Chapter 11: Lice

"Dewey! Dewey! wake up." The voice was insistent, and I gradually swam up from the deep sleep I had been in. There was a remnant of a dream, but it left me the instant I opened my eyes.
"What's up Doc?" I wasn't being facetious; I had been woken up by Doc Watson, the 2i/c of #4 section.
"Sound of gunfire, coming from the direction of Little Bugs."
I crawled out from my sleeping bag, put on my flak jacket and buckled on my webbing equipment before looking at my watch – 2 am, the perfect time to launch an attack. "Have you contacted Bravo Six?"
"Yes, and the Land Rover is fired up and ready to roll."

It was standard operating procedure (sop) that at any sign of an attack on Little Bugs the section manning the checkpoint would first inform Bravo 6, and then send a half section in the Land Rover to discover the size and extent of the attack. Our vehicle was in a building that must have been a workshop before being abandoned, and was where the off duty men of the section slept. It was Christmas Day morning, and although it was freezing cold not yet a White Christmas.

We had been warned not to indulge in any festivities over the Christmas period as there would be no Christmas Day Truce, unlike 1914 during the First World War. The Serbs, being Russian Orthodox, used the Julian calendar, and their Christmas Day wasn't for another two weeks. The Serbs probably thought that we would be all as pissed as newts on our Christmas Day, which was the reason they had chosen today to attack Little Bugs.

As the vehicle started off I checked the radio. 'Bravo Six Four. En route to incident. Over'
'Bravo Six Zero Alpha, Roger. Send sitrep when at location. Over.'
'Bravo Six Four, Roger. Out.'
It wasn't Big Ben's call-sign, nor his voice on the radio; he wouldn't have bothered to state the obvious, that I should report the situation when I got to Little Bugs, as he knew it would be the first thing I would do. It must be Sergeant Claypole operating the communications, which meant that Big Ben would be following up in the APC – thank fuck for that.
Neddy Claypole was a disaster waiting to happen, and I knew several members of the platoon who would cheerfully shoot him the first time we went into action, as he would be more danger to us than any enemy.

I had to keep a sharp look out as we sped up the road. It could be that the Serbs had decided to lure us out and ambush us, and I swivelled the searchlight on the front of the vehicle, sending light lancing into the sides and onto the road ahead. About 200 metres from Little Bugs I pulled the vehicle into the side of the road. There were no sounds of gunfire but I heard screaming, and saw flames coming from several houses.
I left Tabby Catesby in the Land Rover, and spread the other three members of the half section in extended order, about 5 metres between each man, and then we advanced on foot towards the village. We had gone about a 100 metres towards Little Bugs when I said. "When I give the word we will all fire a short burst into the air – Fire!"
I'm not over enthusiastic about the SA-80, the British Army's standard issue rifle, but it does have an impressive rate of fire. When all four of our weapons opened up it sounded like a feu de joie from the Brigade of Guards.

I heard engines revving, and then the screech of tyres, as at least two vehicles hurriedly left the village and raced up the road towards the bridge leading to the Serb area. I sent Chaz Bowyer back to get Tabby to drive the Land Rover up to Little Bugs and then, still checking for any Serbs and booby traps, the rest of us made our way towards the screaming, and the flames. We reached the village the same time as our Land Rover, and I yelled for Tabby to switch on the searchlight as well as main beam.

It was a sight from hell. There was a pile of bodies lying in a pool of blood; it looked as if half the village had been gunned down, and half the village was being burned down.
I sent the lads to see what they could do about putting out the flames, and gave my combat medic kit to Budgie Finch while I got on the radio. 'Bravo six four. Send Starlight to my location. Multiple civilian casualties. Over.'
'Bravo six zero. I am figures five minutes from your location. Any friendly casualties? Over'
'Bravo six four. No friendly casualties, but estimate figures four zero civilian. Over.' But of course we were all heartbroken at the carnage.
'Bravo six zero. Roger, Starlight informed. Out.'