Wilco- Lone Wolf 8

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘Guess he didn’t want to cooperate,’ Franks said with a shrug.

  ‘Thank your lads for me. Max, get it out on Reuters: Liberian coup attempt rebel leader killed in aircraft crash landing. No mention of the US Navy yet.’ I faced Franks. ‘How do you want to word it?’

  He made a face. ‘I’ll check up the line.’

  Moran called. ‘There’s a smoke column a mile high coming from the camp.’

  ‘Rebel leader tried to fly out, US Navy damaged his plane, which crashed and burnt.’

  ‘So ... they may just give up now.’

  Quietly, I said, ‘We don’t want them to give up, we want them dead.’

  ‘Or we face them next year.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Swan called me back half an hour later. ‘Boss, there’s some guy lining them up and giving them the old pep talk.’

  ‘They listening?’

  ‘Yeah, seem to be. And this lot have backpacks.’

  ‘Did you say ... backpacks?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Don’t take your eyes off them.’

  Twenty minutes later he was back on. ‘They’re moving off, Boss, coming to the fence of the northeast side.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Say ... two hundred.’

  ‘How are they armed?’

  ‘Weighed down with weapons.’

  ‘Let them go, the French can deal with them.’

  ‘Less for us.’

  ‘Could you do a rough count of men still in the base?’

  ‘Well, from where I am it’s got to be a thousand yards to the far side, and lots of bodies moving around. I’d say a thousand plus, easily. There’s like thirty wooden huts, all in use, and four long brick barracks in use, then one big brick barracks, then little houses near the east side, civvies around there, and a shit load of tents on the southwest side.’

  ‘OK, stay sharp, para drop is set for dawn. You’ll get orders before then. Rest the men tonight, be sharp for an hour before dawn.’

  I updated Major Liban, and he was now just five miles away, men on foot and walking. They would set an ambush when they found a good spot. Next call was Moran. ‘Two hundred heavily armed men just left the camp, walked out north. French are setting an ambush.’

  ‘How many left?’ Moran asked.

  ‘Over a thousand, more arriving from the south. Main force is still intact, and they have a new leader – who’s already given them a pep talk.’

  ‘He might do a better job than the twat that ran away.’

  ‘Junior ranks often do. So stay sharp. Rest and be ready for an hour before dawn, but keep them awake tonight.’

  ‘I can hear a helicopter. One of ours?’

  ‘No. Call you back.’ I recalled Swan’s number. ‘You see a helicopter?’

  ‘Yeah, just came into view. Mi8, load slung underneath it. Supplies. They’ll have Cornflakes for breakfast.’

  ‘Nothing we can do, and it won’t carry much.’

  ‘It’s setting the load down ... FUCK!’

  ‘What? You hit?’ I shouted, men in the command room closing in. ‘You there?’

  ‘Jesus. It blew.’

  ‘The weapons load?’

  ‘Yeah, nearly knocked me out the damn tree.’

  ‘Normal munitions couldn’t do that. It would have to be something else.’

  ‘That helicopter split into ten bits and is burning all over the place. And that blast killed like two hundred men.’

  ‘It did?’

  ‘Bodies everywhere, windows blown out. These lads are so ... not having a good day. Base is gunna need a sweep-up.’

  ‘I’ll get back to you.’

  My phone trilled straight away, the officers listening; Moran. ‘Just heard a massive explosion.’

  ‘An Mi8 came in, the one you heard, something slung below, and it went off as it landed.’

  ‘What the fuck was slung?’

  ‘I thought it was munitions, but to wobble our lads in the trees it would need to be a tonne of high explosives.’

  ‘What would they want that for?’

  ‘Fuck knows, but whatever it was they’ll need to order up some more.’

  Phone away, Hamble and Taggard were curious, and I gave them the detail.

  ‘What the hell was it carrying?’ Hamble thought out loud, looks exchanged.

  When my phone trilled, it was Tomsk. I stepped out. ‘Da!’

  ‘I’ve been busy bribing people. I paid a weapons supplier to rig a bomb -’

  ‘Ah, that was you.’

  ‘You know?’

  ‘British Intel reported it, a massive blast, killed two hundred blacks.’

