by Geoff Wolak
Clicking on the radio, I performed another headcount by teams. ‘Listen up, we’re in the shit, long walk back. But armoured personal carriers are no good in the jungle, so one foot in front of the other. On me.’
I led them off, taking out my sat phone and punching #3.
‘Captain Harris here.’
‘It’s Wilco, abort the helicopters, base has been overrun by armoured personnel carriers and a large force, abort the French - if they were coming out.’
‘What’ll you do?’
‘Walk back. I’ll update you later, let Bob know. Wilco out.’
I led the lads slowly back the way we came, finding a few bodies, men who had been wounded but had wandered off, a blood-loss stupor. Instead of going south, back up the high ground, I kept going northwest, and I followed the contours, knowing that the newcomers would be looking for us due west - heading for the border.
Half an hour on, and finding a shallow wide stretch of river, we crossed it, everyone wet up to the arse, and through the reeds the other side I pushed on northwest.
The day warmed up, Stretch limping, and we hit the main river at 2pm. Here the water was slow moving, two shirtless men with a rope and a ferry plying their trade. I led the lads down when the men were this side, the two young men not looking happy to see us. I took out the diamonds and handed them a few, and suddenly they were very happy to see us.
Diamonds away, they took four of us across, the others covering us, and twenty minutes later we were all in Sierra Leone. Following a track, I struck south down the riverbank, wondering if the carriers would cross over, and would they want a fight with the local army here, what it was.
I called a halt an hour later, thick trees adopted, water sipped, no fires allowed. Men nibbled rations, or simply ate it cold, all getting a bit low on food.
Pressing on, we passed the narrow bridge we had previously turned east at, no one seeing us, and we followed the river. Coming up to the sturdy road bridge I moved west and into the trees, up a ridge and halting. Peering through my sights I could see three armoured personnel carriers at their end of the bridge.
‘It’s Wilco, the bad boys are at their end of the bridge, doesn’t look like they crossed, but stay sharp. Get leaves in webbing, get back to being professionals, eh.’ I broke off large leaves and stuffed them in my webbing, and added some to Swifty’s back webbing before we plodded on.
At a slow pace I moved down the ridge, looking and listening, scanning for tracks, and we hit the road about a mile away from the bridge. Finding a place where the trees nestled tightly into the road, we bunched up in teams and ran across, and I climbed the opposite ridge quickly, checking for tracks.
With everyone across, the day damn hot and sticky, I moved southwest, away from the river, and an hour’s hot slog brought us to familiar ground, the northwest corner of the druggy village. Crossing a road in teams, we turned south and followed a familiar path, coming to the clearing where we had gathered the hostages. I stopped to peer down. There, in the centre of the camp, sat four armoured personnel carriers.
‘That’s cheeky,’ I told Swifty. I knelt, taking out my sat phone and dialling.
‘Pilot Officer Haines.’
‘You still in one piece down there?’
‘Was about you ask that of you. FBI and Delta Force here, place is bustling.’
‘Get as many RPG as you can to the road, set-up an ambush, there are armoured personnel carriers just three miles north, at the druggy village – next stop is the FOB. Stand-to everyone, disperse them, rifles are no good against personnel carriers, need RPG. Get to it!’
I dialled Captain Harris. ‘Did you warn off the helicopters?’
‘Not in time, but they flew over and saw the armoured cars and aborted.’
‘There are armoured personnel carriers at the border and at the druggy camp, I think they’ll move on the FOB soon, I just warned them. Warn the French, and the British infantry, and let the president there know he’s being invaded.’
‘Christ.’
I lifted up and led the team on, wishing I had a few RPG to hand.
At the end of the track we dipped down and crossed the road past the burnt out jeeps, getting up the other side unseen. I wished I could pick up the pace, but could not take the risk.
A slow and cautious two hours led to the abandoned houses, and to the fixed ambush point. I clicked on the radio. ‘Ambush point, it’s Wilco, you hear me?’
‘We hear you, yes, Captain.’
‘Approaching from the north, fingers off triggers.’
