Wilco- Lone Wolf - Book 4

by Geoff Wolak

  Moran said, ‘If the British ambassador was in danger, they may have gone for him I suppose.’

  I nodded as I prepared a tin of meat.

  Swifty noted, ‘We did a lot of damage to the army, so next month the rebels get a free run at it.’

  Again I nodded. We’ll have to thin them out a bit, and we’ll go for the coup leader up north.’

  ‘We will?’ Moran puzzled.

  ‘Prime Minister’s direct orders.’ I added, in a posh mocking voice, ‘Britain has investments here.’

  He nodded. ‘I suppose.’

  With food inside me I felt better, not realising just how hungry I had been, and after a cup of tea I lay down, a rolled-up stretcher with a jacket on top being my pillow. Remembering in time, I placed on my gloves and facemask, not least because I could hear the buzz of mosquitoes, and see things crawling up the bare concrete walls.

  I woke as rounds came though my window, a GMPG or three above me pouring out rounds, a hell of a racket created. Rolling over I grabbed my bandolier, webbing and rifle and pulled off my face mask, bumping shoulders with Moran. We kept low and moved quickly on hands and knees, upright and to the flat roof, throwing our kit on. I jumped out and lay down, my webbing not done up at the front. ‘It’s Wilco, report!’

  Marine Captain Helms stuck his head over the side of the upper roof as the clatter eased. ‘Men in the tree line. We spotted them just as they opened up on us. Three dead, some ran off.’

  ‘Batter the tree line for sixty seconds then ceasefire!’ I ordered as I got up. ‘All Echo Detachment on me!’ I shouted as I ran down, boots echoing on the concrete steps behind me.

  I was soon outside and running west, along the bushes that lined the approach road, hearing men behind me, and I cut through into the trees, now heading north, my facemask left behind. I ran a hundred yards, as far as I dare, and knelt. The GPMG fire eased and men knelt next to me, the forest ahead scanned.

  I put in my radio ear piece, Moran copying, and switched on my radio. ‘Wilco for base, who’s on?’

  ‘This is Haines, go ahead.’

  ‘Stop all fire unless you see a black face, check your fire. Go tell the Marines.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  Without using the radio I said, ‘Rocko, your team, 10 o’clock position for a hundred yards then due north.’ They moved off as I observed them. ‘Rizzo, your team, ten yards inside the tree line, go right along to the far east of the runway, then north.’ He moved off.

  ‘2 Squadron lads, right here, hold this position, check your fire. Rest on me, in your teams, in your pairs.’ We moved slowly forwards, and I stopped to rub mud on my face, a few lads copying.

  ‘Wilco, it’s Rizzo.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Five bodies here, blood trail north.’

  ‘We’re going after them, go east.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  I found our original muddy trail, noticing the blood, and I picked up the pace. After five minutes I heard men talking, their position easily fixed, and around a large tree I saw them hobbling away, some forty yards ahead. I knelt and fired twice, up and moving forwards, checking all the angles.

  Double-tapping the bodies as I neared, I stepped past them and carried on; there was no blood trail, but there were fresh tracks. Two men were moving north.

  We pressed on, past what had been the fixed ambush position, past the deserted huts, the trail leading on, but then I spotted the boot prints going left. I knelt and fired into the bush at random, men behind me joining in, a burst coming back and hitting the tree behind me.

  ‘Down!’ I called, and dived behind a tree. I waited, all quiet except for unhappy birds shrieking at us from the canopy high above. I clicked on the radio. ‘Anyone got any grenades?’

  ‘I got some,’ came from Napoleon. ‘Replenished last night.’

  ‘Throw them, not too hard, aim for fifteen yards in front of me, behind this tree. Everyone else get down.’

  He threw and ducked down, the blast washing over us, leaves shredded and branches hit – unseen animals shrieking, straight onto his second grenade as the grey smoke wafted past, but that grenade caused a scream, his third and fourth grenades met with no response.

  I clicked on the radio. ‘Last four men, circle around twenty yards out, come at them dead slow.’

  Looking over my shoulder I could see four men lift up and move, three in facemasks.

  ‘This is Rocko?’ Anyone hear me?’ crackled over the radio.

