Hellfire (29 page)
I called Camp Bastion. ‘Saxon Ops, this is Wildman Five One, engaging compounds with covering fire, out.’
I looked out of my cockpit, low and left. The twenty rounds went straight into the middle of the compound, with no collateral damage. Billy’s firing was absolutely accurate, and more importantly still, so was the gun’s. The rounds kicked up enough dust to obliterate the view inside the compound but the Widow couldn’t see them land behind the wall.
I asked Billy to change to a ten-round burst and go for the building instead.
I transmitted, ‘Stand by for a further witness burst.’
Then to Billy: ‘Clear to engage.’
Billy squeezed the trigger again until the cannon had dispensed its ten rounds.
I transmitted, ‘Firing now.’
The rounds impacted on the target building, ripping holes in its roof and gouging into its sides. Even from this height I could make out slivers of rock and adobe blasting all over the place.
‘Negative, negative.’ Widow Seven Zero shouted. ‘Go fifty metres south-west. The enemy have moved; go fifty metres south-west.’
As we flew over our troops I spotted a square compound with one single single-storey building hidden in the trees fifty metres further south-west.
‘Confirm the very next compound south-west of our fire is the compound you want us to attack.’
‘Yes, yes,’ came his urgent reply.
‘Stand by while we set up.’
I lined up the Apache to the east of the target, heading north, so I could keep an eye on the Widow’s position.
Billy called, ‘Ready.’
He let go with another ten-round burst onto the wall facing the Widow so he could observe the splash they made through the trees.
‘Firing now,’ I informed the Widow.
The Widow shouted, ‘On target, on target’ the second we saw the rounds impact on and around the compound wall.
Billy changed the burst rate back to twenty and unleashed two further onslaughts into the building on the north-western edge of the compound. I watched the boys break from cover then looked at the MPD to see what Billy could see.
The rounds exploded with a ferocity I had never imagined. The training ammo we used was inert; these High Explosive Dual Purpose (HEDP) rounds were the real McCoy. I knew what they claimed to be able to do, but I was completely unprepared for what I saw. They were far more deadly than their name suggested.
I saw the heat haze swirling behind the succession of little black dots that flew up the image and dropped onto the building. Each one produced an almighty flash as the armour piercing punched its way through roof and walls. Once through the building’s skin, the incendiary set the interior alight. Thick black smoke billowed from a small window like steam out of a pressure cooker. I could only guess at the effectiveness of the HEDP’s fragmentation. The blast should have sent red-hot shards of metal winging their way into every corner.
Chunks of rock and adobe flew off the exterior and the courtyard entrance remained empty. Either there was no one at home or the frag was working big time. My money was on the latter; the Patrols Platoon had been able to get the hell out of that field without being engaged again.
I lost my visual lock on them in the plantation to the south for longer than I was comfortable with. I couldn’t raise the Widow.
Then I spotted them moving fast into an orchard to the south and south-west of where they’d been pinned down.
The boss should have been extremely thankful that they’d managed to hold out. I wouldn’t have wanted to explain why we hadn’t been ready to Tootal. Without Apache cover they’d been sitting ducks, out in the open, nowhere to go.
When I finally got hold of them they were moving through the orchard 200 metres west of the compound Billy had just annihilated. Widow Seven Zero informed us that they had broken contact and were going to search the area they’d come under fire from. ‘Report any movement in the target compound.’
Saxon Ops at base gave us grid 41S PR 3957 8673. The target was a suspect white pick-up in the north of Now Zad. With the threat brief earlier, this target was deemed to be a direct threat. Billy handed it over to Nick and Jon because they couldn’t speak to the ground troops.
I kept a close eye on Jon as he peeled away to the north.
We couldn’t see anything moving or leaving the compound or the wood alongside it. We covered the lads through what seemed to be a cross between an orchard and open parkland.
They looked like ants from my vantage point, but I could see them employing good FIBUA tactics as they entered the compound. No surprises there; 3 Para were masters at Fighting In a Built-Up Area. Once inside they reported loads of blood and blood trails all over the place, but no human life.
