ACV's 1 Operation Black Gold (7 page)

‘That’s right Abie.’  I agreed.

The young man interrupted, ‘OK but I know for a fact there isn’t enough oil being produced in the North Sea to keep them going.  Even with the new fields in full production, we couldn’t keep them going with the rigs we have and it would take more than three years for them to build enough platforms and get them on site.’

‘Aye, you’re right,’ I agreed, ‘they’ll need that oil, bit no for themselves.  We sell most off most of what we produce to Europe; they’d have to do the same to keep them off their backs.’

‘I’m getting a sair head,’ stated Buff.

The young officer agreed, ‘I am too, so if our deep sea wells are no good to them where will they get the oil to save their economy.’

‘Right here,’ I stamped a foot.

‘What!’ He jumped off the table.

I pointed at the floor.  ‘Right under our feet is a vast oil field that stretches from John Ó Groats to the Pennines.’

He shook his head, ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard of that.’

‘Come on Jim, you’re taking the piss.’  Gigs blurted.

I eyed Gigs stonily.  ‘No I’m not taking the piss; it’s no secret for fuck sake.’

‘Oh shit,’ Grizz groaned, ‘Is that the one that killed 3 men on the west coast?’

‘Aye that’s it, they drilled a test well years ago.  The pressure was that intense it kept blowing off the wellheads.  Eventually they had to get one in from America, and for insurance they buried it under a pyramid of concrete.’

‘Hells bells I ken where that is, I had my team running up and down it a couple ó years ago until we found the plaque.’  Abie looked sick; he wasn’t the only one.

‘Why haven’t we developed it then?’  Asked the officer.

‘I already told you; we don’t have the technology to deal with the immense pressures involved.  It cost the government billions to clean up that mess.  Wiped out at least half a dozen salmon farms, best of stuff to.’

I could see in his eyes the penny was beginning to drop, ‘I suppose the bad news is the Americans do have the technology.’

I nodded.

Disbelief was written all over his face, ‘I still can’t believe the Americans would invade Scotland.  They are the world’s biggest democracy.  Common sense says it can never happen.’

I laughed.  ‘Common sense decency, freedom, democracy, what the hell have they got to do with anything.  We’re talking about money here, money greed and power, the maintaining of a dynasty and the way of life of the biggest and most powerful nation the world has ever known.’

The peeping of a horn distracted me, the NAAFI van.  I left them to contemplate for a while.  Orders were shouted after me.  I came back with a carrier bag full of crisps and coffees in the cut off bottom of a box and of course a tea for Buff.  It looked like there had been a few heated arguments while I had been away.

The young man looked to me, ‘they seem to have made up their minds.  What about you, still think it’s something we should consider.’  

I shook my head, ‘no, now I’ve talked it out I can’t see how it’s not going to happen.’

Buff spoke up, ‘so you think the government’s going to make us fight Jim.’

‘Aye Buff, looks like it.’

He looked at Buff and back to me, ‘you don’t sound as though you’d like to.’

‘As a matter of fact I wouldn’t, no.’

‘You wouldn’t consider it an honour to die for your country if called to by your own government.’  He was getting a bit haughty now.

‘Fuck that shit.’

‘That’s terrible.’  He was shocked by my venomous reply.

‘Is it, I’ll tell you what, let’s put it to a vote, would anyone here like to go to war?’

‘Fuck that,’ was as polite as the answers got.

‘Shocked?’  I asked him.

You would have thought I had slapped him, ‘yes, very.’ 

‘Are you man enough to listen to a few cold truths?’

‘Yes, I think so.’  He shrugged.

‘OK, tell me then have you ever been in a fight?  Not a punch up at a boozing match but an honest to god battle; with machine guns, rifles, grenades and shells going off all round you.’

He shook his head, ‘No.’

I lit up, ‘so you’ve never lain behind the sights of a machine gun and watched some poor little bastard who’s just shit himself with fear, come charging at you with a rifle in his hands because he’s been told to.  Because in his mind he has no other choice.  Now he knows he’s going to die, he does you know, then when your finger finally involuntary squeezes that trigger and believe me, it is involuntary.’  I took a deep drag, ‘I don’t think any normal human being could quite consciously squeeze that trigger for the first time.  Do you know what the saddest part about the whole thing is, do you?’  I shook my head, ‘No, well I’ll tell you; it’s not the little hole that appears on the man’s forehead, it’s not that.  It isn’t even seeing the man’s brains spray out behind him in a pretty pink mist, no it’s not that either.  Do you know what it is?’  I advanced on him, fists clenched, barely in control of myself.  He took an involuntary step back.  ‘Well do you?’  He shook his head a little light of panic sparkling in his eyes.