As I drew level with the position a gunner stood up and closed in. ‘There was an attack at the base, sir, but we won, some wounded.’
‘Armoured personal carriers?’
‘Yes, four or five of them.’
‘Well I hope my bed is still there,’ I sighed as we pressed on, picking up the pace, and on this stretch there should not have been anyone lurking.
I could soon smell smoke, burnt rubber, and as we broke through the tree line we took off facemasks, a tall column of black smoke near the gate, another on the road.
Sergeant Crab came out of the trees near the road and fell into step with me. ‘You missed the action. We got to the road in time, like fifteen RPG ready, malleted them at close range, hit every carrier six times side-on from inside twenty yards. They piled out the back, the wogs, so we shot the fuckers, some ran off. What happened at that base, we thought you’d been captured or killed?’
‘As we waited our helos a few dozen personnel carriers turned up, and with turrets and fifty cal, so we had to leg it away sharpish, walked all the way back. But Rizzo hit one with the 105mm.’
As we approached the building we were met with a wall of boxes stacked up, Haines and Morten coming out to meet us.
‘Any wounded? Morten asked me.
‘No, we were lucky. Any wounded here?’
‘Fifty cal went through a few walls, a few people hurt,’ Haines reported. ‘I got three lads with wounds, waiting helos.’
‘Call your CO, have some lads sent down, or rotate,’ I told Haines as the FBI emerged with the Deltas close by, Major O’Donnell following.
I turned my head to my lads. ‘Get inside, get some rest. Make safe weapons!’ The muddy patrol filed past, most looking dead tired, weapons unloaded.
I lifted my gaze to the roof. ‘Are they Marines?’
‘And infantry,’ Haines reported. ‘Got the shock of their lives.’
FBI Agent Manstein did not have his happy face on. ‘We were in danger here, Captain, we should have had better protection.’
‘You were in danger at the base in Liberia as well, you missed the large force by six minutes. Could be in a cockroach infested cell right now had you not be forced ... to leave ... by little old me,’ I told him. ‘Then I’d have to come rescue you.’
‘This is not funny, Captain, I’ll be making a formal complaint.’
‘Complaint about what, about you taking the kind of risks I take every day?’ He stared back. I pointed at the munitions. ‘Get want you want, photograph it, go someplace safe, leave these risky neighbourhoods to the real men.
‘And next week I’ll be fighting to re-take that base, my small contribution to stopping the gunmen, the child soldiers, the Blood Diamonds, to stop the rape and the murder. And I’ll sleep well every night after a good day’s work done.’ I pointed to the buildings. ‘In there you’ll find a Liberian family cooking for us. She ... is the reason that I do this shit. Try her Cajun chicken, it’s fucking marvellous.’ I nodded at the major as I passed. ‘Sir.’
I stopped and spun around. ‘Major, there’s a good chance of another attack here, and my men haven’t slept in three days.’
‘We’ll get ready,’ he assured me.
‘Perhaps you could ask the Chinook pilots to fly around at height and check the roads.’
I walked inside, and in my room I shook off my kit, killed a few bugs, downed some water and lay down. ‘Fuck, I’m knackered.
’
‘You’re not the only one,’ Moran said, yawning.
‘FBI are not happy that they were in danger.’ I tapped my webbing, the diamonds still there.
Major O’Donnell appeared at the door. I rolled over and stood, my back clicking. ‘Don’t get up,’ he said. ‘You all look half dead.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ I said as I lay down.
‘Apparently you took possession of Blood Diamonds.’
Reaching across, I pulled out the bag. ‘A few million quids worth, which I chatted to the Cabinet Office about. Prime Minister wants them.’ I handed them to O’Donnell. ‘Give those over to the Americans and you’ll be in a British prison, sir.’
‘Well what the hell were you going to do with them?’
‘Send them back, securely.’
‘FBI are saying they’re evidence.’
‘They are. But who do you take orders from, Major?’
‘Same people you do!’ He handed them back. I put them under my head and eased back, closing my eyes. ‘Major, best call the Colonel, and for him to call London, then we know where we are, yes?’
