Wilco- Lone Wolf 8

by Geoff Wolak

  Ten minutes before the official attack time a Gurkha accidentally released an RPG, a premature start. His buddies joined in, firing into tents, trucks, jeeps - and into buildings commandeered by the rebels.

  The rebels who were awake, those on the roads, suddenly found RPGs coming in from behind, GPMGs hammering out rounds. Many ran off down the road, and into a platoon of Gurkhas who had not expected to see any action; they were in reserve.

  The rebels on the road turned around and ran the other way, joined by half naked and fully naked colleagues scrambling from the tents and buildings as hell was rained down on them by two hundred keen and excited Gurkhas, many of the front ranks of the Gurkhas throwing grenades.

  The stampede caused the problem, in that the Marines had positioned themselves on a road behind the rebels, and had waited to start a diversion at the prescribed time, wondering what to do when the attack started early.

  Not sure what to do, they moved forwards to support the Gurkhas, suddenly facing a hundred rebels in the grey dawn light, some naked. The Marines opened up at twenty yards, the rebels turning around yet again or darting into the trees, some firing back.

  In a battle that lasted half an hour the Marines shot so many men they were running low on ammo and decided to withdraw, not least because they had ten men wounded out of thirty six.

  I had dispatched both Sea Kings to a point northwest of the Marines current position, the Marines fallback point, a Chinook to follow.

  As I paced up and down, wondering what had gone wrong, the Sea Kings got eight men away, the Chinook three – a man wounded by distant fire as they withdrew, the Chinook then picking up eight wounded Gurkhas. There were no reports of fatalities so far.

  I got a call from the airport, the wounded down, the helicopters on standby, and now an accurate report of what happened, the command room now full of sleepy faces, tea mugs held as if their lives depended on it.

  Off the phone, I said, ‘The Gurkhas attacked ten minutes early, which was supposed to be the job of the Marines, who waited, only to find more than a hundred men running straight for them. They opened up, close quarter fighting, ten Marines with wounds –which was never supposed to fucking happen.’

  ‘Best laid plans,’ Lt Col Marsh let out. ‘And that rebel position?’

  ‘Abandoned. The Gurkhas were supposed to hit and run, but have stayed and are mopping up. Two hundred rebels killed.’

  ‘A good tally,’ Marsh enthused.

  ‘Not sure where the hell the Marines are,’ I thought out loud as I studied the map.

  Trucks arriving caused me to step outside as the dawn came up, finding Army Ordnance Corp men, a major stepping down, as well as forty Royal Engineers.

  The Engineers captain said, ‘Plenty of men at the airport, so we’re supposed to help out at the border. And we’re well armed.’

  ‘I have half an idea what you can do; keep your men in the trucks for now. Ordnance guys ... grab tents, some food, you’ll be needed tomorrow. Major, captain, come inside.’

  I led them in, introductions given. I showed the Engineers captain the map, and gave him a route to take. ‘You’ll be with the Paras at an old camp, but I’m going to send Gurkhas to you as well. You hold that camp, there are stragglers out there, still a dangerous spot. Get a brew in the meantime.’

  I faced the Ordnance Major. ‘I have a job for you, and you’d go in after the Paras have dropped at a place in the east.’ I pointed to the map. ‘Here.’

  ‘We’ll drop in?’ Lt Col Marsh queried with a deep frown.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And London will approve that?’

  ‘Already have done, sir.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You’d be first out the door, sir.’

  ‘I would?’ His face was a picture.

  ‘Yes, because I was thinking that we need your HQ on the ground, not back here.’

  He glanced at his major. ‘Been two years since I dropped last, and then just the once, and I forgot all my drills.’

  ‘Don’t care, we need you on the drop, sir. Learn on the way down.’

  He faced Clifford. ‘Am I going to be accused of going on a jolly?’

  ‘If you had suggested it – yes, but Wilco requested it, so no.’

  I told Marsh, ‘Have all you men withdraw back to the airport today, sir. Engineers and Gurkhas will move to that camp. We’ll make a plan in an hour or so, a plan for the largest Para drop since Arnhem, 1944.’

  The Paras exchanged looks.

  Haines stepped in. ‘Press are here.’