  ‘This is Wilco, go ahead.’

  ‘Where are you, we heard grenades?’

  ‘Grenades were us, we got two on the track, two are hidden, that’s why we used grenades. We’re a hundred yards on from the deserted huts, check your fire.’

  ‘Closing in on you.’

  ‘There are four lads moving your way, check your fire.’

  I waited, a giant millipede crawling past me, the birds above most annoyed by our presence. Two cracks sounded out followed by a second pair.

  ‘Wilco, it’s Nicholson, we got these two, but they were just about dead anyhow, sir.’

  ‘Come back to us, leave the bodies.’ I stood, checking the track ahead, but there were no fresh footprints going north. I doubled back as four men came out of the trees.

  ‘OK, on me,’ I called, and led them off back down the muddy trail, Rocko joining us. At the ambush spot I left the last four men, they had rations, and I would send out relief in four hours.

  Approaching the base I radioed in, firmly telling everyone with a GPMG to get his finger off the damn trigger, and we burst onto the runway, walking across casually, but with an eye on the tree line east, the four men we left at the west end coming across to us.

  Haines met us with Sergeant Crab and Marines Captain Helms, Max stood with his camera ready.

  ‘How was our aim?’ Helms asked with a grin as the lads filed past us.

  ‘Good, you now have five confirmed kills.’

  ‘They all gone?’ Crab asked, his weapon ready.

  ‘We killed another four, no more fresh tracks north, that was all of them, so now I can get some breakfast. Oh, one of my patrols still out there, north east, so check your fire.’

  ‘We go after the rebels?’ Crab asked.

  ‘I’ll send out light patrols today, but tonight we’ll setup on OP or two – which is what we were in the middle of doing last night when we got pigging called away. That lot would have walked right into a trap.’ I pointed at Haines. ‘Ambush is back in place.’

  ‘Can I photograph the bodies? Max asked.

  ‘Sure,’ I told him.

  Inside, Morten said, ‘Are we safe here?’

  ‘Hell no,’ I told him as I climbed the stairs. ‘Did the shooting wake the baby?’

  ‘Yes! And thanks for asking how we are!’

  After breakfast I made up a patrol, Rocko plus seven men, and sent then off to the tree line halfway down the runway and to press north, and to try and reach Rizzo, who had not called in. I had Swifty take three men south, a circular patrol, just in case.

  A call from the RAF Regiment lads, and we were notified of a local with a van wanting to sell us fruit, chickens and eggs. He had heard and seen the helicopters and figured westerners were about.

  I had no money on me, so went downstairs. ‘Has anyone got any money?’ I loudly called.

  ‘We do,’ Morten answered. ‘We brought dollars, just in case.’

  ‘Then go to the gate and buy some supplies, and if it’s any good – the price is right, have him come back every day.’

  Morten set off with Haines and our medic from Angola in tow, empty bags carried. They came back with several live chickens, boxes of eggs, carrots, peas, bananas and melons – and they got them at a good price. It made me smile as I peeled a banana.

  ‘Mister Haines, Mister Morten, set up a canteen please, a fire always burning, hot water always on for men returning from patrol. And, Mister Morten, draw up a list of all men here save the Marines, I want
feet inspected, cuts and scratches checked, and questions asked about liquid shit or bad stomachs. I don’t want anyone falling ill and whinging.’

  Upstairs, I told the lads to go get bananas, and that I wanted four lads at a time to take boots off and to dry feet and to swap socks. I took my own boots and socks off, checked my feet, and let them dry out.

  An hour later, and the Major called. ‘We have a problem, with Travis.’

  ‘Travis? He’s ... out on patrol last time I checked.’

  ‘Had the police on, his step dad beat up his mum, half killed her, then set about his sister, they’re both in hospital, his mum might not make it.’

  ‘Oh ... for fuck’s sake.’ I rubbed my forehead. ‘I don’t need one of my men distracted, we just had an attack here, and it could be days to get him back to the UK.’

  ‘He needs to know, she might die.’

  ‘Yes, but ... OK, I’ll let him know when he surfaces. Can we get the Regiment involved, he is technically one of theirs, they have officers to go out and to help.’

