ACV's 1 Operation Black Gold (11 page)

‘It has been an honour knowing you Itche.’

‘As I grew to manhood Peter I watched as first you drew your Country back from the abyss.  Now on the eve of what could be your own destruction you still find the time to think of others.  I will never forget you Peter.  The greatest honour has been mine.’  The Japanese Prime Minister bowed, without waiting for the compliment to be returned, turned, and walked to the door.  Tears streamed down the handsome oriental face.

CHAPTER 13

We were hanging about a narrow corridor waiting for Mr. D’Ord and big Ivan to arrive.  I was starting to feel nervous.  The young Mr. D’Ord had dragged us out of bed at seven o’clock, herded us over to breakfast, then drove us over to Kirkliston in a one tonne.  Now here we were, waiting for the man himself. 

Our first surprise of the day had been Davie Whitton getting off a chopper.  I was beginning to feel like a cat that knew it was about to be fixed.  Davie had come straight over and brought me up to date on the condition of the little girl.  She was coming along nicely and was expected to make a full recovery.  I didn’t get him to myself for very long though.  The rest of them excited by his arrival were bombarding him with questions.  I was pushed out to the sidelines.

Things had quietened down a little apart from Abie’s eek's and yuk's as Davie entertained him with ghoulish stories of surgery.  I’d found myself a wee neuk next to the door and wrapped myself in thought, as was my want.  It was Buff who disturbed me with some of his usual words of wisdom. 

‘Worrying about fuck all as usual Murison.’

I shrugged, ‘nah not worrying, wondering.’

He gave me one of those looks, ‘fit about?’

I gave another shrug, ‘lot’s ó things, ye ken, this and that.’

He was determined to bother the shit out of me, ‘fit like- like?’

I flicked a hand, ‘well this for a start.’

‘Wouldn’t bother worrying about this, ye’ll find out soon enough,’ he grinned.

Of course I had to agree, ‘aye your right.’

‘Fit else?’ 

It was something that had been bugging me, ‘that arcade machine they made us have a shot of, why á the palaver?’

He shook his head, ‘does there have to be a dark reason for everything.  You pay for it through your wages, a penny a go that’s why you’ve got to put your ID card into the slot.  Some ó they young lads would spend their hale wages on it either wise.’

‘Aye your probably right, but why introduce us to it, why make us play it with our first five games free.  Those fucking things are all over the place.’

‘You see shadows within shadows Murison,’

‘Realistic though wasn’t it?’

He shifted uncomfortably.  ‘Aye well maybe.’

My train of thought was diverted by the sound of approaching footsteps.  Two sets of steel shod brogues and the rhythmic tapping of a pace stick.  Mr. D’Ord and Ivan Muckle swung round the corner, their broad frames filling it from side to side.

Ivan had retained his pace stick from his days as a senior NCO, hardly officer like, but then there were few who would be stupid enough to point it out to him.

I observed them between a chink in two bodies.  They looked a little older certainly, but still as fit and strong as the last time I saw them.  Mr. D’Ord’s voice boomed down the corridor.

‘Good morning gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to see you all again.’  He waded in shaking hands and addressing each man by name.  Eventually he managed to break through to where we were standing.  ‘I might have known the two biggest rogues would have to be hiding in the back somewhere.’

‘That’s funny,’ I countered.  ‘I could have sworn the biggest two of the lot just came sauntering round that corner a minute ago.’

Mr. D’Ord was fast but I was ready.  His fist shot out and caught me just above the buckle.  A playful slap by his standards, but it was still solid and would have winded me badly if I hadn’t been expecting it.

I placed my hands on my hips and shook my head at him.  ‘Well, well sir, I see ye still haven’t mastered the gentle art of persuasion.’  The corridor erupted in laughter.  We both joined in as we shook hands warmly. 

‘How are you keeping Murison?’

‘Fine sir, yourself.’

