Gurkha

by Kailash Limbu

  Everyone agreed.

  When the elders eventually came, there must have been about fifteen or twenty of them. Most were old, a few were very old, but some were a lot younger, and it was fairly obvious these younger ones were sizing us up. As the men came through the gate, the bhais all pulled themselves up to their full height and made a big thing of showing their weapons off. Every so often they would put their rifles to the shoulder as if reassuring themselves there was nothing obstructing their sights.

  The shura went on for about two hours, and during that time, Major Rex did his best to convince the elders that we were there to help and not to harm people. But I was told you could sense they were all very suspicious of his words as the torjeman translated them.

  At the evening O-group Major Rex confirmed that the shura had had mixed results. He told us that on the whole, the elders were not very forthcoming. They certainly didn’t welcome our presence. On the other hand, they didn’t seem too keen on the Taliban either. They just wanted to be left in peace, they said. About the only serious thing that came out of the meeting was a request that from now on, the ANP wear uniform when they went out on patrol. The elders complained that they didn’t know who was who, and at least if the ANP wore uniform, they would know they weren’t the Taliban. This seemed reasonable to the OC, so he had asked the ANP commander whether they had any uniform. Apparently they did, but they didn’t like wearing it as it was so hot. In that case, he said, they must wear it from now on whenever they went out of the compound, but they didn’t need to wear it inside. So that was agreed.

  It was early morning the next day that we saw the real results of the shura. The ANP decided that it would be a good idea to make a show of strength to the local people – or what was left of them. At the unusually early hour of 6.30 a.m., a group of about eight or ten armed men assembled at the gate. They didn’t look exactly threatening. In fact it looked more like they were going on a sightseeing trip than on an armed exercise. Maybe what they really wanted to do was to demonstrate goodwill by showing off their uniforms. All of them were wearing a sort of light blue jacket which, although not very military-looking, did at least identify them as belonging to the ANP.

  There was a certain amount of arguing before they set off, then the gate opened and out they went. It can’t have been more than ten minutes later when we heard shots in the distance, followed by a pause, then more shots – single rounds first, then machine-gun fire.

  At once, I could hear Corporal Santos yelling.

  ‘STAND-TO! EVERYBODY STAND-TO!’

  Already I could see the QRF mustering at the gate, tightening their helmets, adjusting their body armour and readying their weapons.

  ‘Zero, this is Two Two Charlie, ready to deploy now.’ That was Corporal Santos, who was leading it.

  ‘Roger. Sangars One and Three, make sure you keep them covered at all times.’

  ‘Sangar One, roger out.’

  ‘Sangar Three, roger out.’

  I was on maximum alert, my heart racing. Looking down into the town, I scanned with my binoculars. There was nothing to see for the moment. Inside the compound, the gate was being opened to let the QRF out and the ANP back in.

  ‘OK, bhai haru, we need to be careful here. There’s a good chance the enemy will follow. Gaaz, you keep Smuggler’s covered. Nagen, you cover the gate. I’ll keep the alleyway covered.’

  Just then I saw some people running along the alleyway towards us. From their pale blue uniforms, I could see that they were ANP. A few moments later, another group appeared, half-carrying, half-dragging a wounded man. Every so often he gave a cry of agony. I pressed the Send button on the PRR.

  ‘Zero, this is Sangar One. Patrol returning. Looks like one man wounded. Covering,’ I said.

  ‘Roger. Just one casualty?’

  ‘Looks like.’

  ‘OK, keep them covered. If you see any targets, you are to engage, but only if they are definitely hostile. Be very careful with your shot selection. Controlled bursts only. And look out for civilians.’

  ‘Roger.’ Actually I hadn’t seen a civvie since the disha patrol.

  ‘OK, bhai haru,’ I shouted. ‘This is it. If you see the enemy, you are to engage. But short bursts only. Did you get that? And only if you get a PID.’

  ‘Yes, guruji.’

  ‘OK, guruji.’

  ‘And watch out for any civvies,’ I added. It was true, you can’t be too careful in situations like this. ‘Gaaz, Nagen, did you get that? We don’t want blue on blue. And no more than three rounds at a time. Is that quite clear?’

