by Geoff Wolak
‘The lads in contact?’
‘No, and don’t laugh, but the FARC attacked the wrong hill.’
He did laugh, as he hung up.
‘Mist is lifting,’ Billy noted. ‘But if they wait till it goes the Navy will bomb them.’
‘Yep,’ I confirmed as I eased out and walked south.
Running Bear was stood with his sergeant. ‘They coming?’
‘Maybe, if they don’t have wounded.’
‘Maybe it was a very clever distraction and they’re moving in behind us.’
‘Would make little difference, they still need to attack uphill against men in trenches.’
‘Maybe they think we’re moving to them.’
‘Only if they’re stupid,’ I countered with, and we now had fifty-sixty yards of visibility.
‘Jesus,’ Running Bear let out.
‘What?’ I puzzled.
‘If they’re down in the valley walking this way, they’ll smell it, and be walking in the body parts of their friends. That’ll turn them around.’
‘If they are down there, it won’t be pleasant for them.’
My phone trilled. ‘It’s Swifty, and some of them are back down here, moving towards you. Some heading south.’
‘Those heading south might be wounded. Don’t engage yet.’ Off the phone, I transmitted, ‘All teams, we have small groups moving our way, get ready. They’ve had their coffee now, Colombian coffee, locally grown.’
I walked back to Morgen. ‘Warn your Marines, small groups moving our way.’
‘So they got a compass after all,’ the Colonel quipped.
Salome and Billy got ready and aimed out as the light improved.
After ten minutes, Salome said, ‘I hear something. Stupid FARC.’ She cursed in Hebrew.
I transmitted, ‘All teams, let them get close, wait till you see them.’
To those near me I said, ‘Hold your fire,’ and I walked out. Stood listening, I could hear the odd sound below and so walked back in. ‘If they walk past us this will be doubly embarrassing.’
‘It’s Running Bear, and we got us some company at last. These boys are looking for the right hill.’
‘Let them get close then open up.’
I eased into a trench and peered into the grey mist. It was starting to swirl, the wind picking up.
A burst of fire echoed, fire returned. Rounds cracked overhead.
‘They know we’re here now,’ I noted. Suddenly I saw the outline of a man. ‘Colonel,’ I whispered.
He aimed carefully and fired a burst, the man knocked down.
‘Go single shot, sir, make them count. Aim at the chest.’
Max complained, ‘Can’t see fuck all.’
‘Stay down,’ I hissed at him.
I could now hear outgoing fire all around. Then a distant burst of machinegun fire. ‘Major Morgen, was that your Marines?’
‘M60.’
Cracks registered with us, the top of my command post hit.
Billy fired a single shot. ‘Got him.’
‘Could have been a woman.’
‘Can’t say I’d want to shoot women.’
‘Given a chance they’d slit your throat and castrate you.’
Plenty of fire was coming from Running Bear’s position. I transmitted, ‘Running Bear, you need some support?’
‘Not yet, just small groups.’
‘Robby, you in contact?’
‘We hit a few.’
‘Watch your flanks, and behind you.’
Five minutes later, and Billy noted, ‘Wind is picking up. They’ll be sitting ducks. Sun will break through soon.’
‘They can snipe from the trees then, but we’ll hit men across the valley, Marines can do the same.’
The Colonel fired, a single shot. ‘Got him.’
I transmitted, ‘Wilco for Wolves captain.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Medics OK?’
‘Yeah, plenty of men around them.’
‘Tell them not to use the outhouse at the moment.’
The Colonel turned to me, shaking his head. ‘Good advice.’
Half an hour later I could see tree tops, the breeze picking up, the sun now out above me, and the attack had been called off. But moving around in the valley below would now be interesting.
I called Swifty. ‘This lot have given up.’
‘We can hear movement.’
‘Shoot when you’re safe to do so, it’s just small groups now. Have at them.’
Major Harris called. ‘You in contact?’
‘Yeah, last hour, but the mist has gone mostly and they’re hiding in the valley floor, we’re up high. When the mist goes we’ll snipe down.’
