I dragged her towards Sam’s trench and pointed to the plunger. ‘When I give the word, untwist the handle, pull it up, then push down for all you’re worth, OK?’
High-velocity cracks sounded ahead and to the right of us.
‘Get in the trench!
Crucial was already bellowing orders to his two teams. I gave her a shove, and jumped in next to Sam. ‘You see ’em? Up on the lip there?’
He was still aiming down the valley. ‘Hold your fire.’
Two RPGs kicked off almost vertically into the air, and even this far from Crucial’s trench I could feel the warmth of the backblast on my face. A cloud of acrid smoke engulfed us and my nostrils filled with burned propellant.
Crucial was already legging it to Sunday and the Chuckle Brothers as the rounds dropped and soft-detonated. Anyone below them would have been blasted with shrapnel.
Butt back in the shoulder, both eyes open, I watched the valley as the next two RPGs kicked off in quick succession.
5
The RPGs weren’t slowing the rate of fire coming from the lip. Rounds ripped into the mud around us. They were a fire group, trying to pin us down so the rest could attack from the front.
‘The phone!’ I screamed to Sam. ‘Give me the phone!’
He whacked it into my outstretched hand, his weapon never leaving the shoulder.
I ripped off the Prudence and powered it up.
The sky in the distance was about to turn blue, but behind us it was still dark. I crouched further into the trench, finger in my ear, but still kept my head above the parapet.
The phone was answered and I heard the drone of engines. ‘It’s kicking off here, mate. We need you.’
‘Fifteen minutes. How’s the cloud cover?’ He sounded like he was putting in a routine request to land.
‘Clearing.’ More rounds came down from the lip and slammed into the mud on either side of us. I had to shout to be heard. ‘Fifty per cent visibility and clearing. You still coming in east?’
‘Straight up the arse, man.’
‘The beacon will be a burning oil drum, just like the ones at the airstrip, OK?’
‘Roger that.’
‘We’re at the west end of the valley – repeat, anything west of the marker is us, OK?’
‘Roger that. What am I hitting?’
‘A fire group on the southern lip of the valley – that’s your port as you approach. Roger so far?’
‘Roger that.’
The engine noise was drowned as two more RPGs kicked off.
‘We’re waiting for the main attack, probably from the valley entrance – four hundred east of the marker. They’ll be moving up the valley. Roger so far?’
‘Roger that. What are they carrying, man? Anything I need to know about?’
‘We’re taking small arms, no RPGs yet. No light or heavy guns. The only tracer so far is ours.’
‘Roger that.’ His tone was still completely relaxed. No wonder he’d survived in this business so long. ‘OK, I’m coming. Just make sure I can see that marker, man. I need something to get me on line. Wait out.’
I was putting the sat phone down when he screamed, ‘Nick! Nick! Did you get Standish? You tell him what I said?’
‘Yes – and more.’
‘Roger that, be there in fifteen.’
Sam yelled, ‘Here we go!’
He fired a long burst, fifteen plus, into the beaten zone as bodies poured into the valley.
More fire came from the high ground, covering the assault group. A pair of RPGs kicked off to our right and I saw Crucial sprinting to the other trench.
‘Silky!’ I yelled, so loud even the LRA would have heard me. ‘The plunger! Push the plunger!’
I looked down into the valley and waited, but nothing happened.
‘Silky! Hit the fucking plunger!’
I got more rounds down, then saw the cordite spark up in the gloves, and finally the slabs, burning like big fuck-off sparklers.
‘Come on . . . come on . . .’
A couple of seconds later, the diesel ignited.
6
I aimed down into the valley entrance and squeezed off twenty rounds as more bodies streamed through. There must have been two hundred of the fuckers swarming towards us, ghatted up and wanting to kill everything in their way.
My right hand was on the pistol grip; my left gripped the phone tight against the butt so the display was almost in my eye. I fired another burst. My face juddered as the working parts slammed backwards and forwards 800 times a minute. My ears rang.
Tracer floated down into the killing area and the rounds spread out into their beaten zone.
I adjusted fire slightly left and squeezed the trigger again. Bodies dropped, but the wave kept coming. I now had to squint against the sun that had just tipped the horizon.
Crucial screamed and two more RPGs kicked off, flying towards the fire group. The knoll was shrouded in a cloud of backblast smoke that mirrored the black diesel fumes belching sky-wards from the drum.
My link was coming to an end. I grabbed another belt and it snaked from the ammo box. I attached it to the last few rounds still on the gun, and carried on firing.
Sam grabbed the spare gun. ‘Stoppage! Stoppage!’
He slammed back the cocking handle and squeezed the trigger. His head jerked in unison with the working parts, as if he was having a fit.
I fired another long burst and felt the heat of the weapon wash over my face and hands. Crazed screams and shouts rolled ever closer.
Most of them were kids. I tried to focus to keep my mind on range and keeping a good sight picture as they ran forward and I cut them down.
I saw green. The LED on the phone was glowing.
I pressed receive as another two RPGs kicked off and Sam’s gun thundered alongside me. I crouched down in the trench and jammed a finger in my other ear.
‘Nearly there, man.’
7
I yelled into the phone, ‘The diesel’s burning. A big fuck-off column of smoke. Where are you?’
Nothing.
I scanned the skyline, hoping to see wings, fuselage, a pair of reverberating 23mms – but the sun was still too low.
‘Where are you?’
‘Shut up, man. I’m concentrating . . .’