  Looking down, I could see the QRF had not deployed and were instead helping with the casualty. There was shouting as the rest of the ANP men came through the gate.

  Inside the compound, the two medics were ready and waiting and the casualty was immediately taken into the CT for treatment. He had been hit in the leg, but nothing worse, luckily for him.

  ‘Charlie Charlie One, this is Zero. The patrol is now back inside the compound. All sangar positions are to remain vigilant. Report any suspicious movement. Over.’

  ‘Sangar One. Roger. Out.’

  ‘Sangar Two. Roger. Out.’

  ‘Sangar Three. Roger. Out.’

  Each of the callsigns working the PRR acknowledged the order in turn.

  Here perhaps I should explain some radio procedure. The word ‘over’ as a question means ‘Have you got that?’ As a response ‘roger’ shows that you have understood what has been said, while just ‘out’ signals the end of the message with no response expected or required. The phrase ‘Charlie Charlie’ is used by the commander to alert all radio callsigns on the net. It means he is speaking to all subordinate commanders. Otherwise, he uses individual callsigns, such as Two One Alpha, Two One Bravo, Two One Charlie and so on. My own callsign was Two One Charlie. ‘Sunray’ is the name used by the senior commander working the net.

  Having satisfied myself there was no enemy pursuing the retreating ANP patrol, I turned to the bhais.

  ‘OK, listen in, bhai haru. The OC hasn’t stood us down yet so we’ve got to stay focused. We know they’re out there. They could be back any time.’

  I remember looking down from the sangar into the DC a short while later and being just in time to see a burst of tracer streaming in the direction of Sangar 4. Suddenly someone in one of the other sangars shouted:

  ‘R-P-G! … R-P-G!’

  I heard a loud fizzing sound and watched as first one, then another round appeared, each an intense flash of white light, hurtling through the air.

  Aare jatha!

  Flying at just under 120 metres per second, I had no difficulty following the trajectory of the grenade – which was fortunately well wide of the intended target in both cases. They went right over the top of us and exploded harmlessly outside the compound.

  But a moment later, a call went out over the PRR.

  ‘ALL STATIONS, THIS IS ZERO. CONTACT! WAIT OUT.’

  Mathers sahib’s voice came over the headset loud and clear.

  ‘Nagen! Gaaz! Can you see anything?’

  ‘Can’t see anything at the moment, guruji. But I think I know where they are,’ replied Nagen.

  ‘OK, keep it covered,’ I said.

  ‘Guruji bhai haru in Sangar Three, can you see anything?’ I shouted into the PRR.

  ‘Nothing seen from Sangar Three,’ came the reply.

  Hardly had I registered this when there was a burst of small-arms fire, quickly joined by another, and another.

  I realised it was us who were under attack.

  ‘Get your heads down, bhai haru!’

  You couldn’t see anything but you could hear rounds flying through the air.

  It was the same sound we’d heard on landing.

  TAKTAKTAK … TUMTUMTUM TAKTAKTAK … TUMTUMTUM …

  The only difference was that you could hear an occasional thud against the sandbags where a round struck the position. And every so often there would be a small explosion
of sand as a tear opened up.

  It took maybe a second or two to understand the seriousness of the situation, but in that time my heart rate must have tripled. The sangar that a moment before had been like a miniature home was transformed into a zone of imminent death. Looking out now was like looking into an abyss we were perched on the edge of. One stroke of luck for the enemy and we were dead and buried.

  ‘OK, bhai haru. We need to work out where it’s coming from!’ I yelled, throwing myself from one side of the sangar to the other to quickly scan with my binos before picking up the field telephone.

  ‘Zero, this is Sangar One, CONTACT! We’re under heavy fire. Observing!’

  A second later, I heard Lance Corporal Shree in Sangar 3 give exactly the same contact report.

  ‘Zero, this is Sangar Three, CONTACT! Heavy fire. Observing.’

  ‘Zero, roger. We’re under fire too.’ Mathers sahib’s voice came up over the PRR sounding as calm as if he was watching a sunset. ‘Observe and engage any fire positions you can identify. Any idea where it’s coming from?’

