Wilco- Lone Wolf 18 Read online

  Colonel Marsh had no choice, and so dismissed Robby, who was placed with No.1 Field Recon ten minutes later, a direct transfer – which the MOD said should take weeks, at which point I shouted at the MOD about the fact that we were at war and needed good men kept in. They would do the paperwork retrospectively.

  That evening the gossip was about Sergeant Major Robby now in No.1 Field Recon, a buddy for Rocko, clipboards to be compared in the mornings, people to be shouted at in stereo.

  The next day I checked the teams in earnest, suggesting ideas, shouting at a few to encourage them along. To a few I used the phrase, ‘Don’t you know there’s a war on!’ getting many laughs.

  In the afternoon I inspected large muddy banks around the new assault course, a house of concrete being built, logs being put in place, a ditch being dug, and north a hundred yards a foundation of gravel was being laid in a line, small train tracks on top, a copy of the sideways moving targets to be found up in Sennybridge at my three-day scenario.

  At 5pm six men arrived, all looking like they could handle themselves, and all were well past thirty years old, some showing a few grey hairs.

  I grouped the SIS men in front of the apron, Rocko and Moran at my side. ‘Gentlemen, you are here to learn … and you are here to be tested, and a few weeks from now we’ll ship out to Yemen.’ Eyebrows were raised. ‘Yes, Yemen, a dangerous spot, so the tourist brochure says. You will accompany us, and you will show dedication, professionalism, and balls of steel. If not … I’ll leave you there.’

  I pointed at the first man. ‘Relevant experience?’

  ‘Paras, two years SAS, “E” Squadron for a few months before a long-term assignment.’

  ‘When were you with “E” Squadron?’

  ‘Almost nine years back.’

  I pointed at the second man. He began, ‘Police, distance runner, triathlon, specialist in house breaking and mountain climbing.’

  ‘Handy skills, if you live in Norway and are short of cash.’ He smiled. I pointed at the next man.

  ‘Police as well,’ came a Belfast Protestant accent. ‘Undercover in the province, around Europe and Africa, a few years in Colombia.’

  ‘On which side?’ I teased.

  ‘I took down a gang, killed most of them in their beds.’

  The next man began, ‘New Zealand SAS, a year here, met a girl and stayed, then divorced the bitch. Specialist climber, water skills and diving, long range navigation and survival skills.’

  ‘Useful stuff,’ I noted.

  The last man, the oldest in appearance, began, ‘Engineers, SAS, “E” Squadron, Mi6 for seven years. Electrical specialist.’

  ‘All useful skills, which is why you have a job with Mi6 I guess, and why you’re here. Now listen up, and listen well. I tolerate no dissent, no crap, no fucking around on my base, and god help you if you fuck around on a live job; I will shoot you in the foot and stamp on your face.

  ‘No one will ever prosecute me, I know too much, so be warned. Be professionals, no practical jokes till you’re outside the gate, never touch another man’s kit. And around here … check under your car, make sure you’re not being followed, stay armed – this is a dangerous place to be.

  ‘Don’t wander around at night, you will be shot by mistake. Don’t go into a building unless you’re supposed to go into that building, and don’t ask questions about missions - some are classified obviously, and if you accidentally blab about your previous Mi6 missions to men here – you get kicked out of SIS.

  ‘You will be housed here for just about two weeks, and we will train you, then we ship out. What role you play when we ship out will depend on your attitude here and your skills. In Yemen you will be close to the action, but I won’t throw your lives away. Now, do you all have boots and clothes?’

  They did.

  ‘OK, Staff Sergeant Rocko here will oversee your training, and you ask him questions about facilities here. It’s not a difficult base to find your way around, the ten dollar tour will take two minutes. In the morning you have breakfast before 9am, and be ready to train at 9am or just before. I would suggest a light breakfast and a large evening meal, or you may be sick.

  ‘If you think that I’m pushing you just to dick you about then you would be mistaken. I want to know if you’ll crack under pressure and get yourself killed – and your team killed. I need to know what you’ll do when tired, hungry, and in danger. That assessment will help me gauge your mission survival chances, which I will report up the line.