  ‘Everyone, they’re not allowed to report the drop till afterwards,’ I loudly stated. ‘Mister Haines, watch them like a hawk, make sure they don’t photograph SAS. Mister Marsh, Mister Clifford, prepare you silly smiles please.’

  ‘Fucking marvellous,’ Marsh let out. ‘I’ll shine my shoes.’

  Many of the senior officers stepped out. I showed the Ordnance Major the sketches of the rebel HQ. ‘Here, sir, outside the fence, is a strip ten metres wide, all around, and mined. We need to get across it, not disarm the whole lot. And damn fast.’

  ‘We can rig soft charges. They go bang, pressure wave sets off mines nearby, no shrapnel. Like thunderflashes. Only need a walkway.’

  ‘Inside the camp, after we take it, there may be booby traps. That’s where you come in. They may have mined the roads, which we’ll need cleared at some point later.’

  He nodded. ‘We can rig up several charges on a stick, long wire, throw it, set it off. Quick and dirty, but enough to clear a path for a line of men.’

  I tapped his para wings. ‘When was the last time you dropped, sir?’

  ‘A few years back.’

  ‘Up to it, sir?’

  He made a face. ‘It limits the kit.’

  ‘They’ll have kit pods. Label yours carefully.’

  ‘Our charges wouldn’t go off, they’re very stable. You could put a cigarette out in it and it won’t blow.’

  ‘Then pick a few men, sir. Hang around for the briefing, then get back to the airport, drop could be tomorrow. Get a good night’s kip, you’ll need it.’

  Facemask on, I stepped out, the senior officers chatting to the press. Max drove in, a Gurkha driver. ‘Where you been?’

  ‘At the Gurkhas’ position.’ He studied his press colleagues. ‘Sleeping in soft beds in Freetown I bet, drinks on expenses.’

  ‘So could you be,’ I teased.

  A journalist stepped over. ‘Max?’

  ‘Hey, been a while,’ Max reluctantly let out.

  The man faced me. ‘Are you Captain Wilco?’

  ‘I am, I’m afraid.’

  ‘How’s it going over there?’

  ‘The Gurkhas were in action with the Marines this morning, a fierce battle.’ I gave him the detail and he noted it down.

  ‘Ten wounded Marines,’ he clarified.

  ‘At least ten.’

  ‘And enemy dead?’

  ‘Over two hundred,’ Max put in. ‘I saw them.’

  ‘And the SAS..?’

  I informed him, ‘Are moving through the jungle, ambushing rebel truck convoys, feeding us back movements and intel.’

  ‘We know about the police.’

  ‘What do you know?’ I pressed.

  ‘New counter-terrorism unit, training like the SAS.’

  It seemed a letdown; I had expected awkward questions. ‘Yes, they’re here, training hard, and training with me in the UK.’

  ‘And they’ll operate like the SAS?’

  ‘They’ll deal with lone gunmen in London, bank sieges, and more difficult operations involving foreign terrorists, but the SAS will be alongside them if called in. They’ve been training for many months, an elite team, and they’ve reached a high standard. Many of them were on patrol when caught out by rebel gunmen, and they performed well, many rebels killed.’

  ‘They shot people, for real?’

  ‘They shot dead rebel soldiers who had threatened us, after I had ordered th
em to engage the rebels. They’ve also slept rough in the jungle and practised hostage rescue scenarios down here.’

  ‘That helicopter wreck..?’ He pointed east.

  ‘Came in to attack us, but Lt Col Marsh there shot it with a 66mm rocket.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘He did, yes.’

  The man sloped off towards Marsh as Max grinned.

  I ignored the press and got some breakfast – getting unhappy looks from the cooks, and the press departed after half an hour. Back in the HQ room I gathered the senior officers. ‘Gentlemen, I have an idea, but it’s your drop so you can adjust things. And, given that it’s the Paras making the drop, let’s call it Operation Pegasus.’

  The Paras nodded their heads in approval.

  I tapped the map. ‘Here, in the east, is the rebel HQ. An airfield, barracks, village. It has a good fence, a perimeter mine field, watch towers, patrols, dogs, heavy machineguns, mortars, and around two thousand men.

