by Geoff Wolak
‘Just as likely to hit their own men,’ I noted as I stepped out. ‘”D” Squadron, spread out in pairs, find something solid to get behind.’ I rushed up to Robby. Knelt next to him, I transmitted, ‘This is Wilco. I want all teams broken up into pairs, none closer than ten paces. Spread out, or a mortar could get a whole team, find some side cover as well.’
Another mortar landed, well down the slope.
Robby said, ‘They ain’t the best aim, are they.’
‘Not yet, but tomorrow in daylight could be interesting.’
Back at the HQ building, my phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’
‘It’s Rocko. We saw them bunching up, so we took the initiative and went around the hill and west half a mile. Just pasted them, lots of wounded, so we’re pulling back now towards where we were.’
‘OK, good work, but careful when moving, some guy in a bush is invisible. Oh, you see the mortar position?’
‘Yeah, but it’s a long way off.’
‘OK, Wilco out.’ Phone down, I told the officers, ‘Rocko went around the back of them, hit them down the road as they bunched up, so now they think we’re further down. Maybe they’ll waste patrols down there. Or mortars even.’
Liban spoke into his radio for a minute, the French radios having a better distance than ours. He finally faced me. ‘We kill ten, some run off, many patrols seen now.’
‘Robby for Wilco.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Two lads snuck down, chucked a few grenades each, wounded a shit load of them.’
‘Good, keep at it – but they have more men than we have grenades.’
A burst a fire east, and I leant out the window again. ‘Wilco for Whisky? That you?’
‘Yeah, four killed, a few run off. They don’t learn.’
‘Up against an expert like you they have no chance.’
Out the HQ I walked left and south, down the track, the “D” Squadron guy on stag passed. When the trees allowed me a view I stopped and clicked on the radio. ‘Wilco for Nesbit.’
‘Go head.’
‘How you doing?’
‘We hit one patrol, big patrol, more than ten men, so we’re earning our keep. A few alive down there, calling out.’
‘Don’t approach them, try and double tap, it’ll be like this all night long.’
Four blasts in quick succession rocked the valley.
Nesbit could heard asking, ‘That you Smasher?’
‘Yeah, we got the grenades to pop over their heads, Skipper.’
Across the valley I could see the French muzzle flashes; this was rapidly becoming a war zone.
Back at the HQ building I sipped my water, blasts heard, cracks sounding out.
‘Robby for Wilco, we got some cheeky chappies coming up, three hundred yards left of my position here.’
‘We’re on it.’ Off the radio, I said, ‘Captain Hamble, grab your guys, set an ambush, take grenades, make contact with the Aussies near there.’
He stepped out.
‘Wilco,’ Swifty called, stood at a window. ‘Men with torches way down there, and they ain’t chopping trees.’
‘How far?’ I asked.
‘Eight hundred plus.’
The whistling sound had us duck, the mortar hitting the mine below us.
‘Lights out, fires out,’ I casually told those in the room.
‘Walls are solid,’ Mahoney noted.
Swifty knelt, took aim, and fired several long bursts. Getting up, he said, ‘Something for them to think about.’
When no mortars came for ten minutes, Swifty was claiming that it was down to him, Mahoney arguing the case, the next mortar hitting the trees to our left, sixty yards away.
‘Come on then,’ I told them, and we all took aim. The next mortar that fired revealed the tube’s location, all of us aiming high, many rounds fired on automatic.
A blast, and we had a quick image of mortar tubes and men, killed by their own mortar.
‘Hit a mortar?’ Mahoney posed.
‘No way,’ Swifty countered with. ‘Guy was holding the mortar, we winged him, he dropped it.’
‘Must be,’ I said. ‘No way we’d set off a mortar otherwise. Swifty, Mahoney, harass that mortar crew.’
It grew quieter, and then it grew silent. Men exchanged looks.
I said, ‘They’ve pulled back in favour of daylight sneak attacks. Fine. Swifty, first stag, rest of you get some sleep. Major, tell your men to get some sleep.’
I walked up to Robby. On the radio, I said, ‘Captain Hamble, how’d it go?’
