ACV's 1 Operation Black Gold (22 page)

‘Where.’  He scanned the heights I’d indicated.  ’Ooh fuck aye, I see it.’

‘That’s their OP and the dirty bastards that’s been trying to kill us all week.  If we get a spare minute and have a few extra rounds, spare him a thought will ye.’

He laughed.  ‘Aye, we’ll see if he likes a taste of his own medicine.’

I called Ali over.  ‘Check the action of the .30, get Abie to help ye.’

‘I’m on it.’

Gigs and Fritz arrived both carrying musette bags filled with grenades.  ‘Nice job wí the grenades, is that the lot?’

‘No there’s more.’

‘Right, if there’s enough pass a few around and restock yourselves here,’ I handed Fritz the binoculars, ‘they seem to be getting organised out there.  Sweep the area, see if you can find any radios and add them to your list of targets.’

‘OK.’

As they moved off, a mortar round boomed off.  Men froze in horror but when it landed in the town and no farther rounds were fired, they went back to their task of patching and carting the wounded.  I checked the gun.  The working parts were getting dry.  We re-oiled it and pulled through the still hot barrel.

CHAPTER 22

The wounded major swayed slightly on his feet.  He had just brought the general the latest situation reports.  ‘Please sit down major.’

‘Thank you sir.’

The general read the first report with growing disbelief.  ‘Eight men, they’re trying to tell me eight men have caused all this carnage.’

‘That’s the report from the OP sir.  The ones from the battle say there are a lot more.’

‘Eight or eighty, who are they, where did they come from?’

‘No one seems to know sir, although it’s most likely to be the peace keepers from the position above.’

‘That’s impossible; they’ve shown absolutely no fighting spirit so far.’

‘Even though sir, they are still the most logical choice.’

‘Yes your right.  Order a ceasefire on their positions, I want a head count.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘And find that useless shit of an intelligence officer.’

‘Yes sir.’

The Major came back ten minutes later with the intelligence officer and the General's aid.

‘What news from the battlefield?’  He asked first.

His aid looked at the notes in his hand.  ‘There has been no further firing from the government position they are letting us treat the wounded and take them away.’

‘Then they are not government troops.’

‘No sir, we think their English.’

‘You think their English?’

‘Yes sir, a medic on the scene has overheard some of them talking.’

‘Does he speak English?’

‘Yes sir, fluently I talked to him myself.’

‘But you’re still not sure?’

‘He said they were talking some strange form of English, he could only understand one word in five.’

‘Sir.’  The intelligence officer raised a hand tentatively.

‘Yes,’ the general snapped.

‘Those peace keepers aren’t English sir, they’re British.’

The general growled, ‘is there a difference?’

The intelligence officer winced at the general’s tone.  ‘Yes sir, those troops aren’t English their Scottish.  Highlanders to be precise.’

‘Highlanders.’  The General couldn’t explain the chill that ran down his spine. 

‘Major any news from the OP on my head count.’

‘Yes sir, the position seem deserted.  Apart from their OP.’

‘Good news at last!  Get back to your radios.  Tell them to gather every fighting man they can and get up that hill.  They can take out their man in the OP and machine gun them from above, go.’

‘Yes sir.’  The Major rushed out.

He turned to his aid.  ‘I want every unit this side of the river assembled and ready to cross the bridge when they are dead.’

‘What about the men fighting the fires sir?’

‘It isn’t spreading.  Just leave a few men to watch them.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘I want them in position in the streets behind the riverfront out of sight.  They are not to show themselves under any circumstances.  As soon as they are ready I want you and all the commanders to report to me for orders.’

‘Yes sir.’

The General was left with the nervous intelligence officer.  ‘Highlanders captain?’

‘Yes sir, you know the ones that make whisky.’

‘It matters not; they’ll soon be dead Highlanders.’

CHAPTER 23

‘Jim, look.’  Fritz waved me over and handed me the binoculars.  ‘About a hundred meters beyond the bridge. I think they’re going to try and reach the rest of the platoon.’

Gigs fired.  I was just in time to see a man jerked off his feet.  A moment later, he scrambled up again minus his pack.  ‘Scratch one radio,’ murmured Gigs.  He fired again into the large group of men and another sank slowly to his knees as they began to move out.

I ran to the mortar pit.  ‘Are you ready Nommy?’

