Sabre Six : File 51 (17 page)

“Target spotted!” Joe was on the ball.

“Target, 1000 metres. Slight wind. Right to left, FIRE!”

I had the target in view.
I was confident, I could feel the breeze. I figured out my position, took control, held my breath and carefully squeezed the trigger. I then released and pulled away from the target, loading another round into the chamber, awaiting instructions from Joe. A spotter’s job was to be my eyes and ears. He would know when, how and where my shot was going to hit.

“HIT
– HIT – HIT!”

“Congratulations! You Brits sur
e know how to shoot. God damn, man, come on – I’ll buy you a beer!” Gunny led the way. That night we were in the bar and pissed as men could be.

“Joe, tell everyone how we met, mate! Do that fucking ghost story you told us that time, buds? Go on, tell them it, mate; it was fucking funny beaver. Listen to this, mate!”

“If I have to! For fuck sake
, Michael! OK! The story! We met up after I passed selection, and with a few other lads we drove down to the Isle of Wight for the Pop Festival. Has anyone ever been? It’s fucking great – I totally recommend it! It’s an all weekender, brilliant bands! Load of hot girls. Anyway, we met up with a few birds, got rat-arsed as you can imagine and took them back to our tent. It was fucking cold that night weren’t it, Michael?” I nodded in agreement.

“
The girls were getting frisky. One of them was so fucking gullible it was mad, mate, and she was pissed as a fart.”

“What ghost story
, dick-head?” Stan was waiting patiently!”

“Hold on mate, I’m getting there.”

“Anyway, as I was sayin’ bud. This girl sat in front of me, and as she was fit as fuck, we decided the best way to keep her with us through the night was to scare the shit out of her.”

“So!” Stan jumped in again.

“Well, I told her the famous ghost story.”

“Go on then.” We laughed.

“It was a dark cold night in the winter of 1989. A girl, a young mother, was travelling home in the late hours after visiting family in Kansas. She had been to visit her mother, recently out of hospital. She left Kansas at 21:00hrs to begin her 34 mile journey back home. A slight drift of rain had started and was causing minor problems on the roads, visibility straining. Her windscreen wipers were under immense pressure as the rain fell. She turned up the heater, and then turned off her radio; she needed to concentrate. She was repeating the route she had travelled a thousand times over – a relatively straight run back home. She was living at her father’s address where he lived with his new wife, Mary.

Anyway, she s
tarted driving up Millard road towards the woods, when she noticed a pram on the side of the road. She had to investigate, as a torch or something was lighting up the inside of the cot. Well, she had to have a look: it was in her nature.

As she beamed
her headlights behind the pram with the rain coming down, she felt suddenly frightened. It looked spooky outside: the trees blew from side to side, the mist picked up and her view was lowered.

She stumbled forwards towards the pram, looked inside, picked up a plastic doll, and gripped the torch. She knew something was up, so she dumped the doll and ran to the car as fast as she could without looking back.

A second later, a motor vehicle came up fast and hard to her rear, flashing its headlights and tooting its horn. She was very afraid: her heart was beating so fast, she knew that it was a killer; it was all a nasty plot. She started crying at the wheel, she knew what was going to happen if she did not act fast. She started screaming as loud as possible, swearing, spitting, dribbling, and foaming at the mouth. The predator behind her was constantly flashing his headlights, tooting his horn, trying to overtake. She couldn’t hold on for much longer, and she was on the point of giving up.

By the skin
of her teeth, she made it back. Street lamps lit up the sides of the road but the predator still continued tooting his horn and flashing his lights, constantly trying to overtake.

She was terrified!
Her eyes were red with fear, her hands were shaking, and she knew she had run out of time. She could see her house, so she swung the car over the front lawn, got out, and fell on the front door, banging it as she went down and screaming, “Help me, help me! Somebody help me, please!”

Her father was just sitting down when he heard his daughter banging on the door. He went to open it and she fell inside, wee
ping with fear. “What’s up, my dear, what’s happened to you? Tell me!” She was still shaking with fear.

At the bottom of the drive, the predator’s vehicle was now parked up, blocking their driveway, headlights still on. The father saw a large male purposefully walk
ing up the drive. He held out his hands and stopped him.

“It’s him Dad, it’s him! He has been following me! He’s a murderer, Daddy.”

The man stopped in his tracks and shouted for them all to listen to him!

He was out of breath; “Listen, when you got out your car to investigate the pram, I was driving just behind you, and you mustn’t have heard me, as the rain was so heavy by then. Well, I was near you. I stopped and turned my lights off, as I thought something was happening and it freaked me out. Anyway, as you walked back to your car, I saw a figu
re get into the back – that’s why I’ve been tooting my horn, trying to attract your attention. I thought, if I keep this up, he’ll be too scared to do anything!”

The driver and her father went to the rear of her car, opened it up and there he was! The driver pulled him out by the scruff of his neck and the father called the police. They later found out that he was a
convicted murderer out on bail. If it was not for the “predator”, she’d have been killed.”

“Is that it? What happened to the bird?” Stan asked.

“Nothing, she was safe. T
he moral of the story is, if you see a pram in the middle of the fucking road, run the bastard over or some axe murderer will come and chop your bleeding head off!” Joe was pissing himself!

We fell over ourselves laughing at Joe. The way he told it was hilarious. Stan was cringing!

Exercise OP Triangle

A one day navigation exercise: You will be required to pass this test, furthering your skills towards the final exercise late next week where you will work with live ammunition.

Day one:
              Map induction – Survival Induction – Building Shelters – Food – Hazards.

