Wilco- Lone Wolf 8

by Geoff Wolak

  Moran called in half an hour later. ‘Most of Echo is now together, and we’re just southwest of the junction between that track west and the main road.’

  ‘Be careful, there are two thousand men down that track, mortars and heavy machineguns. And we just had a helicopter attack here, right after another car bomb attack.’

  ‘They’re getting desperate.’

  ‘Yes, and if they know you’re there they’ll want you as hostages – so be careful.’

  ‘We have plenty of men, Russian box fed, RPG, and plenty of food.’

  ‘I want the para instructors out at dawn, they need to get ready for a large para drop. I’ll have supplies dropped to you at the same time, so find an open space that’s hidden.’

  ‘We’ll move southwest. Who’s around us?’

  ‘You got Rizzo with you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Lone Wolves are north of you a few miles, moving south. I’ll get Swan to swap numbers with you.’

  ‘When will the Para drop be?’

  ‘At the earliest, day after tomorrow.’

  ‘We can thin them out a bit then,’ Moran suggested.

  ‘Hit that road junction and then scarper southwest, before they drop mortars. For the main attack, your sector is south of that track but east of the centre line, so the southeast sector. French could be with you in a day or so, but I’ll put them north of that track.’

  ‘OK, I’ll set an ambush point here, and we found a river and swamp, so there are places where they could be ambushed if a patrol comes after us, and some tight fucking jungle, so if they send a lot of men they’ll be bunched up tight.’

  ‘Talk soon.’

  I recalled a number I had written down; the Lone Wolves.

  ‘Corporal Swan here.’

  ‘It’s Wilco. Where are you?’

  ‘We just had a sneak peek at that camp, but we’re now back five hundred yards and hidden, they have patrols out.’

  ‘Did you see anything interesting?’

  ‘There’s a good fence, plenty of barbed wire, and a small minefield about ten yards wide, this side of the fence. They have jeep patrols, foot patrols, and guard towards, some dog patrols.’

  ‘Nothing for men of your calibre,’ I teased. ‘Stay well back and spread out, but before dawn get some men up trees and hidden, eyes on all day. French are north of you, they may join you. Echo is southeast of that camp, about three miles from you maybe. Day after tomorrow there’ll be a big para drop west of you three miles, you’ll create diversions.’

  ‘We’ll be ready, Boss, but it’s a big old camp, lots of men, some white faces.’

  ‘Be careful, and don’t engage anyone yet if you can help it. Wilco out.’

  Phone down, I faced Lt Col Marsh. ‘That HQ has a minefield, a fence, guard towers, dogs, the works.’ I turned my head a few inches, to Colonel Clifford. ‘Can you check with the airport, sir, and see if we have Ordnance lads. And I need to talk to the Navy, so ask if they can send a Forward Air Controller here, please.’

  He nodded and headed off.

  I called Captain Harris. ‘It’s Wilco. You got those Sea Kings with you?’

  ‘Yes, off their ship, which is offshore somewhere. Two here, but I think they have more.’

  ‘I’ll need a supply drop, and to pick up eight men just after dawn, southeast of the main enemy HQ. Call Captain Moran and get a position fix when he’s found a landing spot.’

  ‘What supplies to drop?’

  ‘Water, rations, our 7.62mm ammo, 66mm if there are some there.’

  ‘There’s are tonnes of ammo here, all sorts. Helos on their way to you.’

  ‘Who’s coming?’

  ‘More RAF Regiment.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Two more Hercules arriving in the morning as well. Lots of warm bodies around here, never seen so many servicemen together.’

  The two Chinook touched down a few minutes later, Haines welcoming his men and directing them to tents, 1 Squadron now with us, fifty men, which must have been the whole squadron just about.

  I saluted the Squadron Leader in the dark. ‘Welcome to the FOB, sir.’

  He shook my hand. ‘Squadron Leader Maven. Heard lots about this place.’

  ‘Only three attacks in the last two days, sir, it’s quiet enough.’

  ‘Well the men need some action rather than marching up and down,’ he quipped as I led him and his senior staff inside. I introduced him to the existing senior staff, a room found, kit dumped before I showed him the map board.

