I am still wary of them and try to keep my distance as we file down the road together. By far the bigger threat is the risk of getting mistaken for a Rabid again and getting shot, caught in crossfire or blown up. The dark murky atmosphere isn’t helping my cause; the visibility is terrible. The conditions make it unlikely that I will see friendlies to try to identify myself as one too before it’s too late. The best I can do to try and identify myself is to attach the torch to my M4 and switch it on. I keep the rifle pointed forward in the hopes the troops will see the light and take a second look at me before they open fire.
Some of the Rabids move along in packs, staying close together. The majority of the packs are relatively small, containing two or three Rabids. Some are bigger, with ten or so creatures moving in unison, like groups of teenagers when school’s out.
I steer well away from the packs and not just because they intimidate me. They are a prime target for any troops out here that remain unseen, or for their air support. Whether the packs are familiar with each other and are together for that reason, I don’t know. They could all be staff from the same office, a bunch of friends or even a family who were turned together for all I know. More likely, some are drawn together, like objects floating on water are attracted together. Whatever the reason, I stay well clear of them, stopping or changing my direction if I have to, to evade them.
On my left, the Russian Embassy marks the end of Hyde Park and the beginning of Kensington. The impressive tall white building remains locked behind its security gates and walls. The building looks abandoned, however, and the empty flagpole, sticking out from the front of the building, suggests it has been evacuated.
Just ahead, the road widens out as Bayswater Road changes into Notting Hill Gate with its office blocks, shops and supermarkets. The fighting is close now, I can smell it as well as hear it. I look for a vantage point where I might be able to recce the area before going further, without drawing too much Rabid attention.
On the left is a wall with a park bench positioned in front of it. It’s the best option I can see that will be easy to mount, relatively discreetly.
I make my way over to it casually, turning off the torch, step onto the bench, step onto its back, put my hands on top of the wall and swiftly pull myself up. As soon as I am up, I take hold of the M4 again, just in case my climb has drawn unwanted attention. Staying sat down on top of the wall, I stay still with my head down, my eyes looking back and right, checking I’m not about to be attacked. The Rabids carry on their march, moving past me with barely a second look. As satisfied as I can be that I’m okay to proceed, my head comes up slowly so that I can see if there is anything ahead.
A flash of light followed by a yellow fireball shows me where I need to be looking. The flash was below my field of vision and the explosion is still some way off. I count to just over three before I hear the boom from the explosion, following the initial flash. That tells me the explosion was over half a mile away. I reach for my monocular and pull it out of a small pocket on my left breast. Twisting the front lens, I adjust the mini telescope to focus in on the area the flash came from. The visibility is clogged by smoke and I’m still too low to see the area, I need to get higher. I take a quick look around me and then bring my foot up to the top of the wall so that I can stand. Balanced on top of the wall, I bring the monocular up to my eye again.
Flashes of light twinkle, penetrating the smoke haze in my magnified vision. The muzzle flashes from the gunshots which also crackle in my ears as I look at the battlefront. Yellow light blazes intermittently as a grenade or RPG explodes into the melee. Short bursts of tracer fire shoot in one direction or another to direct the fire from the heavy gun positions that must be set up or mounted on tanks or other transport. The light show tells me that the fighting is ferocious and constant, but flashes of light are all I can see. I can’t see any detail through the haze of smoke and the dimmed light conditions.
In the sky above the battlefront, two Apache Attack helicopters hover, to support the troops below. Both of the aircraft have tremendous firepower at their disposal, but neither is utilizing it to any great extent. My guess is the helicopter’s aircrew are finding it difficult to find targets without hitting their own troops. Why don’t they turn and fire in this direction and take out the Rabids marching towards the battle?
My answer comes immediately, and I duck in reflex. Two fast jets, one following the other, streak up Notting Hill Gate, over my head and past me up Bayswater Road. The jets are nowhere near full speed as their engines roar by. Instinctively, I know what payload they have just dropped into the air and I catch a glimpse of them as I take evasive action. Notting Hill Gate starts to erupt, beginning near the battlefront. A wave of explosions in a deadly chain reaction moves quickly up the