‘You need air support?’
‘No, no large groups worth bombing.’
‘Wounded?’
‘Not yet, just a few shots fired, but it’ll be a long day.’
At 7am the sun was warming us already, a steady steam rising from the damp grass around us, damp sandbags steaming and looking as if they were on fire. We now enjoyed a clear view across the hill tops, the valley bottom still shrouded in mist. It appeared that we were floating above the clouds, a surreal scene.
I took careful aim and killed a wounded rebel 800yards off, below the Marines. Handing my Valmet to the Colonel, I got some breakfast on with Billy, the Colonel keenly taking pot shots at wounded men below.
Taggard walked over. ‘Nay any men left moving over there.’
‘There are plenty left, in the trees.’
‘We fetch them out?’
‘That would see casualties from close-up fighting, so snipe all day first. My men are in the valleys south, so if the rebels walk off we’ll have them.’
‘Some of my boys have telescopic sights, so I’ll have them look for stragglers. They come again after dark?’
‘Unlikely, they’ll need a re-think. And a few more willing volunteers for the cause.’
He took in the view. ‘This reminds me of the highlands in summer, waking up on a hill above the mist.’
‘I only visited once,’ I told him. ‘And jumped from a helo in trouble. Rizzo was with me, the other lads dead now.’
‘Time passes quickly for those not watching it,’ Taggard noted, and I had to stop and think about the years that had been struck off the calendar. Most of the time I hardly knew what day it was, or what month.
After breakfast I walked to Running Bear and knelt near his trench. ‘Anyone left moving?’
‘A few, we get the odd good shot aimed at us.’
I walked over to Robby, a glance at the hill south, bodies seen. ‘You bunch of heroes OK?’
Maggie informed me, ‘I got three.’
‘I got two,’ a man informed me.
‘They’re a solid team,’ Robby told me.
‘Rotate it, keep sniping down at any movement. All day.’
Over at the medics tents they were now moving around but keeping low. ‘You lot OK?’ I shouted.
‘Got nothing to do, sir,’ a man complained.
‘Careful what you wish for, this is not over. And if the heat-seeking missiles had missed that transport plane with the bomb … you’d all be dead. So breathe, and be happy to be alive, you have a story to tell your grandchildren.’
‘Medics!’ came a shout from the north, and I ran that way, a Wolf recruit with a bloody face.
‘Something hit my head, sir.’
‘Ricochet.’ I led him along to the medics, and now they had something to do, an SAS lad soon walking in, a nasty scrape on his shoulder.
Back at the Wolf recruits I told the captain, ‘Have four men put grass on their headgear and shoulders. Then they crawl down the slope and look for the men below. Rotate every hour.’
He called four men in, and they knelt as they camouflaged each other, soon looking like bushes as they started to leopard crawl across the grass.
I eased down into a trench next to the captain and observed arses in motion. When I could
no longer see them they fired out, a dozen rounds quickly delivered, but then eased up the rate of fire, soon seeing nothing to hit.
‘What they doing down there?’ the captain asked, meaning the FARC.
‘Hoping to get some of us before they leave after dark.’
‘I’ll have more men move forwards, further down.’
‘Good. Thanks.’ I left him to it.
My phone trilled as I reached the command centre. ‘It’s Moran, and we killed a dozen wounded as they limped towards us.’
‘Rizzo back with you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Stay where you are, I’ll get supplies to you, finish them all off. Rocko and Swifty are at this end of the valley, they’ll join you later.’
‘What’s Rocko doing out playing soldier?’
‘Earning his keep I hope.’
An hour later, the day now warm, no incoming rounds had been reported for a while, still a few shots fired down. Moran was searching his end of the valley, Swifty’s group static but having killed twenty or more rebels.
I transmitted, ‘Every second man, get some food and an hours sleep, then rotate.’
Morgen reported a Marine with a scrape on LZ2-east.
