Alpha One, roger. RV with ATO, all callsigns evacuate the building, over.’

  We all acknowledged, quite pleased to be evacuating. We could get back to the admin area, have a quick debrief, and then it would be wacky races back to Hereford. There was a great rule that whoever came on the helis went back on them. That was fine, apart from having to listen to Steve bang on about his latest squash game.

  The exercise had gone smoothly. We’d been good, and so we should have been. We were on the ranges every day, leaping onto buildings, screaming through the CQB house, running around with the vehicles, up and down ladders, practising until we could almost do it blindfolded. The only thing that didn’t improve with the training was that we lived our lives with a ring around our faces where the seal of the respirator pressed down.

  Glossary

  AK47 – assault rifle, first developed in the USSR by Mikhail Kalashnikov

  ACOG – Advanced Combat Optical Gunsight, providing up to 6x fixed power magnification, illuminated at night by an internal phosphor

  Al Shabaab – terrorist group, affiliated with Al Qaeda. Based in Somalia, the group is fighting an insurgency against the recognized Somali federal government

  Apaches – attack helicopters; gunships

  battalion – a military unit, normally comprising between 650 and 750 infantry soldiers

  BATUK – British Army Training Unit in Kenya

  bayonet – a knife designed to fit in, on, over or underneath the muzzle of a rifle

  bergen – name given to a large rucksack used by soldiers to carry sufficient equipment to allow them to survive for a number of days in theatre

  blue on blue – a term for friendly fire, where weapon systems are inadvertently used on friendly forces rather than the enemy

  camel bak – a large water reservoir that can be carried in a soldier’s backpack

  Camp Bastion – a fortified base for the Coalition Forces in the Helmand Province of Afghanistan

  CFT – the Combat Fitness Test

  CTR – Close Target Recce

  CQR – Close Quarter Recce

  Chinook – a helicopter which is most often used for transporting equipment or troops; known by soldiers as ‘cows’

  contact – any action involving the enemy and the discharge of weapons

  dead-letter drop – a secret location used to pass items between individuals/groups while
maintaining operational security

  FOB – Forward Operating Base

  Glock 17 Gen 4 – a lightweight and accurate pistol with a magazine capacity of 17 9mm rounds

  ground sight – a term used for keeping a keen eye on the ground ahead for anything unusual

  HESCO – multi-cellular wall units, filled with whatever material is available to hand, such as sand, and used to protect patrol bases. Tested against charges of up to 20,000lb

  IED – an Improvised Explosive Device, which can be placed on the ground or used by suicide bombers; sometimes activated by remote control

  INT – army term for intelligence; information collected on, for example, enemy movements

  KDF – the Kenyan Defence Force

  khat – plant with amphetamine-like stimulant properties, which can be chewed

  KIA – Killed In Action

  LRCC – British Army’s Light Reconnaissance Commander’s Course

  Lynx Mk7 – a multi-purpose military helicopter

  MOD – Ministry of Defence

  MP5 – 9mm submachine gun built by Heckler & Koch

  NCO – Non-Commissioned Officer, like a corporal or sergeant

  PRR – Personal Role Radio: small transmitter-receiver radio that enables soldiers to communicate over short distances, and through buildings and walls

  Recce Platoon – comprising soldiers who have completed the LRCC and who work ahead of front-line combat units, looking for enemy units and reporting their positions to their commanders

  reconnaissance – the process of obtaining information and intelligence (INT) about an enemy

  RPG – Rocket-Propelled Grenade

  SA80 – the standard British Army assault rifle, made by Heckler & Koch

  SAS – Special Air Service, tasked to operate in difficult and often changing circumstances, sometimes in absence of guidance and within situations that have significant operational and strategic importance

  SCAR – Special Operations Forces Combat Assault Rifle, a modular rifle available in both 5.56mm and 7.62 calibres

  Sharpshooter – a highly accurate rifle, taking a 7.62 round, able to hit a target at up to 800 metres

  SLR – a top-spec camera with a powerful zoom lens