‘Aye.’  ‘New fire mission, they’re trying to reach the rest of the platoon.’

The fighting started again.  I moved the gun round to cover the hillside.  Of the thirty odd men in the patrol, about seven made it out of sight.

‘Cease fire, cease fire.’  It was up to Frankie now.  I waited for the flat report of their SLRs.

Danken was one of the few NCOs left from his regiment.  He dropped on the other side of the crest exhausted.  The firing behind him ceased.  He counted the men he had left, seven including himself.  One of them was applying a field dressing to his arm.  He nodded to Danken to let him know he was all right.  Danken returned the gesture.

He waited until he had finished then got them up and moved them off out in patrol fashion.  The next part should be simple.  He kept well away from the cliff edge to prevent being sky lined.  He spotted the destroyed Sanger and headed for it.  The ground showed the scars of a heavy bombardment and the trenches looked deserted.  His spirits began to lift.  He was almost at the first trench when a wild scream stopped him in his tracks.

‘Halt.’

Danken found himself surrounded by a ring of steel, his rifle came up and kept on going.  ‘Don’t shoot, don’t shoot.’  He screamed in accented English.  It saved their lives.  Danken had faced death many times that day and the ring of bayonets that surrounded them was the last straw.  He slowly put his rifle onto the ground, his men followed suit placing their hands behind their heads.

A soldier half a head shorter than him jumped out of his trench.  A strong Dunndonian brogue sang in his ear.  ‘Whit d’ye want.’  Danken shook his head, he didn’t understand.  ‘Whit-de-ye-want.’  The question was repeated slower to no avail- again Danken shook his head.  ‘Do you speak English?’

‘Yes, do you?’  Danken answered sincerely.

Frankie’s jaw dropped and he turned to his trench mate who had burst out laughing at him.  ‘Cheeky bastard, did ye hear that?’

‘Aye.’

He addressed Danken again.  ‘What do you want?’

He understood that.  ‘On patrol,’ he bluffed.  ‘

‘Get lost?’

‘Eh yes, yes we get lost.’

‘Lying bastard.’  Frankie pushed him.  ‘We know what you’re up to.’

‘Hey Frankie.’ 

‘Whit?’

‘Can we shoot them?’

‘Nah.’

‘Aw, come on.’  The man jumped out of his trench and Danken noticed he had two magazines taped together for a fast reload.  Suddenly Danken noticed a lot of things.  Frankie also had two magazines taped together on his rifle and so did every other rifle he could see.  His eyes swing to the machine guns; both look loaded with full belts of ammunition.  He shifted uncomfortably, their own officer had told them they only had one magazine of twenty rounds apiece and a belt of fifty rounds for the guns.  Someone had got it very, very wrong indeed.  His attention returned to the two men who were now arguing.

‘Just one.’

‘No.’

‘I’ll use ma bayonet.’

‘No.’

‘Fit, nae even a wee bit.  I’ll just wound him.’

‘No means fucking no, they’ve surrendered.’ 

‘So!’

Danken was unprepared for the size of the man who jumped out of his trench with his machine gun held in his hands like a toy.  He snapped the belt at about fifty rounds, touched the legs up and came over to voice his own opinion.  He heard one of his own men mutter a short prayer and a cold sweat broke out on his own forehead.

There was no doubt, whose side the big man was on.  Danken distinctly got the impression the giant wanted to kill them with his bare hands.  His ears slowly attuned to this strange form of English.  It was two against one.  He’d never seen anything quite like this before.  There was something very wrong here.  Realisation struck with the force of a thunderbolt and the words leapt from his mouth before he could stop them. 

‘Where are your officers?’  It stopped the argument dead.

Frankie shrugged.  ‘You killed him.’

‘Aye,’ agreed the second man. 

‘Tough shit,’ grinned the giant evilly.

‘Are you NCOs?’  The brought forth a delighted guff of laughter.  The giant pounced lifting Danken clean off his feet with one hand. 

‘It’s just us dip shit, hard luck, you got them too.’

‘And, and you are going to fight,’ he managed to stutter.’

The giant shook him like a rag doll.  ‘Officers and NCOs are all pussies.  Don’t do this, don’t do that, don’t fight, hide in your trench.  Well they’re not here now fucker.’  Danken found himself an inch from the rage-engorged face then flying through the air.  The giant followed ramming the barrel of the GPMG into his abdomen.  ‘Time to go bye, byes.’