  ‘Ah, good, fuck ‘em.’

  ‘And the man in charge of the coup is dead, his plane was shot down by the Americans.’

  ‘Ah, well that makes things easier, because I put a price on his head. So they are set back, no?’

  ‘Yes, and soon the British and French will launch a large attack. Your oil platform is safe.’

  ‘Good, I can sleep better now.’

  ‘With that salad in the fridge ready.’

  ‘Pah! I got a running machine now anyhow.’

  ‘Do you use it to run?’

  ‘No, I walk, but it all helps.’

  ‘You shot some Elf Oil people around here?’

  ‘Yes, a few. Do they know it was me?’

  ‘They suspect, but I don’t think they give a shit. Another week and this will all be wrapped up, no rebels left. Listen, when the area is clear, you could spend some money, get some land cheap from your friend, a few little businesses.’

  ‘British won’t stop me?’

  ‘Trust me, they’ll be happy to have some help keeping the place quiet.’

  ‘I’ll talk to the President, yes.’

  The day grew hot, and I sipped fresh water with the others, few clouds in the sky. Maybe the weather would be good for the morning – I hoped.

  The re-grouped Marines called in, and thinking on my feet I told them to get ready to pull out to HMS Fearless. I called the airport and sent a Chinook, and it picked up the remaining twenty five able-bodied Marines and their kit, dropping them on the deck of Fearless.

  A Marines Major, but not from a unit linked to the twenty-five Marines, called me. ‘We got our Marines on board, not sure what we’re supposed to do with them.’

  ‘A day of rest, sir, re-supply, a quick medical for minor wounds, and they and the other Marines will be tasked jointly either later tomorrow or the next day.’

  ‘OK. Well we have two Marines ready for each helicopter, plus two medics onboard.’

  ‘Have them ready for dawn, sir, they may need to pick-up wounded. To set a diversion for the main Para force would be at least two to three hours after dawn. Tomorrow will be an historic day, hopefully no screw-ups, but it could also be a long day – lots happening.’

  ‘Is it safe to move Fearless closer to the Liberian border?’

  ‘Very safe, sir, the idiot dictator is hiding under his bed as we do his job for him. They’ll not attack you, nor harm crews that make emergency landings on their patch.’

  ‘OK, we’ll be ready.’

  Stood outside chatting to Captain Hamble, a few of his men still here, I noticed the stacked RPGs and had a nose. ‘Captain Hamble, I have a job for you at 10pm. You remember what I did, throwing RPG heads down?’

  He glanced at the RPGs, smiled, and nodded.

  ‘Put them in a suitable box, safety caps on. You take the safety caps off as you throw. Take three men with you.’

  I called Captain Harris and booked a Chinook for 10pm. The RAF had multiple crews, so the helos could operate around the clock.

  At 6pm I told everyone that I would get a few hours kip, and again I used a camp bed in the room for senior staff.

  They woke me just before the Chinook loudly announced its arrival, Captain Hamble and his men running aboard as I got a coffee. What I didn’t know was that Hamble as his lads had modified my plan
.

  The Chinook crew were well aware of the technique and not freaking out about it, and they soon approached the rebel HQ at a thousand feed, slowing down. They could see the base below well lit up, and as they approached no one fired up at them.

  Hamble had ten RPGs upright in a round container, caps taken off, the contained pushed out, a rope at its base. All ten RPGs were dispensed at the same time, the container pulled back in, a second pushed out by other men.

  Flying on, they peered down, soon seeing the rippling explosions. Turning back around, the Chinook sped up, but was lower, down to 500ft, men on the ramp with either a GPMG or a Russian box fed. As the base appeared below and behind them, fires raging, they opened up till the base perimeter was beyond them.

  My phone trilled. ‘It’s Leggit, sir. You been having fun with a Chinook?’

  ‘Yes, how’d it go?’

  ‘They dropped RPGs, dozens of them, hit the wooden huts, fires everywhere, and then they strafed the place. Lots of dead bodies over there now, and they only just got the last of the dead moved off from earlier.’