  That was exactly what I wanted to know.

  ‘Can’t you see anything, Gaaz, Nagen?’

  ‘Still nothing, guruji.’

  ‘Nothing at all, guruji.’

  For a few seconds at a time, no more, we put our heads above sandbag level, trying desperately to get an idea of where the fire was coming from. And when we did, the sound got even worse. As well as the TAK TAK TAK TUM TUM TUM of the rounds in the air all around, and the thumping sound as they hit the sandbags, every so often there was a loud click as a bullet hit a wooden roof support or one of the arc markers. This was accurate fire, and a lot of it. Must be ten weapons or more.

  It was like being in a shepherd’s hut on the mountainside underneath an avalanche of rocks. It’s no good running out because your skull will be smashed to pieces by falling rocks. It felt very lonely suddenly, like we were a thousand miles from the rest of the DC.

  The bhais were using their weapon sights to scan, but I had binoculars as well. These offer a slightly better magnification than the SA80 sight and are generally better for target acquisition. Having poked my head up for a few seconds to look down into the main street and make sure there was no sign of an imminent assault, I began to look further out.

  It was just a question of ignoring the danger. You know it’s there, all around you. But you just have to get on with things.

  One obvious place for the enemy to occupy was the treeline to the north-west of our position, but at more than 300 metres range, it was going to be hard to get a positive fix on any position dug in there. But as I looked, I saw some flashes of tracer which made me think that was where they were.

  ‘Gaaz,’ I yelled. ‘I want you to target the AOI in the treeline, OK? Get some rounds down. We’ve got to try to get the initiative away from them.’

  Although I couldn’t be sure that was where they were, at least this would force them to get their heads down should they be.

  ‘OK, guruji.’

  ‘But controlled bursts, all right? I don’t want you to just spray it about.’

  I hardly needed to say this, but on the other hand you can’t repeat basic SOPs too often. They have to become so ingrained that they are second nature, and one way of making this happen is by constant reminder.

  If I’d had time to think about it, I might have been glad that at last we were getting to fire our weapons, but what I was really focusing on was trying to identify the enemy positions. So while Gaaz engaged the treeline – which we had nicknamed Kathmandu – and Nagen covered east and south over the town, I began to concentrate on Smuggler’s House, the two-storey old school building, which stood about 300 metres to the north. That was one place where I would be if I were the enemy. But although I looked and looked, I couldn’t see anything.

  Still the rounds kept pouring in on us.

  Grabbing the field telephone, I sent a brief sitrep. ‘Sunray, this is Sangar One.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Am engaging AOI to the north and observing within arcs. Nothing seen yet, but Smuggler’s House looks a big possibility.’

  ‘Roger. By the way, can you see any civilians around the place?’

  ‘No. Everywhere is completely empty.’

  Until then I hadn’t thought about civilians. I was just concentrating on the situation. But of course, that told you they were keeping out of the way. It told you this wasn’t just a few isolated gunmen. This was a concerted effort to blow us to bits.

  Somehow, we had to find their positions and get on to them.

  ‘Roger. Keep looking. We have air assets en route. Expected in figures three five.’

  That was good to know. Aircraft were just over half an hour away.

  ‘Roger. Out.’

  I replaced the receiver and crawled back over next to Gaaz. There was still a blizzard of rounds flying up at us.

  TAK TAK TAK TAK. SMACK! TUM TUM TUM …

  I’m not saying you get used to it, but it is true that after a while, it becomes easier to think straight. At least there was no more RPG. Thank God. I put the thought of any more to the back of my mind as I peered out at Smuggler’s House.

  ‘Seen anything yet, Nagen?’

  ‘No. Nothing, guruji. It’s just coming in from everywhere,’ he shouted.

  I redoubled my efforts with my binos. All I needed was some smoke … just a puff of smoke. Or a line of tracer. Or some muzzle flash … Just one movement would be enough. I scanned and scanned, looking at every building, every window, every crack and crevice.

  ‘BHAI HARU!’ I shouted after a few moments. ‘I think I’ve got something. Reference Smuggler’s House …’

  Something had caught my eye.

