Wilco- Lone Wolf 14, page 13
part #14 of Wilco- Lone Wolf Series
As we waited a Chinook I called Steffan.
‘Da!’
‘I have some information for you. Your African Station Chief, Abramov, reluctantly took orders from General Toropov to try and kill me, and to kill British and American soldiers.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I captured some of your people, tortured them, then killed them. Least I could do when they had been sent to kill me. And now that you know who the players are you can send in your report.’
‘I will do so.’
‘My men are leaving the area, so ... no need for anyone to send out blacks to try and find them. And ... have a nice day.’
With the Chinook thundering in I sent off the Seals, the French and the Wolves, Echo to remain since it was just tempting fate to have us all together.
As the drone of the Chinook abated I called David, the men sat around lazily in long grass. ‘Some news. SVR African Station Chief Abramov reluctantly took orders from a General Toropov in Moscow to try and find and kill this Petrov fella after my contact in the SVR reported the presence of Petrov and his men near this camp in Guinea.
‘Moscow ... did not want Petrov killed, but it’s unclear if Moscow wanted British soldiers killed. What is true, is that Moscow is behind the coup in Guinea, which will take place in three days.’
‘Dear god. If anyone other than you sent a report like that I might question it, instead I need a stiff drink as always. Messages have been sent to Mauritania and Liberia, and the SAS in Kenya will move to you, and notes to the Americans have gone out.’
‘And are we supposed to move to Guinea unseen, because if the coup leader gets word of our movements he just puts back the coup a few weeks.’
‘Well, yes, he would I guess, so we’d need to time it well – can’t have a large force sat there for six months.’
‘Need to time it very well, but I have some new friends and they can help. I’ve recruited some Guinea soldiers to come work for us, their elite Recon Company, eight of them.’
‘You’ve ... recruited them?’
‘They don’t like their president, and this colonel even less, so ... they’re open to options.’
The Chinook returned, a sweaty and muddy Echo led aboard with Recon Company, our guests looking nervous. Still, they made-safe their weapons in a professional manner before they boarded, and not even my lot did that.
Down and out at the FOB I gathered the blacks, and I had not attempted to disarm them. ‘If you men wish to work with us, you can be part of the British Army, good pay and pension, good food, good doctors. Or you can go back to Guinea, you will not be harmed. Take a day to think about it, talk amongst yourselves.’ I led them to the mess tent, the men all in need of a good meal, followed by a damn good wash.
I spoke with the captain running the FOB, and he had a tent big enough for eight men. I told him that the Guinea soldiers were on an exchange posting and to look after them, medics to check them – after a good shower.
Ten minutes later my phone trilled, Admiral Jacobs. He began, ‘We got the hostages, TV crew to hand, all over Reuters already. You need any help mopping up?’
‘I need every man you can spare, off ship, and your men in Mauritania and Liberia, and Camel Toe Base.’
‘What the heck for?’
‘This is top secret, but there’ll be a coup in neighbouring Guinea, backed by Moscow.’
‘Moscow! Shit...’
‘We need to get there as it starts or they’ll just wait, so I need helos ready.’
‘There are other ships nearby, I’ll get them steaming towards you, then check with Washington.’
After I grabbed a meal, a chat to my new Sergeant, Tobo, Colonel Mathews called.
‘Wilco, what’s the panic?’
‘Next door to Sierra Leone is Guinea, and Moscow is supporting a coup there.’
‘The Russians? They couldn’t support a small pair of breasts! They’re broke!’
‘They have a surplus of weapons, and only need hand them over.’
‘Well, yeah, they do seem to have a keen desire to flood Africa with old rifles.’
‘We have three days till this coup is supposed to kick off, long enough for the White House to make a decision.’
‘And if they say go?’
‘We have some spies that can be used in-country to time it for us. Then we drive over the border, it’s not far, helos from your tubs, and we make some noise, a few reporters to hand.’
‘I’ll be all over it today.’ He hung up, leaving me thinking about bras for small breasts. Small breasts did not need bras.