‘They must have dragged the injured and dead into the trees, undercover of the dust and smoke,’ I said.
‘Lesson identified, lesson learned,’ Billy replied. We wouldn’t make that mistake twice.
Base told us intelligence was indicating a target in the north, grid 41S PR 3980 8648. They must have been listening to Taliban transmissions. While I looked out for Patrols Platoon, Billy checked the
map. It was only 300 metres from where Nick and Jon had gone to search.
I told Saxon Ops we’d need a RIP in an hour. 3 Flight would be on the APU on thirty minutes’ notice to move. They’d have more than enough time to throw their engine power levers forward, taxi, fly out to us and do a full RIP. We were on an insecure radio, but we’d maintain full Apache cover. Better to risk keeping the Taliban up to speed than to leave 3 Para in the lurch again.
I spoke to all three Widow callsigns to see if they needed assistance. Our covering fire had quietened the Taliban down and our presence was keeping them at bay.
I told Widow Seven Two that base had given me intelligence on a target west of their target compound, because he was with the CO. We couldn’t wander off on our own little mission without confirming with the ground commander; we were here to assist him, after all. Widow Seven Two informed me that they had the same information and 2 Platoon of A Company 3 Para were already routing to the grid from the east.
Nick and Jon were still hunting for the white pick-up. They were over the area of the grid, knowing that this posed a greater threat to the boys on the ground than they perhaps realised. If it knocked us out of the sky, they’d have a helicopter rescue mission on their hands.
With that in mind we moved fractionally north, leaving them to hunt for the pick-up. I still maintained a wide-enough orbit to pass over our lads every couple of minutes; with a bit of luck it would keep the Taliban diving for cover.
Billy looked into the intelligence grid; all we could make out was the edge of a field, a north-south track bordered by a wall, and a compound about fifty metres due east.
We had no other information about the target. The obvious feature was the compound; the only fire we’d encountered in our
short brush with the Taliban in Afghanistan was from a compound, and the blood trails must have led somewhere.
The area was totally enclosed, with a double wall on its eastern side bordering a wood which stretched 500 metres to the main wadi-our perimeter. Opposite it was a large white steel gate, the only access point to the compound. What appeared to be five open garages ran along the northern wall. I saw shadow movement in the furthest east, but couldn’t identify it. I needed to tell the CO’s men, and find out where they were.
Widow Seven Two said he had a few hundred metres to go; I requested another flash from his mirror.
The signal was easy to see; they were in a sunlit clearing in the wood, closer to the target than we’d anticipated, tracking directly to the intelligence grid. They’d break out into open fields if they continued. I instructed him to continue west then turn south ten metres short of the wood line and contour the edge of the wood until they reached the double wall. It should give them the element of surprise and afford them whatever cover was available.
Widow Seven Two called when he was at the wall. I talked them round the perimeter until they were on the track just west of the compound. They gathered by the gates and studied their maps.
I saw the JTAC look up.
‘Wildman Five One, this is Widow Seven Two. The grid we have is some fifty metres west, in another compound.’
‘Wildman Five One, there isn’t a compound fifty metres west. The wall you’re looking at isn’t a compound wall; it’s just got a track on the other side of it, and then a field. The field stretches about 100 metres to an orchard and that’s it. No buildings or compounds.’
Billy had called Nick and Jon to join us as the pick-up was nowhere to be seen and there was little else happening. Jon and I flew contra-rotating orbits around the whole area, with us high on
the inside and them lower on the outside so we could both fire at the centre point without hitting each other.
I told Widow Seven Two that if they wanted to check out that area they’d have to follow the wall north initially then turn back down the track for fifty metres. From there they could look west and see the empty field for themselves.
We gauged our fuel and reminded Saxon Ops that we would need 3 Flight to leave in the next five minutes. I was pleased with our performance. We hadn’t killed anyone we weren’t supposed to and 3 Para felt safe enough to patrol around Now Zad looking for an intelligence target.
