by Geoff Wolak
‘Behind the eyes.’
‘Chase vehicle?’
‘Head shots.’
He nodded before facing the captain. ‘They found the driver of the chase vehicle, bled out.’ He faced me. ‘Oh, where’s Roach?’
‘Back of the Land Rover, sir,’ I said.
‘Sick as a dog,’ the captain said. ‘He one of yours?’
‘Hell no,’ the Major said, and I wondered why. He went to the Land Rover.
The monster sergeant closed in. ‘So you’re Wilco.’ He nodded. ‘Saw you box. Well, saw you cripple a guy in four seconds. I hadn’t even got comfy.’
‘Should have asked for a refund,’ I suggested.
‘Saw him box?’ the captain asked.
The sergeant faced his officer. ‘Eleven bouts, and none lasted more than fifteen seconds. Two died, rest were binned from the Army.’
The captain now regarded me differently, and that Para came back. ‘I knew it was you. Wilco, right.’ He faced his captain. ‘Did the Three Peaks in full kit, he did, forty pounds and a bit of wood the same weight as a GMPG, sir. And he tanked us all and broke the record.’
‘Fucking RAF medic,’ the captain let out as Captain Harris pulled up, the Major returning to us.
‘Been having fun?’ Harris asked me.
‘The usual, sir.’
He smiled, a glance at the Major as he returned. ‘Word on the wire is that Pat O’Donnel, his brother Aiden O’Donnel, and their cousin Robert O’Donnel, are dead.’
‘Oh, good work, Wilco,’ the Major commended. ‘That clears up the books nicely. Still, their combined funeral will probably be a bit lively.’ He faced the captain. ‘Best cancel all leave and get ready, later tonight will be interesting.’ He faced me. ‘On me.’
We drove back to Aldergrove, little said, the CO suggesting that I would have to stay for a debrief and to give statements for the police, and that it would be a pain. I’d have to hand in my pistol, and only then did I remember the gunman’s pistol, handing it to the Major.
The RAF police took my pistol, and I signed to that effect, then asked for one on loan, which they couldn’t do. I felt naked without it. They fingerprinted me and would send my dabs to the police.
With the CO telling us to take it easy, but not to go anywhere, I went for a run to clear my head.
Jogging around in the cold wind I could not get into my stride, and my pace varied greatly, in tune with my emotions. It all seemed like a dream it had happened so fast, and my memories were blurred; I could hardly remember their faces, and I had not noted the registration plate. Some SAS soldier I was. I had allowed myself to be kidnapped, and I should be dead right now, or worse, much worse.
After an hour I had just about settled into a routine, but then a Land Rover eased up alongside me, the Major easing out. He started walking next to me as I slowed down and also walked. ‘How you holding up?’
‘Meaning, sir?’ I asked, not sure why.
He glanced at me. ‘Just a friendly question, you are in my care.’
‘I’m fine, sir, but ... having difficulty picturing their faces. It all happened so quickly.’
‘It always does. I remember a shootout I was in, and ... well, I can’t quite remember it, it’s a blur. I fired off a few rounds, hit a guy by accident with a ricochet, and then hid like a small boy, yet got a medal. That’s how it is, a blur, plans go out the window, and then it’s over and just a memory.’
‘Did I do anything wrong, sir?’
‘No, not at all, don’t think like that.’
‘I let them kidnap me,’ I said as walked.
‘And if you had reached for your pistol or resisted...?’
I gave that some thought. ‘They would have shot us and driven off.’
‘Exactly. So you were better off stringing them along. Roach told me what you did, and I’m impressed, damned impressed; you blagged them good and proper, had them terrified that you were a doctor, and had them convinced. And that cover story, old Doc McBride, brilliant, top notch, and you distracted them with the chips. You even spotted the tail car.’
‘I learnt one valuable lesson,’ I began.
‘What’s that?’
‘When you’re in a car doing thirty miles an hour, don’t shoot your driver in the spine!’
He laughed. ‘Yes, a good point. Still, limited options. Rizzo, knows about it, and he’s mad as hell.’