Inside, I called together the senior men, a map laid out, Guinea studied.
‘Ah ... fucking bollocks,’ I let out.
‘What?’ a sweaty and muddy Moran puzzled.
I put my finger on a narrow spit of land. ‘That’s the capital, and right at the end is the Presidential Palace.’
Ginger put in, cup of tea in his hand, ‘Ten men could close that road and cut off the fucking capital!’
I nodded, looking sullen to those around me.
Moran noted, ‘Coup leader will cut the capital off, maybe men in boats to surround the Presidential Palace. Be all over in ten minutes.’
Mitch noted. ‘Narrow strip of land like that is good to defend if we’re in position first, escape and re-supply by sea. Ten men could hold that road, and ten men could stop them as well. What is that, two hundred yards across here at that point?’
‘Damn narrow,’ Ginger noted.
‘And the plan is..?’ Moran nudged, a concern in his voice.
I began, ‘We group our men here, just a short flight to the target area, we send in our new black soldiers in civvy dress to watch the roads and time it for us, and when the army is moving and committed – no going back to barracks, we land and ambush them, senior men killed, the rest pissing off quickly as the US Navy makes a loud noise overhead.’
Ginger said, ‘They’d shit themselves with American jets buzzing them, they’ve probably never seen one!’
I nodded. ‘We have a good plan - and we’re in a good position, just comes down to timing. If we get there too soon, or if this colonel-come-president gets wind, he waits a month and tries again.’
Moran asked, ‘And London?’
‘Is terrified of losing the status quo next door,’ I told him. ‘We’ll get the men and resources we ask for.’
‘That’s something at least,’ he agreed. ‘And we don’t need some dictator idiot next door and pissing around down here.’
‘And the Wolves?’ Swifty asked.
‘They fight,’ I told him. ‘Go brief them, the Brits.’
He headed out. I moved out the door and shouted for Rizzo and Slider. Rizzo was out back, having a shit, Slider jogging across the dirt strip.
‘What’s up?’ Rizzo asked, fastening his trousers, his rifle slung.
‘You have shit on your boots,’ I told him.
‘Liquid shit, and nasty,’ he complained, a glance down.
‘Get echo ready to deploy, live job in Guinea, but we think it will be in three days. And all the Yanks come with us. Slider, go tell them, and instructors will fight as well.’
‘What’s up?’ he puzzled.
‘Army in Guinea next door are about to move on the capital, London wants the idiot president kept in power, US Navy steaming here, then all hell on earth will be let loose.’
‘So much for some quiet training…’ he let out, turning and jogging off.
My phone trilled, the Brigadier. ‘Wilco, you in the shit again?’
‘Rizzo is, all down his boots, liquid shit.’
‘Jungle shits, common enough. What’s the panic?’
‘Army in Guinea is plotting a coup in three days, London wants them stopped.’
‘So that’s why Hereford is on alert. I just spoke to Marsh and he’s mobilising anyone that can walk. What about your Externals?’
‘I want as many men as we can muster, sir, but it needs to be done quietly, no press, movements at night only. RAF Regiment, medics, Pathfinders.’
‘I’ll make the calls now, check flights and permissions.’
‘This will take priority, sir, Cabinet Office will be crapping themselves about the coup.’
‘If Guinea turns bad they’re a danger to our men in Sierra Leone and Liberia, and our interests there, so yes – crapping themselves right about now. I’ll do this by the book, since I work for the UKSF Directorate an all.’
I smiled. ‘Absolutely, sir.’
My phone trilled straight away after I cut the call.
‘Wilco, it’s Admiral Jacobs -’
‘Just the man I wanted. Sir, how many men could you move in an hour?’
‘From where you are to … where?’
‘From here to Conakry, capital of Guinea?’
‘I just had a look at the map, and you’re kind of sixty miles due south of it, so … say eight birds available, sixty men moved in one hour.’
‘We have two Chinook and two French Pumas as well, so that’s another sixty men at least, sir.’
‘How many men to move?’ he asked.
