Chapter 1

Shabar and Titash are both made-up countries, this is a work of fiction if fiction is not your thing perhaps this is not the story for you!

The teams...

Team Alpha

Rosie -team leader and sniper

Dave ‘Chalky’ White - medic

Barry ‘Bazza’ Bryd.

Ian ‘Coxie’ Coxen - comms and demolition

Team Beta

Spike – Team leader.

Bill ‘Custard’ Birds – medic

Andy ‘Pandy’ Smith - comms and demolition.

John ‘JJ or Taff’ Jones – sniper

We watched as the RAF loading team moved all our gear from the hanger into the C17 Globemaster, it could carry 100,000lb so the eight of us and the kit made only a little dent in its payload. Even with our ATVs and their trailers, there would be plenty of space.

I looked around and saw that the lads were all tucking into the buffet.

There were huge jugs of coffee and tea as well as platters of bacon and egg butties as well as sausage and egg. I had already had a mug of coffee and a bacon butty, but I went and got another of each. I poured some brown sauce on the butty.

One of the new guys stood next to me, he was Billie Birds, but everyone called him Custard, He was not in my team he was in Spike Millar’s team.

“So, Rosie have you been out to Africa before?” he asked as he loaded his plate with bacon rolls. The RAF had done us proud. The food was hot and tasty and there was plenty of it.

I watched as Custard spooned three sugars into his brew.

“Yes mate a dozen or so times but never to Shabar!” I said and bit into my roll.

We both walked over to a bank of seats facing the runways.

“This training exercise seems to have come out of the blue!” he said and slurped on his brew.

“Yes, I was supposed to be going over to South America to work with the DEA when I got pulled in to lead you guys on the tour!” I said and watched as the RAF loaders drove our quad bikes or as the army called them ATVs up the ramp and onto the plane.

We would be in the country for three months, we would take all the food we needed, as well as ammo and additional fuel. We had solar panels to charge batteries and a water purification system to give us clean drinking water.

The flight would take us out to Italy and then after a refuel, we would be off to Shabar. Shabar was a small African country with borders to two other countries as well as the South Atlantic Ocean. I had googled it to do some research, it was a poor country, and HMG had a deal with them to allow us to go and do some training there as long as we worked with their small army as well. I guessed that HMG also sold weapons to them.

So, it would be two months in the bush and then a month back at one of their camps teaching their guys the rudiments.

As the RAF lads loaded the kit I thought about Curly and Crumble. It had been a weird few months since the firefight on the beach, it had not been reported in the media and no police officers had been sniffing around. Crumbles number two had not contacted me since he met me at the pub after Crumbles death. I did wonder if he might send some more of his goons to take me out. I had been careful wherever I had been but there had been no sign of anyone following me or anything.

I had spent two months training all week and seeing the girls over the weekend. They had both managed to secure jobs, Damsa was working as a cleaner in a hotel and Asmaan was working in a school as a dinner lady. They had both settled into life in Hereford and the house was looking good, so everything was coming up roses.

I looked around at the lads. There were two teams Alpha and Beta, I was in charge, and my new team was made up of our medic, Dave White AKA Chalky for obvious reasons, Barry ‘Bazza’ Byrd and Ian ‘Coxie’ Coxon.

The other team was led by a corporal. A lad called Lee Davis AKA Spike. He had Billy ‘Custard’ Birds, Andy ‘Pandy’ Smith and John ‘Taff’ Jones.

They were all Paras who had completed the SAS selection and had done over two years of training, they were all capable lads, and I was sure the training in Shabar would be a doddle. Only me and Spike had been in a war zone, these lads would be headed there soon.

“So how did you end up babysitting us then Rosie?” Custard asked.

“Luck of the draw mate, luck of the draw, “I said with a smile and chewed on the last bit of my bacon butty.

Our conversation was interrupted by an RAF loader coming in and telling us our ride was ready. All the guys got up and headed over to the buffet, bags were filled with butties and travel mugs were topped up from the flasks of tea and coffee.

I filled my own travel mug with coffee and pocketed three rolls.

It was always the way with soldiers but especially the SAS, eat when you get the chance and sleep when you get the chance.

There was no telling what the food would be like on the flight. I picked up my Bergan and followed the lads out to the plane. My weapons bag was strapped to my ATV. We got on, got belted up and settled down for the flight.

