The Forgotten Land (4 page)

Steve
opened the briefing room door and stepped inside to see the disgruntled face of
Scott Gillman. Will McDonald was behind him, clutching a cup of coffee and
chuckling.

“Ya
dickhead,” Scott blurted. “I asked for coffee, two sugars and milk. Never heard
of the NATO standard cup of coffee? Christ, if ya want something done, do it
yourself.”

“Sorry
Scott, I could have sworn you said black tea,” smirked Will.

“Dickhead,”
Scott repeated as he poured the tea down the sink. “Steve, how ya going mate?”
Will said.

Scott
looked around. “Hey mate,” he called.

“G’day
boys,” Steve greeted them, slinging his bag onto a chair.

“For
Christ’s sake!” Matt said, throwing the Army newspaper he had been reading down
on the table. “Our frigg’n union team just got flogged again, that’s twice in a
row!”

“Who’d
we lose to this time?” asked Will, taking up the paper. On the front cover was
a picture of a young soldier who was hesitantly abseiling down a cliff. A
physical training instructor was above him, standing on the ledge and urging
him on.

“We
lost to those poofters in the RAAF,” replied Matt. “That’s twice they’ve beaten
our team this year.”

The
disappointed medic looked up, “g’day mate,” he said to Steve.

“Where’s
everyone else?” Steve asked.

“Dave
said he’s been held up in traffic. Should be another twenty minutes or so.”

“Bullshit,”
chuckled Scott Gillman with a fresh, steaming cup of coffee in his hand.
Everyone knew that if Dave was going to be late, he’d ring them on his mobile
and tell them he was held up in traffic. He’d even had the gall to do it on
exercise last year out in the Woomera desert. The truth was he’d rung them as
he sat reading the paper at a petrol station outside town, with a sandwich and
a coke to keep him company. He had told them he’d endeavour to get the 4 x 4
Land Rover back to them as soon as he could. Dave was a solid soldier, but like
many of them in the SASR, he had a colourful sense of humour.

Dave
arrived in the briefing room ten minutes later, followed shortly afterwards by
Colonel Bracker. The group launched into the planning of their mission almost
immediately, beginning with what they had extracted from the book. The planning
of a mission was the most important part of an operation. Success or failure
did not rely on heroic actions on the battlefield, but by thoughtful and
meticulous planning that incorporated almost any scenario that could happen to
a patrol while they were deployed on operation. In that way, if a problem did
arise and had been planned for, the patrol could react effectively and
immediately.

The
planning of a mission by SAS soldiers was far different to the way it was
planned in the regular army.

They
would then go ahead and collectively plan the mission. This type of open floor
method of planning was not however looked upon kindly by some SAS members who
tended to stick to the old “This is the way I want it done and that’s the end
of it”. Both methods however had their pros and cons.

A
newly recruited officer fresh off continuation training found this out the hard
way. He had spent the best part of two days by himself, planning the storming
of a large office block, which, according to the exercise, had been taken over
by terrorists. Even though it was an exercise, in the eyes of the SAS the threat
was taken very seriously.

The
officer had briefed the group of soldiers who would be carrying out the entry
and clearing of the building. When he asked the group for their opinion, the
listening soldiers immediately scrapped the plan and began working on another.
It had been a waste of two days, and if it had been a real situation, would
probably have seen loss of life for both the hostages and soldiers. The reason
the plan was scrapped was because, upon extensive viewing of the photographs
provided, the door through which the officer planned for some of the attacking
force to enter, opened outwards. It had been as simple as that. A door opening
outwards took longer to enter. Because of its outward swing, it worked against
the momentum of the physical forces created by the instruments that the
soldiers would use to open it, that is, an explosive charge, shotgun blasts to
the hinges, or a kick. An outwards swinging door may only take a fraction
longer to enter than a door that opened inwards, but that pivotal moment may be
enough to allow a terrorist standing near the door to bring his weapon to bear
and fire. The element of surprise was the main weapon in anti-terrorist
operations.

