Chapter 7

Sacka and I moved into the Taliban camp. The Paras must be getting close as men were panicking, they were running all over the place. A truck full of men came racing along the track that the camp was set up around. They did not even seem to see us.

Sacka threw a flash bang into the bed of the truck and we both closed our eyes for a second or two. Men were screaming, the canvas cover started to burn and we emptied our AK47s into the men that streamed out of the back. Sometimes lads keep track of their kills. I tried but it was hard. I shot five men as the truck emptied.

Sacka was on fire, he was firing perfect three-round bursts. Men were dropping, he was a real machine when he was in a combat situation. I saw movement to my right, a bunch of young lads, maybe ten or twelve men, were running. Sacka and I both switched our attack to them. We managed to take out half of them before they ran behind a burning truck and we had no line of fire.

I dropped to one knee and called out to Sacka that I was changing mags. I slapped a new magazine into the AK47 and fired off some three-round bursts. Taking another three men out, one of whom had an RPGP on his shoulder.

I ducked as a volley of rounds pinged off the trucks around us and then a GPMG started to chunter away and we both dropped to the floor. I zeroed in on the GPMG. It was on the bed of a four-by-four. Two men manned it. There were four other bearded warriors tucked down behind it. AK47s spat their rounds at us.

We were pinned down ... they were seasoned soldiers. They were firing in pairs. It was good work. These were not fresh-faced recruits. Recruits from the bigger cities in the UK, from Bradford, Birmingham, and London. These lads had not been brought up playing Call of Duty and thinking that war was an adventure.

They were pouring rounds on our position which made us keep our heads down.

I heard a noise to my right. The driver had jumped out of the burning truck. Some sort of pistol in his hand. I put three AK rounds into his chest. He was dead before he hit the ground.

“Ship there is a GPMG in the middle of the camp. It has got around four Taliban supporting it” Sacka said into his throat mic, “it’s got us pinned down, anything you can do?”

“We can hear it, give us a minute or two” Ship replied. The sounds of guns firing from the far end of the camp increased. The sound I made out was that of the SA80, the standard rifle for most British soldiers, which meant the paras were getting closer.

The guy on the GPMG stopped firing as a volley of AK rounds buried into him. As soon as we saw the GPMG being taken out of action we rolled out of our cover and took out the supporting Taliban gunmen.

Two more four-by-fours flew past us, we fired a few rounds toward them as they raced off, racing away from the oncoming para lads no doubt. The Taliban were now like rats leaving a sinking ship.

We took out men as best we could. Let’s face it if they got away today, they would be back to fight another day.

Once the Paras got to the edge of the camp the battle was over. We walked into the centre of the camp, picking off any stragglers. Some of the men, those who could, just ran for their lives. we took some of them out. Some managed to get vehicles running and they drove off, our rounds pinging off the metalwork. There were bodies all over the camp, all over the ground. There were wounded men all around, but we double-tapped them where we found them. We did not need the hassle of taking prisoners.

I heard Ship telling Band-Aid to remind the paras that we were in the camp. The last thing we needed was a blue-on-blue incident. I saw paras walking toward us. Two sergeants and a Major, I holstered my Glock and waved as they walked over.

“Bloody hell lads were we glad to hear you had landed” One of the sergeants said. He was a big burly bloke and he spoke with a west country accent. He thrust his hand out, we shook hands. The other sergeant did the same.

“Top work lads, looks like you made a real dent in the Taliban numbers,” said the other lad, he was a Brummie and he was a unit. He was carrying an SA80 rifle and it looked like a toy in his hands. He stood head and shoulders above anyone else on the battlefield. His cauliflower ears and broken nose told me he was no stranger to a rugby field.

The major looked us up and down before he spoke.

“Any prisoners?” he asked, his Eaton accent sounded wrong in the middle of a battlefield surrounded by dead soldiers.

“No mate,” Sacka said.

“Do you mean no Sir?” the Para major said, his tone full of distaste. The atmosphere changed in a split second. Sacka looked at me and grimaced. I hoped and prayed that the officer would shut the fuck up and not push it.

The two sergeants took a step backwards as Sacka turned toward the officer.

“No mate!” Sacka said the menace obvious in his voice.

I knew that Sacka had a temper problem and he was not that fond of officers, I was about to move in front of him when Ship and Band-Aid came around the corner of a troop carrier that was on its side.

“Everything okay guys?” Ship asked, his eyes flicking between us and the Para lads.

“Yes, this Rupert thinks he’s still at Sandhurst,” Sacka said, “and he wants prisoners!”

Ship laughed and looked around at the dead bodies.

“Well good luck finding some, while we were giving you half a chance of getting back to the ROB for tea and toast, we didn’t have time to get the plasticuffs out,” he said, then he nodded at the sergeants. They smiled and nodded back.

“Band-Aid, get us some transport please mate, call in a chopper” Ship, “also call in some choppers to take the wounded back to the Medi centre.”

“This battlefield is a no-fly zone, the Taliban have some anti-aircraft weapons,” the officer said, his voice full of contempt.

“Look mate, One- there are no Taliban left alive in this camp. They are all either dead or running off with their tails between their legs, two – we have searched this camp and there is no sign of any anti-aircraft weapons. “Ship said, and then nodded at Band-Aid.

Band-Aid smiled at the officer as he called in air transport.

The office was not sure what to do or say. He looked around at us and then at his sergeants. If he was looking at them for support, he was wasting his time.

“If I were you, I would get your guys to police up the weapons and search for intel,” Ship said.

“I know my duties, thank you, Sergeant,” the officer said and turned to his men.

“Lads get the lads to great an LZ and then get the wounded ready to move,” he said, “and then get the perimeter guards in place. All over men to police up the weapons and ammo. Plus look for intel”

Then he turned away from us and walked off over the camp. His two sergeants smiled at us and nodded; they knew their officer had made a prick of himself. Then they jogged off to get their jobs sorted.

“Right let’s get our Kit and wait for our lift back to the ROB!” Ship said.

Sacka and I jogged off to the stand of rocks where we had stashed our Bergans and then gathered up our weapons. I kept the AK47, I had no round left for either of my rifles and if things did kick off, I wanted a working gun. We all met up in the centre of the camp and then We found some shade beside a truck, sat down and took out our water bottles.

“Fuck me I was worried at one point!” Ship said, “There seemed to be Taliban soldiers all over the place!”

“Yes, thank God most of them were trainees, they panicked when we started to move into the camp.”

“It all worked out in the end, “Sacka said, “We killed a fair few and took out a few trucks.”

“They seem to have a never-ending supply of those, mate.” I laughed. I was swigging my water down, the dust and the cordite seemed to have coated my throat. We sat and chatted for about an hour, and then the sound of helicopters made us look up.

There were four attack choppers circling the base and four larger transport helicopters. We gathered up our gear and headed over to the LZ. As we got there, we saw the walking wounded walking over to them and men carrying stretchers. We waited until all the wounded had been removed from the camp before we took our place on the third chopper.

The chopper dropped us off at the ROB, and we all trudged off to the SAS compound. I stripped off and walked over to the heads and then the showers. I stood under the warm water for a good twenty minutes. I soaped up and swilled off until the smell of the battle, the smell of death, and the smell of cordite was washed off me. All the other guys did the same...

Then I dried off and got into clean gear, then when the other lads were ready, we headed over to the Yank canteen. I got two cheese and bacon burgers, onion rings and a bucket of fries. Plus, a pint of coke. The battle had given me an appetite.