  ‘What condition are your men in, sir?’ I asked.

  ‘Daytime flight, got a good night’s kip last night, so they’re OK.’

  Haines stepped in with another RAF Regiment officer. I faced him. ‘Mister Haines, take half the newcomers, rest the remainder. I want one of yours plus one or two of them, and on the perimeter, and a team up the road, a team down the road. We’ll bring in all the SAS now.’

  Haines nodded as I turned to Captain Hamble, who would now bring in his men.

  ‘37 Squadron are here as well,’ Squadron Leader Maven noted. ‘Old friends of yours.’

  I smiled. ‘Anything they said about my time in Riyadh could not be used in a court of law.’

  ‘You supplied them with ten tonnes of booze, a capital offence over there!’

  ‘Like I said, I deny everything.’

  ‘The only RAF Regiment gunner to be arrested whilst swimming naked with a lady during a scud attack.’

  ‘Do tell,’ Lt Col Marsh encouraged.

  ‘Just rumours, sir,’ I told him, smirking. ‘I’m not one for breaking the rules.’ The assembled men laughed.

  I made sure that the new officers got food and that they knew where everything was, many of the new arrivals pressed into service quickly.

  At midnight it was quiet enough, no contacts reported, the Paras consolidating at their camp, and now with twenty prisoners being held. Morten had handed over money to the Paras earlier in the day, and men from the town had been found to be keen and willing, a mass grave dug.

  That grave, and the prisoners, worried me. I faced Colonel Clifford. ‘Sir, contact London, please, ask for advisors on prisoners and wounded, and ask for British Red Cross advisors to come down pronto.

  ‘Burying the dead is good for our lad’s health, but borderline illegal because we’re supposed to identify and tag the bodies, individual graves for later reburial or return to families who claim bodies. And our lads holding prisoners have to do so in a set way or we get criticised by the Red Cross and the press.’

  ‘I know just the man to talk to,’ he assured me, and grabbed his satellite phone.

  Haines stepped in. ‘All set for now, plenty of men out there, all briefed, rest are sleeping, be on at dawn.’

  ‘It’s like you’ve done this before,’ I quipped.

  ‘A well-oiled machine,’ he replied, grabbing a brew.

  Lt Col Marsh stepped in, half a dozen officers sat around. ‘All quiet?’

  ‘So far, sir. Mister Haines is doing a good job of protecting us, and he’s had a great deal of practise.’

  ‘It’s getting easier,’ Haines noted as he stood sipping his tea.

  I thumbed towards him. ‘He’s seen a lot of action, been on the receiving end a few times.’

  ‘First rule of working with Wilco,’ Haines began. ‘Never believe a word he says, always assume that something will explode.’ The assembled officers laughed. ‘As the chef pointed out - his idea of quiet, compared to the rest of us, differs somewhat. When we get to a place, my men know well enough to assume that they stay sharp, and stay down.’

  I again thumbed towards Haines. ‘In the Congo, he found a vent to an underground bunker, dropped grenades down it, hit an ammo store. The explosion lifted the ground and threw him and his men twenty yards. I then get a radio message saying: Captain Wilco, I think something exploded.’

  The officers laughed.

  ‘For the next hour I had my men telling me: sir,
I think something exploded, sir.’

  ‘I was concussed,’ Haines protested. ‘You try giving a radio update when you’re seeing stars.’

  ‘You remember you first real action, in Djibouti?’ I asked him.

  ‘I’ll never forget that day. I felt so drained, then you gave me the pep talk, and I got some rest, felt better afterwards. Seems like a long time ago, that day.’ He sipped his tea. ‘When I think back to the training we used to do, before meeting you, it seems so pathetic now, firing at paper targets, and we’ve changed our training methods greatly.

  ‘Now, when the men are training it’s because they believe that next week they’ll need those skills, a whole new outlook. And the men look after each other; they know their lives depend on it.’

  ‘What changes to your training?’ Colonel Clifford asked.

  ‘Fact is, sir, if a man is going to fire a rifle in anger it’ll be after a long flight, several days without proper rest or food, and when he’s dog tired. If a man gets a good night’s sleep in his own bed, and drives to the range to hit paper targets, the training benefit is nil. We don’t do that anymore.

