‘
As I studied the grainy image on the screen, I saw one of the figures heft something under his robe higher on to his shoulder. It was a long, heavy weight, and it had the distinctive silhouette of an RPG. For an instant there was the glint of metal in sunlight from under the robe.
‘Freeze that frame,’ I yelled to the operator. ‘Check out what that is shining.’
‘Roger.’ A pause, as the tape rewound. Then, ‘It’s an RPG launcher’.
‘Aye, I reckon it is,’ I told him. ‘Stand by. Get the OC!’ I rasped to whoever was nearest
I kept my eyes glued to the screen. The guy with the RPG started moving swiftly away from the main group towards Alpha Xray. Fuck. My instinct was screaming at me that they were massing to hit the base, and all I had on station was a lone Predator.
I got the operator to widen the field of view, so we could track the lone figure and the original twelve left behind. The solo fighter led us to another group of men. By now there had to be thirty or more massing beneath the trees some fifty metres short of Alpha Xray. I got on the air to Damo Martin, back in the FCP at FOB Price.
‘Damo, I need immediate fucking CAS now,’ I rasped. ‘We’re TIC-imminent and I’m visual with thirty-plus armed pax about to whack our lads at Alpha Xray.’
‘Sorry, mate, there’s nothing available,’ Damo replied.
‘You’re fucking joking!’
‘No mate, there’s nothing. All available air is out on TICs.’
‘Damo, you’re not hearing me, mate: I really need some fucking air.’
‘OK, I’ll see what I can do. Stand by.’
I turned to Major Butt, who was standing in the doorway of the wagon. ‘Sir, get on to the lads at AX and tell ’em to stand-to now. There’s dozens of blokes with RPGs and shit fifty metres short of the base, coming in from the east along Route Buzzard.’
Butsy gave me the nod. ‘I’m on it, Bommer.’
There was a squelch of static and Damo was back on the air. ‘Bommer, mate, there’s nothing. As soon as we have air, you’ll get it. But we ain’t got nothing now.’
‘Fuck it, we’ll use the Predator,’ I muttered.
The trouble was we had scores of enemy to kill, and the Predator was carrying just the one Hellfire. Plus the males of fighting age were in two separate locations. I turned around to Sticky, Throp and Chris.
‘Lads, here’s the plan. Get the boys at AX to fire 51mm mortar rounds, but only smoke mind, three hundred metres beyond the junction of Routes Crow and Buzzard. The enemy will think they’re under attack, and bunch together. At least, that’s what I’m guessing. Before they realise it’s only smoke, I’ll smash ’em with a Hellfire.’
There was no time for discussion, as the Predator had only fifteen minutes’ flight time left. As the lads got on the radio to the mortar team down at AX, I dialled up the drone’s operator.
‘
As I spoke those words my Rover terminal started to flash, warning me that the battery was about to die. Of all the fucking times!
‘Roger, banking around south,’ the operator confirmed.
‘OK, I want you to cue up for an attack run.’
There was a pause. ‘Will you repeat that instruction, sir.’
‘I want you to cue up for an attack run using your Hellfire.’
There was another, longer pause. ‘Sir, we’ve never fired the Hellfire before.’
‘I don’t care. You’re the only platform I’ve got and we’ve got friendlies about to be whacked. I need you to cue up for an attack run on those enemy fighters.’
‘Sir, who is clearing me for this mission?’
‘I fucking am —
‘Uh, sir, wait out.’
I could hear the chat in the background, as a bunch of American couch potatoes ran around excitedly telling each other they were being asked to actually fire a missile in anger.
‘AX are ready to fire smoke,’ Sticky yelled over to me.
‘Fire on my order,’ I replied. ‘Chris, I need you to coordinate the mortars down at AX. I need them landing three hundred metres due east of AX on my call.’
‘No problem,’ Chris confirmed. ‘Just tell me when you need them in the air.’
The bloody image on the Rover terminal kept crackling and fuzzing, as the Predator banked around. I kept thinking: we’re going to lose the bloody downlink, or my Rover screens are going to pack up, or the bloody Yank operator’s going to bottle out of doing the hit.
I mopped my brow with the back of my hand, and willed it all to come together.
‘Overlord, this is Widow: are you ready, or what?’
‘Sir, are you certain I am cleared to fire?’
‘Too fucking right I am,’ I confirmed. ‘Chris — get the mortars in the air!’
‘Roger!’ I heard Chris give the order: ‘Engage with mortars on direction and target given.’
A second or two later, the image on my Rover screen showed the bloom of an explosion two hundred metres beyond the enemy positions, just as I’d asked. As the mortar rounds hit and started gushing, a cloud of grey-brown smoke drifted lazily across the terrain.
I saw figures running. The fighters were bunching together at the centre of their mass. More and more streamed in to that one position. The plan was fucking working! They thought they were under attack, and were grouping together to muster their response. But it wouldn’t take long for the enemy to realise it was only smoke rounds.
‘
‘Sir, I need thirty more seconds,’ the operator replied.
‘You what?’ I practically screamed.
Ten seconds of silence followed, each of which dragged like a lifetime. At any moment I was expecting the fighters to disperse, and to launch their attack on AX.
‘Sir, I’m ready now. Can you confirm I’m cleared to fire the Hellfire?’
‘Fucking right you are,’ I yelled. ‘Just fire the bastard thing! You’re clear hot. Engage! Engage!’
An instant later the image on the Rover terminal collapsed into a pixillated mess. I guess the Predator had fired, and the kickback of the Hellfire had given the drone a massive speed-wobble. Either way, the image had gone to rat shit.
‘Have you fired?’ I yelled.
‘Affirmative,’ the operator replied, with something like real satisfaction. ‘One Hellfire missile is on its way, sir.’
The image came back again. As it stabilised I felt my heart miss a beat. The enemy figures had disappeared.
‘Where the fuck’ve they all gone?’ I yelled into my TACSAT.
‘Sir, stand by.’ There was a pause of a few seconds. Then: ‘Sir, the enemy pax are underneath the two trees. My analysts can see at least twelve pax under the foliage.’
With the Predator at 22,000 feet, I reckoned the Hellfire would take a full thirty seconds to reach target. All eyes were glued to the screen. Not a word was spoken, and I was holding my breath as the missile streaked in.
For an instant there was the lightning flash of a black splinter streaking vertically through the screen, and then it hit. It was smack bang on target, the Hellfire ploughing into the earth right between the two trees.
‘Splash! BDA from analysts,’ the operator’s voice came up on the air. ‘Five have been killed outright. Many injured.’
