Wilco- Lone Wolf 7

by Geoff Wolak

  ‘Report it, get reinforcements, get the wounded man out..?’

  ‘Report it, yes, alert nearby units, yes. Wounded man, a scrape, he can go a day or two, a bit of a sore arm. Don’t go standing down your entire fucking patrol for a minor wound. You withdraw, and you leave a gap in the lines. And always remember -

  withdrawing in a hurry gets men killed.

  ‘If you brought in a helicopter then it may be fired at, shot down, all for a man with a sore arm. So, what else could you do?’

  ‘Finish off the job at hand, that enemy force.’

  ‘Yes, because that is what you’re being paid for. So ... how do you approach the job at hand? You’re in the trees, so are they, a hundred yards away.’ I waited.

  ‘Platoon attack, skirmish line..?’

  ‘Nope, never go forwards in the jungle. They have the advantage because they’re down and hidden, you’re up and moving. You’ll lose men. Instead, think like a ten year old playing hide and seek. Open up as you run back, get to a thick area of jungle, go around in a big circle quietly, go to ground, wait.

  ‘You now have the advantage, because after a while they’ll figure you gone, and they’ll address their wounded and pull back ... right into your hidden position. You open up for thirty seconds, throw grenades, kill and wound lots of them, and withdraw. You go further into their territory ... get down and hide, and wait hours if you have to.

  ‘The survivors come past, you shoot, few left alive, you withdraw back to your original position, having done the job you are there for – to diminish the capacity of the enemy.’ I let them think about it.

  ‘But let’s say you wound a few and scare them off. They withdraw, go down the line, and attack another position, men killed. Those deaths are on your hands, you’re responsible. You had a chance, you had a job to do, you failed – men killed.

  ‘Consider this: you’re in thick woods, you see an enemy soldier 400yards out, walking away. So, do you shoot him in the back?’

  ‘No.’

  Hands up those that would. Few raised hands.

  ‘The man you failed to shoot spots you, calls in a mortar, half your men killed. Well done, dickheads, you just lost your men.’ I let them think about it. ‘You’re in a fucking war zone, you see an enemy soldier, you kill him. Simple. I once had a group of men in my sights, I held off firing. They raped and killed a girl an hour later. Mistake made, not to be repeated.

  ‘Gentlemen, most people in this world hold down a day job they don’t like, and for shit money. Some ... pick up a gun and take what they want. They rape, steal, kill, deal drugs and guns. In the absence of a war, you lot will often put your policeman hats on. Most British servicemen will see action in a place like this rather than a war like the Falklands.

  ‘You may have served in Northern Ireland, Bosnia, or similar places. Those are insurgencies, where you play policeman more than soldier. Here, you might be a border guard, or play at being policeman in the towns and cities.

  ‘Problem is ... there are no prisons out here, no police, no courts. You ... are judge, jury and executioner. But let’s consider a scenario. You find a rebel patrol on the border, you capture them without a shot fired, send them back to Freetown. What did you do wrong?’

  They exchanged puzzled looks.

  ‘Didn’t do anything wrong.’

  ‘A British officer may not hand over a prisoner to a third party if he feels that the life of that prisoner would be in danger, or that the prisoner may be tortured – in contravention of international law.

  ‘Here, a rebel handed over would be beaten to death, or hung. You, handing them over, are remiss in your duty to uphold the law – but you have little choice; you can’t just execute the man. But either way those men will die, not get a fair trial here.

  ‘Given that fact, my preferred course of action would be to disarm them and send them off, or better still – shoot them on sight.

  ‘Normal rules do not apply in a shit tip like this, you need to think about what you’re doing. If you shoot men when you could have captured them you’re in the wrong. If you capture them and hand them over – you’re in the wrong. If you fail to give first aid – you’re in the wrong. If you send men forwards to give first aid and they are killed – you’re in the wrong.

  ‘And what about the rules of engagement? The commander on the ground here decides those, and may vary them. Generally, they will say that you do not fire unless fired upon. If that is the case, how the fuck will you win the war and stop the insurgency – bore them to death?