  ‘What I suggest ... is that at dawn tomorrow, if all is in place, the Navy Lynx we have use of hit the mortar pit, knocking it out. Those Lynx will also look for any Mi8 helicopters sat on the deck, and will loiter as the para drop is made.

  ‘Today, all Paras should move back to the airport, jeeps and trucks, and we’ll get the Chinooks ferrying men. All Paras will need to be cleaned up, kit swapped, checked, we don’t need muddy Paras in the Hercules. I suggest that all Paras on the drop have a quick medical, cuts patched up, followed by a good wash and good meal, then to bed around 8pm tonight – no later.

  ‘I’ll withdraw the Pathfinders today, and they’ll HALO in tonight, here. West of the camp about two miles is open grassland, about a mile long and half a mile wide. They HALO in, doing the wartime jobs they’re trained for. They’ll scout the area and advise of any rebel movement.

  ‘I have men here, to the north of the fence, and here, south east, and here, due south. They’ll report movement, and when the para drop is certain they’ll set diversions.’ I glanced at Major Taggard. ‘I’ll move “G” Squadron SAS today, to a point southwest, here.

  ‘The Paras will drop when the Pathfinders say it’s safe, as many men down as possible as soon as possible, formed up and moving east. The Paras HQ will be set here, in the trees on the east side of the landing zone. With them will be Army Ordnance, who will deal with the minefield if necessary, but there are crossing points – enemy patrols venturing out. Make sure that the mine clearing team is on hand when you reach the fence.

  ‘After the Paras are down, Chinooks will drop medics here, at the Para’s forwards HQ, and the helos then bring in supplies as well as take out wounded – any broken ankles.

  ‘The Paras will advance to the fence, assess the resistance and the best way in, then attack in coordination with my men. It’s a large base, many buildings which will need to be cleared – maybe some booby traps, lots of dangerous ordnance lying around.

  ‘We can’t make a tight plan till we know what we’re up against, and most likely they’ll flee after a short fight. Once we have the base we’ll hold it, patrols out, stragglers picked up. And the French may move in from the north, I’ll talk to them today.’ I faced Lt Col Marsh. ‘You think it’s doable, sir?’

  ‘Straightforward, you’ve covered all the bases. Pathfinders will give the go signal, medics and helos on standby.’

  ‘What’s a worst case scenario?’ Colonel Clifford asked.

  I made a face. ‘Hercules crashing, for one. Or if they have a helicopter with rockets and hit men on the ground, or if their mortars are not knocked out. Those mortars will push us back, but my men would snipe at them from the north.’

  ‘But the Lynx pilots would report them out of action,’ Clifford queried.

  ‘Yes, sir. And we could abort, or delay it.’

  ‘Do they have attack helicopters?’ Clifford asked.

  ‘One sat outside smouldering, sir, could have more, but none seen or reported so far.’

  ‘Surface to air missiles?’

  ‘None seen around here, sir. And our Hercules would be two miles west, low level and beyond missile range.’

  Clifford nodded. ‘Seems like you’ve covered all the bases. But is there an alternate to a para drop?’

  ‘Fight our way up a single track mined road, sir.’

  ‘And be ambushed every step of the way,’ Lt Col Marsh scoffed.

  ‘This is the quick way of winding this up, sir,’ I told Clifford. ‘And if we overwhelm them then the casualties will be low. Alternate is a week of fighting, and the casualties that go with it.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll discuss it with the MOD, but it seems sound, and the lesser of two evils.’

  I turned my head a notch to Marsh. ‘Pack up your stuff, sir, and get your men back to the airport. I’ll meet you there later.’ He shouted orders. I faced the Ordnance Major. ‘Head back, get ready, sir. Rest of your team go in by helo an hour after the drop.’

  The room started to clear.

  Phone out, I called Captain Harris and requested helicopters to go get the Pathfinders, to be followed by inserting “G” Squadron. The Pathfinders called in half an hour later, wondering why they were being brought back, quietly stunned when I told them of the HALO plan.

  I called Major Liban.

  ‘Oui?’

  ‘How goes the fight?’

  ‘Ah, Wilco. We push down the road, some small groups to fight, but we kill maybe four hundred, more. Many truck destroyed.’

  ‘Remember the rebel headquarters I mentioned?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Could you make it there by dawn tomorrow?’

  ‘It is only twenty miles, less.’

