Wilco- Lone Wolf 11

by Geoff Wolak

Teams moved off, threading around the rocks as I led my own team back to the ridgeline. I could see Dicky’s men below, but what I could not see was any kind of organised force coming up towards us.

  Dicky got position and fired, the dam hit, hit again, finally a third time and the thin concrete wall broke, Dicky and his men running as the water raged at them, the men on the ridge laughing as Dicky’s legs got wet.

  ‘Dicky’s Dambusters,’ Moran quipped, shaking his head.

  My phone trilled. ‘Wilco, it’s Franks.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Navy took photos?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’ll use them, try and spin a story.’

  ‘Does the Navy have permission to attack ground targets?’ I asked.

  ‘No, Washington blocked it.’

  ‘OK, never mind.’

  ‘They got your wounded back here at the airfield, so what’s next?’

  ‘We’ll hit the garrison below us, do as much damage as possible, save us doing it again next year.’ Phone away, I told my team, ‘US Navy had no permission for ground attack here.’

  They exchanged puzzled looks.

  As the sun headed for the distant horizon Rocko called me. ‘We hit the skinny black bastards at distance, useless fuckers, not a clue. Moving down the road now, above them. They spray it around, fire RPGs at random, not a clue.’

  ‘When it’s dark we’ll attack this side and meet in the middle.’

  ‘Won’t take long, this lot are worse that the fuckers in The Congo. Some are firing at the hill on the far side! It’s embarrassing.’

  ‘No prisoners, Staff Sergeant.’

  ‘Not fucking likely.’

  I transmitted, ‘Get ready to move down the slope. Wolves, in teams of four, on my far left. Dicky, on my left, Sasha far right, Salties on the right, one long line.’

  We started over the ridge, teams forming as we moved down.

  A dusty and unshaven Casper walked alongside me. I said, ‘You enjoying the work?’

  ‘I like working in the team more than alone, and here something different to my work before. Sometimes I think that fighting in uniform is better than being a spy, a stand-up fight. And here with you – always a surprise. And it’s much better to be here, fighting with my team, than for some fuck like Aideed.’

  ‘The other Russians with you when I met you, you trusted them?’

  ‘Fuck no, and they were not professionals, some like to drink, some sloppy with a rifle. This is better, these men are all very good.’

  ‘You could make more money elsewhere...’

  ‘Money is no good if you are killed. As this man Rocko says ... best paid man in the cemetery!’

  We laughed as we walked.

  With a little sunlight left, fires raging below, house lights still on in the town, I had the teams snipe at distance, 500 yards, and we inched lower when I knew there was no one left alive inside that 500 yard zone.

  At the compound we split in two, a quick look inside finding just a handful of men – and lots of rotting body parts. I moved right with my teams, cover to cover, aiming down at anyone with a gun. But when that became a hard process from a lack of suitable targets we turned to the right, towards the vehicle convoy.

  We soon heard fire from Rocko and Rizzo, and I managed to get them on the radio, a pincer movement in effect, but we found way fewer men than we knew they had available. Finding a wounded man begging for his life, I questioned him in Arabic. His fellow fighters, at least most of them, had driven off west.

  Rocko and Rizzo’s teams finally joined us, and I led them back up the ridge through the dark, but then south, headcounts performed.

  A few miles beyond the lights of the town, sat against walls in a dusty ploughed field, I had them get a brew on as I considered getting a Chinook in here to get us out.

  Tinker called. ‘You still at that town?’

  ‘A few miles south, they all ran off, or drove off more like.’

  ‘Story on Reuters about US special forces on the ground.’

  ‘They may have stretched it a little, but we do have Mitch with us.’

  ‘Reason for the call, we hacked a few phones. Large force moving from the Ethiopian border towards you.’

  ‘How large?’

  ‘Six thousand men, tanks, the works.’

  ‘Fuck. And the reason?’

  ‘They got a nudge, and some money.’

  I stood and stepped away from the lads. ‘Keep tracking them.’ I called Franks. ‘Got some movement. Six thousand men and tanks moving from the Ethiopian border down towards me.’

  ‘Christ, they mean to have you.’

