Glen placed his HK G36 on the bonnet of their vehicle, pulled on his personal load carrying equipment (PLCE), patted the extra magazines secured within it, and picked up his HK again. He also grabbed an MP5 and a radio out of the cab. “We’ll take comms this time. If you need to move out, I’ll give you a rendezvous point, and we can meet up there.”
“Roger that.” Both Rolly and Plato confirmed they understood.
“Let’s go, before we miss the action,” Greg said impatiently.
Glen grinned. “Come on then before you piss your pants.”
He took the lead, running quickly through the trees in the large back garden of the house where they had set up for the night. Ahead, the elongated houses spread out in a hammerhead shape, the front of the houses and shops facing out onto the High Street. They clambered over a low fence, spotting a gap between the two buildings on the other side: a narrow passageway they were certain would lead them to the High Street. Glen slowed, looked back, and checked Greg was with him and ready. He indicated to Greg through hand signals that they would move to the end of the passageway, and then stop and observe before they went out onto the main road. Glen sidled along the left-hand wall and soon signalled to Greg that he had spotted something. Glen edged further along toward the end of the building, stopped, lowered himself to the prone position, poked his head around the corner, and scanned the street. Movement opposite in front of what could be a town hall caught his attention. But his full view was blocked by the metal frame of a market stall, blown over on its side and pushed up against a shop front, its plastic covering tattered and torn. Glen waved Greg forward and, once his friend was on the opposite side in position to cover him, he scooted across the footpath until he was up against the side of the plastic-sheeted stall. Now he was in position to provide cover for Greg as he moved forward and joined him. With Greg covering his six, Glen crept forward at a crouch, shuffling through the, until now, undisturbed dust, trying to keep the movement of it down to a minimum, thankful he was wearing a surgical face mask. He stopped and listened, then shifted position again, advancing along the right-hand side of the stall, more and more of the town hall coming into view the nearer he got to the front. The closer he got, the better the angle and greater the visibility of the activity that was materialising out to his half left.
Glen quickly assessed the situation, a skill he had learnt during his eleven years with the regiment, where a split-second decision was often necessary and could mean the difference between life and death. A man was on the ground, hands held up in front of his face defending himself as the person towering above kicked him repeatedly. A few metres away, a second man stood with his hands on his head, a shotgun barrel being waved threateningly in front of his face while, behind him, two young children, possibly a boy and a girl, clung to his coat. Glen looked slightly right as he heard sharp voices and saw two people being dragged up the steps of the municipal building. One shorter and possibly chubbier than the other was pleading with her captors and pointing in the direction of the two children, but her pleas fell on deaf ears and their custodians continued with their task of getting the two individuals to the top of the steps and into the building. Glen knew instinctively why the two women were being dragged into the bowels of the prominent building. His face reddened in anger and he keyed his handset.
“Golf, this is November. Go left. Three X-rays outside with four Yankees. Seven X-rays with two Yankees on steps.”
“Roger, on way.”
“Romeo, this is November. Once contact made, move to location 100 metres west of High Street.”
“Roger,” responded Rolly, the phonetic letter, Romeo, taken from the first letter of Rolly’s name. As Greg and Glen had the same initial, the last letter, November, was used for Glen.
“November, Golf. In position. Three X-rays still outside. Seven X-rays now in hall.”
Glen focused back on the people out the front of the town hall, and slung his HK weapon over his shoulder, changing it for the silenced MP5.
“Golf. Go silent. X-ray with three Yankees left, and X-ray with single Yankee are yours. X-ray on steps is mine. RV top of steps.”
“Roger.”
“In five… ”
“Counting.”
“Four… three… ”
Glen counted down to himself.
“Two… one… go!”
He thrust down with his thighs, launching his body up and forwards, appearing at the front of the collapsed market stall at the same time as Greg appeared out front to his left. Both shuffled forward in a gait that suited them, a stride that allowed them to keep their weapons steady and on target, yet enabled them to move quickly.
Phut. Greg fired a shot from his Welrod silenced pistol, the bullet taking X-ray one in the side of the chest, knocking him sideways. Mary, seeing the man who had been threatening her father violently knocked to the ground, cried out and clutched her father even tighter. The remaining two X-rays, alerted by Mary’s wail, spun round to see what had caused the girl to cry out.
Phut. Greg’s pistol jerked again in his two-handed grip as he fired at X-ray two, the person who had been standing threateningly over Andrew. The 9mm slug hit the man in the shoulder. Greg cocked the weapon again, and the second round smashed through the man’s oesophagus, forcing him to the ground, his hands clutching at his throat as he fought for breath. Greg then turned back round, putting another bullet into X-ray one, before holstering the now nearly empty pistol and swinging his LMG up to the fore, the sling round his neck keeping it steady, his finger on the trigger ready to open up with the machine gun. In the meantime, Glen, who had the greater distance to cover, had run on ahead towards the town hall and fired a short three-round burst from his suppressed MP5, spinning X-ray three round before the man, or woman, fell prostrate to the ground, sprawled face down, sliding down the hard, blood-smeared steps. Glen accelerated, breaking into a run to get fully across the road, then taking the steps two at a time. Someone appeared at the entrance to the hall, perhaps sent to investigate the outburst from the young girl.
Phut… phut. Two shots from Glen, who was now less than ten metres from the top, killed the woman instantly as the first bullet scrambled her brain and the second one tore a hole through her heart. Glen reached the large double door, the right door open with a metre-wide gap providing access. It was darker inside as he stepped over the dead body and entered the large entrance hall, quickly moving along the closed left-hand door before swinging round, dropping to a crouch, the black inside of the town hall revealing nothing. Although the glassless windows allowed some light into the inner sanctum of the building, the overcast sky’s blocked out the sun’s rays, throwing a grey cloak over the country. He looked to his right as he saw Greg appear through the door. Glen moved further left, keeping his MP5 pointing in the direction of the wide staircase that was slowly appearing out of the gloom. He signalled Greg to join him.
As he peered into the dark, he could hear Greg shuffling across the floor before crouching down, ready to cover Glen when he made his next move. Glen’s night vision was getting better, and he could pick out three doors to the left of the concourse, two leading to rooms on the left and one straight ahead. He assumed there would be a similar layout on the far side of the stairway. Glen cursed himself for not having his NVGs, and tucked away a reminder inside his head that he needed to remain switched on. They may not be conducting standard military operations, but some of the circumstances they were coming across were little different from some of those he had experienced in third world countries during his career in the regiment.