‘Well, I’ll tell you.  It’s the look of surprise on his face, can you believe that.  Now the man is running in front of a bloody machine gun petrified out of his wits with his own shit filling his boots, he knows he is going to die.  And when it happens he’s surprised, shocked, stunned, he can’t believe it’s actually happened, but it has.  He doesn’t want to believe it, he even tries to take another step, but he can’t.  And it’s all gone, his life, his hopes, his dreams, his family, it’s all gone just like that.’  I snapped my fingers under his nose.  He jumped, startled!  I turned away then swung back.

‘And for what, tell me that.’  I didn’t wait for an answer.  ‘Well I’ll tell ye, so some fat bastard somewhere can have a little more land, a little more money, a little more power.  No laddie any man who’s ever been in a fight of that nature and survives knows it just isn’t fucking worth it.’

‘Whoa Jim, ease doon.’  Buff’s hand clamped down on my shoulder and dragged me gently away.  It was as though that friendly hand acted as an earth.  I felt the anger drain away leaving me a little light headed and dizzy.  He guided me over to the nearest bed, sat me down, lit a fag and stuck it in my mouth despite the fact I still had one lit.  I drew deeply of the soothing smoke and stubbed the part smoked one out.  I had been ranting.

‘Sorry lads.’  I apologised.

‘It’s OK Jim, nae bother.’  I looked up full of guilt, but they were forgiving.  The nod of a head, flash of a hand signalling their understanding, it made me feel better.

The young man looked pale, ‘so you won’t fight, none of you?’ 

I shook my head in exasperation, he didn’t understand.  ‘Oh we’ll fight all right, every single one of us will fight, have absolutely no doubts about that.’

He shook his head, ‘I don’t understand, you said.’

‘No I didn’t.’  I interrupted the poor bugger he was totally confused now.  ‘I said, we wouldn’t like to, there’s a difference.’

‘So I might see you on the battlefield after all.’  He tried a smile.

‘No you fucking won’t.’  That left him gawping like a fish.

‘Why, what will we be doing Jim?’

‘Geez a break Ali, I just declared war.’  That broke the tension.

‘Well hurry up.’  He grinned.

‘Whit?’

‘Here.’  Buff thrust another cigarette at me.  I waved it away.

‘Oh a’ right.’  A picture began to form in my mind.  I flew over miles of pipelines.  A forest of derricks, endlessly drilling into the bowels of the earth.  Rank upon rank of pumps thumping in unison like a black heart.  Every river and stream dammed up to provide the masses of power required.  Another Highland clearance larger than the first, our islands turned into large staging posts to feed the enormous tankers.  The west coast black and dead.

My mind turned to violence as I ran scenario after scenario through it.  I picked on one, expanded it, pulled it to bits, then put it back together again.  I found myself blinking rapidly; the cigarette had burned into the filter and was threatening my fingers.  I just managed to get it over an ashtray before the long finger of ash broke off.  I had barely smoked any of it.

I started to talk, describing the things I had seen in my mind’s eye.  They listened in silence hardening themselves for the task ahead.  I began to explain the way we could fight this giant beast.  Soon the ideas were flowing thick and fast back and forth.

‘Wait, please wait.’  The young officer pushed his way into the circle, I had completely forgotten he was there; he looked at all our faces and could see the set determination on them.  ‘You can’t do this.’

‘Why who’s going to stop us?’  I snorted.

‘Well the army for a start.’ 

I wasn’t very impressed, ‘what army, just how long do you think you’ll last?’

‘We can hold them.’  He protested.

‘With what, an air force that was obsolete before it even left the ground, a Navy that consists of a few fishery protection vessels.’

‘We’ve still got the best fighting men in the world.’  His chin went up.

‘Aye and they all happen to be in South America.  Even if they did get them home and combined this new army with the regulars, for a start you’re still using weapons bought off the British army that were obsolete then.  Christ they were damn near smooth bores when we used them.  Now there’s barely enough of them left in working order to supply the regulars, tell me I’m wrong.’

