to hit us. There was no telling exactly what it was, but it was a step up from what we were used to.
The second lump of Intel came to me via a spy plane. The aircraft had picked up enemy comms about a new commander arriving in the Triangle. Commander Hadin was a nephew of Commander Jamali — the previous big cheese and the cop killer — the guy I’d smashed with the Harrier, putting a JDAM through the roof of his ‘hardened position’.
We had no idea how accurate the first piece of Intel was. But apparently, Commander Hadin was getting his men in position and ‘was ready to attack soon’.
In which case, the OC decided we’d go and pick a scrap with them first.
Twenty Four
WOLF MAN
Like all good battle plans, this one was simplicity itself. We’d take a big patrol down to Alpha Xray. We’d do whatever it took to get a rise out of the enemy at Golf Bravo Nine One, their front line of defence. Once they’d revealed themselves, I’d flatten them from the air.
We went out in provocative strength. The patrol consisted of the new OC, his HQ element, our entire five- man FST, plus two platoons. By the time we’d reached Alpha Xray we’d not had a sniff from the enemy. It was dark, and we decided to try a new ruse on their fighters over at Golf Bravo Nine One.
We got a sound commander set up on the roof of Alpha Xray. The sound commander is basically an enormous speaker — the sort of thing you’d have stacks of at a Motorhead concert to pump up the volume and blow your eardrums. It sits on its own legs, and has a microphone into which you can talk.
I had one eye glued to the Rover terminal, which was feeding me images from the air. I could see the positions all around Golf Bravo Nine One picked out in the eerie green glow of the aircraft’s infrared scanners, but not the hint of a glowing human figure could be seen.
I spoke into the microphone: ‘Aye-up, Talitubbies, it’s us lot here.’
My voice boomed out over the darkened, silent landscape, echoing back to us. All around the battle-scarred rooftop figures hunched over their weapons — SA80s, grenade launchers, Gimpys and the big 50-cal. I handed the microphone to Alan, our terp, so he could translate as best he could what I was saying.
Over the days and weeks Alan had become more and more like one of the team. As Sticky’s beard had thickened, so he and Alan had ended up looking like identical twins. I’d made the two of them stand shoulder-to- shoulder whilst I took a photo. When Sticky saw it he had to admit that they did look like two grinning idiot- brothers.
The photo got passed around a bit, and Alan had got renamed ‘Sticky’s Brother’. That’s what we all knew him as now. I had no idea how he was going to take to the sound commander ruse. But we knew how much he hated the Taliban, so we had to presume that he’d like it. So far he was doing a cracking job of translating my words.
‘Now, here’s a thing,’ I continued. ‘You might not know this, but Hadin, your new commander, he’s on our payroll. That’s how we keep tracking you down with them big bombs. Hadin’s one of ours. He’s on our side. So what d’you reckon to that, Talitubbies?’
I stopped talking, and Sticky’s Bro translated. The echoes rolled in from the shadows and the darkness. The silence that followed was broken by a distant cry — the first bellowed response from the enemy. Golf Bravo Nine One was less than two hundred metres away, and the voice drifted over to us faintly on the still night air.
‘British soldier! First we fuck you, and then we fuck your women!
The sound commander drowned him out. ‘Complete load of bollocks!’ I started yelling, but Sticky’s Brother grabbed the microphone.
‘You meant to say that you
Sticky’s Bro was grinning from ear to ear. I was praying for the hidden enemy fighters to show themselves. I kept checking my Rover terminal for any sign of their presence. As soon as they were spotted I’d get the call from the air, and we’d mallet them. Stacked above I had two Apaches, a solo A-10 Warthog, a pair of Harrier jets, and a B-1B up high. Each aircraft was scouring the ground, and I was just waiting to get the call. We were the priority air mission for the night, and I had reserve air until morning.
‘Hadin’s a British spy, you daft clefts!’ one of the 2 MERCIAN lads yelled out. Everyone was getting into it now. ‘Get wise! Hadin’s on our bloody payroll.’
Suddenly, the radio chatter went wild, as Commander Hadin himself responded: ‘Don’t listen to them, brothers! It’s all propaganda and lies! Don’t listen!’
The OC ordered the platoon to open up from the rooftop with the 50-cal, and the Gimpys. Blasts of tracer went arcing into the night, sending fingers of hungry fire groping towards the hidden enemy positions. When there was no response, I got Sticky’s Brother to yell out the Pashto equivalent of: ‘You’re a bunch of fucking fannies: you won’t even fire back at us when we’re itching for a fight.’
Again the enemy chatter went mad. ‘They’re trying to provoke you to open fire!’ Commander Hadin was yelling. ‘Don’t fire! Hold your fire! They’ll see you if you open fire!’
‘Hadin told us you’d come out to fight tonight!’ Sticky’s Bro yelled. ‘But looks like you’re soft as shit! What are you, a bunch of men or a bunch of girls?!’
I gave Sticky’s Brother an approving grin. He gave me a cheeky smile in return. All we needed was one round to be fired, and the eyes in the sky would detect the muzzle flash, and I could call in the bombs.
‘Hold firm! Hold firm!’ Hadin urged his men. ‘Stay in your positions! Hold your fire!’
At this point the Apaches picked up two heat sources moving through the trees. I glanced at the fluorescent blue-green glow of my Rover screen. Sure enough, two fuzzy heat blobs were creeping towards us, but no weapons were visible. No Afghan civvies would be creeping through Golf Bravo Nine One at night, of that I was certain, but under the rules of engagement we couldn’t just take them out. I told the Apache pilots to fire warning shots, then fly off into the open desert as if they were leaving.
Moments later the image on my screen erupted in a shower of white-hot sparks, as the 30mm cannon rounds tore into the earth to one side of the target. The heat blobs froze, and a second later they had disappeared. They’d either covered themselves in blankets, to hide their heat signatures, or snuck underground. They didn’t have to get very deep before the infrared scanners on the aircraft would lose them.
Gradually, the sound of the Apache’s rotor blades faded away on the hot night air. The jets were too high and too distant to be audible.
‘We’ve even sent the helicopters away!’ Sticky’s Brother yelled, once the sky had fallen silent. ‘Maybe now you’ll be brave enough to fight us!’
Still there was no response. It was getting a bit frustrating. I suggested to Major Hill that we tell the enemy that we had them surrounded. They just might get a flap on and open fire. The OC thought it a grand idea. I was about to do just that, when Sticky’s Brother reported a new item on the intercepts.
‘Commander Hadin’s saying that he has us surrounded. He’s saying he’s got Alpha Xray surrounded.’
For a moment I stared at Sticky’s Bro in confusion. ‘Hold on a minute, that was our idea… We were supposed to say that.’
Then the first spine-chilling wolf howls rent the darkness. Scores of enemy fighters started calling to one another, and as they did so we realised they
There’s not a lot that’s spookier than the way the enemy do these animal howls at night. The chorus went up from one fighter to another, and on and on and on. They had crept in unnoticed and they had us surrounded. They sounded close, like spitting-distance close.
I locked eyes with Sticky. ‘Where the fuck did they come from?’
He shrugged, keeping one eye glued to his night scope. ‘Maybe we should’ve played them
The spine-chilling howls went circling around and around the darkened rooftop. I felt the hair on the back of my neck go up. We’d set out to trap them in the open and waste them, but instead they’d encircled us.