  ‘They mean to drive slowly for five days to get here, then find me gone,’ I tersely pointed out. ‘But there’s an opportunity here. They’ll follow roads that can be blown, and Aideed will help us. And if they’re focused on getting here for me they won’t be watching their rear.’

  ‘I need to discuss this up the line.’

  ‘Do so, but tell Hunt and Harris first.’ I looked up a number in torch light, and called Aideed. ‘Mister President, it’s Petrov.’

  ‘Ah, Petrov, I ... thought you would return to us an assist.’

  ‘What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing this past two weeks!’

  ‘What? You’re here?’

  ‘Fighting the groups northwest of you, observing your enemies.’

  ‘Oh, right, sorry.’

  ‘Listen, the main body of men on the Ethiopian border are moving west towards the Kenyan border, they wish to attack the British there. There is an opportunity here for you to attack them from the rear, and to attack their bases – which are emptying out as we speak.’

  ‘I will discuss this with my officers and make some plans, yes. We have had good deliveries of weapons, so we’re ready.’

  ‘I will get you what information I can. Be ready to move out soon.’

  Back with my team, I told their dark outlines, ‘The men up on the Ethiopian border, they’re all coming here.’

  ‘How many?’ Moran asked.

  ‘An entire division of them.’

  Ginger suggested, ‘Then we’ll need some help.’

  ‘Aideed will attack their rear, and their bases – they’re just eighty miles from him, and he’s been buying weapons with some gold he got. Torches on.’

  The team got their torches out as I held the map. ‘Here, a tight valley. If we blew the road at this end, Aideed could hit them from the rear, just fifty miles from his stronghold, and that division is boxed in.’

  ‘Tanks will roll over a damaged road,’ Moran pointed out.

  ‘Tanks need support, men and trucks, and they won’t roll over a damaged road. But first things first.’ I called Captain Harris and asked for two Chinook, for extraction at this location as the lads cooked or got a brew on.

  Forty minutes later we signalled with torches, the Chinooks turning on lights as they approach, someone’s dried crop blown into our faces as we knelt. Having made safe weapons, we split into two groups and boarded the Chinooks, nods exchanged with the crewman, “A” Squadron lads on the exit-door guns, two keen RAF medics on board but not needed.

  Bumping down on the apron, we walked out to find many new faces, including a colonel that I recalled being mentioned.

  ‘Sir,’ I offered with a nod, leading Hunt and Harris to back to the command room, and to Franks and Dick.

  ‘You need a bath,’ Dick told me.

  I nodded. ‘No doubt.’ I pointed at the large map laid out on the table. ‘Main force will move southwest, and the best road they could take passes down a tight valley, and in a few places it gets narrow.’

  The colonel appeared with his team. ‘Men all back safe and well?’ he asked.

  I glanced at him. ‘Yes, sir, a few wounded yesterday.’ I faced Franks. ‘I’m thinking that tomorrow I insert at this end, and find a good place to blow the road, and if and when there’s a bottleneck Aideed hits the arse end, deal them a blow. If there
are still al-Qa’eda men in those camps then I’ll go have a look.’

  He nodded.

  The colonel chipped in with, ‘And will we be getting a full report of what happened over the border..?’

  ‘You won’t, no, you’re not entitled to know about special forces operations and Intel matters that don’t relate to you, sir.’

  He soured quickly. ‘I’m in charge of the border crisis force.’

  ‘My men are not part of that crisis force, and these gentlemen from British and American Intel don’t take orders from anyone apart from their superiors. Sir.’

  ‘I’ll check that with the MOD.’

  ‘Do so, sir, and quickly. And any questions about my men can be fielded by Colonel Dean in Hereford.’ I faced Franks. ‘Send the idea up the line, get me an opinion.’ I made eye contact with Hunt. ‘Same for London. I’m going to have a wash and get the sand out.’

  ‘The jeeps you took..?’ the colonel pressed.

  ‘Destroyed in action, sir.’

  ‘Destroyed!’

  ‘Yes, sir, along with one Kenyan Army three tonner. You can explain it to them. Goodnight, sir.’

  I ignored his further questions and walked out, and to the hangars, finding Morten. ‘What you been up to?’ I asked him.

