by Damien Lewis
‘Reckon we’d better go get tooled up, then,’ said Mat, excitedly. ‘You never know, lads, but we may be getting a piece of the action, after all.’
The SBS soldiers made their way over to their own small storeroom and armoury and started breaking out boxes of ammunition and other kit. But just as they had started doing so, two of the 5th SOF soldiers came charging through the doorway into their room.
‘Grab all your fuckin’ kit, now, cos we’re movin’ out!’ one of them yelled.
‘What’s up, mate?’ Jamie asked, glancing up from an ammo crate, the contents of which he was stuffing into his backpack.
‘There’s been a breakout in the fuckin’ prison, an’ you guys are needed over there, pronto,’ the soldier replied, at volume.
‘Yeah, we know that, mate,’ said Jamie, calmly. ‘We’re just getting our shit together.’
‘A’right, cos we’re movin’ out,’ the US soldier yelled back at him, and then they were gone.
‘What the fuck?’ Jamie tried to stifle a chuckle. The US soldiers were charging around the base like headless chickens.
The SBS lads ignored them and carried on arming their weapons. Whatever shit might be going down at the fort, there was little point rushing in there unprepared. No one knew how long they’d be in there for, but one thing was certain: once they’d fought their way into that fort there would be little chance of a resupply. Which meant that they needed to take all of the kit that they might need with them now, plus maximum ammo.
Because they had been ordered to deploy to Mazar low profile and showing no weapons, the men only had their Diemaco assault rifles and 9mm Sig Sauer pistols with them. This meant that they had no light or heavy machine guns, grenades or anti-armour weapons. Having seen the ferocity of the firefight now underway at Qala-i-Janghi, Mat would have chosen to take the heaviest weaponry possible, if only it had been available. As it was, they’d just have to make do.
Each man loaded up three mags of 9mm ammo for the Sig Sauer pistols, and some fifteen mags of ammo for the Diemacos (each of which contained thirty rounds) – making up some five hundred rounds per man. That sounds like a lot of ammo, but in an intense firefight such as was now going down at the fort, five hundred rounds could be used up in no time. Each man slung nine mags on to his chest webbing, and the rest of them were stuffed into a grab bag, along with the pistol mags, some emergency field dressings, extra water, a twenty-four-hour food ration pack, NVGs, a torch and a knife.
Special forces legend generally has SBS/SAS soldiers deploying with giant, commando-style knives – seven inches long and with cruel, serrated edges – for close-quarter combat. But Mat and the rest of the lads preferred to pack a Leatherman each – a multi-use tool comprising of several short-bladed knives, pliers, a file and a screwdriver set. If it ever got to the stage of close-quarter combat, they would prefer to use their Sig Sauer pistols and shoot the enemy in the head. Last but not least, the men packed a couple of laser target designators (LTDs) and the related comms kit, as they had little doubt that they’d be calling in air strikes once they got to the fort.
It took the SBS soldiers the best part of thirty-five minutes to get fully tooled up, by which time they were ready to hit Qala-i-Janghi and get into action. But first, the lads gathered to listen to the intel briefing on the top floor of the Schoolhouse, along with the ten soldiers from the US 5th SOF who would be going in alongside them. In theory, Major Michael E. Martin, the 5th SOF commander, was in overall command of any joint SBS–5th SOF operation, as he was the most senior officer on the ground. But in practice the SBS lads would be under the orders of their OC, Captain Lancer. As Qala-i-Janghi fort had been under the control of the Northern Alliance and the CIA, the intel briefing was being given by a CIA officer.
‘Listen up, guys, this is as much as we know,’ the CIA agent began, hurriedly. ‘’Fraid it ain’t much, but first off, there’s some six hundred AQT prisoners held at that fort and they’ve broken out in some sort of uprising. Seems the fort was also General Dostum’s ammo store, and we reckon they’ve got into those stores. Y’all heard about this Afghan and Islamic honour shit? Well, the prisoners were kinda supposed to behave themselves in there. Instead, they captured or killed – we ain’t too sure yet, reports are still real confusin’ on this one – two of our CIA buddies. They broke out the weapons and they’ve now started fuckin’ World War Three in there. So, we gotta get in there, lift the siege and rescue our boys. That’s about as much as I know.’