‘We hit them with grenades and rifle, they’ve all pulled back.’
‘Go back, get some rest, they’ll be back after dawn. Wilco for all units, every second man get some sleep, they’ll attack after sun up. Rocko, you there?’
‘Yeah, just back to the high ground, we’ll grab some rest now.’
Back at the HQ building, I leant out the window. ‘Whisky, you there?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Get some sleep, every second man, they’ll be back in the morning, pass the message onto to Captain Nesbit.’
‘Roger that.’
Phone out, I called Rocko, asking for Tomo and Nicholson to meet us on the road a hundred yards up from where the first truck was hit. Grabbing Swifty, I packed up ammo, water and rations, and we both lugged heavy bags over shoulders like Santa Claus.
Down at Mally I asked him and one other to accompany us, and we moved to the right and down, dead slow, eyes everywhere, ears open, and we made it to the road without incident.
Bundles down, I clicked on the radio. ‘Nicholson, you there?’
‘Yeah, just over the road, can’t see anyone.’
‘Come get the goodies.’ I moved out and dumped the bag on the road.
They ran in, grabbed the bags and legged it away as we covered them, soon hidden in the trees as we walked backwards, Swifty and myself scrambling up the slope, a sweat worked up till we reached the old timers. I sat with them for five minutes, gauging attitude and resolve.
Back in the HQ room I settled down onto my patch of dirt, facemask and gloves put on, and the fatigue hit me. I went straight out.
Mahoney nudged me at dawn, a brew handed to me.
I eased up and glanced at the light flooding in the window. ‘They on the move?’
‘No, must be having a good kip.’
I stood, stretched, and sipped the tea. Staring out the window, I could not see the mortar crew, nor any bodies.
Taking my phone out, I gave a sleepy Captain Harris a sitrep before wandering up to Robby. He lifted his head when his mate nudged him, and stretched.
‘I was having a lovely dream,’ he complained.
‘All quiet?’ I asked.
‘Nothing moving down there, but I can see bodies, lots of them. They didn’t collect the bodies.’
Back down at the HQ building, an hour later, Liban answered his radio. Facing me, he said, ‘They come, small teams, four men, all green and camouflaged, like a moving bush.’
I nodded, and headed back up to Robby. ‘Wilco for all units. They’re sneaking in, small teams, heavily camouflaged. I want all of you dead static, well camouflaged, dead quiet. Let them get in close then pick them off, using silencers and rags. Standby.’
Getting comfy to the side of Robby, I fixed my spike to the fore end grip and jammed it into a log, took aim down and started to scan the path with my sight.
Five minutes later I saw movement, two bushes sneaking along. I waited till I knew where each of the now four men were, and I fired twice at each bush. Now I could see boots and legs, and double-tapped each body.
‘What was that?’ Robby asked.
‘Four men that will not be returning to fat wives.’
Robby took aim, and settled down, his mate doing likewise.
‘Look for bushes that move,’ I told them. Lifting my aim, I found a distant stream and opening and held my gaze on it, trying to rest my eye.
Ten minutes la
ter something moved, a bush in motion about to cross the stream. I gently squeezed the trigger, the clanking reload felt through my cheekbone, a body seen in the stream.
Robby fired at someone. ‘Got him.’
The tree above Robby spat out, and we all looked up.
‘That was cheeky,’ Robby noted.
‘Get down,’ I told them.
I re-acquired the body in the stream, the trees around us hit every minute, and I found another moving bush, two rounds put into it.
Swifty eased in next to me. ‘This where the action is?’
‘Keep down, their snipers are not too bad.’
He had his facemask on, and took aim under a log, no chance of being seen or hit. The tree above him spat out, and he glanced up. Aiming down, he fired before I did, and we both went through a magazine in an hour.
Easing back with Swifty, facemasks off, we sipped water, just before the trees around us were racked with fire.
‘Did you see where that came from?’ I asked Robby.
‘No.’
Water away, mask back on, I peered down. I clicked on the radio. ‘Anyone see that machinegun?’
‘This is Willy,’ came an Aussie accent. ‘Think I saw it, well down the slope. If you look out there about 700yards you’ll see two tall trees. Go right and down a bit.’