  ‘Here, we have a great deal of experience, far more than the SAS, and we’re good at training and assessing people. Here, the men all know how to continue to operate when most soldiers are already unconscious with fatigue. You may have heard it all before, but fitness and training gets you back home when things go wrong, and things always go wrong on a live mission.

  ‘If you have questions - ask us, if you need kit, if you have an injury let us know. Never hide an injury, that will just piss me off. I’ll take time with each of you this week and next week, and if there are any areas that you know need work on – tell us. We’re here to help you, not to trip you up. Sergeant Major.’

  ‘Follow me,’ he told them, leading them towards the barracks.

  With the SIS men gone, Moran asked, ‘Can you trust that lot of spies?’

  ‘Ask O’Leary to double check IDs, just in case. And the Wolves line manager, he may know some of them personally. And Sasha’s team. In Yemen we’ll keep an eye on them, but I doubt any work for al-Qaeda. Other paymasters? Well, we’ll see when they try and kill me.’

  Shaking his head, he headed inside.

  The base was now a hive of activity, more men than we had ever had here, some sent off up to the Factory, some to the north woods for paintball practise – practise of sneaking up on each other as our cash finally arrived, counted and signed in, it’s origin in the paperwork left as SIS.

  That evening at 7pm the lads were issued with jiffy bags, Dicky to get a solid twenty grand bonus, most of the lads to get a five grand bonus. Those with me in Mexico all got an extra ten grand on top of their five, all sworn to secrecy. Tomo received an extra grand for shooting twelve men in twenty-four seconds, but was billed a hundred quid for using the expensive ammo.

  The next day the UKSF Directorate arrived, Colonel Marsh setting down in the regimental helicopter shortly after – and hopefully not shouting any more. The tables in the upstairs briefing room has been pushed together to make one large table, chairs around it, white boards set up with maps.

  Marsh had brought his RSM, Baker, and Major Pritchard of “B” Squadron with his SSM, since “B” Squadron were available and would be tasked with Yemen. I asked after men I knew, tea and coffee made as Sanderson and the Brigadier spoke to Marsh.

  In on the meeting were Major Harris, Captain Moran and Ginger – sat behind me.

  When settled, I began, ‘Gentlemen, thank you all for attending here today, the topic being the planned mission in Yemen. The PM has given initial approval, but further meetings are taking place in the MOD. The Americans are keen, and have a carrier battle group off the coast, we are yet to hear from the French.’

  Brigadier Dean cut in, ‘Got a note just now, through the MOD. They’ll send one French Echo platoon and about thirty 1st Battalion men. They’ll also have two ships offshore – not sure if that old helo carrier is one of them, but they have some trouble in Western Sahara to look at so maybe delayed.’

  I nodded, ‘Like us, sir, they wish to sell arms to Oman and others, and want a good show of it.’

  ‘And the objective?’ Marsh asked.

  ‘Our interest in Yemen started when the US Navy’s Admiral Jacobs suggested it a year back. More recently the Israelis suggested it, and I passed that idea up the line. The stated mission is simply to set back al-Qaeda so that they don’t get a foothold, don’t train men, and don’t send men off to attack people.’ I turned to Major Harris.

  He began, ‘There are three camps that we know abou
t, and a lot of men sat about, but it seems that al-Qaeda is more like an idea than a group of people, and that genuine al-Qaeda men are no more than twenty in total, the rest are wannabes and local bandits.

  ‘This year, the General People’s Congress Party and President Ali Abdullah Saleh won a landslide victory, the opposition parties boycotting the election – so no mandate from the masses. After the 1994 Civil War the country was unified, but with resentment obviously, and al-Qaeda crept in slowly, just a handful of men.

  ‘They joined forces with Islamists in the south and east, far from the capital - Sanaa in the west, and far from the old British port of Aden.’

  ‘I was born in Aden,’ the UKSF brigadier told us with a smile. ‘Father was stationed there – with the embassy mission, mother there of course – married quarters, before we moved up to Cyprus. British Army was there in force, 1962-1965, and the SAS of course.’

  ‘You would not wish to go visit today, sir,’ Harris told him. ‘Now a bit rough. Moving on with the timeline, last year saw a conflict between Eritrea and Yemen over disputed islands, still an issue. The opposition political groups, south and east of Sanaa, are still in a small smouldering civil war with the government around Sanaa – and the fact is that 90% of the people and the commerce are on the west coast, the east is sparsely populated and tribal.

