ACV's 1 Operation Black Gold (17 page)

‘No sir.’

‘I’ll tell you what Reginald; I’ll make sure you get home at five OK.’

‘Thank you sir.’

‘Thanks may be a little premature.’

‘Oh!’ 

‘Every other man in this room has family of some kind as well Reginald.  I’m going to give them the weekend off to put their affairs in order so you can have the same.’

He opened his mouth to speak, changed his mind, and then changed it again.  ‘But what do I tell my wife?’

‘Do you trust her?’

‘With my life sir.’

‘Then tell her the truth, or tell her what you think she can handle and that goes for the rest of you as well.  If you don’t trust them, tell them fuck all, make up a load of shit whatever.  I want it all squared away by Monday twelve o’clock, understand.’

‘Yes sir, but it all seems a little silly.’

‘Yes I suppose it does, but it’s all deadly serious.  Let me put you in the picture Reginald.  Not one man has been called up to erect marquees; they have been called up to war.  The men in this room have been selected for a special task.  That task is to keep alive where possible some of the army’s more valuable assets, are you with me so far?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Good, now this unit has been put together from scratch by Brigadier D’Ord, and the way I see it he wants it very much to succeed.  Tell me why do you think you’re here?’

‘I don’t really know, maybe to just get me out of the way.’

‘Well Reginald, that’s where you’re totally wrong; what about Miss Samantha, is she any good at her job?’

‘Why yes sir she is, very good.’

‘That’s why you’re both here Reginald, because you’re good.  Both of you will be with us for the duration or until it fails.  You see Reginald the hardest thing about starting up a unit like this from scratch is the bureaucracy you run into.  People don’t know who you are or what you’re doing and few have any inclination to help, they are more likely to hinder.  You know fuck about asking awkward questions, delaying supplies until they receive official confirmation, that sort of thing.

That is why you’re most likely here.  Any man who can stay in the army until he’s fifty must carry some fucking clout.’

‘Oh no sir, I wouldn’t say that.  Every time my impending retirement came up, I just asked if I could do another three years and they let me sign on again.’

‘That’s all very well Reginald, but whom did you ask.  The odd Brigadier perhaps or was it a General or a Field Marshal maybe, or was it one of those old staff officers who are now members of parliament.  A little word in the right ear perhaps?  Well of course sir, Reginald is an invaluable member of staff; of course we will let him sign on for another three years.  Well Reginald?’

‘Ah, yes….  Well.’

‘Tell me, you must know every officer that’s been on staff for what maybe the last twenty years.’

‘Thirty sir.’

‘Wouldn’t happen to have done the odd favour here and there would you?’

‘Ah!’

‘Aren’t owed the odd one here and there are we by any chance?’

‘Oh dear.’

‘Oh dear indeed Reginald.  Take some advice, when you get home on Friday, take your wife somewhere nice, treat her, spoil her silly then break the news gently on Sunday night.  Come Monday dinnertime I’ll expect you back here raring to go.

These men have been dragged from their families and careers to perform this task; you’re still regular army.  I will expect you to adapt a lot more quickly and help them.  Do you understand me?’

‘Yes sir perfectly.’

‘Excellent, oh if it’s consolation to her, the first place that’s likely to get hit is HQ Scotland and you won’t be there.  You’ll probably be a lot safer with us.  One more thing, we have an opportunity no one else in this camp has.  We know what’s coming; depending on circumstances, they might have little or no warning.  Use the time you have wisely.’  I raised my head to take in everyone.  ‘That goes for the rest of you as well.’

Their answering nods and mumbles were fairly subdued.

‘Jim.’  A gentle voice pulled me round.

‘Aye Sam?’

‘I’ve got him, we’re ready.’

‘OK lads, let’s go home hunting.’

CHAPTER 17

The old mill in Penicuik was quiet that night, but its pint of Drybroughs heavy was still the best to be had.  We were only in ten minutes before Mr. D’Ord and Ivan and were all a little irritable.  Thank god, they didn’t keep us waiting any longer.  Mr. D’Ord carried the obligatory briefcase.

‘What’s that for?’  I asked my irritation beginning to show.  ‘Something pretty to carry the cuffs in,’ the sight of it had unnerved me and it seemed to amuse him. 

‘No, it’s maps and stuff, look.’  He opened it for my inspection.  It was full of maps, aerial photographs and related paraphernalia.

‘Fit d’ye need a’ that stuff for?’