He couldn’t the old SLRs and GPMG’ bought by our government off the British Army had already been replaced by the SA80 which was in its turn replaced by the SAR90.  Meanwhile we had still carried on with the obsolete weapons. 

‘We can still put up a bloody good fight.’  He shouted.

Unfortunately I wasn’t impressed, ‘oh wake up man, you’ll never even see a yank soldier unless your only wounded when they’re mopping up.  It will be man against machine.  A couple of hundred pounds worth of rifle against billions of dollars’ worth of high tech-ordnance.  Fuel air and anti-personnel bombs that can cover an area 300 meters broad by half a mile long and they have enough ordnance to cover the whole of Scotland in a week.  Bit they winna need that long, you’ll be lucky if it takes them seventy-two hours.  If it does take them any longer than that, it will only be because they’ve stopped at every brothel on the way up.  Get with it.’

I’ll give him his due he thought about it.  ‘Yes you’re probably right but I still have a job to do.’

‘Aye, I suppose you have, but we gave up that job years ago.  I for one have no intentions of running through the heather hand on heart the other on a claymore just to become another statistic in another great Scot’s tragedy; and if I can help it, neither will any other man here.  When the time comes to lay down our lives we will do so without regret, but it will cost them dear.  We’ll wait; wait until there past the point of no return and completely dependent on our oil, then we’ll strike.  If we have to light a fire a hundred miles long, we will.  They might, probably will, take our lives for it, but we’ll bring their civilization crashing down about their fucking ears first.’

My friends agreed with a growl that took the young man by surprise.  A strange look came over his face as he studied each of ours one at a time.  Eventually his eyes settled on me and he simply nodded.

CHAPTER 9

‘Squadron, Squadrons, SHUN.’  The sound of many feet stamping onto concrete rang round the cold hanger.  Air vice-marshal Sir James Ross cleared his throat and tapped the small microphone in front of him.  ‘Can you all hear me?’  His voice boomed round the hanger, ‘turn this down Sergeant, one two three, Yes that is better; we don’t want the whole world to hear.  Mr. Andrews, has the building been cleared of civilians and the guards posted.’

‘Yes Sir we have double and triple checked the building for civilians; sentries are posted at 100 meters from the building at every apex.  Would you like to try the sound test again Sir.’

‘Yes certainly, one two three, one two three, how’s that Mr. Andrews.’

The station Commander talked into a radio and listened for an answer.  ‘That’s it Sir, nothing can be heard outside the building.’  Both men already knew this; the dramatics had been for the benefit of the assembled squadrons.

‘Excellent can every one hear me, yes, good.  Gentlemen let me begin, for those of you who may be a little slow, what you are about to hear is classified as top secret.’  He paused for effect.  ‘Gentlemen, oh please excuse my earlier ignorance, ladies as well.  The information you are to receive here today shall go no further than this gathering.  You will not tell your wives, husbands, girlfriends or boyfriends, no pillow talk OK.’  That brought forth a polite ripple of laughter.  He reshuffled his notes while scanning the assembled men and women.  When they stopped tittering, he ploughed straight on.

‘As of 6 o’clock yesterday morning the general staff were put on an official war footing.  Our government has recently received information that American armed forces may attempt to seize control of our oil assets.’  He was stopped by a number of people voicing their disbelief; there was at least one swaying with shock.  Sir James nodded at the sergeant, who marched out to the fore.

‘Squadrons, squadrons, shun.’  There was no smart snap of the feet this time.  The sergeant’s face flushed slightly.  His jaw tightened and fists clenched.  He had already been pre briefed for this eventuality.  His voice rang round the hanger again, standing them at ease, then bringing them back to attention.  He repeated the exercise until they were all reacting properly again.  Leaving them at ease, he nodded to his commander.

‘Thank you sergeant, carry on.’

‘Yes Sir,’ he saluted then wheeled off to find a secluded corner somewhere to have a fly cigarette and listen to the proceedings in private.

‘Now I have your attention again Ladies and Gentlemen I shall proceed.  The government has recently received information that American armed forces may attempt to seize control of our oil assets.  This may or may not involve a landing on the Scottish mainland, they are not sure yet.  It will certainly mean them landing and taking control of some of the islands to use as forward air bases.’

He was again forced to stop as voices rose.  ‘You there the chappie standing beside the black fellow what is your name?’

‘Me sir?’

‘Yes you.’

‘Flight lieutenant George McKenzie, Sir.’