In
a mission being planned by the SAS, it was not because it was an elite force
that the men involved put forth their opinion. In the regular army, the
youngest soldiers were between seventeen and eighteen. Whereas the lowest
ranking soldiers in the regiment would probably fall between twenty-three and
twenty-five years in age. All members of the SAS regiment had a wealth of
experience and knowledge in various areas of both military and non-military
life. It was for this reason that soldiers’ input in the planning of a mission
was invaluable and could be the difference between life and death out in the
field.

Over
the next six days, Colonel Bracker and the five soldiers worked tirelessly on
the planning of the mission, starting early and finishing late. They could
leave nothing out. They planned all aspects of the mission including weather
factors, the terrain on which they would be working, what clothing and
equipment to take, communications, and local inhabitants both human and
non-human. It was draining work, but they knew just how important it was. They
tested hypothetical situations and determined the advantages and disadvantages
of their choice of resources in each of those scenarios. Everything was
methodically studied from weapons to locations, from warm weather clothes to
signals, photographs and maps of the area, satellite imagery, and weather
patterns. They discussed the rendezvous point for the resupply. If they needed
to stay longer than necessary, they would need more water, food and fuel for
their chosen vehicle. This would be brought in by helicopter upon radio
request.

Finally
on the sixth day, Colonel Bracker wrapped it up. “I think we’ve just about
finished,” he said, taking a sip from a steaming cup of coffee. “I had intended
for the planning phase to be ten days, three days studying the book and seven
on the mission planning, but there’s only so much we can plan for. Take
tomorrow off, which is Friday if my brain hasn’t abandoned me. Tie up any loose
ends you might have, say goodbye to friends and family, and for fuck’s sake
don’t be late on Saturday morning. It’ll be your fuck’n arse if you are!” he
said, looking at each of the men in turn.

 “Go
out and have a good time tonight, enjoy yourselves, but stay out of trouble.”

“Thanks
for helping us out, Sir,” Steve said, extending his hand.

Bracker
shook his hand and nodded. Each of the men took their turn to do the same.
Afterwards, he gathered his things and made his way to the door. He turned as
he opened it. “Best of luck with your mission men. I hope you nail that
bastard.”

“Right,”
said Scott. “It’s beer o’clock, time to get shit faced.”

Steve
held up his hands for silence. “Okay fellas, go out tonight and have fun, but
do not be late Saturday morning. I repeat do not be late Saturday. Because if
you are then it’s not only your arse, it’s my arse too. Right, get out of here
and enjoy yourselves.”

“What,
you’re not coming with us?” asked Will.

“No,
I’m taking Judy and the kids out to dinner and a movie,”

replied
Steve.

“Ah,
doing the old man thing,” said Dave, nodding sagely, dodging Steve’s
retaliation with a chuckle.

“I
don’t get to see them very often,” Steve said. “So may as well make the most of
it. Who knows, I might even get lucky,” he said with a wink.

“That’s
fair enough. I think we’re all hopin’ to get lucky mate,” Scott called from the
briefing room door.

“Which
movie are you going to see?” asked Matt, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“I
saw the ad for Ice Age 2 on the TV the other night. Looks like a funny movie,”
replied Steve.

 “Go
and see that movie,” Matt said. “That is one of the funniest movies I’ve seen
in a bloody long time. Christ, it cracked me up like you wouldn’t believe. I
went with Tanya and she wanted to take her son with her, so we couldn’t go and
see an action packed ‘I’ll be back’ movie. I thought it’d be a boring kid’s
movie, but man was it funny. Good choice mate, go and see it.”

“You’ve
talked me into it,” said Steve with a grin.

“Anyway,
we’ll leave you to it,” said Matt. “Have a good time.”

“Say
g’day to Judy and the kids for me,” said Will, as he followed Matt and Scott
out the door.

“Will
do mate.”

“I’ll
see ya Saturday, Steve,” said Dave, waving from the door. “In the mean time,
don’t strain yourself old man,” he said.

“Get
out of here, Sunshine, before I whip your arse,” Steve threw a scrunched up
ball of paper at Dave.