‘Get a helo in, he can’t walk here through the valley. He’ll need to be aboard ship anyhow. Tell the helo to expect small arms fire from the valley floor. Wait, we have a man here with a scrape, so have the helo touch down here as well.’
The radio message was sent and acknowledged.
My phone trilled, Admiral Mulloy. ‘Major, how’s it going?’
‘Nasty thick jungle, and wounded FARC rebels hidden in it, sir. It’s now about small team tactics.’
‘Sounds like Vietnam. But you’re the expert on shit jungle terrain.’
‘Even so, sir, we’ll pick up wounds. It’s slow attrition now, the area smelling ripe.’
‘Yes, not pleasant. My helo will be fired at?’
‘Ineffectual small arms, sir, a thousand yards out.’
‘OK, update me later.’
The Seahawk finally came in to LZ2-East, but then I noticed a second Seahawk higher up. The first helo set down on top of the hill, hidden from the valley, the wounded Marine put aboard before it slid across to us.
Two-thirds of the way across and we all saw the RPG head, but too late, the pilot banking hard away, but the RPG would have missed anyhow. He set down on our strip, our wounded placed aboard, and flew off north before moving east.
The Colonel noted, ‘That pilot will need some clean pants.’
‘Chances of hitting a moving helo with an RPG are tiny, so I’d commend the man who fired the RPG – if it had hit.’
An hour later, the sun hot, the mist had mostly gone, Hueys inbound, but I had them approach from the north. Two set down for just for a minute, Max filming, water and rations offloaded, but we found civilian tins as well as Army rations. I would be having minced beef and potatoes for lunch.
No one heard the whistle, a small diameter mortar landing near the medics, two medics and a Marine hurt. And now they had something to do.
I walked along to them with the Colonel.
The lead doctor complained to the Colonel, ‘Sir, we got no warning.’
‘Warning?’ I queried. ‘You’re surrounded on all sides by heavily armed FARC rebels, and this could go on for six weeks. Just how the fuck are you going to do your job from a trench? You’re a soldier, we’re in a war, so take a look around you are realise just where the fuck you are, Mister!’
The Colonel told him, ‘You best get your people with the right mind set, Major, this is not an exercise. People will die here.’
‘Right, sir.’
Back at the radios we called in more Seahawks, three wounded to take out, but none of the injuries were life-threatening at least. The helo loudly touched down twenty minutes later, but had come in from the north after I warned them, out the same way, top cover up at 1,000ft.
My phone trilled, Colonel Mathews. ‘Wilco, you OK, we’re getting the reports of the action and the wounded.’
‘Five minor wounds so far, no drama, sir. And the FARC will be running out of warm bodies soon. Problem is, the valley has thick jungle, and we have FARC hidden in it. Close-up jungle fighting always causes casualties.’
‘And the plan here?’
‘Slow attrition, some good TV minutes till I get a line on their command structure. But tell me, sir, what has the Colombian Government said?’
‘They’re keen to see the FARC diminished, and for us to do it; they don’t want the FARC in possession of missiles.’
‘And if we stray over the border?’
‘They don’t give a fuck right now, they’re terrified of a cruise missile slamming into Bogota. So if you have a target we hit it.’
I called Miller’s number next and he called back quickly.
‘Wilco, I was just about to call you, or think about shooting you.’
‘Don’t shoot the messenger.’
He sighed. ‘I tracked back LZ3, and now I have a concern.’
‘And will you put your house in order, or do I follow my intel till I shoot someone you may not want me to shoot?’
‘My boss is now aware of it, and his boss above him.’
‘How do I know who not to shoot?’
‘You don’t, but … do what you’re good at, we’re not saying that you don’t follow the intel.’
‘Uh … do you want me to sort your shit pile for you, Mister Super Spy?’
‘I never said that, just that … we’re not warning you off anyone or anything.’
‘Great, that’s so helpful, I really appreciate the assistance.’
‘Don’t be bitchy, there’s only so much I can do.’
‘And if I accidentally expose one of your key players?’
‘That’s his lookout.’