  ‘The dissidents in the east are taking arms and money from anyone that will help, and that includes al-Qaeda. The Saudis have always been involved with their southern neighbour, but Saudi support seems to shift with the sands. Egypt was heavily involved in the civil war - and it still has some input, and Iran sends men and advisors – but not many, and to the Houthis not al-Qaeda.

  ‘The long-serving Yemeni president, and some say undemocratic president, is at odds with the Saudis. Al-Qaeda, seemingly with Saudi support and money, have set off bombs in Sanaa, to piss off the president there.

  ‘As a side note, it is important to point out that the population is sparse, and that they have a GDP the size of … the poorest country in the world just about. They have no resources to speak off, but they do have a strategic location in the Red Sea and with the port of Aden.

  ‘Having mentioned Aden, recent increases in port costs - and the fact that ships don’t need to refuel there, has hit the economy of the once bustling Aden.

  ‘As for terrain, it’s desert and mountain, and from the border with Oman you could walk a hundred miles and see no one, small villages dotted around further south. From that border, to the main area where al-Qaeda is concentrated, is 180miles as the crow flies, longer overland because of the snaking valleys.

  ‘In the north, where the Saudi border is, it’s desert and could be driven across, the rest is mountains and hills, few roads – very few.’

  I put in, ‘They’re gentle hills and scrubland, we won’t be going up over dangerous mountains. What about roads and airstrips?’

  ‘There is an old airstrip, compacted dirt, was used in the 1960 conflict, now abandoned. It’s northeast of the al-Qaeda target area, say a hundred and twenty miles from the Oman border, just about forty miles south of the Saudi border.’

  ‘Temperatures this time of year?’ I asked.

  ‘Daytime temperatures can reach thirty degrees still at this time of year, down to twenty in January, no cloud or moisture, but night time temperatures can drop to zero next month, cooler at altitude obviously.’

  ‘And the way in?’ Marsh asked.

  I told him, ‘We have the US Navy, and maybe French helos, we also have the Oman Air Force and helos at our disposal, and jeeps and trucks, but … I’d prefer we walk as far as possible given that they know we’re coming and may have surface to air missiles.’

  ‘They know we’re coming?’ the UKSF brigadier repeated.

  ‘An ex-CIA chap - who worked out of Saudi for five years - faked his death, then ended up working for Saudi Intel in America, and he seems to have gotten word of my plan to attack al-Qaeda. The Saudis tipped of al-Qaeda, then sent arms and money.’

  ‘They’re supposed to be on our side!’ Marsh noted.

  ‘The Saudi Government is, sir, so it the military, but certain rich individuals still support al-Qaeda.’

  ‘So we can expect a warm welcome,’ Marsh noted.

  ‘Not really, sir,’ I told him. ‘It will be like two turtles squaring up to each other. It’s open terrain, few roads, no heavy weapons. It will be small team against small team in a desert or in the hills.’ I held my hands wide. ‘Where can they place an ambush? In the sand?’

  The Brigadier noted, ‘We have the advantage, men who can operate well in that terrain, and shoot at distance. This is not about towns and street fighting.’

  Marsh nodded his agreement. ‘And the plan is?’

  ‘There is no plan yet, just an objective, plus assets available, plus a strong desire to avoid a heat-seeking missile up the arse.’

  ‘In by jeep?’ Marsh asked.

  ‘Some of the way, yes, but the last twenty miles would be on foot, done quietly. And there’s the airstrip we could grab for re-supply, assuming they don’t have six hundred men sat there.’

  ‘The main road is a bad idea,’ Major Harris noted. ‘Only one road from the Oman border, and it goes southwest, some tight places, easy to ambush us.’

  I told them, ‘To start, I’ll ask the Americans to launch cruise missiles at suitable targets at night, keep the bad boys awake and on edge and distracted as we cross the border.’

  ‘Para drop into the sand?’ Marsh asked. ‘Like Mauritania?’

