by Luke Duffy
Marcus had seen plenty of action in his days as a paratrooper. He was involved in operations in Northern Ireland, Africa, the Middle East and the Balkans. Now, he was about to go into battle again, but this time, he invaded a country for his own reasons and with just eight other men. Better than doing it for weapons of mass destruction that can’t be found. Or the war on terror, which was really the rape for oil, he considered to himself. The thought amused him.
Leading from the front, Marcus pushed to the bank and slid into the water, keeping his weapon above the surface. The cold hit him immediately and he inhaled deeply as the water level reached his groin area, stabbing at him like a thousand needles.
He knew that Ian, being much shorter, would be up to his chest and he didn't envy him. He walked ahead, being careful to place his feet so that he wasn’t knocked off balance by the current and swept downstream.
He heard the faint splash of water as Yan slipped in behind him and they ploughed the twenty metre width of the river to the other side. The water pushed at their right hand side, trying hard to sweep them along as it flowed to the West.
When all four men were standing on the far bank, they paused and checked to see that they were still undiscovered. After the soak period, and happy that nothing was stirring, they continued to move to their objective, hugging the river for a few hundred metres then turning north to their forming up position and start line.
His stomach felt hollow and his mind was asking a thousand ‘what ifs?’. Stu knew that everyone, including the Iraqis who sat behind the wheels would be asking themselves the same questions.
Every man knew his job, but no amount of training and preparation or experience of battle could block out the apprehension. On the other hand, they all knew that once the first shot was fired, all nerves and doubts would be dropped and the fight carried through on pure adrenalin and aggression.
The clock ticked slowly by and far to the East, on the horizon, the faintest glimmer of pink began to show on the otherwise deep purple, sky.
Marcus lay watching the open ground to his front. The wind caught the wispy strands of grass in front of his face and caused them to brush against his chin as he lay on his stomach with his rifle pointing toward the enemy position.
To his left, he could just make out the faint silhouette of Yan and the machinegun, propped on its bipod legs in front of him. Beyond him, Marcus could barely see the shape of the hill as it touched the horizon. Somewhere, just below the crest, he knew was the Dushka heavy machinegun position, but he couldn’t see it in the darkness. The thought of that monster being there. and having the perfect angle on him and his men as they advanced across its front, made him shiver.
He glanced to his right and squinted, trying to focus. He remembered that, to be able to see objects in the dark, he had to scan with his eyes in a sort of figure of eight pattern and once he located it, he should look to the side of it rather than straight at it.
He saw the outline of Ian and he knew that Sini would be just a few metres to the other side of him. All were ready, their weapons were in their shoulders and the safety catches were off with their right index fingers along the outside of the trigger guard.
Marcus looked down at the RPG. It had no night sight capability and he sincerely hoped that there would be enough light for him to be able to identify the tank once H-hour came. The rocket was primed and ready, just the safety catch needed to be clicked to fire and, hopefully, the tank would be neutralised.
He cupped his hand tightly around his watch and brought his eye down to squint as he pressed the button on the side to illuminate it; it read 05:18.
It was close now. He looked at the far Eastern horizon and saw the first glimmers of the pink dawn slowly forcing the inky blackness of the night back toward the west. He looked toward the enemy positions and was now able to distinguish the shapes of the trenches as the dark churned soil contrasted with the lighter coloured grass and scrub of the riverside.
The knot in the pit of his stomach clamped tighter. The cold bony fingers that he felt gently grazing down the length of his spine, and forcing shivers through his body, increased. He felt slightly nauseous and trembled with nerves. Even with everyone else around him, he felt alone.
He slowly, without making sudden movements, raised the RPG into position across his forearms in front of him, ready to be brought up onto the shoulder at the last minute, and fired. He checked his watched again. It was just under two minutes before the attack was to be initiated by him.
The light was almost perfect for a dawn attack. He could see the machinegun to his left, the trenches ahead of him and the tank, about two hundred metres away and in a perfect position for him to get a side on hit.
Marcus brought his mouth down close to his radio and spoke in a low voice, “All call signs, comms check.”
“Stu, good to me.”
“Jim, strength five.”
“Sini, loud and clear.”
“Ian, good to me mate.”
“Yan, you’re good to me.”
All the team had acknowledged and Marcus replied, “That's good to me all around. Thirty seconds, stand by, stand by.” He released his finger from the transmit switch and cradled the launcher. He looked back up to his left at the machinegun position.
“Shit,” he whispered under his breath. It was in clear sight, and if he could see them, then as soon as he knelt up to fire the RPG, they would be able to see him He could now see movement from around the position of the gun as men began to move about in the first light of dawn.
They were now committed and it was too late to move back. “Fuck it,” he whispered. “Jim had better nail `em from the off.”
Yan had the butt of the machinegun in his shoulder and his finger lightly touching the trigger, waiting for Marcus to fire.
Marcus had a grasp on the pistol grip and trigger of the launcher with his right hand and his other hand on the forward grip. He looked at the tank, then in one swift movement raised himself to his knees and threw the launcher onto his shoulder, praying that the men in the machinegun pit wouldn't notice him before he could fire.