  ‘If you can get there and attack from the north east, that would help. Our Pathfinders HALO in tonight, then three hundred Paras will drop west of that base.’

  ‘They drop by chute?’

  ‘Yes, a good story for the papers.’

  ‘Ah, politics no.’

  ‘If you can get there, let me know. I have my Echo men around that base southeast, Lone Wolves to the north, SAS south.’

  ‘Ah, you box them in. What men in this base?’

  ‘Two thousand men, heavy machineguns, mortars, dog patrols, fence, minefield.’

  ‘Ah, like a scenario to get in, and a tough one, no.’

  ‘A tough one.’

  ‘We will try and get there for dawn, yes.’

  ‘Quiet approach, go through the jungle, don’t be seen.’

  ‘OK, I make a plan now and we look at the map.’

  ‘Update me later. Wilco out.’

  Sergeant Crab stepped in. ‘We stay on the wire?’

  ‘Hell, yes, this place is full of surprises.’

  ‘Like that fucking helo wreck out there.’ He had a look at the board. ‘Where are the lads?’

  ‘All around the rebel HQ. Paras will drop west of them tomorrow.’

  ‘A para drop? How many?’

  ‘Three hundred, six Hercules available. Pathfinders HALO in tonight.’

  ‘Fucking big show!’

  I nodded.

  ‘We keep the police here?’

  ‘When the rebel HQ is dealt with they can patrol in dodgy areas, get some kills. No one is asking for them back yet.’

  ‘Where’s Donohue and his mate?’ Crab asked.

  ‘No idea. Airport maybe.’ My phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s David. How’s it going?’

  ‘We’re preparing to move on the rebel HQ, tomorrow, large Para drop.’

  ‘Well I’ve been busy, and we’ve tracked back from Kelly and Spencer, arrested three ex-Army and a civilian, some on the run. But it looks like your friends in low places have been active, a bunch of Elf Oil executives killed in Nigeria, Ghana, Cote d’Ivorie.’

  ‘Could be them, yes.’

  ‘If it is, then he’s sending a loud message not to mess with him.’

  ‘Good for him.’

  ‘We can’t condone murder.’

  �
��What’d you think I’m here for, if not the mass murder of these rebels? I could leave a sector open and they go north, but then we’d be doing this again next year.’

  ‘Yes, quite. There was a meeting about what comes next, and we’ll need you to chat to Monrovia about our presence after the conflict dies down.’

  ‘He’ll co-operate, but how about some carrots – like road repair, money for schools.’

  ‘Be cheap enough, yes.’

  ‘And leaving the French out would be a bad idea.’

  ‘Yes, that has been discussed, and we’ll look at joint peacekeeping forces. This para drop..?’

  ‘Not necessary, but will fill a shit load of newspaper pages, and some history books. Lots of units will get a feel-good factor.’

  ‘Risky?’

  ‘No, not at all, and my men surround that base. We could take it ourselves.’

  ‘Well let’s keep that fact quiet. I met the PM an hour ago, he’s very happy with the way it’s going, and the press coverage. Election next May, but I doubt he’ll win.’

  ‘Be strange without him, I quite like the guy.’

  ‘You may get the ambassador coming to see you, he’s being briefed on what may happen afterwards.’

  ‘How much does he know?’

  ‘He’s an ambassador, he can keep a secret, don’t worry.’

  Phone away, Donohue stepped in.

  ‘Was just talking about you a minute ago. Where you been?’

  ‘Had to take that fucking guy back to the UK. First we had to get the paperwork, because there’s no extradition treaty, so they did an Interpol warrant, and that had to be checked and sent down.

  ‘Then he had to have a medical and see a lawyer and a Red Cross official, then we took him back and he was booked into Oxford police, then Oxford Magistrates court, all the paperwork checked, then a transfer to London, before a judge, and remanded. Only good thing was that he wanted to cooperate to reduce his sentence, but he’ll still get twenty-five years.’

  ‘We had another car bomb attack, and a helicopter attack.’

  ‘My lot not injured are they?’ he worried.

  ‘No, all fine, getting some practise in guarding this place. I told Sergeant Crab that when this is over they’ll get some live patrols over in Liberia. You ... in a hurry to get them back to the UK?’