‘No!’ a body slammed into him but was only able to knock the gun aside.  The tall Welsh man straddled Danken protecting him.

‘Get out of ma road you Welsh bastard.’

‘No boyo, you can’t shoot a defenceless man.’

‘Then give him his rifle back.’

‘No, it would still be murder.’

‘So!’

‘Listen man, you want to fight don’t you?’

‘Aye, and this lot are mine.  You get your ain.’

‘No, no, no, we’ve got to let them go.’

‘Hey, no fucking way.’

‘Think man, they’re only a reconnaissance patrol.  They go back, tell them there is only a few of us, then they come back with more.  Enough for everyone.’  The soft Welsh voice began to act as a balm on the big man.

The large man put a stupid grin on his face, ‘D’ye think so?’

‘Of course, trust me.’

‘A’ right then, but you’d better be right Taffy or I’ll be having a piece of you.’

The giant stomped off back to his trench while Taffy helped Danken back onto his feet.  ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes thank you.’  Danken was shaking like a leaf.

Taffy turned to Frankie.  ‘Frankie, you’d better get these fuckers out of here.  My lot have damn near chewed through their rifle butts.  I don’t know how much longer I can keep their fingers off the trigger.’ 

Frankie nodded, ‘OK Taffy, thanks’

Taffy jogged back to his own trench, his ammunition pouches banged heavily off his thighs.  Frankie turned Danken around.  ‘I think you’d better take your men and leave.’

Danken was now terrified, ‘Just go.’

‘Yes, go.’  Danken took one hesitant step forward then another.  ‘Oh wait.’  Frankie picked up his AK and handed it back to him.  ‘You’ll need this you know, for when you get back.’  Frankie slapped him hard on the shoulder in a friendly manner.  ‘Listen tell your boss, you know boss, officer?’

‘Yes I know boss.’

Frankie put his head close to his in a conspiratorial manner.  ‘Good, could you tell him to send more men next time, a lot more?  A few hundred maybe or even a thousand or so if he has got them.  You see, seven men really is an insult.  We wouldn’t even get a footnote in the regimental history.’

Danken nodded vigorously, ‘Yes, yes I will ask.’

‘Excellent.’  Frankie stuck his thumb up.

Danken returned the gesture ordering his men to pick their weapons back up.  They did so reluctantly.  He pulled them back slowly, body braced, expecting a fuselage of shots at any second.  Sweat poured down his face and he wanted to puke.  At a hundred meters, he wanted to scream, at a hundred and fifty they broke into a run, at two hundred it had developed into a headlong dash for survival.  Fear propelled them recklessly back over the ridge.

The jocks burst out laughing at the sight and the main actors in the pantomime joined Frankie.  It was a tight squeeze in the two-man trench.  ‘You were right about the recce patrol Frankie.  How do you think it went?’ the giant asked.

‘I’m not sure, but you did well Bill, for a second there I thought you were actually going to shoot the Cunt.’

‘For a second there, I was, thanks Taffy.’

Taff grinned, ‘No problems Billy boy.’

‘D’ye think these did any good.’  Frankie’s trench mate asked him pulling stones from his ammunition pouches.

‘Aye, he noticed them.  I think he noticed everything, we any luck he’ll tell his mates we’ve got ammo to spare and they’ll give us a wide berth when they get up here.  Right I’m going to the OP to see if they got away.’

‘I’m coming to.’  Taffy got out of the trench with him. 

‘Stay here with the gun Bill; it’s a better position than yours anyway.’

‘OK, when are we going to tell the boys whit’s going on?’

‘Fuck em; leave it till Jim gets back.’

‘OK.’

Frankie and Taffy made it to the OP safely, little realising their little brush was going to completely change the course of the battle.  Davie moved over to let them in.

‘How are they doing Davie?’

‘Fucking great Frankie and they’re still alive.’

Frankie craned his neck, ‘what happened to the boys we let go?’

‘That’s them just crossing the bridge now.  Did ye ken there was about thirty ó them to start with?’

‘No what happened to them Davie?’

‘Jim and the boys bagged the most of them.  You’d better get back to your holes though; they’re gathering their forces on the streets behind the river front.’

‘Ach, we’ll stop for five.’

They didn’t get back to their trenches.  An artillery barrage pinned them down.  Not that they ever complained like, as they were able to witness their friends desperate battle for the flood plains.