Hellfire (41 page)
‘The numbers will cut down on the time it takes to get the Apaches to fire and will negate any errors induced by incorrect grids.’
This was a far cry from the escorting role we’d played during Op Mutay.
Once all the compounds had been cleared, D Company would do exactly the same on the southern half. As they cleared these areas a small force would be left behind, covering arcs, to maintain the security and integrity of the convoy route.
B and D Companies would then move the 200 metres through the Green Zone, west to east, systematically clearing 300 metres north and south of the track, fighting any Taliban that got in their way. They would keep one foot on the ground and move slowly to ensure the line was watertight until they reached the wadi.
‘In this area,’ the Ops Officer said, pointing at the wadi and the Green Zone surrounding the crossing point, ’we will refer to spots from the Op Snakebite Spot Map.
A spot map had been produced as a one-off for this mission, dotted with coloured numbered spots for quick identification to speed up fire control commands from the Widow.
They would go firm at the wadi with a long string of men left behind, covering north and south.
‘During the move to the wadi, the engineers will be clearing the track to ensure there are no mines or IEDs waiting for the convoy.’
With the area sanitised and interlinking arcs all the way back to the plateau there would be no way any Taliban could get access to RPG or IED the convoy. The Taliban had buried a triple mine in the road a week ago and remotely detonated it under a Spartan. Then they RPGed the Scimitar trapped ahead of it. The occupants had had an almighty firefight to get out alive and then back in again to save their horrifically injured comrade. The IED killed three of them outright and left two burnt-out vehicles behind.
‘Once B and D are firm on the other side of the wadi, the Pathfinders and Danes will exit the DC on foot and in their vehicles. They will patrol the 350 metres west along the Bazaar road to the edge of the town where it meets the wadi. They will fan out and take up defensive positions. So now we have both sides of the wadi covered. If anybody tries to attack the convoy, they will have troops on either side ready to attack them.’
The convoy in the desert would be told to move out if they hadn’t moved forward already. They would make their way to the plateau, follow the route cleared down the slope by the engineers, through the urban area, through the Green Zone. The final push would involve darting across the wadi, the most dangerous part of their mission. The track across the wadi kicked left forty-five degrees when it left the Green Zone and cut across the wadi at this
angle for 700 metres before kicking right forty-five degrees onto the Bazaar road leading to the Musa Qa’leh DC.
This angle meant that they were still vulnerable from the north and south, either side of the wadi, but it afforded them the best protection 3 Para could provide.
‘Once secure in the DC they will unload thirty DoS, deposit the men and then start to make their way back out of Musa Qa’leh the same way they came in. Patrols Platoon will jump into those vehicles, leaving the Danes, the Royal Irish and the newly formed ANSF behind.’
They would then do the dirty-dash back across the 700-metre wide wadi, under the protection of the Danes on the east, D Company and B Company on the west, until they reached the Green Zone.
‘From there they will backtrack through until they are safely back inside the desert; the mined desert.’
B Company and D Company would then fall back through the Green Zone to the urban area. D Company would move back to secure the high ground with B Company covering them until they finally moved up themselves.
‘The Chinooks will be called forward and everyone will fly back to Camp Bastion with the Apaches escorting the Chinooks. Job done. That’s the format and you all know your piece. Any questions?’
All of the what ifs, questions and answers had already been hammered out. We knew that we were Intimate Support, 3 Flight would go in first, and we would RIP them. We also knew the extent of the threat to us: anti-aircraft guns, RPGs, small arms, SAMs, snipers, even mortars. You name it; the Taliban had it. Our two trump cards this time round were artillery to keep the enemy’s head down, and a relatively small area to work in, just a couple of hundred metres wide.
All that remained was the Rehearsal of Concept (RoC) drill. The tent emptied and we went to the side of the secure area where 3 Para had set up a fifty metre by fifty metre scale model of the whole operation. The ground was scattered with minetape-a two-inch white or orange plastic ribbon used to cordon off mined areas-sandbags, rocks, cardboard and empty Coke cans.