‘Well, after we’ve enjoyed a few drinks and heard the telling of the story I want a complete tactical debrief from you.  I want to see if I have a potential General on my hands or if you were just lucky.’

‘I’ll save you the problem, we were just lucky and that’s a’ there is to it.’  That brought forth a few notes of sympathy.  He scanned our faces before he spoke. 

‘When a small section of my private soldiers can blunt a Brigade attack, decimate almost three regiments of infantry and petrify a whole army, I want to know just how much of it was luck.’ 

If we’d been drunk, that would have sobered us up.  Conversation whittled to small talk for a while but soon enough the story started to come out, hesitantly at first, then it seemed to burst forth spontaneously from three or four different places at once.

It was a time of cleansing; a time too bare our grotty little souls to those we had considered our betters.  To be judged or not after the fact.  We’d never known if our aggressive actions had been stupid or brave.  Had we over reacted to the situation through fear, or more to the point, had I over reacted to my own fears, had I forced these men to kill?  Had I forced death and serious injury upon innocent men?

Once I realised that we had in fact got away with it, I had resigned myself to the thought that upon my death, God would be my only judge.  A number of times over the years I had found myself wishing I were a member of the Catholic Church, to be able to unburden myself to one of his ministers and try to get on better terms with the good Lord before I had to face him.

In the end it was Gigs who told most of the story, he is a natural storyteller, as his books bear witness.  For me it was strange seeing the battle from someone else’s point of view.  Such is the magic of the man I found myself transported back in time.  Living again the sheer terror of the moment, the madness of battle and the unrelenting slaughter.  Faces long submerged came bounding back to life, then death.

CHAPTER 18

Whump, Whump, Whump.  I bounced in rhythm to the first two; on the third, the ground met me half way and knocked the stuffing out of me.  Debris from the explosions rained down into the trench.

‘Oh fuck,’ Buff screamed out.

‘Whit, whit.’  Panic hit me as I tried to scramble out from underneath his drumming legs.  He was desperately trying to reach something on his back.  I rolled him onto his belly and pinned him there with a knee.

‘Doon ma back!’  I pulled his top clothing as far down as I could and found a red hot piece of shrapnel sizzling away nicely on his skin.

‘Lie still.’  I demanded as he continued to try and thrash about.  I managed to pluck it off and his struggles ceased.  I eased off the pressure on his back and prepared a small steri-patch from my own medic-kit, liberally smearing it with burn cream.  I taped it on and let him go.  The rebel mortars had swung fire to a different target.  I sat back and watched as the anaesthetic in the cream began to work and the pain lines on his face began to wane.

‘I thought you’d had it there man.’ 

‘Nah,’ he grinned sheepishly, ‘it was fucking sair though.’

The mortar stonk ended.  I pulled my Tam Ó Shanter off the end of the barrel of our General Purpose Machine Gun (GPMG) and hefted it back into a firing position.  Buff unfurled the towel we’d wrapped round the breach mechanism and the belt of fifty rounds to keep them clean.  As soon as he’d checked them, he brought his own rifle up into the aim and we waited.

As we watched the cliff top a hundred and fifty meters to our front, my other senses began to kick in.  My nostril flared as I sampled the dust-laden air and my hearing became acute as the chance of danger intensified.  For a second it settled on Buff’s breathing then began to stretch out.  To my left I heard a few stalks of dry brittle grass rustle in the faint breeze.  Then beyond them, the faint sounds of men preparing for battle as the other sections roused themselves from the bottom of the trenches.  On the path before us, hidden from sight, a lonely bush scraped against something.  I stiffened as my imagination and fears took flight, was it brushing against an attackers clothing or equipment.

I focused my whole being on it but it didn’t take me long to realise it was only brushing against the rock face in a timeless battle of its own, erosion.  The time to attack was fading fast.  Men’s nerves steadied and their courage batteries began to recharge.  Buff saw me relax and took a deep breath.

‘Whit?’  I asked as I eyed the ridge to my left.  It always made me uneasy.  We were in a bad position on the far right of the platoon hidden from view.  It was our task to watch the ancient path to our front, which dropped to the flood plain below.  That was fine, but if they broke through the sections on our left, they could lie along that ridge and fire straight down into our trenches.  We wouldn’t stand a chance.  I shifted uneasily.

Buff tried to help, ‘you want to relax man, your wound up tighter than a drum.  The manny could be right ye ken.’

‘The manny’s a dick.’  I snapped back.

He took no offense but tried again.  ‘Jim, we were sent here because it was the quietest section and we were under strength.  The manny D’Ord said himself it was a bad place for them to attack.’