‘Jesus.’ I hung up, and walked to the south side and peered down. Thinking. I called David Finch.
‘Wilco?’
‘I just spoke to Deep State, and … they now know that some of their own people are screwing around but specifically have not warned me off following the intel up the line and shooting people.’
‘Dear god, they want us to do their own dirty work for them, an office squabble sorted out in the jungle.’
‘What if we accidentally expose a key player?’
‘The CIA would probably get the blame, and the little rats carry on doing their work in the sewers.’
‘So I have to chop off the left hand here, and quietly.’
‘Step by cautious step,’ he warned me.
I called Tinker. ‘You had a phone trace, from Rizzo.’
‘Yes, and I was just looking at it on the map; I think we have a FARC HQ or training ground. It’s thirty miles southeast of you, and we found old satellite images from the CIA, so they looked at it years ago. It’s a camp of regimented wooden huts, but with tall trees around them, up on a hill, nasty deep gorges around it, isolated, no roads nearby just footpaths.’
‘Phone patterns?’
‘Many sat phones in use over the last year, we’re running links between them now.’
‘Give me the coordinates.’ I wrote them down. ‘Keep looking at it, but I’ll go get a close look as well.’
I called Admiral Mulloy.
‘Wilco, had a pilot complain about an RPG fired at him.’
‘Won’t be the last one, sir, replace him with a better pilot.’
‘I told him to shut the fuck up and get on with the job – or else.’
‘Good. Got a paper and pen, sir?’
‘Fire away.’
I read out the coordinates. ‘I need a high altitude thermal scan after dark, sir, but I need a clever approach here ... in that they will have men in the local airport looking at radar screens. I need a radiating pattern covering a wide area, so that they don’t suspect we’re looking at them.’
‘First step will be the Air Force – they have satellites for this, so they may alre
ady have one of this place. If not, we try and fool them, and we’ll jam the local radar at the time.’
‘Careful, sir, could be a plane load of tourists on approach.’
‘I’ll check the local airports and the large airports, and we’d only jam then for ten minutes.’
‘Sir, if you request the satellites, have them cover a wide area, not just those coordinates.’
‘Meaning … what? You think we have a leak?’
‘We’d need to talk face to face, sir, just … please do as I ask.’
‘I don’t like the sound of that. OK, I’ll cover a wide area, and we’ll talk face to face, but are you hinting at what I think you’re hinting at?’
‘CIA have a few men approaching retirement, some extra money needed for a new car.’
‘Sons of bitches, I never trusted them.’
‘Two men out of thirty thousand, sir, that’s all.’
‘That’s still two more than we should have!’
‘Yes, sir, and … we got the body of a white man recently.’
After a pause came, ‘Ex-agency?’
‘Would be a good bet, sir.’
‘That never made it to report, or to the media.’
‘You want it to, sir?’
‘No, but … I’d like to see some arse kicked, some bastards to get the electric chair.’
‘It’s being dealt with, sir, please don’t discuss it with anyone else aboard ship.’
He huffed. ‘OK, and there’s obviously more going on here than I know. And that film, Camel Toe Base, you were always on the phone. I see why now.’
‘I work for Intel as much as the army, sir.’
‘Don’t know how you stomach the shits.’
‘Some days it’s hard, sir. Let me know about the thermal images, and have the SEALs ready for a theoretical assault.’
‘One theoretical scenario coming up, and we’re damn good at theoretical scenarios, that’s all we do all year. And we have two CIA officers on ship, do you know them?’
‘Franks and Dick, solid men who’ve been with me for years. They assist me in bending the rules and dealing with … others. They want the same as you, sir, and they don’t want to be tarnished with same brush.’
‘I see. OK, Mulloy out.’
I had a good look at the map, and called Moran. ‘I’m going to move you by Huey in daylight, so get up a hilltop east of you and be ready in an hour. When you touch down, move quickly away from the LZ, go east, but avoid all contact with anyone. Then you go south and then west. Got your pad?’