  ‘Picked up a few wounded men in the Chinook, and you may not have heard but a 1 Para lad stepped on a mine, killed, wounded the men of his patrol.’

  ‘Pity, but there are old mines around here.’

  ‘Border force has been told to stay inside the border and patrol, a few shots fired in anger.’

  ‘Our huts occupied?’

  ‘Some are, yes, and there’s a tented city behind them, mess tent and all.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  The parachute instructors walked towards me, all in combats, rifles held. ‘Where the heck you been, sir, we’ve had fuck all to do?’

  ‘Sorry, guys, but circumstances dictated, one thing led to another, and hostages were pushed back as far as priorities go. What you been doing?’

  ‘Patrolling the wire!’

  I shrugged. ‘Good practice for you.’ I grabbed a ride in a jeep, back to the huts, finding Haines.

  ‘Still in one piece?’ he asked.

  ‘Couple of SAS lads hurt when we shot down an Mi8. What you been up to?’

  ‘Protecting this place, helos and aircraft, but no shots fired so far. What you been up to?’

  ‘We drove around, shooting any black with a gun – which was lots of them, then came across a large garrison. Lynx hit it, Chinook dropped RPG heads, we shot them. Now there’s a large force moving west, so we’ll go bother them.’

  ‘Coming here?’

  ‘No, they won’t go near the border. Anyway, I need to sort the lads, we’ll chat tomorrow.’ I found our hut again, the lads cleaning kit, some off to the make-do showers they had heard about.

  Poncho out, I sat on the same bed. Facing Moran, I began, ‘Colonel in charge here is on the warpath about those jeeps that were destroyed, and about me not briefing him.’

  ‘Regular Army doesn’t tell us what to do,’ Moran noted as he stripped off.

  When my phone trilled it was David Finch. ‘Right, Boss.’

  ‘You just got back..?’

  ‘Yes, all well save three regular SAS lads wounded.’

  ‘Army Lynx got a good write up, so too the Americans...’ he complained.

  ‘Thank them for me, their Navy assisted us.’

  ‘And this large force..?’

  ‘Do we make use of the opportunity, or leave them for next year, to host training camps and tick us off?’

  ‘Well, if they can be diminished that’s great, but the US Navy has no permission to attack them, and you’re a small force.’

  ‘I spoke with Aideed, he’s bought arms with his loan of gold, and he’s prepared to attack their rear and their bases once the main force moves down the road a bit.’

  ‘That would be better, yes, and it diminishes them greatly – assuming Aideed wins.’

  ‘I want to insert on the road they’ll take, blow it, harass them, get intel to Aideed.’

  ‘And the dangers?’

  ‘We’d hide in the rocks, not fight out in the open. Greatest danger is a helo going down.’

  ‘I’ll discuss it with the Cabinet Office, see what they say.’

  ‘Let me know in the morning, that force is on the move.’

  Phone down, Moran said, ‘We’ll go back in?’

  ‘If we get the green light we’ll blow that road, snipe from above. More damage we do, more it hurts the paymaster.’

  ‘And that Aideed chump gets to claim a larger territory...’ Mitch posed.

  ‘As far as nutcase dictators go ... he’ll talk to London and Washington and not sponsor al-Qa’eda.’

  ‘So he’s a better snake than the other fucking snakes,’ Mitch noted, shaking his head.

  The night passed without incident, so after a tasty breakfast from the mess tent - Welsh Guards greeting me like family and wanting all the news, I headed back to the hut, but my phone trilled as I kicked up sand, many servicemen coming and going.

  ‘It’s David. Cabinet Office thinks you’re pressing your luck, and they don’t want you to tangle with that large force, but you can look at hostages.’

  I sighed long and loud. ‘Where’d they get their logic from?’

  ‘They pay our wages. So, hostages, as well as border issues.’ Call cut, I stood taking in the tented city, and called Tomsk. ‘You’re awake?’

  ‘These days I’m awake all night and asleep all day. Oh, had Libintov bill me for some weapons, not much.’

  ‘The Banker loaned money to Aideed in Somalia, backed by your money, and those weapons helped Aideed stay alive.’

  ‘Ah, so a good investment then.’