  ‘We keep men awake all night, stress them, then take them to the range, and they aim at small objects, firing on the move. To have a man lay down and take his time seems ridiculous to us now – real life is not like that.

  ‘I did Wilco’s three-day scenario and it almost killed me, but it was not till months later - after I saw some action - that I realised how realistic it was, how relevant, so we now try and emulate that. If it’s raining we’ll put men over the assault course for a few hours, then to the range covered in mud, and they shoot from the hip.

  ‘But the thing is ... the men know why we do that, and they appreciate it, and all of them think it a waste of time to be hitting paper targets on a fine day. And as far as morale and cohesion goes ... we’re a solid team, all now studying first aid and field trauma – because it’s relevant.’

  ‘Food for thought,’ Lt Col Marsh noted.

  ‘Definitely,’ Colonel Clifford added. ‘We re-learn the skills that we had in 1944. My father spent six years fighting in the war, but I’ve never killed a man. On the Falklands I just got wet a lot, and shivered a great deal. But as Wilco has already convinced the MOD, small wars generate next year’s good NCOs.’

  ‘Most of my sergeants were on the Falklands,’ Lt Col Marsh put in. ‘It made men and leaders out of them for sure.’

  My phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s Moran. We just hit a small vehicle convoy at the junction, pasted them, a few ran off, rest dead.’

  ‘Try and block the road, burn the trucks.’

  ‘OK, will do, we’re just pinching the RPGs, but none of the lads want the rice or wheat.’

  ‘RPG? What you could do ... is to get within a thousand yards and lob RPGs, one and hour, keep them awake.’

  ‘Got plenty of RPG.’

  ‘Tell Rocko that if he’s really clever ... he’ll set a trip wire on the road, attached to the trigger of an RPG or Russian box-fed.’

  ‘I’ll go taunt him now.’

  ‘Set the traps well down the track. Then keep them awake.’

  Fifteen minutes later Moran was back on. ‘Small problem.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘We set fire to the trucks and moved away, but someone never checked the trucks properly. There were anti-tank mines in one, and everyone in a ten mile radius heard the blasts. We thought they were firing artillery for a while.’

  ‘Helps to keep them awake. Where are you now?’

  ‘A mile southwest, our temporary camp. We have a wide shallow river on one side, swamp on the other side, strip of tight jungle to hide in. Oh, I set the place for the pick-up with Captain Harris.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘But the para instructors are happy to stay.’

  ‘Tough, they have a drop to prepare for,’ I told Moran.

  Phone away, Swan called me. ‘We heard distant explosions, and now they’re forming up – we have eyes-on. Got bored, had some men move in ready.’

  ‘Echo set fire to a truck without looking in the back, it had anti-tank mines. Pull back if they send out large patrols, don’t be seen.’

  ‘We have men up tall trees, well hidden, no tracks. We reckon we could get the tower guards easily enough.’

  ‘You will do, on the day. Keep me posted.’

  I called back Moran. ‘You woke them, they’re forming up.’

  ‘We’re a mile off that road anyhow, they won’t find us.’

  ‘They have French mercenaries, don’t forget, and those men may know how we think.’

  ‘Yeah, well Rocko is a mile down that track setting tripwires, so he’ll slow them up a bit.’

  I got some food, the HQ room now quiet, little happening for the next hour.

  When my phone trilled it was Rocko. ‘We set some traps, and the stupid fucks drove straight into them, RPG in the nose. They then spent half an hour firing at the fucking trees. They may have hurt some tree frogs. Hang on ... they just hit the second trap, two box-fed, wire on the trigger connected to a branch bent over, trip wire to the release of the branch, so now they’re in a firefight with an angry tree.’

  I laughed. ‘Staff Sergeant, you’re not supposed to be enjoying this.’

  ‘Got to show up 2 Para.’

  ‘I’ll let them know what you did, they’re having a quiet night, but the Gurkhas will attack a position at dawn.’

  ‘You got Wolves near us?’

  ‘North of that camp, strung out. They’re all up trees watching the camp.’

  ‘So why don’t they open up?’

