I took deep breaths, preparing myself.
Adult voices drifted up to our position, shouting orders in French.
‘Like Crucial,’ I muttered. ‘Only deeper.’
‘They’re gripping the kids,’ Sam said. ‘Putting the fear of God into them.’
I saw his hand move, making sure the sight fairy hadn’t come and interfered with them since the last time he’d checked a minute ago.
‘Remember, short and sharp for now.’
A burst of rounds thumped into the knoll no more than a couple of metres from our faces.
Diminutive figures shuffled towards us in the gloom as the first sliver of orange light peeked over the edge of the valley.
A hundred and fifty away, and counting.
‘OK, stand by . . . short and sharp . . . over their heads.’
Another couple of rounds pounded into the mud and Sam finally kicked off.
I squeezed my trigger in three- to five-round bursts. The single tracer round in each arced well over the muzzle flashes and on towards the valley entrance.
My bursts were a bit slow: I’d adjust the gas regulator when I had the chance.
We put down maybe twenty rounds each then stopped and looked. They’d returned fire at nothing in particular, but now ran back towards the river.
They’d found out what they needed to know. They’d be back.
4
The gas regulator on a GPMG is located beneath the barrel. As a round is propelled by the expanding gases, it controls the pressure with which the working parts are pushed back to load and fire its successor. The less gas that’s allowed to pass through the regulator, the slower the rate of fire.
I turned the metal dial until it was fully closed, then counted back six clicks. That should give me a good 800 rounds a minute; any more and it would be hard to control. When these fuckers came back, it would be in strength. I wanted as many rounds as possible to land in the weapon’s beaten zone from now on.
‘Silky, Tim and the boy. We’ve got to get them into cover, Sam. They can take my trench.’
He nodded and scrambled towards the tent while Crucial kept covering. I grabbed my AK and spare mags and followed.
There was no argument. Silky started gathering their gear while Sam grabbed the bottom end of the cot and I took the head. ‘One, two, three – up.’ We lifted Tim and the boy and started to shuffle them out.
We lowered them into the backblast channel with a bump that made the boy cry out. Good, he was still breathing, still feeling pain.
‘That’s me back on the gun,’ Sam said. ‘Quick as you can.’
I shoved the AK at Tim. ‘You know how to use one of these?’
He managed a smile. ‘I’ve been here long enough.’
I lobbed the two extra mags on to the cot. ‘Just in case.’
He checked the safety lever, not as fluently as one of us three would, but he knew what he was doing and that was good enough.
The injured boy wasn’t happy at all. He stared at the weapon, transfixed, as terrified as if it was aimed at his head.
‘What am I supposed to do with this from down here, Nick?’
‘If the shit hits the fan, Silky’ll have to drag you up into the backblast channel.’
Tim laid the weapon the other side of the boy. ‘Nick . . .’
I stayed where I was for a moment. ‘Yep?’
‘Thanks.’
‘For what?’
‘Just thanks.’
Silky hobbled out of the tent. I jumped out and grabbed her hand. ‘Drop the gear.’
I dragged her towards Sam’s trench and pointed to the plunger. ‘When I give the word, untwist the handle, pull it up, then push down for all you’re worth, OK?’
High-velocity cracks sounded ahead and to the right of us.
‘Get in the trench! In the trench!’
Crucial was already bellowing orders to his two teams. I gave her a shove, and jumped in next to Sam. ‘You see ’em? Up on the lip there?’
He was still aiming down the valley. ‘Hold your fire.’
Two RPGs kicked off almost vertically into the air, and even this far from Crucial’s trench I could feel the warmth of the backblast on my face. A cloud of acrid smoke engulfed us and my nostrils filled with burned propellant.
Crucial was already legging it to Sunday and the Chuckle Brothers as the rounds dropped and soft-detonated. Anyone below them would have been blasted with shrapnel.
Butt back in the shoulder, both eyes open, I watched the valley as the next two RPGs kicked off in quick succession.
5
The RPGs weren’t slowing the rate of fire coming from the lip. Rounds ripped into the mud around us. They were a fire group, trying to pin us down so the rest could attack from the front.
‘The phone!’ I screamed to Sam. ‘Give me the phone!’
He whacked it into my outstretched hand, his weapon never leaving the shoulder.
I ripped off the Prudence and powered it up.
The sky in the distance was about to turn blue, but behind us it was still dark. I crouched further into the trench, finger in my ear, but still kept my head above the parapet.
The phone was answered and I heard the drone of engines. ‘It’s kicking off here, mate. We need you.’
‘Fifteen minutes. How’s the cloud cover?’ He sounded like he was putting in a routine request to land.
‘Clearing.’ More rounds came down from the lip and slammed into the mud on either side of us. I had to shout to be heard. ‘Fifty per cent visibility and clearing. You still coming in east?’
‘Straight up the arse, man.’
‘The beacon will be a burning oil drum, just like the ones at the airstrip, OK?’
‘Roger that.’
‘We’re at the west end of the valley – repeat, anything west of the marker is us, OK?’
‘Roger that. What am I hitting?’
‘A fire group on the southern lip of the valley – that’s your port as you approach. Roger so far?’
‘Roger that.’
The engine noise was drowned as two more RPGs kicked off.
‘We’re waiting for the main attack, probably from the valley entrance – four hundred east of the marker. They’ll be moving up the valley. Roger so far?’
‘Roger that. What are they carrying, man? Anything I need to know about?’
‘We’re taking small arms, no RPGs yet. No light or heavy guns. The only tracer so far is ours.’
‘Roger that.’ His tone was still completely relaxed. No wonder he’d survived in this business so long. ‘OK, I’m coming. Just make sure I can see that marker, man. I need something to get me on line. Wait out.’
I was putting the sat phone down when he screamed, ‘Nick! Nick! Did you get Standish? You tell him what I said?’
‘Yes – and more.’
‘Roger that, be there in fifteen.’
Sam yelled, ‘Here we go!’
He fired a long burst, fifteen plus, into the beaten zone as bodies poured into the valley.
More fire came from the high ground, covering the assault group. A pair of RPGs kicked off to our right and I saw Crucial sprinting to the other trench.
‘Silky!’ I yelled, so loud even the LRA would have heard me. ‘The plunger! Push the plunger!’
I looked down into the valley and waited, but nothing happened.
‘Silky! Hit the fucking plunger!’
I got more rounds down, then saw the cordite spark up in the gloves, and finally the slabs, burning like big fuck-off sparklers.
‘Come on . . . come on . . .’
A couple of seconds later, the diesel ignited.