  ‘Thanks. Update me if anything changes. Wilco out.’ I faced the assembled men. ‘Chinook dropped the RPG heads, lot of damage, fires started, lot of bodies seen. They also strafed it, which must have been GPMGs in the back.’

  ‘Be demoralised when our men get there,’ Colonel Clifford noted.

  ‘That is the plan, sir.’

  The Chinook set down ten minutes later, Hamble walking in with a big grin. ‘Got any intel reports on that place yet?’

  ‘Yes, you hit the wooden huts, set them alight, lots of men killed.’

  He nodded. ‘Had six of us on the tail ramp with machineguns, gave them a thousand rounds or more for good measure.’

  My phone trilled. ‘It’s Rocko. You pissing about in a Chinook?’

  ‘Just dropped some RPG.’

  ‘We heard it, and from up a tree the lads can see some fires burning. They ain’t getting much sleep in there. The Paras coming in the morning?’

  ‘At dawn, hopefully. Your old buddies in the Pathfinders will drop at midnight.’

  ‘About time they earned their bloody keep.’

  ‘Get some rest, Staff Sergeant, I don’t want you grumpy tomorrow.’

  ‘I slept from 2pm, when it was hot, better that way. I’ll be awake till after dawn.’

  ‘Then keep our friends awake as well.’

  An hour later, the Pathfinders getting ready at the airport, “G” Squadron reported a large movement of men along a dirt road, heading into the rebel HQ from the southwest.

  ‘Let them pass unhindered,’ I ordered, Major Taggard making a call.

  ‘Yee want them inside?’ he queried after his call ended.

  ‘Yes, all in one place, not scattered in the trees.’

  ‘Aye, makes sense. But there’s a fair few of them moving in.’

  ‘What they’ll find will shock them,’ I told everyone. ‘They’ll be tripping over the bodies and busy helping to bury the dead.’

  I was notified when the Pathfinders lifted off, and again when the Hercules returned. I called Leggit back, and he thought he might have heard a plane, but reported no odd movements from the rebels.

  He called back half an hour later. ‘Boss, some of the unhappy chaps over there just shot dead some other unhappy chaps.’

  ‘They fighting amongst themselves?’

  ‘Looks that way.’

  ‘Keep me posted.’

  Phone down, Major Taggard noted, ‘Discipline breaking down.’

  ‘Or ... some of the newcomers are at odds with the men already there,’ I thought out loud.

  ‘If they fight each other, less for us to do,’ Hamble noted.

  My phone trilled. Swifty.

  ‘Hey stranger,’ I said. ‘What you up to?’

  ‘Sat in a tall tree, my turn. Listen, fuckers down there are squabbling and shooting each other.’

  ‘We heard from the Wolves, yes. But I think it might be the newcomers.’

  ‘Newcomers?’

  ‘Southwest is “G” Squadron, a track, rebels pouring in.’

  ‘That might explain it, yes. Was that you in the Chinook?’

  ‘No, Captain Hamble and his lads.’

  ‘Hold on.’

  I heard a crack.

  ‘You there?’ Swifty asked.

  ‘Yeah, what was that?’

  ‘I hit a man at 1,000yards, man in charge of some group. They don’t know where the rounds are coming from, and they’re blaming men in the camp.’

  I laughed. ‘Keep at it, they’ll be tired at dawn.’

  Next to call in was Major Liban. He began, ‘We ambush them, a big fight, almost an hour, some wounded for us. They fire RPG, throw grenades. These men, they fight well.’

  ‘If they were the best men, then it’s good that they met men of your calibre.’

  ‘Pah, suck my cock.’

  I laughed. ‘Fine language from a major in Napoleon’s army.’

  ‘Napoleon? Hah, he was an idiot. We will clean up here and move on that camp now.’

  ‘They’re fighting amongst themselves, the man in charge killed.’

  ‘Yes? Then we will not be seen or heard I think.’

  ‘Don’t forget, northeast, my men are in the other areas. Big attack about two hours after sun up, stay hidden till then, British attacking from the west.’

  ‘Then I get some rest and sleep late, no.’

  The Pathfinders reported in, one broken ankle, morphine given. He would tough it out and wait. Another man had a sprained wrist, but apart from that they were down and searching the LZ area, no contacts reported yet.

