Drip… drip… drip.
He went through another bout of panic, the blood vessels in his arms and face pronounced as he tried to wrench his body free.
Drip… drip… drip.
Then the tears came, causing him to blink rapidly, the salt stinging his eyes, his eye sockets filling up until they overflowed, trickling down the side of his face. He shivered. Still in his barrack-dress trousers and No. 2 shirt, although both were soiled and damp, the dark, dank cell was sucking away any warmth from his body, adding to his discomfort. Bradley groaned and closed his stinging eyes, hoping that sleep would provide some relief, but that just enhanced the drilling sensation, the hole getting bigger, deeper.
Drip… drip… drip… drip… drip… drip.
Chapter 29
Wilf fired off a burst from his M-16 and had the satisfaction of seeing one of the NKVD soldiers go down.
“Ready,” yelled Badger, ten metres behind him.
Tag, in a prone position on the edge of a dip alongside Wilf, heaved a grenade in the direction of the enemy troops. “Go!”
Tag and Wilf picked themselves up and sprinted towards where Badger and Hacker were waiting to provide cover. The grenade exploded, distracting the enemy for a moment as they sprinted past their friends. They ran a further ten metres and then threw themselves down behind another shallow dip in the ground, reloaded their weapons, and got ready.
“Go!” called out Wilf.
Their roles were now reversed as Tag and Wilf put down covering fire while Badger and Hacker dashed past them to go through the same process all over again.
It was about half an hour until dusk. They had to keep moving, keep their distance from the pursuing troops, and then, in darkness, slip away. They weren’t on their chinstraps yet, but it was getting close. They were also eating into their ammunition far too quickly. The anger of the Soviet Army commander towards the Special Forces operating behind his lines was being taken out on Wilf’s small patrol. He reckoned there was an entire motor rifle battalion on their tail along with Soviet Ministerstva Vnutrennikh Del (MVD) internal security troops, on their tail. Sent to assist in the subjugation of the civilian population, they had been reassigned to hunt down the enemy saboteurs. On the run for over eighteen hours, the CPU’s only respite had been at the time of the tactical nuclear explosions a couple of hours ago, which seemed to have knocked their pursuers off their stride.
But now they were back and the chase was on. Bergen’s had been dumped, and all the food, water and ammunition they could carry had been packed into their fighting order, but they were eating into their ammunition at a phenomenal rate. They’d broken contact once, but the enemy had persuaded a Soviet Army General to release two Mi-2 Hoplites, small helicopters, to help in tracking the enemy saboteurs down, and their trail had been picked up again. The four men had been on the run again since dawn and were now just trying to hang on until darkness would provide them with some sort of shield. But the enemy had an advantage: speed. Once Wilf’s CPU had been located, trucks of soldiers could be driven to a point behind them, cutting off their retreat, forcing Wilf to switch his direction of withdrawal. Just as he thought they had broken contact yet again, they would hear the whop, whop of rotor blades as their airborne hunter returned to the scene.
Badger and Hacker started to put down fire as Tag threw the last of his grenades, and he and Wilf sprinted for cover yet again. Wilf paled as he heard a yelp from Tag as a bullet struck his friend’s leg, causing him to spin sideways, landing in a pile on the floor.
“Man down! Man down! Cover me!” Wilf screamed.
Badger fired the last of his grenades from the under slung launcher on his M-16, and Hacker threw the last of their smoke grenades, one they had been saving for this very moment they feared might happen: one of them going down.
Tag screamed as Wilf heaved him up off the ground, finding strength from deep down inside, throwing his friend over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. Smoke billowed out behind them, providing momentary cover, as he collapsed in a heap alongside Hacker and Badger. The two men continued to put down fire while Wilf cut away at Tag’s combats. Tag groaned in pain, and Wilf could see why. The round had shattered the soldier’s lower leg. White pieces of his tibia were poking through the muscle. Even patched up, there was no way he could run with them now.
Tag reached out and gripped Wilf’s jacket, pulling him close. “You need to go Wilfy. I’m fucked. I’m going nowhere with this.”
“We’ll find a way.”
“Bollocks! I won’t get anywhere with this.”
“I’ll carry you. We can take it in turns.”
“Don’t be fucking stupid, Wilfy. Even Badger could only carry me for a short distance. They’ll be all over us.”
Hacker crouched down. “We’re low on ammo, Wilfy. They look like they’re getting ready for a push.”
“Tell him, Hacker. I can cover you. Give you a chance.”
Hacker looked at Tag, saw the blood-soaked leg of his combats and a piece of white bone protruding through the blood. He nodded.
“Shit!” Exclaimed Wilf, knowing they were both right.
“Turn me over on my front, guys. Get me in a good position.”
Wilf went to inject Tag’s with morphine, but Tag objected. “No, I need my wits about me. Leave it here. If I get the chance I’ll use it before they get to me.”
Tag bit back a scream as they helped him get into a firing position.
Hacker pressed his shoulder. “See you, mate.” On Wilf’s orders, Hacker ran to a new position, fifty metres west. Badger, who had been keeping in touch with the their situation and that of the enemy, said his goodbyes to his mate; then threw his last grenade, the last the team had, and ran to join Hacker.
Wilf ruffled Tag’s hair; nothing needed saying really. “Thanks, Tag.”
“Fuck off, Wilfy, before they get you too.” But Tag said it with a smile. Wilfy returned the smile and shot off to join the other two.
The three men ran at a crouch as fast as they could, taking advantage of the opportunity given to them by the injured member of the team. They heard burst after burst of gunfire as Tag emptied three magazines off towards the advancing security troops, having the satisfaction of seeing at least two go down. The sound of gunfire receded the further Hacker, Wilf and Badger were from the fight until there was only silence. Should they survive, beat the clock, they would have a few drinks for their friend. But, for now, they would run until their legs collapsed beneath them.
Chapter 30
A member of the crew spoke into the microphone of the internal communications system, informing the team leader they were five minutes away from the landing zone. The team leader tapped the shoulder of the man next to him, holding up five fingers, and he, in turn, tapped the soldier next in line, repeating the warning until all eight of the soldiers, sitting in the back of the shaking helicopter, were aware that they were only five minutes out. This was the cue to check their weapons yet again, even though they knew implicitly that everything was perfect and well prepared for the operation ahead. The majority carried an AKS-74U, a stripped down version of the AK-74, the standard Soviet assault rifle. Each man also had a spade, the preferred weapon of choice for a Spetsnaz soldier. In fact, it was the only weapon they trained with at the start of their training, and they quickly learnt to use it with deadly effect. One of the team favoured a VSS sniper rifle, and two carried a PSS, a silenced pistol. It only had an effective range of twenty-five metres, but it would assist their covert operation until it went loud. All in all, they could give a good account of themselves when required.