‘Two or three hundred, sir, depending on if they get here in time.’
‘So two or three trips.’
‘First men down would be a little exposed, sir, but they can hold for an hour.’
‘You need our Marines?’
‘Yes, sir, how many you got?’
‘Two hundred of them sat getting bored on ship!’
‘Have them all made ready for an insert in three days, but that target time could alter, depends on the coup colonel and his golf schedule this week.’
‘He plays golf?’
‘He wants to, all day long.’
‘Yeah, well Washington wants to upset his plans, we just heard.’
‘Who do you have at Camel Toe Base, sir?’
‘Got men about to rotate, so you can have the men intended for it, fresh men, they just landed in Nigeria. Forty Green Berets.’
‘Make sure they’re all tight-lipped, sir, and make-up some story, feed it to the Nigerians, some trouble in the Middle East they’re off to.’
‘OK, I’ll make some calls now. And the Seals based where you’re at?’
‘They’ll earn their keep, sir.’
‘Reason for the call, got two Hercules in Mauritania you can make use of – fricking film crew sat there waiting some action getting a tan.’
‘Then I think your Seals should HALO into a rear position for me, cameras rolling. They can cut a road for me.’
‘Appreciate it. I’ll send the birds.’
‘Don’t, they’ll be seen. Time it so that they land and refuel after dark on the day of the action, and then at my FOB – not the airport here.’
‘OK, I’ll brief them today, but they ain’t under my command, your Colonel Mathews has to sign it off.’
‘I’ll talk to him about them, sir. What about small boats?’
‘Got a shit load of inflatables, no landing craft.’
‘Have a force of marines tasked with going ashore by inflatable, sir, weather permitting, camera to hand, save on the helos needed.’
‘They got that down, no problem with shore raiding, they did two exercises off the coast of Mauritania, near those oil platforms we saved.’
‘Excellent, sir, we have the start of a plan.’
‘And the plan is..?’
‘We wait till the Guinea Army is committed, we sneak in, we kill the senior officers, and the rest of the Army will fuck off real quick. The ground benefits us in that the city is like Manhattan, long and thin, and we can cut a line across it.’
‘I saw the map, yeah, and if the Army there was entrenched in that city we’d have a shit time trying to move them out.’
‘If you find the Presidential Palace on the map, there’s open ground west to land on, some dockside.’
‘Boys are on that now,’ he assured me.
‘I feel a two-hour CNN special coming on, sir.’
He laughed. ‘Fucking hope so!’
I walked across to the American Wolves and instructors as they grouped together talking to Slider, Greenie here with Parker. They all faced me as I neared them. ‘OK, hands up those that think I manufactured this crisis for you to go fight in?’
They all raised hands, but smirked as they did so, Slider laughing – his arm raised.
‘We got intel that the poorly paid and badly led army in Guinea next door wants a new president, voter’s choice aside, so they aim to move on the capital. London and Washington wants them stopped, and I’m sure Paris does as well, or our men here will be at risk. So … we go fight.’
I pointed at a Wolf. ‘How do you stop a patrol of African blacks?’
‘Shoot the officer in charge in the balls, sir.’
They laughed.
‘Correct,’ I told them. ‘Shoot the man in charge and the rest fuck off real quick. So when the time comes, shoot the officers, shoot the sergeants, then shoot anyone that looks keen, leave the men running off home to fat wives. Simple.’
‘When do we deploy?’ the captain in charge asked, the man still looking concerned – despite his experiences at Camel Toe base.
‘Three days, since that’s when the colonel in charge of this coup gets his shiny new weapons and some ammo to fire. Other units are heading here, forty Green Berets, plus there are two hundred of your keen young Marines with short haircuts ready to join in, Seals here, plus the French team. We should have three hundred men or more.’
‘How many do they have..?’ the captain pressed.
‘On paper, six thousand.
They exchanged looks.
Slider put in, ‘Narrow streets, rooftops, distant sniping, they’d not see us or get a shot off, and once the man in charge is dead they’ll all fuck off. Not like it’s an open field and this is Waterloo.’