Steve
cleared the table, straightened the chairs, grabbed his gear and left. This was
the only time off he would have with his family, probably for some months, and
he was going to make the most of it.

CHAPTER
3

At
0900 hours on Saturday, the soldiers, Land Rover and equipment were ready to
depart from RAAF Base Pearce, just outside of Perth. The vehicle was a 6x6 Long
Range Patrol Vehicle, which had been built from the ground up specifically for
the Australian SASR. On the bull- bar were attached six small smoke mortars,
which, if the patrol came into heavy contact, could dispense a smoke screen and
allow them to withdraw rapidly. There were also infra red headlights for night
driving. The roof and roll bar were absent as was the windscreen. A .50 Calibre
mounting ring was attached high in the middle of the vehicle upon which a .50
Calibre heavy machine gun was attached. The designation .50 described the size
of the round the weapon fired. In this case it fired a round half an inch in
diametre, or in metric 12.5 mm in diametre.

In
no uncertain terms, it was a huge round that could do severe damage to medium
skinned vehicles and make a bloody mess of enemy soldiers. The operator stood
behind the .50 calibre machine gun able to swivel the machine gun in a three
hundred and sixty degree arc. The soldier operating the .50 Cal was standing at
the highest point of the vehicle, and therefore vulnerable to enemy fire. But
being an unconventional force, the SASR operated differently to most others,
which inherently brought with it an element of protection to the .50 Cal
gunner. For much of the time, unless they were blatantly ambushed, the enemy
were not aware of the presence of SASR patrols.

The
vehicle was armed in such a way that if a contact ensued, the patrol had
sufficient firepower to either overcome the enemy, or break contact and
withdraw. A Mag 58 machine gun was mounted in front of the forward passenger to
cover the immediate front. Unlike the .50 Cal, this machine gun carried
smaller, 7.62mm rounds, and the mount could only swivel from the two o'clock to
the ten o'clock position. The Mag 58 was not a light machine gun, but nor was
it as heavy as the .50 Cal.

The
7.62mm round could effectively hit a target at two kilometres. It could
decimate thin skinned vehicles and between the Mag 58 and .50 Cal, the Land
Rover could pack a hard punch.

The
Rover also carried six 25 litre Jerry cans full of fuel and camouflage netting
for the vehicle.

They
were able to take more warm weather gear, food, water and ammunition than if
they had been on foot with packs, weapons and webbing.

The
Land Rover would do little to ward off the elements should it begin to snow or
rain, but then it had not been modified for comfort in mind. The Land Rover and
other vehicles setup in a similar fashion had been used in warlike operations
since World War Two, where the British SAS had been formed in the deserts of
North Africa.

The
soldiers were dressed in multi-cam, the new uniform which replaced the
Australian Disruptive Pattern Desert Uniform (DPDU). The soldiers wore body
armour, chest webbing and assault helmets to which night vision goggles, or
even helmet cams were able to be attached. They were also well armed. Steve and
Will carried M4 carbine assault rifles (which fired a 5.56 mm round) with M203
grenade launchers (a 40 mm round) attached beneath the barrel. The weapons had
Advanced Combat Optical Gunsights (ACOG) attached to them. The ACOG sights were
4x magnification and allowed the weapon to fire accurately out to 600 metres.
For close quarter work (like clearing buildings), much smaller holographic
sights were attached on top of the ACOG sights. The rifles were fitted with
suppressors which reduced noise and flash. If a soldier happened to be lying
prone, the suppressers reduced the amount of dust kicked up when he fired a
shot.

Dave
and Scott carried the Minimi light machine gun, which also fired the 5.56 mm
round. Having ACOG sites fitted meant they could also engage targets out to 600
metres with accuracy. The version of the Minimi they carried was a ‘para’
version, which meant it was much shorter than the Minimis carried by
conventional Australian infantry Battalions.

Matt,
being the sniper of the patrol carried an M-110, which was a semi automatic
sniper rifle that fired the 7.62 mm round. The weapon was accurate out to 1000
metres.