  ‘I’ll see what they can do.’

  ‘Is O’Leary there, sir?’

  ‘Here he is.’

  ‘Wilco?’ came O’Leary’s voice.

  ‘Listen, I don’t need Travis distracted, nor the rest of the lads, but he has a right to know, and he may tell others, then we have ten men wanting to be back in the UK and killing that stepdad fucker instead of concentrating on the job at hand.

  ‘So get hold of Bob, and make sure that the stepdad is dealt with, and I need to know so that I can tell the lads some positive news – and I need this put to fucking bed quickly.’

  ‘I’ll call Bob now, focus on what you’re doing, call you back later.’

  ‘Put the Major back on.’

  ‘Here he is.’

  ‘Bradley.’

  ‘Sir, try and see the family in a day or two, give them some money from me, dock my wages, I’m not short of a few quid. Give his sister a grand, tell her it’s from Travis, because she’ll be off work. I’ll sort it when I’m back.’

  ‘Leave it with me, we’ll deal with it.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  When Travis got back I led him to one side with Moran. ‘Listen, had the Major on the phone, and he spoke to the police, your ... stepdad hit your mother, she’s in a very bad way, and he hit your sister as well.’

  ‘That drunken old bastard, I’ll kill him.’

  ‘Not if my people don’t get there first. Now listen, the Regiment will send people out, and the Major will give your sister some money, we’ll sort the money later. I need you focused on being here, not with your mind there – hard I know. I’m going to deal with the fucker, don’t worry about that, but you ... keep your head straight or you’re on a plane home.’

  ‘How bad is my mum hurt?’

  I glanced at Moran. ‘Very bad by all accounts.’

  He ran a hand through his hair and sighed in frustration. ‘I told her he was a drunken wanker. She wouldn’t fucking listen.’ He rubbed his face.

  ‘Do you need to be taken off patrols?’ I asked.

  ‘No, Boss.’

  I jabbed a finger at his chest. ‘Don’t give that shit. Go rest, eat, sort you head out first.’

  He headed off, his head low and his shoulders hunched, and I exchanged a look with Moran, blowing out.

  An hour later Bob was on. ‘The stepdad, he’s facing a serious charge, but I’ve made sure he’s remanded, and it’s a London court he’ll face, so we’ll have a friendly judge sat there, he’ll get a custodial sentence, you can tell Travis.’

  ‘That’s something, but we don’t need Travis and the lads killing the guy when they get back, they may get caught.’

  ‘He’ll get a year or two inside, contact banning order after that.’

  ‘I’ll let him know. Thanks.’

  ‘How is it there?’

  ‘I got rudely woken by rounds fired through my window, a sneak attack, then the Marines opened up and killed most of them, and we ran down the others and killed them. All quiet now, ambushes in place, patrols out.’

  ‘And you didn’t have men out during the night?’

  ‘They were tired after the fight at the fucking airport – remember; what’d you think they are, fucking robots. We had more than enough men on defence, so we went to bed.’

  ‘And if the Marines had not been there?’

  ‘Then I might have set-up an ambush.’

  ‘And if a large force had moved on you during the night?’

  ‘Then you’d have a bad newspaper headline. And if I thought there was a large force around here that could move on us we’d be sleeping in the jungle, not in the buildings. Do you have any intel ... on a large force?’

  ‘Not your side of the border, no.’

  ‘Then we’ll sleep soundly, till we start crossing the border, Mister Armchair Captain.’

  ‘I wasn’t suggesting you were being sloppy, just concerned.’

  ‘The greatest risk we took was at the fucking airport, a very risky move, we could have walked right up to the wrong soldiers and not known who they were, and we’d all be captured or dead. How’s that for risk?’

  ‘Well, it’s a risk we’ll try not to take again, but time - and the Prime Minister - dictated on that one.’

  ‘Well, it’s a case of ... if we’re all killed, then you’re a shark with no teeth, Bob, and a career going nowhere. So I’ll just have keep being lucky, won’t I. Wilco out.’

  Travis had confided in the lads, they could see he was upset, so I rounded them up – those still here, all squeezed into one room.