‘They could keep moving position,’ Swifty complained.
Through my sights I acquired the tall trees, down and right, and saw movement. Setting automatic, I took aim and fired several long bursts. Setting single shot, I waited, my sights set to 600yards.
Movement, a man knelt over something. I fired and missed, a face turning my way before running off. I saw where he ran to, aimed high and fired. A leg, sticking out. So maybe I had hit someone.
The trees above me took two rounds, a ‘twang’ as a round spun off.
Easing forwards, I pulled my aim in, just looking at random trees, and suddenly found a boot up a tree. I studied it, found the muzzle, and fired twice, the man falling backwards out the tree.
I clicked on my radio. ‘Wilco to all units, there are men in the trees, snipers climbing trees, so check the damn trees.’
A dull blast, a whoosh, and an RPG hit the slope well below us, dirt thrown up, smoke wafting.
‘I see someone,’ Swifty whispered. I turned my head. He took a few seconds and fired. ‘Gotcha.’
‘Mally for Rizzo,’ crackled, badly distorted.
‘Go ahead,’ came back, equally as distorted.
‘We can see men sneaking up your hill, so we’ll hit them. You aim at our hill.’
‘Roger that.’
‘Good idea,’ I noted as I peered through my sights.
The trees near us were hit by a burst of fire, heavy ‘thumps’ echoing.
‘That was fifty cal,’ I shouted. ‘Keep the fuck down.’
An RPG flew past us and hit a tree behind. Swifty and I both glanced back, a look exchanged through our facemasks.
Aiming down, my heart skipped beat when I saw a pack of RPGs on the ground. I gripped my rifle tightly and fired ten rounds in quick succession. A blast, and I looked up. ‘I just set off an RPG head.’
Aiming again, the smoke clearing, I could see a man crawling and hit him in the back, another man – an arm missing, and I ended his pain with a head shot. Setting automatic, I swapped magazines and sprayed the area around the dead men.
An RPG fired, but straight up, Swifty and I both looking up. It ran out of rocket, tumbled back, and detonated below.
‘Misfire,’ Swifty noted. ‘Either that or they’re just as pissed off with the gulls as the rest of us.’
A hot two hours later we were still there, a shot taken every six minutes or so, the Aussies firing out now and then, as well as Robby’s troop forward and right of us. But we did have a cool breeze to soothe us.
A sudden burst, and we all eased lower, the trees around us hit, and the incoming rounds continued for more than five minutes before easing, three men now nursing splinters, two Aussies with splinters, one of Mally’s reporting a scrape.
Back at HQ I set-up a medical area and extracted splinters, the scrape bound up but not too bad, just two inches long and 1cm wide. The men were sent back to their teams.
Liban proudly stated, ‘We have shot forty men.’
‘Is that all?’ Swifty scoffed.
‘I hit an RPG lying on the floor,’ I boasted, re-stocking magazines.
Sat on the bench and resting, my phone trilled. ‘It’s David Finch. How’s it going?’
‘We’re on the high ground, well dug in, well stocked, and they’re trying to dislodge us, but without much luck. They come in, we snipe at them. They must have lost a hundred men this morning alone.’
‘Any wounded?’
‘A few splinters, one scrape, no drama yet.’
‘And the plan is..?’
‘Wear them down.’
‘A bit open-ended...’
‘Well, we can face them here, or when we go for the hostages.’
‘Yes, I suppose. A lady medic was hit at your FOB, flown out, should be OK.’
‘I heard.’
‘Malay newspapers are roundly condemning the attacks on their men, more soldiers to be sent the region with your FOB, the various politicians stirring up nationalism. No mention of you so far.’
‘Keeping it quiet for now since we can’t be seen to be doing their jobs for them, and they don’t want bombs going off or tourists targeted in reprisals.’
‘Yes, perhaps. OK, talk tomorrow.’
Ten minutes later, Robby came on with, ‘Wilco, you there?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘My OP team, they saw some dry wood down the slope, lit some hexamine tabs and chucked them down in rags. It started a fire.’
‘Which way is the wind blowing?’