Once we were airborne, I ate my grub, put my earbuds in and listened to music until I fell asleep. I was woken up after a couple of hours by one of the flight crew, who gave us a bag of food and filled our travel mugs up.

My bag had a BLT, some crisps, and an apple. I wolfed it down and fell asleep again. I woke as we began our descent into the military base that we would use to refuel in Italy.

We were allowed to get off and have a wander while the plane refuelled, not that there was much to see. There were military helicopters and planes from several countries. I saw some US Navy SEALS being loaded onto a chopper. We exchanged a few waves and thumbs up.

There was always banter when the SAS and the SEALS got together, it was harmless fun. when it comes to SF soldiers, they thought they were the best, but we knew we were!

Once the tanks were full, we were off. Next stop Shabar. Two hours into the next leg the crewman filled our travel mugs and handed out chocolate bars. Then I slept until we were starting our descent into the Shabarain military airport. The airport was the only one that the military used. We had been granted access as would be helping out with some training.

The landing strip was bumpy, and I was happy when the Globemaster pulled to a stop. I noticed one of the aircrew lads unlocking their weapons locker and handing out shorts and longs.

“Lads make sure you have tools ready to go before the doors open!” I said to my lads.

I glanced at my watch; the local time was 0900 hours. The sun was already high in the sky.

Both teams unbuckled and ran back to where our weapons bags were stowed. All guns and knives had been stowed away for the flight, I heard magazines being slapped into place and I made sure I had my Glock in its holster, my fighting knife in its sheath and I had my M16 with its M203 grenade launcher attached. I made sure I had spare mags in my belt kit.

I looked around and saw the rest of the team was ready for action. I glanced over at the lead RAF crewman, and he gave me a nod, I nodded back, and he hit the button to lower the ramp.

My lads ran off the ramp and fanned out. I walked down the ramp and saw six soldiers shadowing a major as he walked over to me. The soldiers all had AK47s, but they were the cheap rip-off ones. They were made in some factories in India and shipped out in their hundreds. They were known to jam, and no one wanted a jam in a firefight.

I looked around the airport, it was obviously a military camp as well. I could see barrack blocks; each had a few soldiers lazing around outside them. There were toilet blocks and hangers as well. I saw two jeeps that had mounted GPMGs by the main gates, I stood to attention and saluted the major. He saluted back and looked me up and down.

We never normally salute in the SAS, but these guys love that kind of shit. We had been told to just help them out a bit and salute when they wanted it as it would make for an easy life.

“Sargent, it’s a pleasure to have you and your team in our country!” the major said and extended his hand, and we shook. He had a limp, sweaty handshake...

“My name is Major Ahmat, I will be your liaison officer, and this is Sergeant Moussa, he is your main contact! “The major said, his English accent was very Americanized I turned to see the sergeant, he was a big man, at least six foot tall and he must have weighed twenty stones. His combat gear was stretched and gapping at the seams.

“Please, if you need anything just ask!” the big sergeant said with a beaming smile

I was sure he would not be leading his men on a morning run. We shook hands and I looked back at the Major.

“You are training your men for two months out in the bush and then coming to help us with a month’s training I hear?” he said with a smile.

“Yes Sir, I have two teams, so we will be out of your hair for two months and then we will spend a few weeks working with your training teams!”

“Do you need some of my men as guides when you are out in the bush?” The Sargent asked, “It can be a wild place,”

“That’s a kind offer Sir but I think we will be okay!” I replied with a wry smile.

“I feel we can learn a lot from the SAS, and I feel you will also learn a lot from us!” the Major smiled.

I looked at his men and knew that there was nothing they could teach us. They were a slovenly bunch.

“I am sure we will Sir, “I said with a smile.

“Right, I have work to do, I will see you later when my men will cook for you! “The Major said and with a further salute which I returned, he turned away and strode across toward some buildings flanked by four of the men.

The sergeant and another man stood and watched him go before turning toward me.

“For tonight we have a hanger for your equipment, and we have cleaned out one of the barracks for you and your men to bed down in Sir!”

“My name is Rosie, what do I call you sergeant?” I asked.

“They call me Toomo!” he said with a smile.

“Well, Toomo, my men are on manoeuvers so they will sleep with their kit, we would like to use the showers if that’s okay?” I asked. We had been on the Globemaster for a long time and once we were in the bush there would be no chance to shower.