Chapter 2

The following morning, I woke before the other guys and did some warmups before heading out for a run, the sun was already high in the sky, and it was really hot. I did two laps of the camp, one on my own and another with the lads. I needed to get acclimatised as fast as possible. I had always found the exercise and PT sides of the SAS a doddle and doing them helped me get used to the heat in the sandpit.

My lungs were burning, and the heat affected my breathing. The more I exercised the easier it got and the less they burned.

I had worked on my fitness before I joined the army so that the beasting I knew was coming during basic training would not be as hard. Then when I decided to try to get into the SAS, I upped my fitness routine, and it paid off during the hard hill climbs you have to undertake as part of the selection process.

As we reached the last mile, we were all bunched up but then the competitive nature of the SAS lads took over and there was a sprint to the finish. Ship rugby tackled Sacka just before the finish line and I ran over two yards in front of Band-Aid. There was a bit of rough and tumble, but it was all light-hearted.

Then we all hit the showers before heading over for breakfast. I went for the full fry-up and washed it down with a pint of water. Sacka and Band-Aid were discussing the last op they had been on, they had seen some training camps, but the head shed had pulled them back as they had no air support available. Ship said that the head shed, the camp’s intel boys and Major Lee were too risk averse.

“How do you mean mate?” I asked. It seemed to go against the basic ethos of the SAS to be fair. The regiment were trained killers, we did the dirty jobs we took on the enemy face to face and enjoyed it. We had joined up to go into action.

“Well, we go out and see a dozen Ragheads and we ask for permission to take them out and we get told to stand down as the numbers don’t add up or there is no airpower,” he said and shook his head.

“But a good SAS team can take out a dozen ragheads without breaking into a sweat” I retorted.

“You are right mate, it is Major Lee, he lost a few lads last year and has now gone soft” Ship whispered to me.

“Well, if we show him what we can do he might become less risk averse.” I countered.

“He would go ape shit,” Sacka said, “he is not SAS he is a green army officer on secondment!”

“Well, the SAS way is to take on the enemy and not just sit back and let them run off,” I said, and Band-Aid nodded his agreement. We had all joined the regiment to go toe to toe with the enemy. We had all joined to do real soldiering, to go into action and kill the enemy.

We had to stop talking about it as the man himself came over to the table.

“Good morning chaps” he smiled, and we responded with a chorus of Good morning boss’s, in reply.

“Right, we need to plan for a trip out tomorrow chaps” he smiled.

“Right boss, what is the target?” Ship asked.

“All will be revealed by the intel guys, please be at the intel tent at 16.00 hours” he smiled and left the canteen. We all looked at each other and muttered the word prick.

“At last, some action,” Band-Aid said with a cheeky wink.

“Well let’s hope there is some action” Sacka said with a smile.

“Okay well I need to get my weapons zeroed, “I said and stood up.

“I need to sort mine out as well, come on mate, let’s get some rounds” Ship said.

We went over to the armoury; we got to boxes of rounds and then went over to our tent, and I got my weapons out of the carry case and Ship got his weapons. We walked over to the range and checked in,

I loaded some magazines before getting into my favourite firing position. I zeroed in the L96A1 Sniper Rifle first. It was not bad to start with and it did not take that long to get it just right for me. Then I worked on the Ultra Compact Individual Weapon (UCIW), which took a bit longer, but I got it right and then I fired a few rounds through the Glock.

Ship had his M16, and it worked a few rounds through it to get his zeroed in. We took the rest of the rounds to the tent and filled our mags. Sacka and Band-Aid had already done theirs and they were getting their Bergan’s sorted.

I made sure I had enough spare mags and that my knife was sharp. The rest of my kit I would sort out once we knew what the mission was.

I did another run around the compound before lunch then took a long shower, and then we all went to eat. The food was great at the Yank canteen, and there were always copious amounts.

We had a long lunch before heading over to the intel tent. The boss was already there with two intel guys. One was a Brit and the other one was a Yank.

Once we had all sat down the intel guys fired up a projector.

“Right chaps the two majors are going to give you the low down on the patrol we want you to undertake” The boss said. I always found it funny that all intel guys were majors and they never told us their names. They loved a bit of the old secret squirrel did the intel guys.

“Right lads, “said the Brit, “We have intel that the Taliban have some big training camps set up, but they are using caves as cover, we have some photos but not many.”

The projector showed us the photos, we caught glimpses of armed combatants running toward the caves. There was little else to see.

“The caves are part of the Paropamisus Mountain range, the camps are all based in a twenty-mile radius.” The Yank chipped in.

“It will be a hard place to get to, and the terrain suites their type of fighting,” the Brit major said.

“Every time we send in recon planes or drones, they see us or hear us, and they retreat back into the mountains” the Yank chipped in. There had been rumours that the ragheads had some way of detecting the drones, but I was sceptical. It was more likely that had spies in the camps.

“So, what is our job boss, go in and take them out?” Ship asked.

“No, your job is to confirm that the camps are there and give us an idea of the numbers in the camp,” the Brit Major said, “We have not been able to get any sort of estimate as to how many soldiers, trainees and instructors are out there!”

“So, we can’t have a pop at them?” Ship asked, getting the question out just be one of us did.

“Nope, the Paras have been tasked with that job,” The boss said. There was a chorus of moans from the lads.