‘Water toilet what?’ came an American accent.
Slider shook his head. ‘Battle of Waterloo, you fucking peasant. Read a book!’
‘1815,’ recruit Murphy put in. ‘Napoleon got his arse kicked.’
‘Well done, Murphy,’ I offered. ‘Pays to read those paperbacks on the plane.’ I lifted my head. ‘Senior men, forget the jungle training, I want distant sniping, team work, plenty of ammo used up, some fitness work, good kip every night, plenty of food, check feet, check for the shits. When we know something … you’ll know something.’
I left them to it and walked back to the building, now a buzz of men seen around the FOB.
Moran stepped out, saw me and changed direction. ‘What about RPG and 66mm?’
‘They’ll have trucks, jeeps, probably a handful of APC, but no tanks.’ I raised a finger and called Tinker back at GL4. ‘Tinker, get me some stats on the Army of Guinea -’
‘Got it here.’
‘They have tanks?’
‘Old T55, a few dozen, some French light tanks that might actually work, some 105mm on jeeps.’
‘How many men?’
‘On paper, nine thousand, best being the Republican Guard, six hundred well trained men used to put down any political opposition out in the countryside, folks around the capital are loyal to the President.’
‘And those men are loyal to the President?’
‘Yes and no. Yes, they’re the henchmen used to keep down the masses, but the colonel you mentioned was the head of it till he got moved sideways a few months back, and Intel says his old buddies are loyal to this colonel.’
‘Aircraft?’
‘Some old French helicopters, not armed, some old Mi8 with missiles.’
‘Dispositions of the soldiers?’
‘Most are up-country keeping the villagers in check, doubt they would leave the countryside to itself and mass at the capital for a sausage fest.’
I smiled. ‘Sausage fest?’
‘Rocko’s favourite term for the blacks,’ Tinker told me.
‘Go back through the Army inventory, especially what’s around the capital, get back to me tomorrow.’ Phone down, I said to Moran, ‘Some old T55, some old Mi8.’
‘T55? I could stop a T55 with a pistol,’ he scoffed as he headed off.
An hour later the Chinooks loudly arrived, fifty French 1st Battalion stepping down with their kit, the men rudely dragged over from their base in the east of Liberia. I greeted their major and his captains, many of the faces familiar to me, then apologised for a lack of tents – the men would be in the tree line for two days. But at least we had a mess tent available to them.
With the men in the tree line, I grouped the officers and explained the situation, disturbed by a Welsh Guards sergeant offering us tents – they had just arrived.
‘Well fuck me, the British Army is organised for a change,’ I told the sergeant. ‘Have them set up here, near the treeline.’
The French soldiers pitched in, six old green tents erected, but they would not be very waterproof if we had a storm, some men electing to use flysheets in the trees.
Henri walked around to me, phone in hand as the FOB started to look busy. ‘French Echo comes, two troop from Mauritania, one troop from Camel Toe, and one troop is in Liberia but they all ‘av the dysentery.’
‘So does Rizzo, so we make do. And Liban?’
‘He comes from Paris, out from behind zee desk,’ Henri said with a grin.
My phone trilled as I stood observing the French get comfy.
‘It’s Morten, you’re at the FOB?’
‘Yes. When you travelling?’
‘Soon, Tristar down to Mauritania, Hercules to you – to land at the FOB in the pigging dark!’
‘We need the secrecy, and the strip here is OK, don’t panic. Who’s with you?’
‘Most of 2 Squadron, about sixteen of mine, and those Pathfinder chaps – about twelve of them.’
‘I’ll see you later then, enjoy the Hercules ride.’
‘Ha! Bollocks!’
I stepped around to the mess tent, our new black recruits seen using the showers. I ducked inside to the dark interior. ‘Senior man!’
‘Here, sir.’
‘Get hold of Freetown, get extra supplies, enough for three hundred men, or buy it from the local town.’
‘We get it delivered each morning, eggs and chickens, flour and bread.’