Saxon came back to me a minute or two later.
‘There will be no RIP, I spell, Romeo, India, Papa. On your return to base you are to refuel, rearm and go back to Now Zad immediately.’
Something must have flared up elsewhere in the AOR; 3 Flight must have deployed to support other troops in contact. We let Nick and Jon know. I felt a hollowness in my gut at the prospect of the ground troops being without Intimate Support again.
Nick and Jon hadn’t spotted anything suspicious and nor could we. I took advantage of the lull in activity to inform the CO of our predicament and asked Widow Seven Two if we should break station now and come back asap or wait until we’d reached chicken fuel. He told me to wait out while they asked the CO.
The Paras moved down the wall in single file. Billy scoured the area for Taliban while I maintained over-watch of the troops. I could see the lead soldier; he wasn’t much more than a boy. As he reached the end of the south wall he’d be able to see across open ground towards the orchard.
I heard Widow Seven Two’s microphone click open to reply as the lad and his immediate successor stepped clear of the wall. I saw the wall explode and heard a massive weight of machine-gun fire over the JTAC’s radio.
Dirt, rock and soil erupted from the trail and wall. I saw a figure tumble back towards the wall. A pair of legs shot up out of the dust. I knew it was the young soldier I’d just delivered to the Taliban on a plate.
SUNDAY, 4 JUNE 2006
I yelled across to Nick: ‘Contact. They’ve been contacted.’ I thought for a second. ‘There are no troops further west than the north-south track; watch and shoot.’
Someone shouted from the ground, ‘Contact. Wait Out.’ Someone struggling to make himself heard above the explosions hammering their position.
My mouth was dry. I had the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that comes the second you realise you’ve done something extremely bad. My mind raced. I couldn’t see enough through the dust to know if the boys were still alive.
Was it me?
I could see men taking cover behind the wall as it disintegrated above their heads.
Was it my fault?
No one was moving a muscle down there.
Why did they break cover by walking straight around the corner? I’d lulled my own men into a false sense of security. I couldn’t see any fire coming from the orchard. Where were they being contacted from?
I flicked my attention between the orchard and my fallen soldier. He’d been catapulted backwards at such a rate he must have been badly hit.
I needed to get on with my job or there’d be more blood on my hands.
Billy searched desperately for the enemy firing position.
The wall our boys were behind was still being smashed to smithereens. The fire could only be coming from the orchard, but where?
We could have hosed down the whole wood with rockets and cannon but we were not in the business of indiscriminate fire, and we’d raise such a dust storm we’d not know if we’d actually hit anyone.
‘Widow Seven Two, this is Wildman-can you see the firing point?’
‘Stand by to watch our tracer.’ The mayhem I could hear through my earpieces was outrageous. Why couldn’t we see anyone firing at them?
‘Standing by.’
I told Nick and Jon to watch out for the tracer indication.
I could see a couple of our guys firing through holes in the wall but couldn’t see a hint of tracer. Those that weren’t firing were down on their belt buckles, some in the foetal position.
I suddenly realised why we couldn’t see the tracer. They were less than 100 metres from the orchard. Tracer started to burn at 110.
‘Widow Seven Zero, this is Wildman. I cannot see your tracer or any enemy. Can you see the firing point?’
‘It’s 100 metres to our west.’ The sound of incoming was as ferocious as ever.
The orchard frontage was a few hundred metres long and we were running out of fuel. I still needed a clearer description. If we could pinpoint the Taliban position we could deal with it. If we
simply hosed the place down our boys could be targeted again as soon as we broke station.
‘From the bottom of the wall…’ I said, ‘go 100 metres across the field with a couple of bushes in it…there’s a low wall on the forward edge of the wood…where’s the firing point from this wall?’
‘That
is
the area of the firing point.’
‘Gunner-Target-HMD.’ I brought Billy’s TADS into position.
Billy slaved to the area and quickly identified the wall. It was deep in the shadow of the trees and the enemy could have been hiding behind it. We asked Jon and Nick to keep eyes-on as we fired onto the target.