‘Where were your two CIA blokes when they were captured?’ Mat asked. ‘And who’ve we got up there that we’re in contact with?’
‘Good point, buddy. They were interrogatin’ the AQT prisoners in the southern end of the fort. That’s where the uprising took place. The fort’s kinda split into two halves with a dividin’ wall in between – you’ll see it when you get up there. And that’s where our boys were, in the southern half. They had some Afghan guards with ’em, but only a handful, and it seems a couple of ’em were killed and the others escaped. Now we ain’t really got comms with anyone directly, cos the Northern Alliance guys don’t have fuckin’ radios. There’s been a satphone call from one of our CIA boys, but that comms link has now gone down so seems like we lost him. The NA are keepin’ the prisoners holed up in the fort for now, but they can’t do that for much longer.’
‘Any idea how many Alliance soldiers are up there?’ Jamie asked.
‘Between fifty and a hundred, but again we ain’t too sure.’
‘You reckon your CIA blokes are still alive, mate?’ Mat asked. In the back of his mind he had an image of CIA Bob being captured – and tortured – by a murderous enemy. When they’d left CIA Bob at Commander Jim’s fort, he’d been scheduled to remain there for a long and detailed debrief on the Naka Valley operation. So the chances of him having ended up in Qala-i-Janghi three days later were next to zero. But for Mat it nevertheless made the uprising all the more real.
‘Far as we know they are,’ the CIA agent replied.
‘So this is a mission to rescue them, first and foremost? I mean, the twenty-odd of us aren’t going to retake that fort, however good we are.’
‘In terms of the mission brief, we’re gonna have to keep it fluid,’ the US 5th SOF Major cut in. ‘First off, we’re gonna head for the fort entranceway – cos we do know that’s still in friendly hands. We got some CIA and Northern Alliance boys in there holding firm – at least for now. From there, we’re gonna have to take a view. Like I said, we’re gonna have to keep it real fluid.’
‘To clarify, the mission priority has to be to rescue the two CIA agents,’ Captain Lancer said. ‘After that, it’s to contain the enemy in the fort and stop them breaking out any further.’
‘Any chance of some reinforcements?’ Jamie asked. ‘I mean, I don’t want to sound like a homo or anything, but we could do with a few more men.’
‘Right now, we’re on our own,’ Captain Lancer replied. ‘All of our lot are committed elsewhere across country, and Delta and the other US forces are down at Kunduz. Plus the Northern Alliance are down there too. Word is we’ve got to contain this, at least until they get some reinforcements up to us.’
‘Well then, let’s fookin’ do it,’ Mat announced. ‘Got the names of the two captured CIA blokes, mate?’
‘Yup. One’s Johnny Michael Spann,’ the CIA agent replied. ‘An’ the other’s Dave Tyson. I’ll be up there with you all, so if there’s anything else you need you can ask me on the job.’
With that, the men got to their feet and filed down to the waiting vehicles. Mat was relieved to know for sure that neither of the captured men was CIA Bob. But it turned out that Jamie and Tom both knew Dave Tyson. During the previous two weeks stationed at Mazar they’d become pretty friendly with him. Several evenings they’d sat around with Dave Tyson on the top floor of Boxer Base, cracking jokes and telling war stories.
Before coming to Afghanistan ‘CIA Dave’ had been based in neighbouring Uzbekistan. For
years he’d been the Agency’s field officer there. He was well keyed in to the culture and traditions, speaking several of the local languages. The fact that a couple of them knew one of the captured (or killed) CIA agents made the mission all the more personal for the SBS soldiers. Although he wasn’t a Brit, the lads still felt as if they were going in to rescue one of their own. And as for Sam, this had now become very personal. It was about saving the life of a fellow US warrior – a warrior who had either been captured by a fanatical enemy, or who had fallen on the field of battle.
The SBS soldiers headed up to the fort laden down with their weapons, ammo and other gear. The atmosphere in the vehicles was tense and silent, as each man mentally readied himself for the assault. Due to the woeful lack of intelligence, none of the men knew what they were up against now. This was the worst type of combat situation: basically, they were going to have to fight their way into that ancient fortress blind. Normally, the SBS prided itself on having as full an intelligence picture as possible, then planning and rehearsing a mission over several days. By contrast, the men were heading into Qala-i-Janghi with zero intelligence, no battle rehearsals and no concrete plans. There was an old saying in the SBS: ‘Fail to plan – plan to fail.’