  ‘Yes, sir, possible, but … Saudi radar would pick up our planes, and I don’t trust the Saudis. My preferred choice would be jeeps, plus men on foot. We move in a few miles, walk around, leave a team, move another ten miles, and keep the route behind us open if we need it.’

  Harris noted, ‘Would take ages to cover the 180 miles.’

  I faced him. ‘Assuming that they are where you think they are, and not waiting for us ten miles in. Be embarrassing if we parachute in … only to find them back at the border, their bases empty.’

  ‘They know we’re coming,’ Marsh noted. ‘So they won’t be sat around the usual watering hole, no. They know that Oman is the start point, only so many ways in, so they’ll have men out spying, men ready to snipe down at vehicles. We’ll need to be unconventional.’

  I nodded. ‘We have helos available, sir, so we can drop teams in suitable places at dawn, and they can use binoculars to spot the fighters before the fighters spot us. Those helos can fly over terrain where a man with a shoulder-launched missile could not be stood. Hopefully.’

  The Brigadier noted, ‘Such a missile or two would be damn heavy, not carried up a mountain or very far, it would be in a jeep. If all of our helos avoid roads by five lateral miles they’ll be OK, those missiles are short range.’

  ‘Yes, sir, so maybe we can plan an air corridor and a ground corridor.’ I turned to Harris.

  ‘There is a ground corridor, of sorts, if you dog leg around. No roads near it, but it comes to a dead stop about thirty miles from the enemy camp in the east.’

  ‘That will do,’ I told him. ‘We take it and hold it, and the flight corridor would be the same route, our men below looking out for their men with missiles. How far is the end of that route to the airstrip?’

  ‘About twenty miles, but over the hills.’

  Major Pritchard asked, ‘Do we even need that airstrip for re-supply? Hercules can pallet drop.’

  ‘The main reason for taking that strip would be to halt the local gun running activities whilst giving the bad boys a nice target to come attack, like Camel Toe Base.’

  Harris cautioned, ‘There’s a road near that strip, and they could dispatch all of their men in a matter of hours.’

  ‘Find me a place on that road with a culvert, and I’ll have the US Navy dig up the road,’ I told Harris. ‘They love bombing things.’

  ‘There is a tight gorge that the road goes through, could bring down the moun
tain onto it,’ Harris noted.

  Marsh asked, ‘And the level of training they’ve had?’

  Harris answered, ‘No professional military training, sir, an hour on the AK47, some time spent on the 105mm, mortars, small rockets, and that’s it. They’re bandits that were taught by their fathers who fought in the civil war, and many still have old FN SLRs, some even have .303 Enfield rifles. But there are an estimated eighteen-hundred of them.’

  I put in, ‘There are thousands of Marines on ship, Navy Seals, hundreds of US special forces wanting some action, and more than a hundred of us, plus the French. And we have the air power.’

  ‘And the SBS?’ the UKSF Brigadier asked.

  ‘Last I heard … they had all the experience they wanted and were returning to core water skills, sir.’

  ‘Well, they go if we say they go,’ he pointed out. ‘Do you want them to come along?’

  ‘Not if they’ll have attitude and want to be somewhere else, sir.’

  ‘I’ll talk to them. Loudly,’ he threatened.

  ‘What the hell are they in uniform for?’ Marsh snorted.

  ‘How many men could you take and make use of,’ the UKSF brigadier asked. ‘MOD is keen to get each unit some experience.’

  ‘That land corridor is almost two hundred miles long, sir, so … we could take a great many men and find a use for them.’

  ‘Various army units have suitable jeeps, and the Marines, so I’ll sound them out and chat to the MOD,’ he offered.

  ‘We have jeeps in Kenya we can grab,’ Marsh noted. ‘More here, a touch of brown paint.’

  ‘Move them to Oman when ready, sir, no need for secrecy here.’

  ‘Pathfinders?’ Brigadier Dean asked.

  ‘Yes, sir, as many as want to attend.’

  ‘That would be all of them. I spoke to their new CO recently, but two teams are always on rotation down in either Mauritania or Sierra Leone.’

  Sanderson noted, ‘HQ Freetown does suggest that the border is quieter, we have enough men down there on rotation, and many of the teams are rotated down there for experience, so Yemen is no different for them – all experience.’