Wilco- Lone Wolf 11 Page 4

  As we observed, the Zodiac sped up, ducked inside the turn circle and nudged the wooden boat, straightened it up, a daring French commando jumping aboard, the engine cut. He turned the wooden boat back towards us, starting the engine again.

  When alongside us, we could see three bodies, and two RPG.

  I turned my head to Moran. ‘Make sure they understand we want the RPGs.’

  Moran shouted down in French, and we soon had the RPGs laid out ready to use as the ship’s captain appeared.

  He glanced at the RPGs. ‘You wish to use them?’

  ‘If a small boat gets close we can frighten them away. Have to be fantastic aim to hit a small boat, sir.’

  ‘Yes, of course. But we are an easy target. And this prisoner?’

  ‘Is cooperating, sir, and has provided excellent information. I’ll talk to Paris and London, and try and keep my promise to drop him in Kenya.’

  ‘He is a terrorist...’

  ‘As I said, I will make a call. We will convert him to our side, sir.’

  ‘And the Americans launched dummy raids...’

  ‘Yes, sir, at least one, and they’re jamming radios. We know that the fighters have radio scanners.’

  He nodded, and headed off towards the bridge.

  My phone trilled.

  ‘Wilco, it’s Franks.’

  ‘Had a quiet night over there?’

  ‘Not really. The helos launched a second dummy raid, that woke me, then went on alert as a small boat sped in, so a helo door gunner shot it up.’

  ‘We had two small boats try and get close, both stopped, one prisoner who’s talking, one burnt prisoner not talking.’

  ‘And this radio issue?’

  ‘My prisoner told me ... that the white man ... had clever radio kit.’

  ‘Ah, hoping to detect your approach.’

  ‘He got us the detail of a minefield, and where they’re hiding.’

  ‘We’re now getting radio point fixes and mapping them, so we’ll see movement.’

  ‘What about bombing some roads?’

  ‘Washington said yes, so long as it’s well away from civilians.’

  ‘Then pick a spot and hit it.’

  ‘They’re tasked for a 10am lift off I think, but what’s the plan here?’

  ‘Step One: make them lose faith in the white guy. Step Two: I’ll try and cut their water supply, you’ll cut the roads. Step Three: we assess the thirsty people and think-up a way in. At the moment we can’t use boats to insert, too many other small boats out there. But once they stop trusting the radio guy we can use helos.’

  At 10am we heard the screech of jets, four low and two at a greater altitude. They screeched past us heading due east ten minutes later.

  Franks called. ‘Navy boys made a mess of some roads, clean hits reported, no civilians nearby. Road has big holes in it, some small bridge destroyed.’

  The tannoy sounded out. ‘Got to go!’

  Phone away, I adopted my rifle and scanned the horizon, but heard the whistle too late to do much about it. The water in front of me lifted up in a high plume, shocking me and the lads, three distinct plumes witnessed, a sudden blast to my left – and we were on fire, alarm bells sounding out.

  I ran to the rear, taking out my phone, beaten back by the smoke. I recalled Franks’ number. ‘It’s Wilco, we’re hit, we’re on fire, rockets came in! Get over here fast, ready helos and medics!’

  I moved back, the smoke billowing, but it turned white quickly from its initial black smoke and it started to dissipate as men came up behind me. I ran below decks, threw down my rifle, grabbed my first aid kit and ran to the rear, smoke now circulating in our machine room billet.

  A man was being dragged, a leg missing; Hamble.

  ‘Stop!’ I shouted, and knelt. ‘Christ.’ Tourniquet on, I lifted the stump, Hamble having lost his leg below the knee, now semi-conscious. Dressing off, and finding the main artery, I got a haemostat on it as men ran about shouting.

  Tourniquet released, I ignored the melee around me and observed the bleeding, my face close, and I clamped an area of flesh, soon happy that the bleeding had been stemmed. Since Hamble was mumbling I knew he was breathing, and that his pulse was OK. Leg down, I checked him over, finding small cuts, nothing serious.

  A stretcher was plonked down, French medics kneeling, and I passed them the responsibility.

  ‘Who else is hit?’ I shouted as I stood, smoke still wafting.

  ‘Whisky got some,’ came a shout.