  ‘Around here, weakness will get you killed very quickly. If you shout a warning, they’ll see that as weakness and open up, you’ll lose men, you’ll be held responsible. So, you’re the man in charge, you see gunmen approaching, you get the men down, hidden, wait, and open up and keep firing, and then withdraw, and report it.

  ‘And when the CO asks, you say: Sir, I saw heavily armed men approaching, we took cover just in case – I was concerned for the safety of my men. The gunmen spotted us, weapons pointed roughly in our direction, I gave the signal to open fire, and then withdrew the men sharpish – afraid to offer first aid because some gunmen were alive and hidden nearby.

  ‘Nothing in that report will get you into trouble, and it could never be proven what you thought at the time. If you think: “kill the bastards”, don’t share that feeling. Say you were nervous, and concerned for your men.

  ‘Any other course of action ... and you risk your men, and you risk your careers. If you do nothing, those gunmen go to the next village, rape and kill, and shoot dead two British infantrymen a day later. Who’s responsible? You are.

  ‘If you shout a warning they’ll open fire, men killed. Who’s responsible? You are. If you send men forwards to disarm wounded men, a grenade is thrown, men killed. Who’s responsible? You are. Take some alive, hand them over, they’re beaten to death in a cell here. Who’s responsible? You are – morally as well as legally.

  ‘Gentlemen, your first job is to train and lead your men, and to apply that duty of care. Your second job – is the task at hand, to stop the gunmen. You need to balance the two.

  ‘Any idiot can learn to shoot, to parachute, to do first aid. The skill ... is being able to see through the fog. The skill needed here ... is to be able to think on your feet.’

  My phone trilled, so I stepped away as they ate. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s Captain Harris. There’s been an attack at the airport, a lone gunmen so far, four men shot, badly hurt. One was a Chinook pilot, one a RAF crewman, two French.’

  I sighed heavily, and closed my eyes. ‘My actions up on the border caused this.’ I pinched the bridge of my nose. ‘OK, keep me in the picture, Wilco out.’

  Phone away, I stared across the strip for a full twenty seconds. Turning, I said, ‘Sergeant Crab, do the officers have ammo?’

  ‘Yeah, three mags each.’

  ‘Make ready your weapon, watch the tree line,’ I told him, concerned faces turning up.

  ‘We expecting trouble?’ Crab asked as he cocked his weapon.

  I nodded. ‘Finish lunch, have them ready, but ... have Whisky carry on.’

  I plodded across the strip, the big Welsh Sergeant coming out. ‘Sergeant, I want all your men not sleeping to be armed, webbing at all times, and they sleep in it. Two men on the gate, more men on the roof.’

  ‘Problems, sir?’

  ‘You’ll know when rounds come in.’

  Looking worried, he barked orders.

  I lifted my head towards my room. ‘Captain Moran?’

  He poked his head out. ‘You, Mahoney, Swifty, please.’

  They appeared thirty seconds later, rifles carried, and I led them to a quiet spot. I stared back at them, and they puzzled my mood. ‘There’s been an attack at the airport, four of ours shot. A Chinook pilot, crewman, two French.’

  ‘They want revenge,’ Swifty noted.

  ‘Who’s they?’ Mahoney asked. ‘We hit three different groups.’


  I began, the energy gone from me, ‘Our action up in Guinea probably caused this.’

  They exchanged looks.

  Moran put in, ‘Witnesses would believe that attack as American, and it’s probably all over the news.’

  ‘One white face looks like another around here,’ I told him.

  ‘You didn’t cause this,’ Swifty told me.

  ‘Didn’t I?’

  ‘We didn’t need to be here this week, it was a fluke,’ Swifty added. ‘So why blame yourself? If there are hostages, we go for them – right thing to do, and if the hostage takers are pissed at us - so what, not our doing. We follow orders.’

  ‘So why do I feel like shit?’ I asked them.

  Again they exchanged looks.

  ‘Expecting too many good results,’ Mahoney noted. ‘Fuck all casualties. We’re getting used to that, and then some shit like this comes along. We do our part well, very well, but something like this is beyond our control.’