  Part of the Pathfinder insert group had used their standard gear, two teams opting for my HALO bags, extra kit carried in the bags.

  I glanced at my watch, and it was just past 1am, so I figured on a few hours of nervous anticipation to go. And if it all went wrong, I would be the one getting the shit, my golden reputation shot down.

  I had to stop and think what worried me the most - the lives of the men, or my reputation, and it came down to the men; fuck the establishment if they found fault with me. I stood outside with a brew, staring at the dark strip, men coming and going, and I wondered what Churchill felt like on D-Day. Where his insides turning like mine?

  I was tempted to send Captain Hamble back up, and he had suggested it, but I held off for now; I had images of the rebels all walking out of that camp. That would reduce casualties, but also make the British Army look very silly – a large assault on an empty base. The image made me smile, that of Lt Col Marsh, cam cream on his face, storming an empty base. “Hello, anyone here?”

  I wandered around to the mess tent, Squadron Leader Maven there with some of his officers. ‘You’re up late, sir.’

  ‘Body clock is a bit funny, I sleep for a few hours then I’m awake.’

  ‘All set for the big show?’ an officer asked me.

  ‘Hope so, or we’ll be getting some shit from above.’

  ‘Lot of groups involved,’ Maven noted.

  ‘I have men around the enemy camp, and they’re now reporting that the rebels are fighting amongst themselves, and that newcomers are fighting.’

  ‘That helps our lads, if morale is low,’ Maven noted.

  I sat eating with them, discussing strategy here, and post-conflict policing of the area.

  An hour later I wandered up to the roof. ‘You lads OK?’ I asked the GPMG position.

  ‘For now, sir.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘We stay sharp around here, sir. Don’t trust a blade of grass in this place.’

  ‘Main battle tomorrow should put an end to things,’ I told them. ‘And the guy in charge over there is dead, his plane crashed. My lads over there are reporting the blacks fighting amongst themselves.’

  ‘Paras go in at dawn, sir?’

  ‘Yes, Pathfinders are down now, reporting back. So far ... all OK apart from one broken ankle.’

 
‘We move over there, sir?’

  ‘I’m planning a live para drop for 2 Squadron, a few days from now.’

  ‘About time we did it for real, sir.’

  ‘Were you with me in Borneo?’

  ‘Been with you everywhere, sir. Me and Smudger here, we’ve done all the deployments.’

  ‘Which was your favourite?’

  ‘Favourite? Not sure we’d word it like that, sir. If we do a good job with no injuries and come away alive, we’re happy. Morocco was tough, that last trip. Angola, we didn’t do anything. Djibouti was hell.’

  ‘Lads, ten years after you leave the service you’ll look back on these times, and you’ll do anything to have them back. Might seem like hell now, but outside in civvy life you’ll never have the buddies you do now, you’ll never be able to trust people like you do now. The one common factor amongst Vietnam veterans ... was that they all missed their time in the war, and missed their buddies.’

  I left them thinking about that.

  Leggit called in later, reporting that things had gone quiet, and that the rebels were mostly tucked up in bed.

  An hour later, and he was back on, reporting movement in the northwest sector, stealthy men approaching – and were they the French. His man in that area dropped a branch on a French Paras head, the French not spotting him till that point – then cursing him. He climbed down and had a cup of tea with them, detailing the camp for them.

  I updated those awake in Intel at the airport before I called Swifty. I told him, ‘Let everyone know that French Echo and 1st Battalion Paras are across the road from you, northeast corner. They’re in contact with the Lone Wolves.’

  ‘Gone quiet now, no one for me to shoot. But a shit load of men arrived, some sleeping on the floor, some in trucks.’

  I heard a blast down the phone. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Tomo. He’s up close, just put an RPG into a truck. It’s burning, men jumping out the back. They’ll get no rest tonight. Wait ... that’s a mortar ... hit a jeep. Someone fired a mortar into the camp.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Not us.’

  ‘The French wouldn’t have lugged mortars, and no one else has them,’ I noted.

  ‘Not sure where it came from. Hang on ... another one just hit the mortar pit.’ He laughed. ‘The mortar lads over there just got a mortar on their heads.’