‘Why?’ I puzzled.
‘He has six confirmed kills, you have four, soon to be five probably; the passenger is in a coma, may live, driver on a ventilator, totally paralysed.’
‘Alter the records, sir, put Rizzo’s name down.’
He studied me. ‘Don’t want the glory?’
‘Glory? Bollocks, sir, it’s all immature dick measuring.’
‘Around here, confirmed kills are currency, and it’s how we do things.’
‘As I said, put them on Rizzo’s file.’
He studied me as we walked. ‘There’s a 24hr cool down period where they can’t interview you, and we often drag that out, but it will be a pain, same questions over and over. Then the Army top brass will come and visit you in Hereford, some questions, same answers.
‘Then there’ll be the inquiry, there’s always an inquiry, and you’ll be cross-examined by a barrister that probably went to school with the men you shot. He’ll try and peg you for murder, but not to worry - it’s a black and white case.
‘In the past, we’ve had lads execute people with little probable cause other than the fact that they were wearing a loud tie, and they got away with it; we always protect our own. So don’t worry.’
‘I’ll contact Colonel Bennet. Today.’
‘We have our own -’
‘I trust him more,’ I said, getting a look.
‘Do you trust me?’
‘Trust is earned, not implied by the seat you occupy, and I’ve not known you long, sir. And you still haven’t been truthful about why you came and got me.’
He smiled. ‘You don’t trust people, you read between the lines, and you don’t blab. You’ll go far, my lad. And no, never trust shits like me.’
‘I like you as a person, sir, does that count?’
He laughed. ‘It all helps, a step in the right direction. Let me give you a lift back.’
We got into the Land Rover, and he handed me a bag, pistol and holster, spare magazines. ‘I thought you might feel naked without it.’
‘Thank you, sir. I’m starting to trust you more.’
The minute he dropped me off I used a payphone to call Colonel Bennet, but the Colonel had to call me back, so I stood by the payphone for five minutes. When it rang, I said, ‘Colonel?’
‘Yes, that you, Wilco? You in trouble? This is a Northern Ireland number.’
‘This is the short version. I joined the SAS -’
‘SAS?’
‘Yes, sir, they came and asked for me, seconded me.’
‘Can they do that?’
‘I volunteered to be seconded, sir.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘I’m here with them in Aldergrove, was in Bessbrook. Anyway, long story short, I was kidnapped today by IRA gunmen -’
‘Kidnapped? How the hell did you get away?’
‘I shot dead six of them.’
‘Christ! I’m on my way, my lad, don’t talk to anyone.’
‘Interviews should be tomorrow or the next day, we are allowed some -’
‘Cool down period, yes. Good. Hang tight, I’m going to get myself to Aldergrove, another chapter in my memoirs. You really are making my career.’
I laughed as I hung up.
After a shower, I stripped the pistol and checked it, cleaned it, and then loaded it. I put on my combats, shoulder holster over my shirt, jacket on, cap on my head, and practised drawing quickly for five minutes. Ready, I went and found Roach sitting in his room and I asked how he was.
‘Major spent an hour with me, took some notes,’ Roach began. ‘Went through it all
.’ He made eye contact. ‘He ... asked about you a lot, and how I thought you had performed.’
‘And...?’
‘You saved my life, Wilco, I should be dead. I told him that, and how well you did, how calm you were, cracking jokes and all. And when you blew that guy’s face off I was more afraid of you than them. You had that look in your eyes.’
‘What look?’ I puzzled.
‘Like you’re about to kill everyone in arm’s reach.’
‘Oh. I ... didn’t know I had a look like that. C’mon, let’s go eat.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t, stomach is not good.’ He took a moment and glanced out the window. ‘CO asked me ... asked me if I thought I was cut out for this.’
‘And...’
‘I hesitated a bit, but said yes.’
‘You’ve been in three months, what the fuck do they expect,’ I pointed out.