  ‘Like that plane in Algiers,’ Swifty noted. ‘You couldn’t do anything, it was beyond your control, but you wanted to anyhow.’

  Moran said, ‘You’re getting pissed off with things beyond your control. But I feel bad about those men at the airport, and yes – part may be our fault; we kicked over the hornet’s nest.’

  ‘Fucking airport security is at fault,’ Mahoney noted. ‘They have enough men there, getting a fucking tan.’

  I nodded slowly. ‘Get the men kitted and ready.’ Lifting my phone I stepped away, and awkwardly punched numbers from a list I had coated in plastic.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘General Dennet, please, it’s Wilco.’

  ‘He’s in a meeting -’

  ‘Then fucking interrupt him, lives are at stake!’ I barked.

  ‘Hold on, Captain,’ came an angered officer.

  Thirty seconds later came, ‘Wilco?’

  ‘Yes, sir, got a problem. There’s been an attack here at the airport, two RAF shot, two French, a pilot hit, may be further attacks, but the prick of a colonel at the airport is a problem.

  ‘When I got here he made it clear that he wanted a quiet life, no shooting – but there’re a few hostages that are glad I ignored him. Right now I’m ready to go shoot him in the foot, sir.’

  ‘I’ll deal with him now, don’t go shooting him, and I had doubts about him when he was sent. Leave it with me.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ I hung up.

  The lads started to group outside the door to the building.

  I called, ‘Sasha’s team, Salties.’

  They stepped forwards.

  ‘Go to the northeast track. Salties, set camp and ambush. Sasha, take your men up the track to the bridge, look around, come back, swap with the Salties. And be careful. Go.’

  They walked off.

  ‘Staff Sergeant Rizzo, Stretch, you just got here, so you’re fresh. Take Gonzo and Slade, Lassey, Grab Henri and Jacque from the tree line, go up the old track to the druggy village, sniff around and back, stay sharp. When you’re ready. Oh, and there’s two Welsh Guards this end, ambush point.’

  I moved past them. ‘Nicholson, Tomo, Smitty, up on the high point, stay sharp, rotate it. Go.’

  They spun around.

  ‘Rest of you, stay sharp, eyes everywhere, stag set up.’

  Moran said, ‘What if someone turns up in an APC?’

  ‘We have 66mm,’ the RTC captain put in.

  ‘Get them,’ I told him. ‘And ask Freetown for some RPGs or mounted 105mm. Rocko, get those 66mm, get ready for APCs or jeeps.’

  I grabbed my bandolier and webbing, two extra magazines, and walked across to the French. ‘Major Liban! Stand to your men.’

  He barked orders, rifles cocked.

  I closed in on him, his flysheet camp part-hidden. ‘There’s been an attack at the airport, two British shot, two French.’

  ‘Aiyah,’ he let out. ‘They want revenge, no.’

  I nodded. ‘Send a patrol south a mile and around, have a look, rotate it, constant guard here. If things are OK tomorrow we consider some tests for you. Tell your men we have patrols out, up to the village and bridge, careful who they shoot at.’

  Half an hour later my phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘Air Commodore Loughton. Just wondering why I have two men shot? The pilot might not make it.’

  ‘You know more than me, sir, I’m a long way off.’

  ‘What was security at the airport like?’

  ‘Lax, from what I saw when I came through, and the prick of a colonel in charge told me he wanted no shooting. I got the impression he had some golf to play.’

  ‘No shooting? How the fuck do you rescue hostages with no shooting? Are you saying he’s remiss in his duties?’

  ‘I’m saying ... he was a lax pain in the arse, but I only had ten minutes with him, so I don’t know.’

  ‘Replacement pilots on the way, and extra crew, a flight of RAF Regiment. I don’t want my staff shot up, or a damn aircraft.’

  ‘It was quiet here, sir, but the hostage rescues may have pissed someone off.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that. And well done by the way, remarkable feat I’m led to believe, and that you did all the work and let the Americans pick up the hostages.’

  ‘Politics, sir.’