‘Towards them, not us, that’s why they did it.’
‘What are you not telling me?’
‘Fire is raging.’
‘On my way.’ I eased up, looks exchanged with the others. Moran and Liban came with me, and we knelt, peering down, a huge plume of grey smoke wafting west.
Liban said, ‘Well, your RPG could have caused that, not these men, no.’
‘Yeah, a fire could have started that anyway,’ I conceded.
‘It is good, no,’ Liban pressed.
‘They’ll move back till the smoke goes,’ Moran noted.
‘Gives us time for lunch I guess.’
‘Rocko for Wilco,’ came through distorted.
‘Go head.’
‘You on fire over there?’
‘Robby started a fire below, to drive them back a bit.’ I turned to Moran. ‘So, lunch break.’
Back in the HQ room we rested in the midday heat, sat chatting quietly, still some chicken left, tinned pears enjoyed.
Half an hour later came, ‘Robby for Wilco.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Er ... that fire. It’s ... spread a bit.’
‘How far?’
‘Left five hundred yards, out five hundred yards.’
‘Is it moving up the hill?’
‘No, moving down the slope. Just that ... the smoke is all the way to the coast.’
‘Robby, did you set fire to the island?’ I asked.
‘Wasn’t me.’
Moran put in, ‘It’s tinder dry at the moment, so a bad time to have a fire.’
‘If the wind changes direction...’ Mahoney nudged.
I made a call to Franks. ‘Get me a weather forecast, wind direction, and right now.’
He called back ten minutes later. ‘Wind freshening, easterly, rain tomorrow night, winds picking up tomorrow.’
‘Just to be sure, an easterly wind means it’s blowing west, yes?’
‘Yes. Something wrong?’
‘The irregulars fired RPG and set fire to the forest. It’s out of control.’
‘Really? Shit. Are you in danger?’
‘No, we’re east of the fire, their
main force is in the trees under the fire.’
‘Well ... nothing you can do really but wait it out I guess.’
‘That seems to be the case, yes.’ Off the phone, I took in their expectant faces. ‘Anyone got any really good ideas?’
‘Flank them, have at them as they flee,’ Mahoney suggested.
‘We could be coughing out the same smoke as them,’ Moran countered with. ‘And if the wind changes direction we’re screwed.’
‘Wind is due to pick up,’ I told them. ‘So that fire will pick up speed. It should rain tomorrow night, but ... some pristine forest and a few rare species will feel the heat before then, and the UN and Greenpeace will be all over us.’
‘As you say, they fired RPG,’ Liban insisted. ‘Bad timing, no rain, some wind.’
An hour later Swifty returned from the high ground, his look saying it all. ‘That fire is a mile wide, raging orange flames, can’t see the coast. I could see a truck on fire on the road.’
‘Greenpeace will not be happy,’ Liban noted with a sigh.
I stepped out and dialled a number.
‘Cabinet Office.’
‘It’s Captain Wilco, SAS, in Malaysia. I want the most senior man present please.’
A minute later came, ‘Chief Cabinet Secretary. That you, Wilco?’
‘Yes, sir, and we got a problem. We’re on an island called Bongao, off Malaysia, been fighting the bad boys, was going well when we took the high ground. They fired RPG at us, which started a forest fire, bad timing – all tinder dry, and now ... half the island is on fire.’
‘Crikey. Are your men in danger?’
‘No, sir, we’re upwind luckily, but a few million acres of pristine bird habitat is about to go up, civilians in danger.’
‘Ah, yes, I see. We could come in for some criticism of that. I’ll brief the relevant people now. Thanks for letting us know.’
By sundown the west was ablaze with an orange glow, and not from the sun. Staring down at the destruction saddened me greatly, and if civvies were caught in the way of the fire..? My stomach turned.
Franks called. ‘Civilians are leaving by boat according to the radio buzz, that smoke all over the main town and harbour.’
‘And the damn wind is picking up.’
‘Fewer trees west of the fire, all chopped down for fire wood, mostly ploughed fields, so we don’t think it will reach the inhabited areas. And we checked, and this happened once before, ten years ago after a long dry spell.’