‘Pretty dammed good.’  I was surprised at the rush of pleasure I felt at seeing these men.  I had been determined not to call any man sir again, but such was the sheer presence of this man, it just rolled off my tongue.

‘Fit like Ivan,’ Buff asked cheekily sticking out his hand.

‘Not bad Buff,’ he grinned in reply.  ‘Yourself.’

‘Fine.’

We shook hands with a little less warmth, only nodding.

‘Shall we proceed gentlemen,’ Mr. D’Ord offered.

Ivan unlocked the door and we filed in.  Only father and son hadn’t fully entered.  They shook hands, the young man turning away.

‘Hey, fit are you doing with our manny,’ I intervened, the young officers face flushed with pleasure.  I suppose every army in the world has its own special names for good and bad officers, in ours the highest accolade from his troops was to be called the manny to his face.  A look passed between the manny D’Ord and myself.

‘I’m afraid he won’t be with you on this, he’s leaving now for Aberdeen to take over his new platoon.’

‘Aw that’s fucking shite.’  ‘Whit the fuck for.’ and other sweet accolades were hurled across the room in a farewell chorus.

‘That’s a pity.’  I walked over and held out my hand.  He grasped it firmly.  ‘It’s been a pleasure,’ I added.

‘It’s certainly been an experience,’ he grinned.

I returned it, ‘I hope we see you again.’

‘Well just in case I’ll keep your address handy’

‘You’ll be welcome’

‘Thank you, I’ll be seeing all of you,’ he shouted into the room.

‘Cheerio.’  ‘Keep your head down,’ came the replies.

‘Good luck.’  I added before turning away and taking the seat beside Buff.

Mr. D’Ord sat himself down behind a desk and nodded to Ivan who flicked a switch.  There was a clatter as shutters came down on the other side of the door.  I raised an eyebrow at Buff who just shrugged.

‘All secure sir.’

‘Thank you Ivan.’  His eyes scanned the room coming to rest on each and every one of us for a few seconds.  ‘Gentlemen, may I repeat myself by saying once more it’s a pleasure to see you all again.’

‘Were no a’ here though.  Where’s Bugs n’ Andy?’  Davie McAllister asked.

‘I thought you might enquire after that pair.  Sergeant Garrick is currently serving in Central America with the first battalion; he is now running 42 platoon.  Your old one I believe, while his officer is in hospital with one of those obscure tropical diseases. 

CQMS Grant is also still serving with D Company; he now runs the company store.  Unfortunately he’s no longer fit for frontline service after that skirmish he was involved in a few years ago with illegal loggers but apart from a small limp he’s fit and well.  Does that answer your question McAllister?’

Davie nodded in reply.

‘Have you noticed Davie how officer’s aye get obscure tropical diseases while buckshee Jocks just get the clap?’  Gigs banged in with the old punch line.  It got a laugh and helped disperse the tension.

‘OK first things first.’  Shaking his head and smiling, he produced a letter from his briefcase and waved it at me.  I got up and took it.  ‘From a friend of yours.’  It was marked top secret- weird.  I opened it and read its contents.

‘Listen up boys this concerns all of us.  From General A Pearson, fried egg and bacon, Commander Army Intelligence, HQ Scotland, Kirkliston.  Dear James, I have just finished listening to a recording supplied to me by your commanding officer and find myself compelled to write this brief letter.  Your appraisal of the situation is highly accurate and extremely disturbing.  I must ask you to cease talking openly on these matters and also request that you ask any friend or colleague you have discussed any of these matters with, to do the same.’

I glanced up.  They were all taking the matter seriously.  ‘The government is currently aware of the American intentions towards our country.  Fortunately, for us they are completely unaware as to the depth of our knowledge, or the fact that we have any knowledge of their intentions.  Due to the recent mobilization, there is a lot of media attention centred on all of us at the moment.  Speculation of this nature reaching their ears could have the most disastrous consequences to absent friends and greatly affect the outcome of any ensuing conflict.  Yours sincerely, AP.’

I folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.  ‘Well that kind of speaks for itself, do you have the proper facilities for disposing of this sir.’

‘Sorry!’ He had been watching their reactions.

‘Well, I’m no eating it.’

‘What, yes of course.’

‘Fit’s á this absent friends and dire consequences stuff Jim.’  Buff asked.

‘Isn’t this the thing you’re not supposed to be discussing?’  Asked Ivan.

I shook my head, ‘well how can I put this Mr. Muckle, either they get the information now in this nice secure location, or in the pub tonight they’ll hound me half to death about it.  Then when they’ve got what they want out of me and given me a blistering headache into the bargain, they’ll spend the rest of the evening telling me to shut the fuck up.  I know, it’s what they always fucking do when some things bothering them.  Take your pick.’

There were a few embarrassed chuckles over that revelation.

Mr. D’Ord stepped in, ‘yes maybe it would be better to discuss it here, besides I’d like to hear what you have to say.’  Ivan was overruled, although it didn’t seem to put him up nor down, but that was Ivan, inscrutable.

‘Well it would seem fairly obvious they’ve figured out some way of getting the army home, but how, is completely beyond me.  It had better be good though.’

‘Why?’  The brigadier prompted.

I considered not answering for a moment, did it really matter what I thought.  ‘The yanks are bound to have a battle plan for taking them out.’

‘What?’

‘Christ I don’t know!  The easiest solution would be to cut them off from their supplies and starve them out.’

‘OK.’

My brain went into hyper drive, ‘if they have got a way of getting the boys out and the yanks got wind of it or if they think we know what they’re up to they could take some sort of pre-emptive action before we’re ready.  Simple.’

‘You make it sound simple.’

I studied his face for a moment, ‘I dinna think you brought us here to discuss this no matter how inviting it is.’

‘Yes your right.’

I sat back down.

He went on to describe the job he wanted us to undertake.  Bringing highly skilled medical attention to units working behind enemy lines.  These Special Forces didn’t have a problem removing their casualties from the battlefield.  The problems occurred later, a lot of the severely wounded often died during extraction on the long ride home.

‘The men you will be working with are highly skilled medics in their own right and are capable in some instances of performing minor surgery.  Your task will be to escort Mr. Whitton here, to their secret locations.  He will then perform lifesaving surgery.  When the patient has recovered sufficiently you will extract him.  Any questions so far?’

‘How do we get in and out?’  Fritz asked.

‘Helicopter, in and out.’

I shook my head sadly; it was noticed.  ‘What’s the matter Murison any questions?’

‘Aye, does that percolator over in the corner work?’

‘Yes I presume so.’

‘Good.’  I got up and put it on.  Finding tea-making facilities, I prepared a pot of tea as well.

I broke the silence that had sprung up.  ‘What’s to stop us flying smack into a follow up.’

He described the procedures we would undertake to avoid a follow up operation which basically entailed waiting until the area was clear before moving in, which could take up to a few days.  I started handing out tea and coffee.

‘Davie, high velocity gunshot wound to the head.  His friends have got him back to safety and stabilised him.  Remembering he’s in superb physical condition, how long will he last?’

‘Jim you can die from a bad graze to the head after a few hours.  With a gunshot especially high velocity, the survival rate is very slim.  Low velocity bullet or shrapnel, the chances are a lot better, but if you haven’t operated within 6 hours, you’re really pushing it.  That’s if they survive that long.’

‘Well that puts the boot into your helicopter idea, which would only work a couple of times anyway before they latched onto us.  Then, if they have any sense they would leave us to it setting up Op’s and listening posts.  Within 6 months they could have half your bunker complex mapped out and then,’ I snapped my fingers, ‘Ta Ta.  Scratch off most of the SAS.’

I was on the receiving end of a very strange look.  ‘That’s why we’re prepared to wait.

‘Then you’ll be pulling a very valuable surgeon out of the line to deal with nothing more serious than a scratch, because that will be the only ones that survive.’