UNLUCKY 4 FORD… SAD, Billy wrote.
UNLUCKY 4 ZULU… HELL HOLE
AFFIRM
At 10.24am Nick and Charlotte checked in with the JTAC.
‘Ugly Five Two and Ugly Five Three, on station.’
That sealed it. We had been relieved.
BREAKFAST TIME… MY LEAD, Billy texted.
But he couldn’t hear the mission net. A brand new voice had just come on it – an officer’s voice, older than the others, and extremely authoritative. Brigadier Jerry Thomas spoke slowly and clearly, so everybody could hear. And he made sure everybody knew where this order came from.
‘All stations, from SUNRAY…
‘Option One is a recovery of Lance Corporal Ford by the Apaches. Option Two is a recovery by Zulu Company. Option One has been approved.
‘Repeat, Option One is APPROVED. Prosecute ASAP.’
It was an extraordinary message. The phone lines between Lashkar Gah and Kandahar must have been red hot. I didn’t care about that now. We’d lost five minutes of precious fuel sitting with our thumbs up our arses. It was going to be tight now. Painfully tight.
‘This isn’t funny, Ed,’ Carl muttered.
‘Buddy, do we have enough fuel to do this now?’
Carl had crunched the stats as soon as he’d heard the brigadier’s voice.
‘No, but yes.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Legally no, because we’ve only got 890 lb left. Direct to Bastion from here at endurance speed is twenty-six minutes using up 390 lb of gas. Take off the 400 lb Minimum Landing Allowance we must land with and we have 100 lb of Combat Gas – or just over six minutes’ flying time. It will take you longer than that to brief them. I’m prepared to bust the limit and land with 200 lb. That gives us twenty minutes from now and perhaps a minute or two extra when we’re on the ground. So, illegally, yes. We’ll just get away with it. But you need to be very, VERY quick.’
Brief, strap ’em on, fly six klicks, rescue Ford, fly back six klicks… Twenty minutes? Jesus… We’d have to make do.
‘You’re a genius, Carl. Grab the stick.’
The rotors were turning but I was already halfway out of the cockpit. The rules didn’t mean much now. Carl leaned out to pass me his strap.
‘Ed, I mean fucking quick. If we’re not pulling pitch for home in twenty minutes we’ll end up in the desert.’
‘Okay, relay the lot to…’
‘I have via text, while we were talking. They’re up for it. Don’t waste a second. Go.’
The first man I reached was Dave Rigg.
‘You know what’s going on?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve seen the Nimrod feed.’
Good.
He extended his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Dave Rigg, I’m the–’
‘Sorry, we’re mega low on time. Follow me.’
I grabbed Rigg and pulled him up to the right side of the aircraft while I pulled out my strap. The other three followed. I asked for their surnames. The rotors were thumping so hard I had to shout.
‘Right…’ I held up the strap. ‘You’ve got to strap yourself on because if you get shot while you’re on the wing, you need to stay on it. Lots of things might happen out there. I’m not going to go into them all.’
I pointed to the grab bar beside Carl’s door.
‘This bar here is what you’re going to strap onto.’
I demonstrated.
‘Okay, with that?’
Three of them nodded, wide-eyed and hanging on my every word. But RSM Hearn didn’t appear to be paying much attention. Instead, he just grinned. I hadn’t the time to ask what he was finding so funny. I thought that perhaps he was nervous; I would have been, in his position.
‘Right, this is what’s going to happen…’
I drew a line in the sand with my finger in front of the Apache, and put a small pebble beside it. ‘That’s the wall, and that’s Mathew Ford. Both aircraft will land in the field here, with the wall on our right. As soon as the pilots give you the thumbs up, go. Run to the wall. When you find the big hole in it, Mathew is just to the left. Grab one limb each and go to the nearest aircraft. Strap him onto the foot step in front of the right wheel with one of your straps.
‘Get back on the aircraft you got off, in the same place. If you don’t have a strap left, just hold on tight. Don’t run round the back of the aircraft or the tail rotor will chop your head off. If we go down, stay with the aircraft. The crew will guide you. If the crew are dead, make for the river. The firebase will cover you across it.’
Was there anything I’d forgotten to mention? Yes, loads; but we didn’t have the time.
‘You.’ I pointed to Rigg, the bloke nearest to me. ‘You’re going to sit on this flat side here, in front of the engine air intake. Wedge your back against the aircraft by jamming your feet against the empty Hellfire rail.’
I took the remaining three round the other side.
‘Fraser-Perry, you’re going here. Same drill. I’ll be back with some straps. You two, follow me.’
We sprinted the 100 metres to the other Apache. Billy and Geordie’s canopy doors were open, ready for me.
‘Give me your straps, guys.’
Billy threw his down. Geordie just looked embarrassed and put up his hands.
‘I haven’t got it.’
‘What?’
‘My jacket’s in for servicing. This is a spare, like. Sorry.’
Bloody hell. Geordie was the squadron’s Combat Rescue officer. Of all the people to forget a strap… He’d be ribbed mercilessly by the lads for this when we got back. Someone would just have to go without.
‘Geordie, you lead, we’ll follow. Make sure you stay out of the gun line; they’ll be firing all the way in to cover us.’
‘No problem mate.’
I dished out Carl and Billy’s straps to Robinson and RSM Hearn – who was still grinning at me – and ran back to my aircraft.
How the hell do I choose who gets the last strap? Shit – is this going to be a life or death decision? It had to be Rigg. He knew where Mathew was, he was marginally more mission critical. I threw it up to him then went back round to see Fraser-Perry.
‘There’s no strap for you.’
He looked at me in disbelief.
‘Put your arm through the grab bar and then force your hand in under your body armour. That way you won’t fall off if you get shot. Do you understand what I am saying?’
He took it well.
‘Yes, yes…’ He nodded frantically and cracked on.
‘Tuck it in.’
The tall marine in shirt sleeves was waiting for me at the front of the aircraft. Now I recognised him. Colonel Magowan. His brow was painfully furrowed, and intense concern was etched over every square inch of his tanned face.
‘Good luck,’ he said, and we shook hands. It sounded like he meant those words more now than he had in his whole life.
I clambered back inside and plugged in as Carl was completing his last checks.
‘Guess who didn’t bring his strap.’
‘Not the SERE officer was it, by chance?’ He grinned. ‘Who drew the short straw?’
‘Young guy, left-hand side; name’s Fraser-Perry. The one on the right’s called Rigg.’
I slammed my door, buckled up, pulled down my visor and tried to catch my breath as the air conditioning kicked back in.
‘I gave them the fullest brief we had time for. At least they all know exactly what to do when we get there.’
‘Good.’
‘Okay, Geordie, your lead.’
‘My lead,’ Geordie replied.
Carl pulled on the collective and we began to lift steadily into our own swirling dust cloud.
Magowan looked up. The loneliness of command was stamped onto his troubled face. I felt for him; whatever the outcome, he would be judged. I wanted to shout, ‘Fortune favours the brave!’ but I didn’t want to count my chickens yet either.
It was not for some hours that I found out that our four passengers had barely heard a word I’d said.