Day Two:
              Range work – 800m – 1000m – Start OP Triangle.

Day Three:
              Continuation Training.

Our first day on the ground, Joe and I were ready as ever, our kit packed. Joe jumped on board first. Mr Patel walked past me; I nodded over at him, and he smiled back. The truck left and within two hours we were in the middle of the training ground. The driver helped us with our kit. My Bergan was full of all kinds of shit, and Joe was already moaning. Throwing my Bergan over my shoulder, I located our first objective. It was nine kilometres from our current location and we had to get a move on. It was ten past ten when we arrived and our instructor had a brew on ready for us.

“Well done!
Get your kit off and sit down, guys! Take the weight off your feet: nice to see you’re early, makes a change from the usual lot we get through here.”

We spent the next hour or so repeatedly going over bearings, grid references, mag to grid get rid, latitude
and longitude, compass bearings: all rather eccentric; the map was our best friend in a survival situation. We finished off our brew and located our next heading, just east of here in a small valley, about five kilometres away. Before we knew it, our preparation time had passed and it was the start of OP Triangle. A night in the field alone, catching our own food, building our own shelters, navigating only by the North Star. No maps just the mark one eye ball and common sense – what little we had of it anyway.

“I wish I’d stuck a Mars Bar up my arse, though; they’d have never known. Ha-ha!” Joe was hungry. We sat up talking all night. I looked up at the stars. They were so clear. We did not bother hunting for food. We were only out for one night, and we couldn’t be arsed really. I was sure we would survive. The next morning we paced ourselves carefully, not rushing for anyone. We had hours to kill.

“Down!” Joe had seen something!

“There, can you see that?” It was just a goat, a fucking goat. Joe wanted to murder it: I told him to sod off. The exercise was over; we had passed, with excellence of course! The Sergeant thought otherwise. He wanted us on the ranges again before we stood down; he wanted to throw in one final test. He pushed us to 1100 metres, a long-range shot. Joe spotted: one shot. We hit the target with our first round, the Master Sergeant nodding in disbelief.

“Outstanding
, soldier! Fucking outstanding!”

We were back in the bar. Joe was getting all cocky with this American officer, and she asked him if he wanted a threesome with her mate, the girl on the corner. He couldn’t believe his luck! Stan and the others enjoyed the rest of the night in the makeshift bar. We were pleased for Joe: it might have been his last chance!

Only Joe
ever knew exactly what happened, and he kept it a secret ever after! He was asked back to the marine’s room for a threesome. Of course, our Joe jumped at the chance! On entering the room he found them both dressed in stockings, and playing with themselves. Two dildos were on display on the side-board. Joe’s ego was boosted. The girls started licking around his chest, touching his penis, caressing his balls: he was horny as fuck. One of the girls started slowly to go down on Joe. She took his cock in her mouth and started to suck frantically.

It wasn’t until Joe was fully aroused t
hat the door opened from behind. The door was locked, and our Joe was stuck!

Early that day we were gathered up, rather rudely, by people charging about frantically in all directions. An American sergeant was stood at the door of our room barking orders at us!

“Guys, get your arses out of bed and get down the JFK building now! The Lt wants you, something’s happened.”

My head killed; I drank far too much.

“Joe, get up you plank! Come on, move it
, soldier!”

“
What the hell is this all about? Jesus H Christ mate!”

“Just get out your
pit, you lucky sod! How were your two little fancies?”

Joe didn’t say a thing, just got up in a bit of a grouchy mood.
They must have worked him hard: I smiled to myself, the lucky fucker!

My mouth felt like something had curled up and died in it, I swirled
my tongue about inside, and it tasted disgusting, like something was crawling around inside.

“Sit down, g
uys! Sorry for getting you up. Is everyone here, Sergeant? Good, then I’ll start.” My head was throbbing.

“Our sources show that a bomb has expl
oded in Egypt, killing hundreds, and so far our sources are linking it to Al Qaeda. We don’t have all the details yet, gents, but we will and we’ll update you as soon as we hear anything further. Before you go, I want to remind you all of the importance of this mission, and why it is imperative that we stop these murdering bastards, ok! Oh, and Michael, can you stay behind for a second. Sorry.”

I hu
ng around like a bad smell. I stank of alcohol, and fuck knows what they were going to say about it.

“Michael, follow me my friend, I need to show you something.” The others give me an inquisitive look as we are all herded our separ
ate ways. We entered the boss’s office; it stank of stale smoke and coffee. Shutting the door behind us, he showed me to a seat and joined me, perching on his desk.

“This cannot go out of this room, do you understand?”

“Ok, no worries, Lieutenant.” Hmm, this sounded serious.

“They linked that bomb to
a shipment that we suspect Killeen and his friends delivered through Pakistan eight weeks ago; it was exported from Syria into Pakistan and over the border into Afghanistan.”

“That shit is going to get some, Captain! I just need one shot, that’s all
– one bloody shot, Boss.”

“Well, you’re going to get your chance, as the exercise has been officially cancelled. You are going in sooner rather than later, I am sorry for the short notice
, Michael, but this needs to end now. They are shipping so much in from the North, it has become an expensive problem for us, and we need to take out both parties!  In the meantime, we can figure out what to do next. The government is in crisis about this; we need Mohammed and this Killeen dropped, Michael, and soon.”

There was more
!

Stan entered the room, his face dark, as if he knew what was about to happen.

“Michael! It’s not only the bomb that is bad news!”

“Ok, explain! This doesn’t sound good.
”