  ‘Where is it? Where is it?’ shouted Gaaz. ‘Let me get at him.’

  ‘Wait a moment. Just wait.’

  I stared hard, crouched on my haunches, my elbows tucked in. Yes. YES!

  Or was I imagining things? Three hundred metres is quite a distance when you’re looking for something as momentary as muzzle flash, even when you’ve got six times magnification.

  But yes, I was sure I’d seen something. I can’t say it was anything very clear. It was more like an idea of something. My eye kept being drawn back to two spots, one on the extreme right of the building, and one just to the front and left of it: a low shed about 20 metres from the main school building.

  ‘OK, Gaaz! Let me have the jimpy for a second.’

  He rolled out of the way.

  ‘Reference Smuggler’s. Front, far right. Small aperture. Watch my tracer,’ I said as, steadying the butt with my left hand and squinting through the iron sight, I took a couple of deep breaths and fired a short burst.

  I watched carefully as the rounds rammed into the building, slightly left of and below the position I was aiming for.

  ‘Wait a moment,’ I said, adjusting my aim and firing another burst. ‘OK, that’s it. Target! Did you see that, Gaaz?’

  ‘Seen, guruji!’

  ‘OK, I’m going to indicate the other position now.’

  I took aim at the smaller structure. Again the rounds went slightly to one side. I made a mental note to re-zero the weapon at the first opportunity.

  ‘Hold on. That’s not quite it. Rounds are falling just below and left. You’ll need to aim off a bit.’

  I fired again, this time directly hitting the small hole that I took to be the enemy fire position.

  ‘TARGET! Gaaz, did you get that?’

  ‘Yes got it, guruji!’

  ‘OK, you take over,’ I said, handing him the weapon. ‘But again, keep it short and controlled.’

  The reason for using the GPMG, rather than my personal weapon, to indicate the target for Gaaz was that with the jimpy you could actually see the rounds landing. The 7.62 ammo is heavy enough that it kicks up a bit of dust on impact. It’s much harder to see the SA80’s lighter 5.56 mm round hit.

  Gaaz said nothing as he scrambled into posi
tion. The enemy fire was still smacking into the sangar. Every so often a cloud of sand erupted from one of the sandbags overhead, adding to the difficulty of seeing anything.

  I kept my eye on the targets as Gaaz took aim. Unlike the SA80 and the Minimi, the jimpy doesn’t have a telescopic sight. But in spite of this, and in spite of the fact the design is more than fifty years old, it is the infantryman’s weapon of choice.

  With his first burst, Gaaz was on target.

  ‘TARGET!’

  ‘OK. Now go for the shed.’

  It took him no more than two bursts to get onto it.

  ‘TARGET!’ I shouted when he had fixed it accurately.

  ‘OK, Nagen, have you seen anything yet?’ I said, leaving Gaaz to it.

  ‘Still nothing, guruji.’

  ‘OK, keep looking. I’ll send a sitrep, then I’ll come over.’

  I picked up the field telephone.

  ‘Zero, this is Sangar One. Engaging targets to north-east. Old school building and low shed in front.’

  ‘Zero, roger. Seen. That’s good work.’

  A moment later, I heard a burst of .50-cal and watched as its trace thudded into the school building. Scrambling back over to the street side of the sangar, I scanned up and down with my binos. There were just so many places to look, but I couldn’t see anything.

  ‘OK, Nagen,’ I said, ‘you take the bunker in front of Smuggler’s. Gaaz can keep on at the main building and I’ll cover this side.’

  It made sense to have our heavy weapons hitting the two definite positions while I looked out and covered the bazaar and beyond with my SA80.

  The big problem we had now was that it was almost impossible to decide whether our actions were having any positive effect. What you want to see is positions destroyed and dead bodies lying around. To show you’ve done your job. But it wasn’t like that. It was hardly ever like that in Now Zad. Instead it was all about returning fire and suppressing the enemy. Keep him under cover. Curtail his movement. Prevent an assault. It was a question of stopping him from gaining the initiative. But with very little to show for it.