Bastion and the LS were Coke cans, the white minetape tracked down the slope-and they’d made a slope too-through the urban area with compounds made of cardboard. It stretched through a sandbag Green Zone to an orange minetaped wadi into a rocky Musa Qa’leh and ended up at the DC Coke can. The convoy’s lay up point (LUP) was marked too.
‘Okay, Patrols Platoon and the mortars are going to be leaving shortly with Widow Seven Zero…so the commanders will go along here, and Widow Seven Zero will be with them…’
The three guys playing their parts moved and stood together.
‘And then the Battery Commander and the convoy leader will be in position here overnight.’ The BC and another guy I’d never met before sat down.
‘At whatever time it is, minus L hour-and I don’t know how long it’ll take them to move-the convoy will then depart the gun position.’
The convoy guy moved round to the north-west.
‘At the same time, Patrols Platoon and the mortars, with Widow Seven Zero, are going to move forwards to secure the LS.’
They moved forward on the sand map to the site of the intended LS.
The 3 Para Ops Officer said, ‘Right, what’s the next thing we’re going to hear?’
The Patrols Platoon Commander put his hand up. ‘LS secure.’
‘Right, the LS is secure-that means we can go ahead with it. At that point, we’re going to send out the Chinooks with B Company and the CO’s JTAC. With them will be the first wave of Apaches.’
As four Chinook guys, four passengers, Pat and Chris walked to the LS, the BC said, ‘At this point we’ll be registering-we’ll be firing into this area, to make sure our guns are ready.’
The Mortar Platoon Commander said, ‘And at this point, I’m going to be firing too.’
The aircrew could see where the gun line was, where the mortar line was, how they were going to get in, how they were going to get out and the location of the gun-to-target line they needed to stay out of. The four Chinook pilots headed back to the Bastion Coke can where we stood.
The CO, 2i/c and Ops Officer of 3 Para threw in a constant stream of questions.
‘What happens if that compound fires at you now?’ the CO asked.
‘I would call you and D Company, sir. D Company would put fire down and your JTAC would get those two Apaches onto it.’
The whole rehearsal was done at speed but relative to the time-frame so everyone knew where everyone else was, what they would be doing or saying at any point along the line. We walked out and replaced Pat and Chris and the rotations continued until everyone at the RoC drill was standing back at the Bastion Coke can.
The rehearsal ended, a host of questions answered.
Later, we talked through the brief again within our squadron. We ironed out how we would RIP at any given moment because even on the day we wouldn’t know how slowly or quickly each phase of the Op would take.
There was still one nagging doubt in my mind.
I knew I had to voice it.
I had to address our operational effectiveness with the boss again. It had degraded to the point that we rarely hit our targets with a first burst. The main reason was the gun Dynamic Harmonisation (DH).
‘We RIP’d with Dan the last time we tried to get into Musa Qa’leh,’ I said. ‘Dan had fired 250 rounds at the Taliban and we still don’t know if they got a hit.’
Major Black tried to laugh it off. ‘Maybe his shooting’s not very good.’
I took a deep breath.
‘His firing was good. In fact, it was brilliant. He would have hit first time if the gun had been on. Pat had exactly the same problem on Op Mutay. He couldn’t even fire in zoom field of view because his rounds landed outside of what he could see.’
The boss hadn’t known because he’d only fired forty cannon rounds and a Hellfire, but the current policy between crews was to test fire into the desert on the way to a scramble. If they didn’t hit they would register in which direction the gun was off and aim off accordingly. It was ridiculously costly in time and munitions, dangerous to the point of a blue-on-blue, and a serious degradation in combat effectiveness.
‘If the gun fails to hit first time, the Taliban get a clear warning and the crews end up chasing their tails, not knowing where to aim to get a kill. And a whole lot of Taliban are living to fight another day.’
He wasn’t having it. He said he didn’t have enough flying hours to let us DH the guns.
I tried to keep the red mist at bay.
‘The Apache is an attack helicopter, sir. Its primary role is to fire weapons at the target. If the weapons aren’t accurate we’re not doing our job properly. If we fire at a target and it dies, we’ve succeeded. So we either waste time at the target or we use the time profitably by DHing the guns beforehand. The flying hours are the same, but the success rate is hugely better.’