“But that’s bull shit, we can take them out, it’s what we train for, it’s what we do” Band-Aid chipped in.

“Not this time and remember who you are talking to!” the boss snarled.

In my head, I wondered how I could transfer out of this set-up if we were not allowed to fight why have us there?

“You will be airlifted in, we will drop you about twenty miles out and you can tab in” The British major said,” then gather info about the size of the camps and then we will airlift in the paras and their gear to go in and clear them out.”

“Why can’t we take them out, boss?” Ship asked. It was a good question; the SAS was the best special forces regiment in the world. We were trained killers...

“We just think with the numbers we are talking about it would be a big ask when we can send in the Paras and sort them out all in one go” The Yank Major said.

“Agreed one hundred per cent,” The boss said.

We all looked at each other and it was like we all knew what each other was thinking, we were the best of the best. We had been trained to do this job, to go out and kill people and we were very good at it, and we have been sent out to do a recon job.

“Right lads we are dropping you off tomorrow night, the chopper is booked for 22.00 hours, “The Brit intel major said. He handed us maps of the area, and we got down to planning the trip.

The plan was a simple one, get dropped in by helo and tab through the night, camp up somewhere at dawn and see if we can get eyes on the training camps. Then it was a case of feeding the info back and letting the head shed decide how and when to send in the paras.

After an hour of throwing ideas around, we all agreed on a plan and headed back to our tent.

Once we were out of earshot Ship turned to us and shook his head

“I know it’s bull shit, and I know you are pissed off, but orders are orders.” He said, at the same time shaking his head.

“It’s crap, we should be going in and doing some damage,” Sacka said.

“It’s fucking grinding my gears lads” Band-Aid chipped in. The anger in his voice was more than evident. He was only saying what we were thinking.

I just sat on my bunk bed and pondered my future and how I could get into another brick, one that saw some action.

They all looked at me for a comment, I shook my head and lay back.

“Lads I know we are supposed to follow orders but this stinks and I want out of the brick,” I growled.

“It’s not our fault mate” Ship chipped in, “it’s Lees he had got a bee in his bonnet, and he won’t let it go.”

“We did not join the regiment to be recon spotters “I replied.

We spent the next ten minutes talking about it but at the end of the day we knew we were all soldiers, and we would do what we were told to do.

Then we all got on with life, I hit the gym with Sacka. Band-Aid buried his head in a book and Ship went to the media room to email his Mrs and the kids.

We all met again for a late meal. The chat at our table was all about the op tomorrow what kit we would take and the idea that the Boss had lost his balls.

I slept well and was woken by Ship getting his running kit on, we were all soon awake and after half an hour of warmups we did two laps of the camp. We could hear gunfire out in the sandpit but there was nothing to see. It might have been an over-excited Yank patrol letting off steam.

After the run, it was time to hit the showers and then we went for breakfast. The boss was in there with a Yank officer and a Para Major. I recognised the para; he had been on both of the planes that got me to the base. He must have recognised me as he nodded at me, and I returned the gesture.

We all filled out trays and headed over to a table away from the officers. Once the food was eaten, we all got mugs of coffee and sat down. The boss ambled over.

“Right guys, some good news, I am coming along for this patrol” He beamed.

We all looked at each not sure what to do.

“That’s great news Boss” Ship said, and he almost sounded like he meant it. He was some actor that was for sure.

The boss left us and when he had gone, we all looked at each other and shook our heads.

“What the fuck?” Sacka said.

“I have no idea what that is all about!” Ship said.

We left the canteen and headed over to the armoury to sort out the extra rounds and stuff we would need and then went to the QM and got the rest of the gear, including NVGS, night vision goggles and spare batteries.

We made sure we had plenty of flares, flash bangs and grenades. Band-Aid sorted out the comms gear and we all went back to our tent.

The chat was all about the boss coming out to play, none of us had a clue as to why he would want to come. The rest of the day was spent loading spare mags and getting our Bergans sorted out.

We all went to eat lunch in the canteen. Then tried to get some shut eye, which was never easy in the daylight, in a busy camp and with the midday heat of the sandpit.

Around six we went and had our last proper meal, before a few days of field rations. We all ate well. Then we had two hours before the last briefing and then it would be on the chopper and off on patrol.

We all did different things in the last two hours, I read my Kindle, Band-Aid slept, Sacka was in the gym and Ship went over the plan one more time.

We all gathered our kit and weapons before heading over to the intel tent, the British Intel Major gave us a final briefing which was basically that nothing had changed. The Boss gave us a pep talk and then we headed over to the Helipad. We checked our personal comms gear and Band-Aid tested the main radio set.

The chopper ride took an hour and a half and all you could see below was darkness and the odd fire, the fires would be the goat herds looking after their beasts.

The pilot gave us a ten-minute warning and then we were dropping down towards the ground. All the lights were off, and we put our NVGs on. The world turned an eery green colour. Band-Aid did one last comms check.

Ten seconds after the touchdown down we were all out of the chopper. We spread around and created a protective circle around the chopper. The gunner on the chopper kept his huge GPMG moving from side to side as his mate chucked out our Bergan.

We listened as the engines roared and it left us in the wilderness. None of us turned to watch our transport fly away, we watched the darkness in front of us, I had my Ultra Compact Individual Weapon in my hands, the fire selector set to semi-auto. If anyone came looking for us, then we had the firepower and experience to deal with them.