  ‘Travis, my people have made sure your stepdad is held on remand, so that’s nine months, and when it comes to trial they’ll make sure he gets a long sentence, so he won’t be on the streets inside of three years, so you’ve got three years to decide what to do to the cunt. In the meantime, we have a job to do here, so focus on that, I want no talk of this, certainly not around outsiders. Dismissed.’

  Rocko and Rizzo came back in together just before sundown, and shortly before helicopters came in for the Marines. I thanked the Marines and waved them off, Max having got another story and had already sent it out, then I called the lads together.

  ‘Rocko, your team, plus Max, plus four others – not Externals, get fresh rations and extra rations, fly sheets and ponchos, that green netting, make sure you have all your kit, up to the bad boys’ village, follow the river, eyes on. Make sure you have a sat phone, spare battery. When you get there you can sleep.

  ‘Rizzo, rest and food, off at midnight with your team, up the track to the burnt out jeeps, sniff around, then back, slow and steady, listen out. Before dawn I want you at the east end of the runway, hundred yards in, back here after sun up.

  ‘Henri, small patrol south after midnight, listen out, back in two or three hours. Oh, and we have a canteen now, so the lads can get a cuppa there - and some bananas.’

  Morten appeared at my side as the teams moved off. ‘There’s a local at the gate, with a wound, he wants some first aid.’

  ‘Hearts and minds is important. You have your tents?’

  ‘We have one, rest are still back with the French.’

  ‘Then set-up near the gate, always armed guards, and be very careful, because grabbing a westerner is worth a year’s wages to the locals. And don’t be in the tent after dark.’

  The medics lugged out their tent in long green holdalls, and they set it up as I observed from the roof. Since it had a large red cross on a white background the locals would figure its use. As I stood there grinning, the wounded local waited as the tent seemed to be erected just for him. He was eventually led inside, and half an hour later he hobbled off, soon back to us with four locals. Word had spread that free health care was available.

  Seeing that the RAF Regiment could do with some patrols, and that they had nagged for some patrols, I sent out Moran with four

  RAF Regiment lads, a one hour patrol north in the dark jungle.<
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  In the morning, Henri asked about sandbags and slit trenches, just in case, so I had him contact the French base via Captain Harris, and an hour later a Puma set down, shovels and pickaxes thrown off, packs of empty sandbags dumped, the Puma pulling away quickly.

  I organised Haines, and he filled the sandbags with sand found under the skeleton sheds, and I had my spare lads dig slit trenches for a few hours. As the sun dipped we had four RAF Regiment lads twenty yards out and facing the runway and the tree line, poncho on the top of them, our first line of defence if needed.

  They benefitted from a clear view east and west, and would hear any movement over the runway, hopefully. As they sat there in the dark they dug down and widened their new happy home. Up on the roof, their comrades had sandbag positions ready, so we were now a little more organised.

  When my sat phone trilled it was the Major. ‘Wilco, there’re a dozen men from “G” Squadron on their way down to you.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  ‘Yesterday, Rawlson was up in London, and he let slip that he had held back his men, recent deaths and wounds, so the generals gave him some shit about you doing the job he should be doing. Rawlson was furious when he got back.’

  ‘That always helps, he’ll be on my back now.’

  ‘Well, he was shamed into action, and “G” Squadron had plenty of volunteers. Could be with you in the morning. Oh, I saw the sister of Travis, she’s staying with friends near Swindon for a while, gave her the money. Put that to the back of your mind. ’

  ‘Good to know, and thank you. Goodnight, sir.’

  I went and found Haines. ‘Have some extra rooms cleared out, make some space, more men arriving, twelve I think.’

  ‘Plenty of space on the lower level, I’ll get them cleaned up. Who’s coming?’

  ‘More SAS.’

  An hour later my phone trilled. ‘Wilco, it’s Captain Taggard, “G” Squadron,’ came a Scottish accent.

  ‘You on your way?’

  ‘We’re at the airport, nice terminal building full of holes.’

  ‘Many of the holes are down to me. Listen, don’t come straight to us, go find the French across the airfield, have them take you to the idiot president, tell him you came to pay your respects and to protect him, hang around a day, fly the flag.’