Eye of the Storm (49 page)

As soon as they had gone I led the other pair to the bunker. From there we had a good view not only of the main target but also of what appeared to be, from the dark shapes and dozens of lights, some kind of encampment about half a kilometre further north. It was clearly military, and it was equally clearly manned. So much for there being only thirty or so Iraqi soldiers at the location. Every few minutes the impression was strengthening that this target was going to be a sight more difficult to crack than I’d first imagined when I got the brief over the radio. For now, however, I would have to take into account the enemy dispositions we had so far discovered during the recce.

‘I’m going to sit here and work on our plan,’ I told Des and Ken. ‘Meanwhile I want you two to go forward another couple of hundred metres and see if there are any more nasty surprises for us down there. Don’t worry about the camp to the north. By the time those guys get involved, we’ll either be out of there, or never going to come out.

‘And for God’s sake don’t take any chances and get compromised. Just take a good look and then rejoin me back here.’

‘OK, Billy,’ they chorused, grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats. Then they slipped out of the bunker and were gone. These were exactly the sort of guys I wanted for that kind of patrol – stable, positive and reliable, they were also first-class soldiers. The right stuff, if ever there was any.

If the rest of the men had all been like Des and Ken I wouldn’t have been feeling so anxious. I had serious doubts about Yorky, however, who had become erratic in his behaviour to the point of being a liability. Not something I would have expected from an SAS soldier. To add to the problem, I also believed that most of the others were expecting me to call the mission off now that we were within the target area and could see the size of the problem.

Certainly we were heavily outnumbered, and possibly outgunned as well. I knew that, ideally, I could have done with the whole Regiment to handle this attack, instead of just thirty-four of us – a number that included the few doubtful types who thought the whole mission was suicidal. But we also knew that there was no chance whatever of reinforcements streaming down the slope, like the US Cavalry in Western movies, to join us if things started going wrong. I had no other choice than to make the most of what I’d been given. None the less, I remained certain of my objective: this mission was going ahead as ordered. Calling it off was simply not an option.

Sitting down in the empty bunker, I covertly cupped a cigarette in my hands and sucked the smoke deep into my lungs as I turned over the problems we faced. One thing that would have to be taken out straight away if things went noisy was the large manned bunker ahead of us and to the right of the target. The best way to achieve that was with a Milan anti-tank missile. These weapons are extremely effective not only against armour but also against fixed defences. All the operator has to do is to keep the target in his sights after launch and the missile is guided through a trailing-wire system, which stays with it until impact. The launcher had to be at least 400 metres away from the target, so if we moved up one of the Milan-carrying wagons to close to where I was sitting, it would be perfectly placed to take out the bunker.

Having decided this, I went outside, and was studying the relay building through my ordinary night glasses when Des and Ken came back. I asked for an immediate report on what they had seen.

‘Well, apart from the bunker which we know about on the right, there is another, identical one, on the left,’ said Des. ‘The end of the berm is obscuring our view from here but it’s about fifty metres west of the road junction, on the far side of the main supply route.’

As ‘Spence’ might have said, this was getting serious. I hadn’t catered for having to take out two bunkers in my revised plan. After a moment’s thought I asked Des and Ken, ‘If we set up a team in front of the relay block on this side of the road will they be able to take out the left-hand bunker with a LAW 80?’

Both men nodded enthusiastically. ‘Sure thing, Billy,’ said Des. Ken chipped in with, ‘Perfect – that’ll make their eyes water.’ It would, too. The LAW 80 is a single-shot, rocket-propelled anti-tank weapon with a discardable launcher tube. It packs a tremendous wallop and has the advantage of being man portable; it is not guided, however, so the firer has to get close enough to be sure of his aim.

‘But there are also two vehicles that need to be covered,’ Des added. ‘They’re military-type trucks, three-tonners with canvas backs. They’re sitting on the other side of the road right in front of the target.’

‘Anybody in them?’ I asked.

‘Don’t know. We couldn’t see from where we were. But there could be.’

Having registered this as yet another potential problem, I looked at my watch. It was already more than half an hour since I had sent Mugger back for the others and I still couldn’t hear the vehicles. Where the hell were they?

Five minutes later I heard footsteps, then made out the dark shapes of men coming towards us. The three of us knelt by the bunker entrance and slipped the safety catches off our M16s. The adrenalin surged through my body like a shot from a hypodermic and all my senses went on full alert. I wasn’t expecting the enemy to approach from this direction but you could never be sure – or too careful.

Then I heard Mugger’s voice calling me in a loud whisper and lowered my weapon. In a few more strides he was standing in front of me with Pat beside him.

‘Where are the vehicles?’ I asked.

‘We could see a big enemy bunker down near the target and thought it might be risky to bring the wagons any closer,’ said Pat.

I could hardly believe it; indeed, for a moment I couldn’t speak. Then, turning to look at him, I said in cold fury, ‘I’ve told you before what I think of opinions. Just take as many guys as it needs and get back up there and bring those vehicles down here as I ordered. Every minute you waste puts the moon higher in the sky and turns more of a spotlight on the target area.’ I paused, then added, ‘And that means putting everybody’s life at risk.’

I had my temper under control, but it was still perfectly clear to them all that I was furious. I believe my anger was justified, however. Some of these characters were acting so cautiously that they were putting all of us in danger, although they didn’t realize it. Without the vehicles, our firepower was massively reduced, and the further away the Land Rovers were from the target the less effective the supporting fire they could give. At the same time I also had no doubt that some of the men were muttering to themselves that I had suicidal tendencies, that I was completely off my rocker and was going to get us all wiped out. Well, let them think it. This mission was going ahead as planned.