‘Well flight lieutenant, what’s all the noise about there?’

George flushed a little but drew a deep breath.  ‘Well Sir, their only the best equipped military force in the world.  They have more people in their armed forces than we have a population.  Their weapons technology out strips anything we have by a factor of twenty need I go on.’

‘Well they certainly have a lot more men and machines than we do, but I’m afraid your wrong about the rest.’  George shook his head.  ‘You disagree flight lieutenant.’

‘Yes sir, I’m afraid I do, if you’re trying to tell us our technology’s better than theirs, I’m afraid we have a difference of opinion.’  George was really beginning to feel concerned disagreeing with an Air vice-marshal normally ended in tears.  Lumps would be torn off the unfortunate individual then a quiet goodbye.  This one on the other hand was quietly rubbing his hands together and grinning like a Cheshire cat, definitely not the norm for the day.

‘Good, good.’  George raised an eyebrow at his companion and shared a thought.  ‘I’m glad you all think your aircraft are obsolete, because that’s what you were supposed to think.  You and everybody else.  What you have been flying all these years ladies and gentlemen is a type of prototype and a very bad one at that.  Oh and if I may say so, you all fly them bloody well.  So without further ado let me introduce you to your new aircraft.’ 

A small nod and overhead floodlights came on lighting up the two aircraft under canvas.  The shapes beneath were easily distinguishable and had caused no stir.  Another nod and the canvas sheets were lifted high overhead.  ‘There you go ladies and gentlemen beautiful aren’t they?’  No one stirred.  ‘Mr. McKenzie what do you think?’

‘Well they are black sir.’  Before them stood an Intercept and a Cobra.

‘Still not impressed I see, OK, where’s that bloody sergeant of mine?’

‘Sir.’  The long-suffering sergeant had put out his fag and was already on the way over.  He tabbed in and fired off a smart salute.  ‘Sir,’ he roared.

Sir James smiled down at him.  ‘Nip over there and bring over one of those aircraft will you sergeant.’ 

The sergeant looked at the aircraft then back at his boss.  ‘Which one would Sir like today?’

Sir James was tapping the podium with a finger as if in deep deliberation.  ‘Oh I think I’ll have the big one today please.’

He took a step back saluting smartly and had almost completed an about turn when he paused.  There was a snigger from the audience, trying to move either aircraft without a tractor was impossible.  ‘Could you hold my cap for a moment Sir?’  Without waiting for an answer, he removed his peaked cap and tossed it up to the Air vice-marshal who deftly caught it with a smile.

‘Certainly.’

The sergeant walked over to the cobra’s front wheel and pulled down the towing bar unlocking the wheels.  With both hands either side of the bar he leaned back.  After a few seconds delay, the aircraft began to move.  Startled gasps rang round the hanger.  The noise level increased as the sergeant with momentum built up dragged it easily with one hand over to the podium.  Releasing the towing bar to brake the cobra, it came to a stop with its nose cone above the Air vice-marshal’s right shoulder.  He reached up and touched it affectionately.

‘This ladies and gentlemen, is the mark 3 production cobra.’

‘But sir!’

‘Ah the vocal Mr. McKenzie, yes what can I do for you?’

George hesitated for a moment, shocked he had actually shouted, he could only plunge in with both feet.  ‘Well sir we’re already flying the marks 5 and 6.’

‘Confused are we?’ 

‘That’s putting it mildly sir.’

‘Then let me explain.  The aircraft you fly now are deliberately manufactured blinds.  These are the real things.’  He held up a hand to silence the murmurs.  ‘Why?  There were two main reasons.  These aircraft as you will come to learn are far superior to any aircraft flown by any military in the world today.  A decision was taken to down grade the model.  Firstly, to stop any kind of panic in our neighbours and prevent a mini arms race.  Secondly, because of the United Kingdom defence treaty, we would have to share this new technology.  However only that of the production model, which we did and were promptly laughed at.  The Mark 3, will, for political reasons, become the Mark 7 and its technology will not be shared with anyone. 

Your lives and freedom depend on the tightest security around this matter.  Oh and as an added incentive, the government has promised to hand out a life sentence to anyone passing on information to anybody.  As this would cost the lives of many of your colleagues, life means life.’  He paused to let it sink in, ‘if everyone keeps their mouths shut we may have them laughing on the other side of their faces.  Now let me start describing the major differences.’