In the worst-case scenario there were some six hundred hard-core al-Qaeda and Taliban in that ancient and impregnable fort – so-called prisoners who had decided instead to fight. Against those six hundred battle-hardened terrorists they now had eight SBS soldiers, ten US 5th SOF operators and between fifty and a hundred Northern Alliance troops. At best, they were outnumbered some six to one. To cap it all, the men had been ordered to leave all their heavier weapons – grenade launchers, LAWs, machine guns – back at Bagram, so they could deploy into Mazar ‘low profile’. And what sort of bollocks order had that been? Mat was thinking, angrily.
As they left Mazar city and hit the open road Mat glanced at his watch: it was 1.05 p.m. They had six hours of daylight left in which to fight their way into the fort. As the wheels hummed on the hot tarmac Mat found his mind drifting. What were their chances of coming out of this one alive? Every way he looked at it, they weren’t too good. He thought about Suzie, and he wondered for a second if he’d ever get to see her again. Back in the Naka Valley he’d had a lot of time to himself to think, and the idea of kids with Suzie had become increasingly appealing. If it was a boy Mat had already decided to name him Gary, after his favourite footballer, Gary Lineker. If it was a girl, the naming was going to be Suzie’s decision.
Catching himself daydreaming like this, Mat cursed himself and forced such thoughts to the back of his mind. Was he going soft or something? He had to remain focused on the mission. If he started getting all sentimental and loved-up in the midst of the coming battle, then he really would end up dead, of that he was certain. Two CIA officers were in that fort, somewhere, trapped and desperate. And they probably had a wife and kids back home, Mat told himself. It was their job – Mat and the others lads – to go in and rescue them. There was no choice now about what lay before them: they had to go in hard and take the fight to the enemy.
For a split second Mat tried to imagine the fate of those two CIA agents trapped in that fort. Mat thought about CIA Bob being one of them. What was it that he’d said to the little CIA spook on their parting, back at Commander Jim’s fort? You make sure you tell all your spooky mates: if they’re ever in any real trouble – real trouble, that is – it’s the SBS they should call for. That’s what he’d said. If it was CIA Bob trapped in that fort, he would be relying on his fellow soldiers to come fetch him. Well, it wasn’t CIA Bob, but it was two of his spooky mates. And as far as Mat was concerned, he’d made a promise. So be it, he thought to himself, grimly. Let the fighting begin.
Mat was pulled away from such thoughts by the harsh clunk-clunk of Jamie checking and rechecking the GPMG on their vehicle. Since the two vehicle-mounted GPMGs were the only heavy machine guns that the SBS soldiers had between them, Jamie wanted to make damn sure that the gun was in perfect working order, just in case they needed it on arrival at the fort.
‘What d’you reckon, mate?’ Jamie asked, glancing up from the weapon at Mat.
‘To the mission?’ Mat replied. ‘Suicide mate. Think about it. There’s eight of us lot – let’s say twenty with the 5th SOF boys – and six hundred of them. Factor the Alliance lot in as well, and there’s about a hundred of us. Big deal. And they’re inside a bloody great big fortress with towers and battlements and the works, and we’re outside of it trying to get in.’
‘We’ll fuckin’ well just have to fuckin’ mallet the fuckers,’ growled Ruff. Ruff was a man of few words, but he was a killing machine once he was behind a GPMG, or a ‘Gimpy’ as soldiers liked to call it.
‘Yeah – thanks for that pearl of wisdom, Ruff mate,’ Mat remarked. ‘Then there’s the weaponry: what’ve we got? Diemacos. And they’ve got AKs, RPGs, grenades, RPK and Degtyarev machine guns more ’n likely, and probably mortars too. Then there’s the fact that we’ve got no element of surprise, no eyes on the ground, no comms on the ground, fuck-all useful intel and no backup. You want me to continue, mate?’
‘Nope. Shut the fuck up,’ Jamie replied. ‘You want to get off the truck? Never too late to bug out of the mission, mate.’
‘What? I wouldn’t miss it for the bloody world,’ Mat said. ‘Like Ruff there says, we’ll fookin’ well just have to fookin’ mallet the fookers.’