  Whisky walked himself towards me, Slider helping him, a stomach wound visible, his brown shirt now black in places. I lifted the shirt and had a look. ‘Not life threatening, but the intestine is cut. Go! Get him to the medical bay!’ I turned my head. ‘Anyone else hit?’

  Mouri came in, blood on his face as the fire crew cleaned up. ‘French lad was killed, Skipper.’

  My heart skipped a beat. ‘One of ours?’

  ‘No, Navy lad working on some kit.’

  I folded up my first aid kit and took it back, retrieved my rifle, and I headed up to the deck as two Seahawks glided past. I called back Franks.

  ‘Wilco, you OK over there?’ he got out first.

  ‘The fucking Somalis had a multiple launch rocket system on a boat, one hit us, small fire – out now, French lad killed, one of mine lost a leg, one got a stomach wound. Watch yourself over there, those rockets can go five miles.’

  ‘We’re at General Quarters, planes up looking.’

  ‘Then find the fucker who attacked us, look northwest of us, and fast, before they take another shot at us.’

  ‘I’ll call you back.’

  I had felt the carrier turn, and we seemed to be picking up speed. Judging by the sun, we were heading away from the coast. I called SIS London. ‘It’s Wilco in Somalia, emergency report: French carrier hit by rockets, dead French naval rating, one of my men lost a leg, one has a stomach wound. Update David Finch, the Director and the Cabinet Office, I need a political decision within the hour.’

  I headed up to the bridge. Addressing the captain, I reported, ‘The fire is out, one of your men dead, one of mine with a leg missing, one with a stomach wound, but they will live.’

  He nodded, looking stressed. ‘And the range on those missiles?’

  ‘Up to seven miles. Americans have aircraft up looking for the boat that attacked us.’

  A report relayed, and the captain said, ‘American aircraft close in on the boat that attacked us.’

  ‘Zig-zag, sir.’

  He gave the order, and it was soon reported that the American carrier group had been sighted as we steamed towards them steaming towards us.

  ‘Sir, what surgical capacity do you have?’

  ‘One surgeon, a nurse, many medical trained staff.’

  ‘I’d like my men transferred, that American carrier has a several doctors.’

  ‘Of course.’ He gave orders, the Seahawks contacted by radio, wounded to be brought up on deck soon. From the bridge I saw Hamble taken on deck, a Seahawk easing in sideways, medics and crewman down, the stretcher and IV drip handed over. Whisky was stretchered up on deck and placed aboard, the Seahawk lifting off for the short journey across to the Kearsarge.

  I returned to the deck, my lads keenly watching the ocean, and I called Franks. ‘Listen, can you get a Hawkeye in here?’

  ‘Yes, but the nearest one is three hours away.’

  ‘That’s OK, call one in, get the wounded to Saudi.’

  ‘Not Kenya?’

  ‘Fucking hospitals are better in Saudi.’

  ‘I’ll make a call now. Your tub damaged?’

  ‘Minor damage at the rear, but they could have hit a helo sat on the deck.’

  ‘The Skinnies are stepping up their game, and they don’t care who they take on.’

  ‘Pass this up the line and get an opinion. I’ve asked for a political opinion from London.’

  ‘OK, will do.’

  I turned to find Hunt. ‘Ah, just the m
an. I’ve asked London for a political decision.’

  He nodded. ‘I’m surprised they’d come out here and have a go at us like this. Do these idiots want a war?’

  ‘We need to consider if Aideed knows about this. He’s talking to The West and the UN, making soft noises, but ... what’s really on his mind?’

  ‘MPs have been busy in Kenya interviewing people, nothing solid so far about a leak.’

  My phone trilled. ‘It’s Tinker. Traffic just spiked -’

  ‘The Somalis hit our French carrier with rockets. One dead, and Captain Hamble has lost a leg.’

  ‘Hamble? Jesus.’

  ‘Let the Major know. Whisky has a bad stomach wound. You found anything useful?’

  ‘We did this morning, old satellite phone data, a bar in Tenerife.’

  ‘The owner of that bar?’

  ‘An old troop sergeant from “B” Squadron.’

  ‘And maybe in touch with someone in “B” Squadron in Kenya.’

