Hellfire (40 page)

‘I think you’ve got it the wrong way around, lads,’ I laughed. ‘You’re supposed to take cover before the rockets hit.’

The sirens sounded and everyone ran off to the air-raid shelters. To me it was all a bit too late really. I was left alone except for a shadowy figure about fifty metres away, sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette.

‘Nice Para-roll, crap-hat,’ he shouted.

When I moved closer I realised he was an ex-Para mate now working for the boys in black.

We shot the shit for thirty minutes until the sirens sounded the all clear. We’d missed our pizza but I felt lucky that the three Chinese 107 mm rockets had missed me. Not by far, but they had; they’d landed in the Dfac a couple of hundred metres away, killing and injuring late diners.

On our return to Bastion we flew relentlessly every single day and I was feeling physically and emotionally drained.

Colonel Wild came out to visit us and was shocked by what he saw. I’d flown for him when he was a major in charge of AAC’s Special Forces Squadron. We knew each other well and he couldn’t get over how haggard and old I looked.

He made direct references to the fact we were killing-within the ROE-without blinking an eye, and treated death and destruction as a part of daily life. What shocked him most was the level of stress we were experiencing, from ROE to shooting far too close to our own troops to being shot at and shot up. ‘At times you have to play God,’ he said-a very poignant statement from a dedicated practising Christian.

This leap into attack aviation took a lot of the top brass by surprise. I don’t know what they thought Apaches did, but Billy’s
account of his introduction to the US Apache course should have been shared with the army’s high rankers: ‘If anyone here doesn’t think they can look a man in the eye and kill him stone cold dead, then he’d better get up and leave. This course is for
attack
pilots.’

Wild had come out to explain the factors that were causing more and more battlefield helicopters to crash every year. He went home with a brand new agenda: to brief the AAC, JHC and MoD on how kinetic, fluid, ferocious and tiring being an Apache pilot was in the Helmand.

It didn’t pay to think about the sleepless nights, or being crashed out to platoon house after platoon house, or the stifling heat of the tents. I was never one for counting down the days; that only made the tour seem longer. I threw myself into paperwork and kept myself busy unless there was something more interesting to do, like a good old knees-up.

WEDNESDAY, 2 AUGUST 2006

Camp Bastion

We held a ceremony to claim ownership of the flight lines. We christened it Chinthe Lines after the squadron symbol on our flying badges, the lion-like creature that often guarded the entrance to holy places in South-east Asia. In local mythology, chinthes almost always travelled in pairs, and served to protect the pagoda or temple.

After curry, poppadums and soft drinks, the youngest air trooper in the squadron, Emily Leggett, was to unveil the sign. All the boys sang the theme to
The Stripper
as she unwrapped the plaque in a fit of giggles.

Lieutenant Colonel Tootal, the guest of honour, was presented with a flechette rocket mounted on a board. A rocket had misfired in one of the tubes so the lads had got the Ammunition Technical Officer (ATO) to remove the explosives and pull the flechettes out as trophies. Tootal gave us a few words.

He said he’d been an outspoken critic when the MoD first bought the Apache, and didn’t mind who knew that he thought it was a waste of money. We should have bought something cheaper and we should have bought a hell of a lot more of them. The Apache was too role-specific and wouldn’t have the flexibility needed for modern warfare. He’d had no idea how he was going to employ it in this theatre, and had been totally in favour of buying armed Black Hawks instead.

He was now converted, and made a point of telling every visiting military and parliamentary dignitary. He described the Apache and the crews who support and fly them as valuable assets that he couldn’t do without. They’d saved his men’s lives on many occasions. His men were always confident when the Apaches were above them. He also congratulated us on our jointery; the fact that we were purple air-joint service-and worked seamlessly together.

It could easily have been mistaken for a sweetener for the nightmare to come, but he was much too genuine to play games. We would be going back into Musa Qa’leh in three days, and this time the Taliban wouldn’t stop us.

We had our squadron, flight and aircrew photos taken, and then got stuck into a game of floodlit volleyball. The Apache crews opened up a can of Whoop-ass on their Chinook counterparts.

FRIDAY, 4 AUGUST 2006

The day started with bad news.

Our IntO interrupted a briefing for a Special Forces job. A walk-in source had tipped them off that the Taliban were ready to bring down a helicopter with an anti-aircraft gun at Musa Qa’leh.

The ANP in Musa Qa’leh had gone out on patrol in the Green Zone and came back unscathed. They should have been under fire within 100 metres of the gate. It didn’t add up; they were traitors in the eyes of the Taliban.

The Pathfinders reported Icom chatter suggesting the Taliban had been reinforced to twice their original strength, and the newcomers had brought forty more 107 mm rockets with them.

The penny began to drop; they were being tipped off. The Taliban now knew that Musa Qa’leh was off-limits to helicopters and that the men were so desperate they had taken to drinking goats’ milk. They knew they had to be resupplied at some point, and it would have to be by road. They knew vehicles were an easy target in Musa Qa’leh because of their limited movement, and had had great success against us three days ago. They were preparing to defend Musa Qa’leh.

Taliban morale was very high.

SATURDAY, 5 AUGUST 2006

0730 hours local

Straight after breakfast, all aircrew were summoned to the briefing tent.

The mission orders would be slick and make a point of everyone knowing what everyone else’s part would be. The tent was jam-packed. However, as big as it was, there still wasn’t room for all the participants, so only the head sheds appeared; for us that now meant all of the aircrew on the mission and everyone likely to support it on IRT/HRF.

A lectern had been set up at the front, next to the usual briefing boards containing satellite images and the all-important scheme of manoeuvre-every individual’s part in the mission at any given time.