One
piece of equipment they should have been issued was a FGM-148 Javelin anti-tank
missile launcher. The Q-store had none left in their armoury. More were on
backorder, but this did not help Steve. They had been issued a handful of M-72
Light Anti-Armour Weapons (LAW) which fired a 66 mm unguided anti-tank rocket.
Not as effective as the Javelin, but it would have to do.

A
C-130 Hercules would fly in from RAAF Base Richmond at 0930 hours, refuel, then
load on the Land Rover as well as the soldiers.

This
was to be the beginning of their long, uneventful journey towards the United
Arab Emirates and ultimately Iraq. The half-hour wait gave the men time to go
over everything again. They checked their equipment, weapons and the vehicle.
It was important they had the correct supplies and that the equipment they had
was undamaged.

As
they finished their inspection a strong English accent broke the silence.

“Righto
lads, gather in, gather in there!”

Steve
grinned as he watched Pete Massicks stride out towards them, with a large
camera around his neck. Pete was a civilian contracted by the Australian
Defence Force as a photographer and was beyond exceptional. He had been a Royal
Marine Commando during the Falklands War and had discharged four years after
the conflict, after which he moved to Australia with his wife and child.

Although
he had been a soldier, photography had always been his passion and his forte.
Pete reminded Steve of an American war journalist, whose passion had been
photography but whose name he did not know. The American photographer had stood
out on the deck of one of the United States aircraft carriers, watching
Japanese dive- bombers swooping towards them. American sailors were sprinting
for anti-aircraft guns or diving for cover. But this man stood with his eyes
fixed on the closest Japanese dive-bomber and he watched through the camera
lens as it released its bomb and pulled up out of the dive. He followed the
bomb’s rapid descent and snapped it just as it exploded. The 250-pound bomb
exploded fifteen metres from the photographer, killing  him
 instantly.  Miraculously,  the  camera  and  photograph
survived.

On
numerous occasions in Bougainville, Somalia, Bosnia and East Timor he had put
himself into danger simply to take authentic photographs. Steve had a feeling
that he did it for the rush. When Australian soldiers were involved in a fire
fight with Indonesian forces on the border of West Timor and East Timor, Pete
Massicks had more than involved himself. He was in the passenger seat of a Land
Rover 110 when the first shot was fired. The driver stopped and signalled the
Rover behind him to reverse before reversing himself.

But
Pete opened the door and yelled, “Fuck that mate,” over his shoulder to the
driver before sprinting towards the fire fight. He had a video camera with him,
which bounced around as he ran.

He
followed the Australian soldiers as they fired and moved forward, capturing
most of the platoon assault on camera. The fire fight did not last long. The
only casualty was an Indonesian policeman who had died instantly from a shot in
the head.

Pete
waved the five soldiers into position in front of the Land Rover. “Righto,
machine gunners on the outside. You riflemen kneel down in the middle there.
That’s it. Good.” Pete took several photos before sitting down and chatting
with the men.

At
0926 hours the loud, high pitched roar of the C-130 drifted towards them from
the other end of the runway. It was an H-model aircraft, the camouflage paint
and the emblem of the rearing stallion on the tail plane indicated that it was
a 36 Squadron Herc. They had all worked with 36 SQN countless times. The C-130s
of 36 SQN had seen more action in one year than the FA-18 Hornets had in their
entire RAAF service. One C-130 was almost shot down in one of the troubled
areas of the world in 2002 when an American SAM site decided in all their
wisdom to “paint” their lasers on it.

The
aircrew had reacted immediately. A dull clunk, and many more in quick
succession, signified that flares had been fired. The pilot turned the aircraft
steeply away from the flares in the vain hope that if the Americans did fire,
the heat produced from the flares would draw the missile away from them. While
he was doing this, the pilot was speaking to the SAM site explaining who they
were and where they were going. Later, the same aircraft was shot at by heavy
enemy ground fire on one of its missions. The Hercules, often regarded as a
lumbering, lethargic plane was in fact at the sharp end of Australia’s defence
force.