He shrugged, and I had to wonder about his mental state; he was not himself. As I walked to the canteen I considered the trauma of near-death experiences, and had I coped better because of my own prior experiences. I grabbed a tray and some chips and egg, and sat with the RAF lad I knew from Brize Norton, soon chatting about the old base.
Two RAF Police Corporals then came and found me, and sat, getting looks from all sides. ‘We’re to shadow you around whilst you’re here, given the threat level,’ the first corporal said.
‘Rioting down the Falls Road,’ the second said. ‘Be murder later.’
I nodded, the RAF lads nearby not following.
‘What happened?’ the lad from Brize asked.
I faced the corporals.
‘Be on news later,’ one told me.
Facing the lad from Brize, I said, ‘Myself and another guy, we were kidnapped at gunpoint from in front of Victoria Hospital, earlier today.’
‘Kidnapped?’
I nodded. ‘They missed my pistol, and I .... shot six IRA gunmen.’
‘Fuck...’
‘Four are dead, the last two are not expected to make it,’ a corporal stated.
I finished eating quickly and led my protection out, but asked if they had a common room at the police depot. They did, and we drove there, and I was soon sat with a cup of tea, my bodyguards and a few sergeants sat around, two friendly Alsatians to stroke and pat.
I informed them that I could not discuss what happened, and we got onto marathon running, and only then did some of them realise who I was, more amazed about that than about today’s shooting.
They let me use the phone, and at 7pm I called Kate at home, and explained everything. She was afraid for me, worried about the inquiry, but then came around to be proud of me. I had images of her blabbing about me at some cocktail party, so I told it was classified, and could she not mention it to anyone yet.
I checked in on Roach later, he was sat reading a book, police outside his door. I warned my bodyguards that I would be up at 5am, and they would notify the night shift.
At 5.15am I opened my door, having placed a chair against it all night because it had no lock, and I found no one there. Leaving the block I found a police Land Rover. ‘You here for me?’
‘You Milton?’
‘I am, I’m afraid. And I’m going to run around the perimeter track for a bit.’
‘We’ll follow you.’
‘Do me a favour, and measure the route, and the lap times.’
They made faces as I set off. It had rained, but for now it was holding off, plenty of puddles.
After a bad start to my attempts at sleep last night I had eventually drifted off and slept well, and now I felt good as I set the pace. The dawn was coming up, and after half an hour a tiny shaft of sunlight put in an appearance, lighting up the hills in the distance. The cool breeze was fresh without being chilly, and I was starting to enjoy it. No, I told myself, I was enjoying still being alive.
Thoughts and ideas went around in my head about the incident, and I eventually came to feel that I was mad at them for grabbing us like that, and I was not sorry that they were dead; they would have probably gone on to set-off bombs during their long careers as terrorists.
Running on, I decided that they were not terrorists, and that they were fighting for what they believed in, and I knew the history of this place – Catholics were treated badly by the Protestants - that’s what started the troubles, and the Army came here to protect the Catholics in the sixties.
On my final lap the Land Rover pulled alongside. ‘What fucking planet you from, Milton?’
‘Corporal?’ I panted as I went for a fast finish.
‘That’s twenty miles in under two hours.’
‘Be faster tomorrow, I’m out of practice,’ I promised them with a grin.
In the shower I realised that I felt good, and I wondered if it was relief from the stress. After breakfast the fun began; the Major and a colonel from Army Intel wanted to take a formal statement. I asked them to wait for my legal counsel. The Major pointed out that he was not necessary, this was just between us. I politely told him to wait.
Colonel Bennet had got an early flight in a small RAF jet from Northolt, and had brought two captains with him, one a nice lady captain. I elected to chat to them first, tea and coffee made, Colonel Bennet as keen and as loud as ever.
I went through the story and they took notes, and we created a timeline. Possession of the pistol was standard, no issues there, the hospital visit was approved – no whiff of a security blunder on my part, the kidnap could not have been foreseen, if I had resisted I would have been shot, my shooting of them was after trying to blag my way out and justified because I feared for my life and had noticed the tail car. As for the tail car, they fired as I fired, bullet holes found, two pistols having been fired – found in the other car. Simple.