  ‘They’re my eyes and ears, so I don’t want them spotted. Wilco out.’

  Captain Hamble wandered in yawning.

  ‘Can’t sleep?’ I asked him.

  ‘I just got four hours, I’m OK.’

  ‘Listen, the Sea Kings could insert eight men if you like.’

  ‘Sure, give them something to do.’

  ‘Have them ready for an hour before dawn, I’ll call the airport and adjust the flight plan.’ I tapped the map. ‘They’ll be dropped where Echo are, but I want them to go southwest to here, a mile due south of the enemy HQ, sniff around without being seen. Make sure they have a sat phone – and lots of supplies.’

  ‘I’ll wake them in a few hours.’

  At 5am the two Sea Kings loudly touched down, eight men of “D” Squadron running over and boarding, the helicopters soon lifting off. That left one man walking to me as I stood near the door.

  ‘You the Navy FAC?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ he answered, lugging heavy kit.

  ‘Got a good radio?’

  ‘Thirty mile range.’

  ‘That should do,’ I told him.

  ‘I need the aerial on the high point, wire down.’

  ‘We’ll get that sorted after dawn. Come on inside.’

  Several captains were sat with eyes closed, a few simply sat quiet, Marsh and Clifford asleep. I got my guest a brew and we sat chatting quietly.

  He told me, ‘I knew the man that was here before, last year.’

  ‘You missed most of the excitement; two car bombs and one helicopter attack.’

  ‘I heard about some of it at the airport, which is now crammed with servicemen and aircraft.’

  ‘Which tub are those helos off?’

  ‘Fearless.’

  ‘How many helos?’

  ‘Eight.’

  ‘Might make use of them.’ I raised a finger, and took out my phone, calling Captain Harris, but knowing that his colleague would answer.

  A lady came on.

  ‘It’s Wilco. Listen, Gurkhas attack at dawn, so I want all helos - with medics in them - on standby, and check the Gurkha positions with them.’

  ‘OK, got that.’

  ‘They’re attacking a position a few miles north, so the helos may need to land on the road north of the main Gurkha position.’

  Phone away, I
said, ‘What I need your Lynx for is a missile attack on an airfield. There’s a sandbag position with ten mortar tubes in it, and if they’re active when we attack we’ll lose a lot of men.’

  ‘Both Lynx could hit it with missiles, then use thirty mil cannon or fifty mil guns. When would they attack?’

  ‘Day of a large para drop west of that airfield. If your Lynx can hit that mortar position, then loiter – how long could they loiter?’

  ‘Half hour flight time from ship, forty minute loiter, half hour back.’

  ‘There are old Mi8 helicopters around, so I’d want the Lynx to hit them on the ground or in the air before they attack our Paras. The Mi8 could have rockets, or just men firing down. Has a Lynx ever gone head to head with another helicopter before?’

  ‘Not that I’ve heard of, but an Mi8 will be slow – and large – and thirty mil cannon will make a mess of one.’

  ‘What I need on the day, which could be tomorrow, is to hit the mortars, then for your helos to hang around, so how about one comes in and attacks, flies back, and as it gets to ship the second comes out, first being refuelled ready. Second Lynx is there for any Mi8.’

  ‘Straightforward enough.’

  ‘Your Lynx could also scan the area that the Paras will drop onto, give an OK signal. There’ll be men on the ground, Pathfinders, but your Lynx can cover a wide area and have a peek down.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll chat to the crew later. You don’t want to hit the mortars today?’

  ‘They’d know we’re coming if you did.’

  Moran called in. ‘Para instructors are away, “D” Squadron down, cup of tea and a chat before they set off.’

  ‘Good. You keeping them awake?’

  ‘Robby went forwards, to lob RPGs at the base, but found a few trucks way before the base, and he hit them, made a noise, now heading south and around.’

  ‘OK, keep me posted.’

  Trouble was coming, but not as I anticipated it. The Gurkhas had moved out earlier, plenty of time to get position, the Marines beyond the rebel encampment and the fixed ambush points. The men in the ambush points were seen to be awake and alert, the rest all sleeping, many high on drugs, few sentries seen to have been posted.