‘Yes. Get some rest.’
When I woke it was dark, moths flittering around the dull electric bulbs, and easing up I was stiff as hell, my back sore as hell. Swifty, Moran and Mahoney were still sleeping. Sat there, I took off my facemask and rubbed my face, and I took a sip of water, patting the diamonds. I opened the bag to make sure. Up on my knees, I put on my bandolier, my webbing, tucked the diamonds away, grabbed my rifle and stood.
Downstairs, I found Haines sat with Major O’Donnell and Morten. ‘Any food about?
‘Here,’ Morten said, and he handed me a bowl, lukewarm chicken broth.
I placed my rifle down and sat at a table. ‘All quiet out there?’
‘So far,’ O’Donnell said. ‘And if that lot had turned up before we had RPGs we’d all be dead – or captured!’
‘And if ... I hadn’t attacked their base, they would have never come here, sir. And if I had not joined up...’ I checked my watch, just past 11pm; I had slept six hours. ‘That road blocked?’
‘Yes, but the Engineers are coming out tomorrow to move them, and to dig some trenches for us.’
I nodded, spooning down the broth. ‘When we hit that base I thought I’d knocked them back.’
O’Donnell began, ‘Captain Harris says there are fifteen hundred men and about thirty armoured personnel carriers.’
‘Not SAS work,’ I commented.
‘No, quite,’ O’Donnell agreed.
‘FBI gone?’ I asked.
‘Yes, and the Marines.’
‘By helicopter?’ I puzzled.
‘Yes, you slept through it.’
‘Three days without sleep will do that to you,’ I quipped. ‘If we’d been attacked I would have slept through it. Not a bad way to go, shot in your sleep.’
‘I’ve asked for 66mm,’ O’Donnell told me. ‘And sharpish.’
‘That should help, sir, yes, but we anticipated jungle warfare, not an anti-tank role. But ... the local army here has mounted 105mm, we could borrow some.’ My phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’
‘Chief Cabinet Secretary, is it ... convenient to talk, not in the middle of some shoot-out are you?’
‘I’m sat having some Cajun chicken, sir.’
‘Putting you through to the COBRA meeting. Stay on the line.’
‘Wilco, you’re on speaker phone,’ came the Prime Minister’s distinctive voice.
I made eye contact with Major O’Donnell. ‘Good evening, Prime Minister.’ O’Donnell sat upright in his chair.
‘We’re about to dispatch the Rapid Reaction Brigade, but I thought I’d check with you what you need down there.’
‘Not infantry, sir, they’d pick up wounds and you’d get a bad newspaper headline soon enough.’
‘Then what do you need?’
‘Are there still two Navy frigates offshore?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then what we need is those two Lynx helicopters patrolling at dawn, missiles ready. They need only hit a few armoured personnel carriers to scare the rest away, after which the odd fly-by would re-enforce that. Send me a Navy forward air controller with ground to air radios, sir.’
‘How long would you need the helicopters for?’
‘Two or three days only. But one mission they should fly is the one we almost finished, and that’s to blow the armoury at the large base inside Liberia. We got most of the rifles out, a great many landmines left, and they’re best not used this side of the border.’
‘Yes, quite. OK, I’ll talk to the Navy now. Are you well, not wounded?’
‘Just got some sleep after a hard three days, sir.’
‘Can you give us a quick rundown of what you did?’
‘We first hit a camp a few miles north, the local druggy warlord, and we rescued hostages, reducing his men greatly. We then moved north and found a base hosting men loyal to the ex-president, preparing to move on the capital, and we destroyed their base and reduced them greatly.
‘We then moved across the border to their main base, encountering patrols as we went. We set a decoy and drew them out, ambushed them and reduced them, then set another ambush in the jungle and reduced them further, and whilst they were dropping mortars on what they thought was our position we snuck around the back and infiltrated their base.