I unlocked the legs on the gun, folded them out and left it supporting itself, while I leaned against the back of the trench and lit a cigarette, handing Buff one.  ‘The manny D’Ord was right, it is a bad position to attack, or it was from the trenches he sighted us in.  We were on that ridge where we could guard this path, watch our backs, and see the other sections.  They could watch Bertrovich and the bridge.  At the first sign of a build-up, we could have called for help.  The minute reinforcements popped their heads through that pass they would have given up and fucked off.’

‘Aye, bit!’

‘There’s no buts man.  What did he do the first time we were stonked?’

‘Moved us over to here.’

‘Whit can we see now?’

He shrugged.  ‘Fuck all.’

‘Exactly!’ 

‘He said we were too exposed.’

‘This is our second tour wee the peacekeeping force Buff.  Tell me when we wer’nae being stonked by mortars or artillery?’

He shrugged again.  ‘Don’t know.’

‘Exactly, but did we ever give up our positions because of it?’

‘No never.’

‘Right, the second we moved into these positions we lost the advantage.  We can’t see what they’re doing and they winna let us near the OP,’ I drew on my cigarette to aid thought.  ‘Some of these blokes over there have been fighting since they were thirteen or fourteen.  Some of their commanders have been in the field for twenty years maybe thirty off and on.  They can spot an opportunity when it comes knocking on their door.

Trust me they’re building up their forces over there for a big push.  They’ll be through us so fast ye winna have the time to pick the clinkers from your arse.  Then they’ll go right through the back of the battalion and right on to the capital before any fucker knows what’s hit them.’

A pebble rattled behind us, I looked round to find Buggs waving hand signals at me.  ‘Fezz wants me.’

He groaned, ‘Here we fucking go again.’

We swapped weapons.  He wrapped the towel back round the GPMG and folded up the legs then settled down in the corner of the trench.

‘Bonnet,’ he demanded.  I handed over my Tam ó Shanter and he wrapped it round the end of the barrel.  ‘Have fun.’  He might have been grinning but he couldn’t conceal the concern in his eyes.

I was out and running in one swift movement.  It was a race and they were getting faster.  I wasn’t even halfway there when I felt the familiar vibrations through the soles of my feet.  ‘Oh shit.’  Without stopping, I changed direction and raced for the nearest trench.  My scream of ‘Incoming,’ was the only warning that Buggs and Abie received of my imminent arrival.

Buggs very kindly broke my fall.  Abie helped untangle us as the mortar bombs landed along my expected route.

‘Nice ó ye to drop in Jim.’  Buggs gasped. 

‘Anytime.’  I responded, settling myself down with them until it stopped.

Abie ventured a smile, ‘how’s it going Jim?’

‘Nae bad Abie, yourself.’

‘Aye nae bad.’

Abie was the newest member of the section and I could see he was still a little unnerved.  The rest of us had all been through it before, not that it helped much. 

‘I think the bastard’s have got ye pegged Jim.’

‘I think your right Buggs.’

‘D’ye nae get feart running back and forth between the trenches a’ day.’  Abie asked.

‘Fear hardly describes it.  Terrified, petrified would be nearer the mark.  Now hud y’er wheest a minute and let me think.’

Buggs had hit the nail on the head.  They were waiting for me and had my route zeroed in.  I had to get them to switch fire.  A thought struck; I stood grinning.

‘Jim how d’ye ken fan to duck?’ Abie asked.

‘I was wondering about that n’a.’  Buggs added.

I looked round the trench.  ‘Pit your hand on that big stone on the bottom there.’

‘Fit for?’  Buggs frowned.

‘Do it and see.’  I jumped out of the trench and stood on the rim.  I counted to five before I felt the familiar vibrations.  ‘Did you feel that?’  I asked jumping back down. 

‘Aye,’ they said in unison.

‘Well the rounds should arrive about now.’ 

The mortar bombs fell on my expected route again.  ‘Hey that’s great.’  Abie seemed well impressed.

‘I wouldn’t get too excited, the vibrations the mortar’s firing.  If ye count out the seconds, you’ll find out how long you’ve got until the bombs arrive.  But it only works here because of the type of ground we’re on.  It’s hard and the shock waves from its base plate being driven in every time it’s fired reaches us before the bombs do.  It wouldn’t work on softer ground or with their larger artillery.  They’ve all got big rubber tires and fancy suspension to cushion it.  The general rule is, if you feel or sense anything strange, get down and worry about feeling stupid later.’