When we stopped for coffee I gave my CO their bullet points, and he was grateful, he would make a start on them.
‘OK,’ Bennet began, facing the two captains. ‘What are the issues here?’
The lady went first. ‘The issue ... is whatever the Republican’s family solicitors can claim or cook up, more so than what happened.’
‘Precisely,’ Bennet agreed. ‘They may produce a witness that saw the driver with his hands up before you shot him, although that would make it hard to drive. So, what could they claim?’
‘Did you try and disarm them or detain them?’ she asked me.
‘No, Ma’am,’ I said.
‘Why not?’
‘They were armed, I was in an unknown area – no backup, and the tail car had four men in it.’
‘Still, you could have pointed your pistol, fired a warning shot, ordered the vehicle to pull over, put a gun to the driver’s head and created a standoff.’
‘I did not believe my chances of survival would have been good doing that.’
‘Why?’ she pressed.
‘My knowledge of the IRA, clouded by the press perhaps, would have pegged them as violent and dangerous, and such a standoff might have seen them take a shot – even if that risked their comrade.’
‘Fair enough. Did they threaten you during the trip?’
‘No, they were horrified when I convinced them that I was a doctor.’
‘How’d you do that, my lad?’ Bennet asked.
‘I had my RAF ID, and I had my medical symposium ID, and I had just spent the previous hour watching an IRA gunman having surgery on his leg. I pretended that I was that surgeon, and they recognised the man’s wounds and condition.’
‘Marvellous, my lad, marvellous,’ Bennet said with smile. ‘But there were no witnesses ... to the fact that they did not threaten you.’
‘Not unless there was a microphone somewhere, sir, a radio in use.’
‘Let’s hope not. Still, you need to emphasize that you were terrified, new to the SAS and all that, first time here.’
I nodded. ‘That is all true, sir.’
‘Apart from you being terrified, my lad,’ Bennet insisted.
I told them about the
cover story, and the colonel loved it.
‘It’s black and white,’ he insisted. ‘But ... we have to wait for the papers to be in, because we can’t act till we know what story they’ve cooked up. So far, the news here has kept to the truth, but it did say that the kidnapped were two RAF medics. Some are reporting that you are SAS, and that you allowed yourself to be kidnapped – which seems far fetched, even for this province.’
After an hour he was happy, but we would have to wait.
‘What about the Army, sir?’ I asked. ‘Is there anything they can whinge about, or charge me with?’
‘Not as far as I can see, your lot always carry pistols off-duty. The fact that you had it means that you were issued it, which means that it is authorised.’
After lunch I sat with my major and the Intel major, Bennet sat at the back, and I recanted the story, only now I had a bullet point and timeline. It was very informal and friendly, detail of times, clothing, observations about the men and the cars, anyone suspicious at the hospital or here at Aldergrove.
At the end, I said, ‘They were not expecting to grab us, sir, they were expecting soldiers.’
‘Yes, we figured that. An hour after you stepped out two soldiers were due to leave with an Irish girlfriend, and she had set them up. When you were grabbed, they took her in – after a good kicking, and she’s been linked to the IRA.’
‘How’d they know we’d been grabbed, sir?’
‘Someone waited ten minutes and reported what they saw, so suspicions were high, and then your transport arrived and could not find you, and so the police put two and two together just as the soldiers entered reception at the hospital. You were in the right place – but at the wrong time.’
We laughed.
‘We could do the police interviews tomorrow morning if you like,’ the Major said.
I glanced at Bennet. ‘Sir, the gunmen did not threaten us, but ... the passenger was ... unbalanced and twitchy, kept pointing his pistol at me, cocked and loaded, finger on the trigger.’
They took notes. ‘Points towards justifiable cause,’ the Intel major noted. ‘Definitely.’
‘They did not issue verbal threats,’ I added, ‘but they did say that they would sort us out soon enough, and when we got there.’
They again took notes.
‘I’d call that a threat,’ he Major said, a glance at Bennet.