  ‘We have the Spanish police picking him up, consul officials on their way, SIB heading down to Tenerife.’

  ‘His name?’

  ‘Gregson, Anthony Gregson.’

  ‘Go back through his known associates in the Regiment, and fast. Any useful intel from the local phone usage?’

  ‘Calls to Switzerland, Lebanon, Yemen, Eritrea.’

  ‘Ignore the man in Switzerland, that’s an order.’

  ‘Oh ... OK.’

  ‘Keep the intel coming.’

  I sent Nicholson to fetch the senior staff and certain people. We met down below, near our crates. ‘Listen up. Any of you served with a Gregson, “B” Squadron?’

  ‘I knew him,’ Sergeant Crab put in. ‘He was a good man.’

  ‘Think carefully who Gregson knew ... that might have become a mercenary in Africa.’

  Crab and Duffy exchanged looks. Crab said, ‘Jacko Thompson comes to mind.’

  ‘I knew him in the Paras,’ Rocko put in. ‘He’d was rumoured to have become a mercenary, stupid enough.’

  ‘Keep this under wraps, no gossip. Get back out there, stay sharp.’

  ‘We sitting and taking it?’ Rocko grumbled. ‘Better off on dry land. At least there we can fight back.’

  ‘We wait on a political decision from London.’

  On deck, I called Tinker. ‘Listen, all out effort on an ex-trooper called Jacko Thompson, and try and link him to that bar in Tenerife, and fast.’

  ‘OK, will do.’

  Phone down, I could see that we were now in convoy with the American ships, and bracketed nicely, a sleek American warship between us and the coast, French frigate ahead of us. I headed up to the bridge.

  The captain reported, ‘We join convoy now, the Americans will help protect us, a report to Paris.’

  ‘Damage, sir?’

  ‘No important systems, no.’

  ‘Your dead man?’

  His face fell. ‘Eighteen years old, with us three months. Paris will inform the family.’

  I nodded. ‘The Somalis boats are a threat to shipping here.’

  We steamed as a group southwest, the plan being to turn around and steam back the other way later on.

  An hour of such convoy steaming had jets circling, Seahawks in action, but stood there we were all shocked by a large blast in the distance.

  ‘A bit unfair,’ Rizzo noted. ‘Dropping a two thousand pound bomb on a crappy little wooden boat.’

  Moran said, ‘Fucking impressive if they actually hit it.’

  I put in, ‘A close hit causes a shock-wave in the water, and that could crack the wooden hull of a small boat – as well as give the crew bit of a headache.’

  My phone trilled. ‘It’s Franks. There’s a British warship on its way, plus a French frigate.’

  ‘Meaning that the powers want a scrap...’

  ‘Two of our destroyers steaming down as well, so yeah – we want a scrap. Can’t have these shits attacking ships, and we’d look bad if we left the area.’

  ‘We saw some explosions...’

  ‘Two small boats with RPGs came in, both sunk. And that bigger boat with the rockets was sunk.’

  ‘What have your radio guys said?’

  ‘The Somalis, or the Arabs we think, moved on the locations where helos landed, or appeared to land, so they’re chasing their tails right about now. And a flypast showed a bit of a traffic jam where the roads are out.’

  ‘Numbers of Arabs?’

  ‘Two groups of up to two hundred men. But we’ve jammed their radios with Van Halen.’

  I smiled. ‘Van Halen?’

  ‘Enough to cause anyone to turn the radio down. You still thinking of going ashore?’

  ‘Did Aideed send men?’

  ‘One small convoy, twenty men. Our back channels are talking to him now. Oh, one of our subs is close by and heading here.’

  ‘Could use it for inserts. Not much use for it, torpedoing a small speedboat.’

  ‘It’ll cruise around at periscope depth, short range radar, report the attackers heading our way.’

  ‘I’ll talk to London and let you know. Wilco out.’ Off the phone I could see a missed call. About to select that number my phone trilled. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘Passing you through to the Prime Minister,’ came a voice.

  ‘Wilco?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What’s the latest there?’

  ‘The Somalis are sending out small boats, the Americans dramatically blasting them out the water with two thousand pound bombs.’

  ‘Typically American. Your men?’

  ‘I’m two men down, but one was a support worker.’