‘About as much of a plan as we have got though, isn’t it, mate?’ Jamie responded.
‘Just have to wait see what happens when we get there,’ Mat said. ‘Make it up as we go along. Won’t be the first time, will it, mate?’
‘So what’s fuckin’ new?’ Ruff interjected. ‘Fuckin’ SNAFU, again, ain’t it?’
SNAFU is a commonly used abbreviation by the men of the SBS and SAS. It stands for ‘Situation Normal – All Fucked Up’. Behind Ruff’s grim humour lay the years of training that had prepared these men for all eventualities – even those that could never be foreseen, like the coming assault on Qala-i-Janghi. In fact, the letters SAS are often wryly said to stand for ‘Suck it and See’.
As the Land-Rovers approached their destination, the sky above was thick with tracer rounds going in both directions. Every now and then there was the rocket trail of an RPG streaking across the fort, followed by the crump of the grenade’s explosion. Added to this was the regular, thumping percussion of mortar rounds slamming into the fort grounds. Even at this distance, some half-mile away from the fort, the noise was deafening. As the SBS soldiers stared up at the fearsome battle that was raging all around the ancient site, it was like nothing they had ever seen, or even imagined, before. Holy fuck, Mat found himself thinking, we’re going into that?
The two Land-Rovers turned right off the tarmac, taking the dirt track that led in towards the massive fortified entranceway. As they did so mortar rounds started slamming into the dirt all around them. One of the enemy gunners must have spotted their gleaming white vehicles, and was calling in fire on them. To Mat’s trained ear the rounds sounded like 80mm mortars. One hit from one of those would flatten the Land-Rover and obliterate all its occupants. The driver of Mat’s vehicle, the lead Land-Rover, put his foot to the floor and started weaving from left to right in an effort to avoid the enemy fire. With the vehicle’s engine screaming and the driver red-lining it, they raced towards the towering entranceway, a massive arched doorway some forty feet high.
‘Let’s fookin’ do it!’ Mat yelled through the window of the cab, as the driver gunned the engine and the vehicle powered across the rough terrain.
The wooden gates were thrown open, but Mat could see that the last fifty yards ahead of them were just a wall of lead. After what seemed like an age – but could only have been a half-dozen seconds – the lead vehicle kangarooed through the open gates, locked its wheels up and came to an abrupt halt. The second Land-Rover was directly behind them, and the Humvees carrying the ten 5th SOF soldiers were just a few s
econds behind the SBS vehicles. They careered to a stop just inside the fort entranceway tower in a cloud of diesel fumes and dust. The Land-Rovers and the Humvees were riddled with bullet and shrapnel holes, but miraculously no one had been hit.
‘Am I fuckin’ glad to see you guys,’ Steve, one of the CIA officers based at the fort, started yelling. ‘Fuckin’ Mike’s been set upon by the fuckin’ ragheads, and Dave’s gone missin’ and we don’t know where the fuck he is.’
The SBS and 5th SOF soldiers gathered round CIA Steve, as he briefed them on what he knew about the state of the uprising. He had to scream to make himself heard above the noise of the battle. As the CIA officer spoke, Captain Lancer squatted down in the dirt and scratched out a quick diagram of the fort in the sand, to try to get a better sense of the battle. Inside the hexagonal outer walls, the fort complex was split into a northern and southern half, with a dividing wall in between. In the centre of that wall there was a gateway, which provided the only passageway between the two ends of the fort. The entranceway through which the SBS and 5th SOF forces had driven into the fort was built into the eastern tower, at one end of the fort’s central dividing wall. The entranceway tower overlooked both the southern and northern ends of the fort, making it a good vantage point from which to counter-attack.
Apart from that tower, CIA Steve was unsure which, if any, of the other parts of the fort were still in friendly hands. Although the prisoners had been held in the southern end, firefights now seemed to have broken out all over the fort complex. All he knew for sure was that small groups of NA fighters were stationed at points around the outside of the fort, trying to keep the prisoners bottled up inside it. But as none of the Afghan troops was equipped with a radio, the only way to maintain communications with them was by word of mouth. This was making it all but impossible to keep track of the battle from their side. As far as CIA Steve knew, there were eighty Northern Alliance troops at the fort, or at least that’s what the Afghan commanders had told him.