Steve
had been onboard when one of the 36 SQN C-130s had performed fighter evasion
tactics during an exercise. He had always thought of the Hercules as a flying
bus but was amazed by the agility of the aircraft. He had almost reached for
the spew bags more than once. As it turned out, the fighter plane that had been
tracking them was shot down by a friendly fighter after the aircrew notified
them of the enemy’s position. It had only been an exercise but it demonstrated
the sheer power and performance of the C-130. Not only had they come through
unscathed but the fighter plane looking to shoot them down had been
“destroyed”. The exercise also proved the incredible skill and professionalism
of the aircrew.

The
soldiers took out the hearing protection they had been given earlier. It was a
simple matter of rolling the foam-like cylindrical material between forefinger
and thumb to condense it. Once it was placed in the ear, it would re-expand to
its original size inside the ear cavity. It was an effective and cheap means of
hearing protection. The Hercules turned off the runway and taxied towards the
marshaller who signalled to the pilot with two large batons where and when he
wanted him to stop.

The
lumbering beast came to a halt less than twenty metres from the waiting
soldiers. After half a minute or so the roar of the engine began to fade.

A
refuelling truck drove out and began moving towards them. A power cart was
driven out and the rear ramp was lowered. Once the aircraft had been refuelled,
the Land Rover was loaded, the soldiers boarded and the aircraft departed. The
aircraft touched down in Dubai after what seemed an eternity, with several
stops to refuel. The soldiers had slept some of the way, the rest of the time
they read or played cards. The next day the soldiers were flown on to Qatar,
where they stayed for four days before departing again.

*
* * * *

The
next leg of the trip would be another lengthy journey. Their flight, this time
by United States Air Force Hercules, would take them over Jordan and into
Turkey where they would eventually touch down at the air base outside
Colemerik. It would only be a few hours’ drive from there to their objective at
Barzan, across the border.

“She’s
not any old Herc,” boasted the American load master as he walked with the five
soldiers across the tarmac.

“What
d'ya mean?” Steve asked.

“We're
trialing an airlift element of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment.”
The loadie pointed at the C-130. “This is one of them. We're trialing it to see
how feasible it would be to drop heavy weapons or vehicles at high speed off to
soldiers on the ground who’re in the shit. They’ve been going for about four
months now. I saw them drop three Hum Vees out the back of one of the Hercs to
a waiting platoon on exercise about a week ago. The Hummers landed about fifty
metres or so from them, which is pretty good. Awesome sight. They’re still here
so I guess the government still hasn’t made up their mind.”

The
cargo door began to open and within moments was touching the tarmac. The
American load master stepped aboard and picked up his helmet from one of the
seats, a 9mm Glock was strapped to the outside of his right thigh.

He
gestured for them to form a semicircle around him before he squatted. The
soldiers moved around him, put their weapons and equipment down and knelt.
“Okay, there’s been a change of plan,” the Load Master had a strong Texan
drawl. “Our ETA at Colemerik coincides with a multi-national sortie being flown
out. Refueling tankers, fighters, bombers, ground support aircraft, you name
it, are outward bound around the time we are scheduled to arrive. We can’t
afford to circle around waiting for them to finish their deployment; we have a
VIP and his vehicle to pick up at Ercek.” He held up two fingers. “You guys
have two choices. You can either make a high altitude, low opening five
kilometres from the airbase and we’ll be on our merry way. Or you guys are
welcome to wait for the next airlift to Colemerik, which will be sometime
tomorrow morning, around 0145 hours. What do ya wanna do?”

“That’s
gotta be a rhetorical question,” grinned Scott. “How ‘bout a LALO?” Will asked
loudly.

“Yup,”
the loadie nodded. “We can do a low altitude, low opening.”

“What
about our vehicle,” asked Steve.

The
load master nodded. “That is the problem, there isn’t enough time to rig
parachutes to it, so we can’t drop it out the back.”

“Well
I don’t wanna go without our vehicle mate,” said Steve.