‘I said no, Mr Macy.’
I felt like banging my head against the wall again. Our sister squadron, 664, had just landed at Kandahar and was coming up to
replace us soon after this operation. What would they think when they saw our gun tapes? As the SWO I felt deeply embarrassed that we hadn’t completed an essential procedural task.
‘I will be briefing the next squadron commander on what I think we’ve failed to do, sir.’
Major Black returned my glare. His jaw clenched then he turned on his heel and walked away.
SUNDAY, 6 AUGUST 2006
Camp Bastion
0213 hours local
The neon strip lights that hung above our cots burst into life. I shielded my eyes and scrutinised my right wrist.
‘Time to get up, freaks,’ Jon said.
‘Wanker,’ someone shouted.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and peeled off my light-weight-but still clammy-sleeping bag liner. Jon lifted the tent’s door flap and disappeared while Pat, Chris, Tony, Carl, Jake, Billy and I slowly came round. The scratching of arses, stretches and chorus of yawns would have done a bunch of gibbons proud.
I arrived in the Ops tent smack on 2.30 a.m. We’d been in earlier but Patrols Platoon had wanted more time to get through the minefield on the ridge, and to ensure the LS was clear before securing and marking it. Getting an hour’s kip here and an hour’s kip there was not conducive to flight safety, but we didn’t have much choice when it was this busy.
Things were looking good. 3 Flight were told to be ready to take off at 0440 hours. L hour had slipped to 0500 and would most likely
slip again, but they’d lift regardless. We completed a final brief at 0300 hours with a strong black coffee and walked to the aircraft half an hour later. I knew that today was going to be a long operation even if the bloody Taliban didn’t turn up. And I was already knackered.
We’d be RIPing with Pat’s flight, but stayed on the APU instead of taking an extra two and a half hours’ rest. We had come a long way since Op Mutay. 3 Flight had taken the first Deliberate Ops callsigns, Wildman Five Two and Wildman Five Three, and needed to make their takeoff time. We’d have our aircraft running at the same time, so if either of theirs started with a fault, they could whack their kit into one of ours and leave us to sort out the shagged one with the technicians.
Jake would command 2 Flight from the front seat of Wildman Five Four with Jon flying; I’d command Wildman Five Five from the front with Billy flying. Simon was back at KAF, briefing the new squadron commander and his 2i/c.
3 Flight were in bays 3 and 4, Jon and Jake were in 5 and we had 6. The techs looked like zombies these days, but still had six aircraft lined up and ready to go. The boys were chirpy as ever as they stood around our four Apaches, but they were no oil paintings either. The whole squadron was feeling the strain. Even Billy was looking a bit rumpled.
Billy sparked up our aircraft. We tested the weapons, the sights, the sensors, defensive aids suite, video; checked that the data transfer cartridge had uploaded the mission correctly, that the comms came up in the right order and that the IDM-Improved Data Modem-had configured Pat’s patrol with ours so we could communicate with each other digitally.
Our Apache woke up in a good mood but Jake was experiencing comms problems again. I checked in with Pat’s patrol to make sure mine were working. They were. I kept the door open. Normally you’d
close it to keep the cab air-conditioned, but there was a strong breeze from the east, making it an unusually cool morning on the flight line.
3 Flight lifted on time while Jake and Jon got their comms sorted. We sat on the APU. There was no way we would close down now. If something happened en route to the drop-off point or they had a problem we would need to get there asap.
We led the taxi out five minutes early, turning left to the top of the HALS. We lined up on the right; Jon and Jake forward left. We started to roll. Exactly two hours and thirty minutes after 3 Flight departed our wheels lifted off the metal runway. We took off south this time because of the wind.
‘Saxon Ops. Wildman Five Four and Five Five…airborne…’ I called. ‘Zero Seven One Zero hours. Out.’
We took a left and climbed to 5,500 feet. Jon and Jake went up to 6,000. The visibility wasn’t anything to shout about, but it’d do. It wasn’t a particularly long flight to Musa Qa’leh, but we knew our kit was working so we could relax for a moment or two. On our IRT/HRF stint we’d been setting stuff up on the way, so things had been more fraught.