  ‘Listen, I want your help to keep Aideed in power. Get hold of Libintov, get him to arrange two An12 and some trusted men. Buy four hundred RPG heads, anti-armour, and this is what you ask him to do.’ I gave him the detail.

  ‘Those RGP heads are not expensive anyhow,’ Tomsk finally noted. ‘And Libintov is helping in Liberia, we have a small airline going, good income and growing.’

  ‘Good, some progress. Talk to him today, I’ll get the movement of that force.’

  Stood there, I called Aideed, certain he’d be awake at this time. He sounded asleep. ‘Mister President, it’s Petrov.’

  ‘Sorry, I was asleep.’

  ‘Sorry to disturb you.’

  ‘No, it’s OK, what’s wrong?’

  ‘You have spies in the north?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘I’m tied up, so tell me when those vehicles are moving, and where they are, I have a surprise lined up for them.’

  ‘Oh, OK.’

  ‘Thank you, Mister President.’

  Inside, Rocko asked, ‘What we doing?’

  ‘London has banned us pissing about over there, other than maybe hostages, they want fewer risks.’

  ‘How the fuck does London assess the risks?’ Rocko snarled. ‘Fucking pen pushers. They ain’t here, we’re here.’

  ‘Get some rest, replenish, get ready for maybe a hostage rescue, get a tan.’

  Ginger shook his head. ‘Never figured on so much interference at a political level, it’s been an eye opener.’

  Swifty told him, ‘There’s always some political bollocks going on. That’s why Wilco tells them what we do after we do it.’

  A few of the lads laughed as Max stepped in.

  ‘Don’t you have a proper job?’ I asked him.

  He sat and started to ask questions of our trip over the border, a stunned Libintov taking the detail from Tomsk as I sat on my bed chatting to Max, Libintov having to clarify it - twice.

  I, meanwhile, had a sneaky idea given to me by Casper. After some thought, I called David. ‘I thought I might send our Russian speakers over the border to gather some intel. HALO in, then chat to someone that Casper knows, get some detail
of the movements of that force - as well as hostages and any other weapons deliveries.’

  ‘That sounds OK, but what are the risks?’

  ‘They’re Russian, they’d be welcomed, and Casper is known there.’

  ‘Well yes, he worked for them before. OK, if you think it’s necessary and not too risky.’

  ‘Are your Russian speakers up to the task or not?’ I pressed.

  ‘They should be, by now.’

  ‘I’ll make a plan then.’

  Grabbing a ride around to the hangars I found the Parachute Instructors, all with sour faces. ‘I have a six man team to HALO in, tonight, something for you to do.’

  ‘Finally,’ they grumbled.

  ‘Can some of us go in with them?’

  ‘Not if you want to get back out alive, no. Say ... midnight? And they’d have an independent bag to drop as well, extra kit.’

  ‘We’ll be ready.’

  I got Sasha’s team ready at 9pm, and at 10pm Hunt helped us pack a HALO bag with 75kgs of explosives.’

  ‘Do the RAF know about this?’ he pressed, a glance over his shoulder.

  ‘Fuck no,’ I told him. ‘But these old explosives are crap, hard to ignite, so safe to move.’

  ‘And if they hit the ground hard?’ he posed.

  ‘Still won’t go off. Relax.’ I kicked the explosives, shocking him.

  He shook his head as we packed the bag, and I made sure I wrote in Russian on the side what it was.

  The colonel in charge walked past, and stopped, still not looking happy. ‘I spoke to London, and they talk highly of you, say that you’re a good officer, not like the rest of the SAS...’ He waited.

  ‘I was tired last night, sir, and I’ve been very fucked-off lately, lost some good friends killed.’

  ‘Killed? Here?’

  ‘No, sir, up in Eritrea, a team I trained. Twenty of them.’

  ‘Oh, right. Sorry to hear that. And I guess you were tired after a week in the hills living rough.’

  ‘I was right in what I said, and regular Army cannot give us orders. I take my orders from Military Intel, sir.’

  ‘As I’ve been learning. A bit odd, since we’re all in the same damn uniform!’

  ‘If you make a mistake, sir, you get looked after. If I make a mistake they deny I exist and leave my body to rot. Never forget that, we’re not treated the same – even if we wear the same uniform.’ I walked off.