Eventually – after a further, wasted, twenty minutes – the Land Rovers arrived and I told all the guys to get their kit and gather round in a loose circle. I still only knew a few of them by name, so when it came to detailing them off for the various tasks ahead I had to rely on Pat to pick out most of the bodies I needed.

When they’d assembled I issued confirmatory orders. ‘There are two vehicles parked across from the target,’ I told them. If I’d never had their attention before, I had it in full measure now. ‘I want four men to go forward and cover those, and another two to go to the same spot with a LAW 80 to take out the enemy bunker beyond the end of the berm on our left. I also want a Land Rover fitted with a Milan to be positioned just on the road over here’ – I pointed to a spot thirty metres away to our right – ‘to take out the main bunker on the right of the target.’

Because of the extra potential trouble spots identified by Des and Ken, I had already accepted that I would have to cut down on the strength of the main assault team. I tasked three members of my original team, plus Major Peter, to the specific areas I had just indicated – two to the left-hand bunker, two to the vehicles – and waited while Pat selected the other men who were needed for particular tasks.

‘Four vehicles and those of you not selected by me or Pat will wait here as a reserve, ready to come forward if needed. Everyone else, apart from the Milan wagon and crew, will go forward with Pat in three of the wagons and set up a fire-support position at the end of the berm to the left of the road. From there you’ll be able to give covering fire if and when it becomes necessary.’

I looked at the camouflaged faces of the men sitting and kneeling around me.

I only recognized a handful of them in daylight. At night, now they had cam cream on their faces and most were wearing steel helmets, I could scarcely tell one from another. I wondered again how many of my dirty not-quite-three-dozen would be present at our debriefing in a few hours’ time. My plan wasn’t perfect, but no plan ever could be totally foolproof. Worse, I had had to adapt it as our recce produced more and more evidence that the intel we’d first received was, to put it mildly, over-optimistic. Nevertheless, I believed that it was the best I could come up with given the situation and our resources. We were about to find out whether I was right. Meanwhile, it was time to wind up the briefing.

‘Let’s keep it quiet for as long as possible,’ I told them. ‘I don’t want those bunkers being taken out unless it goes noisy – and preferably not until the first charges go off when we break through the outer wall. Then Pat and the rest of you can hit them with everything you’ve got and hope it either scares, confuses or occupies them enough so that we can get out without suffering too much damage.

‘Right guys. Any questions? Okay. Let’s go.’

And with that we moved out.

Chapter Twenty-One

I
LED
my demolition team and six other men off to the left, to make use of whatever shadow cover was available close to the berm, and then headed north towards the road junction and the final jumping-off point for the target.

Pat and his three Land Rovers drove along the same route after us. The crew of the wagon carrying the Milan, which only had thirty metres to travel, had been told to move into position ten minutes after the rest of us had left.

The demolitionists were Mugger and Ken and a quiet Yorkshire corporal named Tom. A tall guy, very fit and strong, it was he who had driven the Gaz containing the bodies of the three dead Iraqis back to where I was flown in, apparently prepared to put up with the corpses in exchange for having a closed vehicle with a heater. As backup there was myself, Des and Captain Timothy, the young officer who had joined us from the infantry. Each of us carried one of the explosive charges that had been made up back in the LUP. I had the shaped charge for the fence and Des the charge for the wall, while Timothy had the charges we would use to blow the doors in the bunker. In addition, each of us was carrying a powerful high-explosive charge with which we would take out the switching gear.

When we reached our jumping-off point we were just two hundred metres from the relay station. From there all we could see of the building was the wall around it and, behind it, the steel antenna soaring into the night sky. The wall seemed to be of concrete, grey in colour apart from one section, a few metres wide, which appeared to be a different shade. From that distance, however, even with the moonlight, we couldn’t make it out properly.

The six men who had moved forward with us – one of them with a LAW80 – had already broken away and crossed the road to come up on the two trucks. To the right and less than fifty metres beyond them was the large bunker, where I could easily make out the enemy coming and going. Even though it was late there seemed to be quite a lot of activity. About a hundred and fifty metres to our left the other bunker was now clearly visible. It too was brightly lit inside and had enemy personnel moving about. There were other, smaller buildings behind the left-hand bunker, and about a hundred metres beyond the target was the large military encampment that we had spotted during the recce.

‘A few more than the thirty guys we expected,’ breathed Des.

‘Yeah, but by the time they realize what’s going on we’ll be back at our LUP,’ I answered softly. ‘So let’s just brass it out and get it over with.’ I looked at the other five, then nodded. Time to go.

As we stepped out in single file, slightly crouched but moving fairly quickly, I could see to our left, where the low growl of the Land Rovers had died away, that Pat had the wagons parked a few metres apart and facing the different directions from where trouble might be expected to come. We pressed on, slinking over the MSR and past the right-hand bunker.

Whether the Iraqis in the right-hand bunker actually saw us or not I don’t know. But no one shouted or challenged us and in less than a minute we had reached the wall. Ken, whose job it was to blow this first obstacle, led the way, followed by Des, who was carrying the charges. Mugger, who would bring down the fence, was next, and then me with his charges. Behind me was Tom, who would blow the bunker’s main door, and Captain Timothy carrying his charges.

Close to, we could see straight away what made one section a different shade from the rest of the wall. It was plastic sheeting. An already dodgy mission was growing stranger by the minute.