He pressed his eye to the rubber around the eyepiece of the sight. A second later, and he could see the ground in front of him, magnified and with the black vertical and horizontal lines and aiming points within the sight.
He raised the launcher slightly and the tank came into his sights. He steadied his aim, let out half a breath and then held it as his finger took up the slack on the trigger pressure. The RPG was steady, and the aiming mark was right in the centre of the broad side of the tank.
With a whoosh and a loud bang that sucked at his lungs as the air pressure changed and enveloped him in a cloud of white/grey smoke, he felt the launcher jerk against his shoulder as the missile left the barrel and raced toward the target. He had lost sight of the tank in the shroud of smoke that engulfed him but there was nothing he could do about it now. The RPG would either hit or miss; either way he wouldn't see it due to the cloud.
Immediately, he dropped the launcher and raised his rifle to his shoulder.
He heard the fast crackling of rounds being fired from his left. Yan was already firing into his targets, stitching all along the edges of the trenches in short controlled bursts; the used brass cases already piling up beneath the ejection opening of his gun as he kept up the rate of fire.
All around him, Marcus heard the clatter of weapons being fired as the entire team poured their deadly fire into the enemy. He heard the automatic fire from Yan to his left and the single rapid shots from Ian and Sini to his right as they suppressed the closest enemy trench. Streaks of red light flew forward from their barrels as the tracer ignited and marked the line of trajectory of their rounds through the air.
Directly above him, more tracer rounds zipped overhead, looking like laser beams accompanied by the ear-splitting crack of the air displacement as the rounds from Jim’s machinegun hammered at the Dushka position.
Jim had been poised a
nd ready. The butt was firmly jammed against his shoulder and he peered down the sights at the dark shape of the enemy machinegun position on the hillside. To his ten o’clock position, he saw the puff of smoke as Marcus fired the RPG and before the rocket had hit its target, as it streaked across his front, Jim had depressed the trigger of his gun and his rounds began to thump into the enemy position.
He could see them striking against the sandbags, bursting them open and the contents spilling over the edges of the gun pit as they collapsed. His rounds churned up the dirt all around the Dushka. As the weapon jerked and battered back against his shoulder and the ammunition fed through and into the chamber, he saw bodies trying to get to their feet behind the machinegun, only to be chopped down as his relentless fire smashed into them. They jerked and fell, bleeding and dying before they had even had a chance to man their weapons.
He fired another long burst to be sure, then swung his gun around to the right to begin suppressing anyone attempting to return fire or mount a counter attack from the buildings. Indiscriminately, he pounded at the mud huts, one after the other, obliterating whole sections of their walls.
Ian saw the strike of the rocket as it hit the target. The tank rocked on its tracks with the impact and a shower of sparks erupted for the entry point as the warhead of the RPG had smashed through the hull.
He and Sini fired their rifles together. They had no visible targets from the trench area yet, but they fired nevertheless. Anyone in the shell scrape contemplating even sticking their head up to join the fight would soon be convinced not to, as the rounds smacked against the tops of their trenches, sending splashes of dirt showering over them as they huddled at the bottom for cover.
It was shock and awe, the faster and harder you hit them, the less chance they have to recover before you've closed the gap between you.
They could hear Marcus to their left. “Move, move,” he was hollering over the din of the battle.
Yan stepped up the rate of fire and they could see his tracer rounds as they poured into the second position. They heard confused shouts from the enemy and their screams of pain and panic.
Marcus and Yan provided cover fire as Sini and Ian advanced forward.
Sini jumped up. “Moving,” he screamed and he ran forward five metres then dropped to one knee and began firing at the enemy trench to his front. “Move,” he shouted over his shoulder to Ian.
Sini had now begun to fire and it was Ian’s turn to move forward. “Moving,” Ian shouted in reply as he sprinted forward. He got down to Sini’s left and continued to fire as Sini bounded forward again. They continued covering each other with fire and manoeuvre as they closed the gap to the first position.
Marcus and Yan began to smash away at the next trench with their fire support as Sini and Ian approached their line of fire from the right. Marcus saw the final bound as Ian jumped up and charged, screaming, into the enemy position, closely followed by Sini.
Marcus tapped Yan hard on the shoulder and shouted that he was moving to follow and support Ian and Sini. Yan remained where he was and kept up his rate of fire to cover the assault team.
They had no bayonets but Ian jumped into the trench and thrust the muzzle of his weapon into the face of the terrified soldier who had been cowering at the bottom. Ian was still roaring with aggression as the barrel smashed through the soft tissue of the man’s cheek and deep into his skull.
Ian felt the bone give and collapse inward as he put his weight behind the thrust and the man screamed a gurgling, wet howl. Ian withdrew the barrel and thrust again and again until there was a hole the size of his hand in the man’s face and the soldier had gone limp and silent. His barrel had chunks of pink skin and red meat seared to it as the flesh had instantly cooked and stuck to it.
Sini dropped in beside him and changed his magazine and Ian did the same, ready for the next position. Marcus had followed them to the first position once it had been taken and left Yan to keep the fire support going.