Abie nodded, ‘Got ye.’

I jumped back out.  ‘By the way, the delay between me jumping out and the vibrations is how long they take to gié a fire mission.’  I walked off in the opposite direction found a nice spot and sat down in plain view.  Again the bombs landed on where they thought I’d be.  I looked behind as shrapnel whizzed above my head.  I casually lit a cigarette and concentrated on the vibrations reaching me through the soles of my boots, waiting for a change in the pattern.  I knew I was being watched through powerful binoculars.  So halfway through the cigarette when they still hadn’t changed the pattern of their firing, I gave them one of those universal signs - wankers.

It worked.  There was a pause in the firing for about ten seconds.  When the vibrations started again I was up and running.  Adrenalin pumped into my system and every nerve ending tingled.  I leapt over Buggs trench then over the small incline I had calculated would save my life.  I ducked low.

Whump, Whump, Whump, they landed behind me.  That was all I needed to know, I couldn’t afford the luxury of looking behind.  I slid into Fezz’s trench.  ‘Morning gentlemen.’

Conversation was delayed as the mortars followed and were they pissed.  The relationship I shared with Fezz was a strange one.  He didn’t seem to like me very much and I’d even found myself on the receiving end of his sharp wit, but at the end of the day, he trusted me and I would never ask for more from any man.  I in turn, respected and liked him.  That he didn’t seem to want to know me on a social level mattered not a jot to me.  I was content in the knowledge that if any man could get us out of this alive it was him.  I suppose it was a strange arrangement, a lance corporal and a private in charge of a section but we were used to it.

It’s a sad fact of life that every section has its dickhead.  It just so happened that ours was our section commander.  It was also a happy fact of life that as soon as the shit hit the fan, whether by accident or design on the part of our company commander, he found himself on a posting back to Britain on some obscure course or series of courses.

On the day he disappeared on his latest course, Fezz just gave me a nod and I automatically took over his role as two IC.  With two men now looking after their interests instead of one for and one against, the atmosphere in the section changed overnight and moral soared.  One of the last bombs to fall hit the edge of the trench and showered us with shit.

Fezz tried to say something, but I just shook my head, I couldn’t hear a thing.  There were a lot of weird faces made in an attempt to force air into our ears to stop them ringing.  Eventually it abated.  ‘Hear me now?’

‘Aye you?’  He nodded.  Due to our bad deployment, he had both Gigs and Fritz in his trench.  He and Gigs were both crack shots and would cover us out in case of trouble.  Fritz wouldn’t fire but share his rounds between them and spot for both.

‘Nice one Jim.’  Gigs swung a punch at me.  I grinned back but addressed my remarks to Fezz. 

‘I was lucky that time, but I don’t know how much longer I’m going to get away with it.’  His nod confirmed he had been thinking along the same lines.

The radiophone rung, Fritz picked it up.  ‘Yes sir, yes sir.’  He handed it to Fezz.

‘Yes sir.  No sir, no one’s out of their trench.  No, I don’t think any of them have been enticing the enemy or making rude gestures at their OP.  Of course sir, the rebels, yes sir, I’ll make sure they don’t.’  He handed it back to Fritz.  ‘Dickhead.’ he concluded.

We, who had been holding back our mirth, let it bellow forth.

‘How’s Buff?’

‘He’s fine, a hot piece of shrapnel dropped down the back of his jacket.  I got it out and dressed it, he’ll have a bonny wee mark bit that’s a,’ I’m fine.’

‘Good, time to do the rounds.’  He retrieved the inevitable coin from his pocket and we flipped for the chore.  I lost as usual.

‘Are ye sure this thing isna’ double headed.’  I asked snatching it off the ground.  It wasn’t. 

‘See how they are and try and cheer them up.’

‘OK, I’d better start we these two, eh.’  I slapped Gigs across the face.  ‘Cheer up Specky.’  He gawped at me owlishly.

‘You’re supposed to cheer us up, nae batter us.’

‘Hey it worked for Fritz.’  Even Fezz was laughing.

‘I’ll get ye back ye bastard.’

‘Aye nae doubt.  Did ye write anything last night?’

‘Aye, here.’  He handed over a few pages of notepaper.

Gigs was notorious within the battalion for his numerous ditty’s and poems.  No one was safe from the sharp end of his pencil.  I found them even funnier when I was on the receiving end.  After the first few verses, I could hardly see for the tears coursing down my cheeks.