‘We wore them down, got control of their own armoury and used their own weapons and mortars to level that base, finding hostages and getting them out. As we were levelling the rest of the base the FBI came in and had a look around, but they left when I warned them of a possible attack. They flew to the FOB here to catalogue the weapons we removed, but got caught up in an attack.
‘That attack caused a few minor wounds, a few holes in the walls, but we destroyed several armoured personnel carriers.’
‘And the FBI are not happy I understand.’
‘They wanted to seize the weapons, but god knows how they would have moved ten tonnes of weapons in active war zone, and they wanted to confiscate the weapons we removed, and the diamonds.’
‘What did you tell them?’
‘I ... told them to fuck off, sir.’
I could hear laughter in the background, Major O’Donnell glaring at me, Morten hiding is smirk.
‘Not their jurisdiction anyhow, and without you they would not even have known about the weapons or the diamonds. You have the diamonds with you?’
‘Yes, sir, safe for now.’
‘Don’t take them on patrol, will you. We’ll arrange for someone to pick them up. I’m going to contact the Admiralty now. Thank you, Wilco, good night.’
‘Good night, sir.’ I put my phone away.
‘He calls ... often?’ O’Donnell testily asked.
‘That was ... the second time I think, but sometimes I chat to the Cabinet Office guys, and I met him a few times.’ I handed O’Donnell the diamonds. ‘Those are now your responsibility, sir, someone will come collect them. I can’t take them on patrol with me, can I.’
‘No, we might lose them.’
‘I have a locked metal cabinet for drugs,’ Morten offered, so O’Donnell handed over the bag, and Morten stepped next door to tuck away the diamonds.
‘So what’s the plan now?’ O’Donnell asked, and not in friendly manner.
‘Now, sir, the Navy can hit the armoured personnel carriers and scare them away as my men rest. After resting we’ll go back to the border and start all over again.’
‘There are fifteen hundred men with armour!’
‘And that’s their disadvantage. They need food and water, trucks to move, and fuel...’
O’Donnell considered that. ‘Cut the supply lines, classic SAS work.’
‘Yes, sir. At dawn I’d like to hold a planning session then send your men out for static OP work, if that’s OK with you.’
‘Well, let’s kick around the plan first. What does the Cabinet Office want?’
Morten retu
rned and sat.
‘First and foremost, they want the current tin-pot dictator here kept in power, so we hit any threat to him. Second, they want hostages rescued and good newspaper headlines. Problem is, to get to the hostages we need to move aside that large force.’
‘What about helicopter raids?’ he pressed.
‘We don’t know where the hostages are, just that there are many of them ... somewhere. We need eyes on.’
‘Intel doesn’t know where they are?’
‘Not really, sir, no.’
‘Bloody marvellous.’
‘There is a third facet, and that is what the PM and the MOD wants, and that’s field experience for soldiers, the more the better, including your men. If young servicemen come here and go out on patrol, they get some experience of live conditions – valuable wartime experience accrued in peacetime.’
‘Dangerous spot for them to be learning on the job.’
‘If there was no danger ... there would be no experience gained, sir; they can patrol back in the UK without fear. They need to feel that fear and get used to it, and get beyond it to be better soldiers - our future leaders.’
‘Well, I suppose.’ He eased up. ‘I’m off to bed, dawn command meeting then.’
I eased up. ‘Good night, sir.’
An hour later I was sat with the baby, she had woken and started screaming, and I had rocked her, the RAF Regiment gunners observing me as they ate. A helicopter could be heard, a distinctive high pitch; a Lynx. It set down for a moment, soon lifting off. An officer was led in to me.
He stopped dead and stared at the baby, having been introduced to me. ‘Didn’t think you’d been here long enough to start a family,’ he quipped as he sat, combat jacket over blue Navy uniform, bag dumped down.
I smiled. ‘We rescued her from the bushes, local women dump albino babies.’
‘Dump them? Christ, what century is this?’
The RAF Regiment lads handed him a coffee.
‘This is Africa. And ... what rank are you?’
‘Lieutenant Commander.’
‘What’s that equivalent to, a major?’