They were all now in a blood lust and all three began to fire and manoeuvre again to the next position, leapfrogging one another as they closed in on the horrified Turkish troops. They roared and screamed as they approached, firing and moving alternately, and crashed in on the men who threw their hands up in surrender, but it was too late; the momentum and aggression had taken over and they fired into the two enemy soldiers as they landed on top of them, pumping round after round into their chests and faces and seeing their features crumble in a pool of blood and smashed bone.
Marcus charged the next position with Ian and Sini giving him cover fire. Their rounds zipping close to him as he ran. As he closed in on the trench, he saw an arm raised, holding an object that was about to be thrown.
“Grenade!” Marcus screamed and fired, as he charged, into the face and neck of the man holding the explosive. His throat erupted in a fountain of bright red blood as a round smashed through his neck, and he dropped from sight and to the bottom of the trench with the grenade still clutched between his fingers.
Marcus dropped to his stomach as it exploded. The low but deafening thud of the concussion as the deadly weapon detonated within the confined space of the defensive position made Marcus’ ears ring as he crawled toward the lip of the trench.
A plume of black smoke rose from the hole in the ground and Marcus raised himself and bounded the last couple of steps, firing into the position on full automatic, screaming as he charged.
The grenade had done its damage. There was little left for Marcus to shoot at. The charred and torn open torso of a man was all that was left in the bottom of the trench.
“Position clear,” Marcus called back to Sini and Ian, who then joined him in the trench and readied themselves to assault the final dugout.
Stu had taken out the comms centre just as quickly as Jim had destroyed the machinegun. He could hear the fire fight and screaming as Marcus and his group closed in on the trenches. He turned his fire to begin suppressing the troops in the buildings with Jim.
Men ran everywhere, some half naked, and they were mowed down before they could even see where the fire was coming from.
Three men tried to escape a hut that was untouched by their fire at that moment. As they piled out of the door, weapons in hand with the intention of either fleeing or joining the fight, Stu fired a long burst into them and they fell into a tangled mass at the foot of the entrance.
Hussein sat behind the wheel of the SUV that Stu was firing from with a panoramic view of the battlefield in front of him. His jaw hung open and his eyes were wide like saucers as he watched the attack unfold in front of him with awe.
He could see the red tracer rounds flying all over from every angle, the sounds of the multitude of weapons as the team unleashed their own version of hell onto the Turkish positions. He could hear screams and watched as men collapsed under hails of bullets. He couldn’t help but admire the ability and speed of Marcus and his men.
He thanked the angels that watched over him that he hadn't fired the RPG on the day he first met Marcus. Judging by what he was seeing, he doubted he would’ve lived for long afterward.
Yan could see Marcus, Sini and Ian advancing from trench to trench. They were closing in on the last position and it was time for him to switch fire onto the buildings housing the infantry.
He was scanning for movement around the huts when he caught a glimpse of the tank; its main gun was moving. He had to double check and, sure enough, the gun was slowly rotating and it was aiming for Marcus, Sini and Ian.
“Marcus,” Yan screamed into his radio. “Marcus, the tank. There's someone still alive in it.” He saw Marcus raise his hand to his ear from the last trench then look up toward the smouldering tank.
Yan saw a flurry of arms and gestures as Marcus realised what was happening, and then Sini was pulling the RPG from his shoulder, struggling to get it into the aim.
Whoever was in the tank had managed to survive the initial blast from the rocket and was now manually turning the tu
rret with the hand wheels in order to fire it at the assault team.
Yan was praying for Sini to get the launcher fired before the tank could.
A loud boom and the tank rocked on its tracks as the gun emitted a puff of smoke and a flash from its main gun. A fountain of earth and shredded sandbags erupted from the trench that Marcus, Sini and Ian had been in. Yan felt his heart skip a beat but he couldn’t stop firing, he had to keep up the pressure on the enemy. He had to continue with the task; the village wasn’t yet clear and he poured a heavy weight of fire into every hut he saw still standing.
Marcus was blown off his feet and back down into the bottom of the trench. He felt Ian and Sini land on top of him and crush him down into the dirt. He pushed up with all his strength and managed to crawl out from underneath. Sini and Ian were still alive, dazed and rattled, but still alive.
Ian was staring at him, unblinking and smeared in mud. “What the fuck just happened Marcus? Did the tank just fire, and how the fuck are we alive?”
Marcus was scrambling from the trench. “Because it was a fucking anti-tank round, move before he reloads with high explosive,” he shouted.
The gunner in the tank had forgotten, in his haste and probably wounded state, to change the ammunition type and a solid shot of depleted uranium, designed to take out other tanks and not effective against infantry, had ploughed through the top of the trench and deep into the ground behind Marcus and his assault team.
The velocity of the round is what makes it so deadly against other armoured vehicles, and it had been the shockwave and air displacement as the round travelled between them that had thrown Marcus, Ian and Sini to the floor of the trench.
Sini climbed out and began to manhandle Ian out of the trench. He grabbed the RPG and placed it on his shoulder, took aim and fired it into the tank. It hit directly below the turret and the steel monster shuddered in a blinding flash; black smoke began to pour from it.