We went and sat at the back with the Chinook boys. In front of us were the Mortar Platoon and Patrols Platoon commanders, a couple of company commanders, their platoon commanders,
platoon sergeants-anybody, in fact, who had some control and could affect what was going to happen on the day. There was a buzz in the air. Everyone knew this was our last chance at getting into the DC at Musa Qa’leh. If this failed, we would have run out of options.

‘Yes, we’re going to attempt a resupply of Musa Qa’leh.’ Lieutenant Colonel Tootal nodded at the sea of expectant faces. ‘It will be codenamed Operation Snakebite. We have tried to get in there before, and failed. We must make this work at all costs.’

He described the enemy. There were two distinct groups of Taliban, he said, with forty to fifty men in each, operating either side of the wadi on the approach to the town. Many of them were Arab fundamentalists who’d infiltrated through Pakistan. With these well-trained fighters there would be an untold number of additional fighters. We could expect a hard fight.

Everyone would have his or her part to play. We had to push a convoy through so they could get in thirty DoS-Days of Supply-ammunition, fuel and food; enough to withstand any onslaught the Taliban could muster. We would pull the Pathfinders out and put in two platoons of Royal Irish. They would be backed up by more ANA and ANP, who were going to form the Afghan National Security Force (ANSF).

The Danes were going to stay in place. They would be responsible for securing the LS and providing the additional firepower.

Tootal sat down. The Ops Officer of 3 Para got up and stood by the maps.

‘These are the orders for Operation Snakebite. It’s a resupply convoy mission into and back out of Musa Qa’leh on Sunday, 6 August. Tomorrow.’ He pointed at the map. ‘This is Musa Qa’leh town…’

On its western edge was a huge north-south wadi. We’d need to cross it to get into the town. The wadi was wide open and we’d be very vulnerable crossing it.

Bordering the western edge of the wadi was a north-south strip of Green Zone, about 200 metres wide, where the Taliban moved freely, fought and hid. We’d need to fight through this to reach the wadi.

Just to the west of this Green Zone was an urban area about a hundred metres wide, where the Taliban would be waiting for us. We’d need to clear it before we could get into the Green Zone.

To the west of the urban area was a long, forward-facing slope up to a plateau. The Taliban would have good fields of fire across it from the urban area, and we needed to advance down it.

On top of the plateau was an empty desert and except for one wadi it spread as far west as the eye could see. This area was heavily mined during the Soviet invasion. We lost a vehicle when it drove over a mine in this piece of desert only four days ago during the first attempt at getting into Musa Qa’leh.

‘This is where we will start the operation,’ he said.

You could have heard a pin drop.

‘Today, the Patrols Platoon and the mortars, with callsign Widow Seven Zero as their JTAC, will move out and overnight in the middle of this desert to the west of Musa Qa’leh, in preparation for the following day. At the same time, India Battery with their three 105 mm guns, and the convoy with the resupply, will move out into the desert too, and they will occupy their lay-up position.

‘Early doors Sunday the sixth, tomorrow morning, the convoy will leave the gun position and route to a safe area north-west in the desert, in preparation for being called forward to pass through a safe passage.

‘The Patrols Platoon and the mortars will move forward simultaneously through the known minefield, to find, clear, prepare and secure an area for the LS. It will be as close to the plateau as possible and capable of receiving all the Chinooks.

‘There will be three levels of support. We will have indirect support from the guns and the mortars. There will be Close Air
Support from nine airborne CAS sorties, giving us a seamless supply of fast air. Finally, there will be Intimate Support from British Apaches. There will be a permanent flight of Apaches over-head from insertion and these will be under the control of Widow Seven Zero, as will all CAS.’

‘On L Hour-the set time when the first Chinook touches down-four Chinooks containing B Company 3 Para and CO 3 Para’s tactical headquarters will land at the LS cleared by Patrols Platoon.’

‘On landing, the guns and the mortars will set up and register so they are accurate and ready to provide support,’ he continued. ‘This will also cause a slight diversion but we do not need the element of surprise. We’re not going to hide from the enemy or pretend we don’t have artillery. We’re going to let them know what we have and that we’re coming whether they want to fight or not.’ Guns and mortars within range would be a show of force.

‘On landing, B Company will get out of those Chinooks, and they will go to ground.’

The Chinooks would scoot back to Camp Bastion and pick up D Company then wait at Bastion until called forward.

‘With everybody on the ground, the convoy hidden so the Taliban don’t know where it is, the guns and mortars zeroed in, Apaches above us and CAS above them, B and D Company will prepare to move.’

Both fighting companies would move to the edge of the forward slope and take up positions ready for the advance to contact.

He indicated the map with a long stick.

There was a track leading from the ridge at the edge of the desert, east down the slope, through the urban area and through the Green Zone to the wadi.

‘Everything north of the track belongs to B Company, everything south, D Company.’

D Company would stay firm with their weapons trained on the urban area as B Company advanced to contact down the slope in a 500-metre extended line, oriented north to south. The track would be their southern border.

If they came under contact, D Company would fire into the urban area at all targets to cover B Company. Widow would call the Apaches to hit the enemy hard and fast from above, tracking any survivors. They would use artillery to suppress them wherever they were then smash them with CAS.

‘B Company will then systematically clear or assault every compound from east to west 100 metres up to the edge of the Green Zone, then south to the track, capturing or killing any Taliban that want to fight. They will refer to this list of building numbers.’

We all had a satellite image showing the outline of every compound 300 metres north and south of where the track ran through the urban area and into the Green Zone. Each compound had a designated number.