  ‘We’ve discussed it, and we can’t be seen to be backing down to terrorists, so we want you to go ashore if you feel you can do so with minimal casualties.’

  ‘Right now, sir, they’re disorganised and confused, their radios jammed, and we have good local human intel from a prisoner, so we have the advantage.’

  ‘We’re going to ignore the Saudi element, but thank your friends for the timely information. As for the other embarrassment, please try and deal with it quietly.’

  ‘Yes, sir. If you don’t hear from me, assume a dawn insert of my men and French Echo.’

  ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Wilco out.’

  I stepped to Moran and Swifty. ‘Prime Minister wants us to go ashore, but the final decision is mine.’

  ‘What’s happening at that camp?’ Swifty asked.

  ‘Emptied out by all accounts. Some fighters could be in the caves waiting to ambush us, two groups moving out to attack fictitious men landed by helicopters. And their radios have been jammed, and the main roads in and out have been bombed and blocked.’

  Moran said, ‘So we organise another dummy landing, but we get position first to hit the men moving towards the dummy landing.’

  ‘If they move,’ Swifty cautioned. ‘Once bitten, twice fooled, third time ... pissed-off and sat at home.’

  ‘True,’ I agreed. ‘I think I’ll split the men into four teams, two French teams and two British, move in from different angles, overwhelm them, snipe from distance and wear them down. I’ll take the French commandos as well, they’re shit hot.’

  ‘Leaves this tub unprotected,’ Moran cautioned.

  ‘Could get US Marines over here. And we have Sergeant Crab.’

  They laughed.

  Below decks, I sat down with Captain Harris and the map. I told him, ‘Four inserts, a few miles out, walk in slow.’

  ‘They’re confused right now, so they may not react to the sound of helicopters, but they’ll not go back into that camp, so ... where’ll they be?’ Harris asked.

  ‘We’ll have to take it step by step. And so far Aideed is not sending men, or tanks, or APC.’

  I went and found the Captain. ‘Sir, I would like to insert the commandos you have, tonight, on the coast. They would not be in the fighting I don’t think – I want them to observe the coast.’

  ‘Th
ey are happy to insert, yes.’

  ‘Then have them rest, sir, and insert after dark to the coast, a high place, but have your helicopters touch down in three places to confuse the enemy. Have the commandos split into two small teams, radio contact to the ship, supplies for a few days, binoculars.’

  He gave instructions to another officer. Facing me, he said, ‘They train for this role, and we performed an exercise just like this a few weeks ago; Oman.’

  ‘They can insert when ready, sir, and report back. My teams will start to insert after 2am, sir.’

  Below decks, I found Liban. ‘Get your men rested, check supplies, we insert after 2am in small groups. I think four teams, different areas, and we walk in slow, impossible to know where they are.’

  He nodded.

  ‘And the ship’s commandos will take up position on the coast after dark.’

  ‘We start to get ready.’

  ‘You are going along?’

  He straightened. ‘Why not?’

  ‘You are a Lieutenant Colonel, a desk driver.’

  ‘Pah.’

  ‘And what would your superiors say?’ I waited.

  ‘Well ... they sound like you.’

  ‘Give it some thought. If you’re killed out there it’s a loss for your unit and a victory for the Somalis.’

  He made a face. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Yes ... maybe.’ I wagged a finger at him.

  On deck I called Franks. ‘We’ll insert in the early hours, so loan us some helos for around 2am, but see if your lot can put at least a platoon of Marines on this French carrier, I’m sending their commando’s ashore.’

  ‘Forty Marines over here, so they can spare some men. Food any good?’

  ‘Not bad actually.’

  I stepped to Rizzo. ‘Pass the word, we go in tonight, 2am. Leave six men on the deck, rest of them check kit and then rest.’

  Below decks I found the French commandos maintaining their Zodiac. ‘Listen up. You’ll be inserted tonight, so get some rest, check kit and get ready. Two small teams, and you choose a place on the coast five miles apart, high up, observe the coast.

  ‘When you get there, every second man rests and cooks, rotate it every four hours or less. If you see fighters coming towards you, move away, or ambush them, no heroics. You’ll need plenty of water and rations, desert brown clothing, brown cloth.’