  ‘Those skeleton hostages made me mad, a few angry voices around here, lot of press coverage, glad you got them out.’

  ‘Plenty more where they came from, sir.’

  ‘You have our young officers with you?’

  ‘Yes, and they’re learning the hard way.’

  ‘Don’t wound any of them.’

  ‘Sir, a month from now those men may be expected to lead a platoon in a small war.’

  ‘Well ... yes, I suppose.’

  ‘Aim of this course is to face danger, sir, can’t teach that in London.’

  ‘No, but be careful, please, I know two men with sons there.’

  ‘I’ll be careful, sir.’

  ‘Will you be undertaking any more rescues?’

  ‘Depends on the intel, sir, not me.’

  ‘OK, talk soon.’

  I had the young officers brought back over to the building, kit bags lifted and rooms occupied, extra camp beds and rubber mats issued, bottled water issued.

  Bob called.

  ‘You back in the UK?’ I asked.

  ‘Just got back, heard about the attack at the airport.’

  ‘I asked General Dennet to have a word with the prick of a colonel there, before I shoot the man. Airport security was down to him, and he was playing hearts and minds and being nice.’

  ‘Bad to have a pilot shot, and yes – security should have been tighter.’

  ‘Air Commodore is sending replacement pilots plus RAF Regiment.’

  ‘That should do it. Any more intel?’

  ‘Not so far, and I don’t want to ask – I want a quiet week.’

  ‘Young officers settled in?’

  ‘Yes, had some jungle survival and a lecture from on the blame game, and the legality of counter-insurgency soldiering.’

  ‘Should they be pulled out?’

  ‘As I said to the Air Commodore, they could be back down here in a month with their own units, or in a small war somewhere.’

  ‘True, but they are sons of generals, so we’re nervous.’

  ‘I’ll take all reasonable steps short of leaving them at the airport, and even that’s not safe. Good thing is ... they’re all suitably scared – and we didn’t even have to exaggerate it.’

  ‘What’s the agenda?’

  ‘If there’s no one bothering us here, we train the French and the young officers. I have patrols out, men on the wire and on the roof, so it’s as safe as it can be.’

  ‘OK, I’m heading into the office, a mountain of paper work, and well done on the hostages. It got a great deal of air time in the States, and that Senator’s brother looking like a Holocaust victim caused a lot of anger here.

  ‘But the military and the CIA
are very happy with the coverage, the President reported to be very happy with it, so we’ve accrued some favours. And I was in a meeting with people in the know, and one of their officers detailed what you did in Bosnia, so they all think you walk on water. And that walk down into the camp to meet the Liberian President - that caused a great deal of discussion.’

  ‘I was upset by the four men hit at the airport, made me stop and think.’

  ‘Think about what?’

  ‘About why it affected me.’

  ‘You’re supposed to care, otherwise you’d be a worry to us. You knew the pilot?’

  ‘Yes, he’d been on several of our jobs.’

  ‘Reason enough to care.’

  ‘I lost men before, didn’t bother me, now it seems to annoy me and frustrate me.’

  ‘You’ve had a remarkable run of luck, so set-backs upset you I guess.’

  ‘Moran thinks it pisses me off because it’s beyond my control.’

  ‘That’s hitting the nail on the head; it is beyond your control, like that plane in Algiers. You want to tell them all to sod off and let you and your team do it all, but you can’t, there’s just one of you. Don’t try and fix the entire world, you can’t, just fix what’s in front of you.’

  I gathered the young officers outside the building, wondering if I could fix them, or at least set them on the right track. They had their webbing on, rifles in hand, Whisky and Crab off to the side.

  I took a moment. ‘Gentlemen, given the rise in tensions here, and the dangers, some think you lot should be sent back to the UK.’ I waited.

  ‘Bollocks to that,’ came from one, echoed by others.

  A young man said, ‘There are British officers and soldiers here, same risk for them.’

  I told him, ‘This is supposed to be a training course, no gunshot wounds accrued.’

  A fresh-faced second lieutenant said in a posh voice, ‘As you said ... we could find ourselves in a war next month, so what’s different?’