The Forgotten Land (41 page)

“Considering
their fire power,” Will butted in, “we’ll need to be spread out pretty good,
it’ll be hard to communicate.”

“Yup,
good points,” acknowledged Steve. “Only one 66 to fire at a time and they will
be fired from left to right, if one misses its mark, the next bloke along the
line will fire his at the missed target. I have two 66s, the rest of you have
3, so I’ll only be firing for the first two bouts.” “That’s workable,” said
Matt. “You considered smoke?”

“Yeah
I have. If that armour gets too close, I’ll pop my smoke. When I do, I want you
all to throw or fire smoke as well, okay?” The others nodded. “So Will and me
will have smoke rounds up the spout of the 203s. When the smoke has drifted
across their field of view we start bugging out hard, as fast as we can.”

“Yeah
okay,” Will said, replacing the high explosive round from his 203 with a smoke
round.

Steve
did the same before half standing and glancing over the rock to watch the APCs.
“Right, any questions?” “Yeah, where do you want us?” Will asked.

“Right,
Will, you duck off to the left, see that little rocky outcrop?” Steve said
pointing to a small stand of rocks about forty metres from their current
position.

“Yup.”

“Position
yourself there, I will initiate the contact, then the bloke on my right will
fire, and then the bloke on his right will fire and then it’ll be your turn to
engage, okay Will?”

“Yeah
righto,” said Will, taking a quick look at their advancing enemy before
sprinting off towards his target.

Heleena
followed him.

“No!”
Will said pushing her back. “It’s safer with Steve, there’s more cover!"

“My
duty is by your side!” she said. “We fight together.”

Will
relented and they took cover together.

“No
questions from me,” said Matt. “Or me,” said Scott.

“Right,
well in that case, Scott, see that weird looking rock?” Steve pointed off to
the right about sixty metres.

Scott
nodded.

“That’s
you,” said Steve.

Scott
placed the mag 58 over his shoulder, shrugged the three 66s into a more
comfortable position on his back and then loped off towards his target.

“I
want you to stay here, Matt,” said Steve, grunting as he picked up the .50 cal.

“Why?”

“Because
this is the best cover and you’re the best shot out of all of us, so it stands
to reason you should be the most protected. Plus I just spotted a better position
for this little beauty,” he patted the cold metal of the .50 cal.

“Where
are you off to?” asked Matt.

“There’s
a fallen tree about twenty metres to our left, I’ll be there.”

“Not
good cover,” said Matt glancing at the trunk that was less than four foot high.

“No,
but it’s pretty good concealment.”

“All
right, mate, if you’re sure?”

“Yeah
I’ll be right, I’d rather this than facing a couple of hundred blood thirsty
tribesmen armed with nothing but a sword,” chuckled Steve.

“True,”
grinned Matt, “righto, mate, take care, eh?”

“Yeah,
will do. Listen, there’s a good chance some of us might not come out of this.
If that happens and you run out of ammo,” Steve’s voice trailed away.

“If
someone gets slotted I’ll grab their ammo, yeah I get the picture,” Matt
grabbed Steve’s arm, “but that ain’t gonna happen, mate, okay? We’ll get out of
this, now get going while they’re still out of range.”

“Okay,”
said Steve, “remember I only have two 66s so don’t wait for me to fire on the
third bout!”

“Yup,
understood, I won’t be hesitating,” Matt said.

Steve
nodded once at Matt, and ran towards his position. The rumble of the diesel
engines grew ever closer.

The
four soldiers were well spread out and would be put to the test. Only with a
hard fight, luck on their side and the fast arrival of an extraction force
would they walk away from this fight. But then the SASR was a volunteer force,
no one forced a soldier to join, and every member of the Regiment knew they
might one day be in this situation. They all accepted that possibility.

The
soldiers were still within shouting distance of each other, but once the
fighting began, the noise would overwhelm any communication. But he was
confident that each man knew what he was to do and when. He watched the APCs
racing across the desert at close to sixty kilometres per hour. The tank
ploughed along at a more sedate forty kilometres per hour. The upside to this
was that the faster APCs were throwing dust across the tank’s axis of advance,
partially blocking the tank’s targeting capability.

“One
minute!” shouted Steve, pulling his 66 open and placing it on his shoulder. He
intended to fire at the left track of the closest APC. If the 66 hit its mark
it would take the APC out of the fight, forcing the infantry in the back to
deploy into heavy machinegun and rifle fire.

“Thirty
seconds!” Steve shouted. They could feel the powerful vibrations caused by the
monstrous engines softly rumbling the ground beneath their feet.

Steve
looked along the line. Each of the soldiers had a 66 on their shoulder, staring
down the sites, ready to engage. He took a deep breath, the adrenalin pumping
through his body. He turned back, aimed the weapon at his target and placed his
hand on the trigger. Firing from an elevated position was sometimes a difficult
proposition, because to hit a target accurately the weapon should be aimed
slightly lower than the target. The opposite was the case if firing up at a
target on an elevated position and Steve hoped that the Iraqi APC gunners did
not know this. But he doubted it.

“Firing!”
Steve shouted, and fired the weapon with a thunderous roar. The flight of the
rocket took less than two seconds before it slammed into its target, hiding the
targeted APC from sight behind a curtain of black smoke, dirt and chunks of
rock. The APC’s main gun, a 25mm chain gun which would take any thin-skinned
vehicle apart if aimed accurately, fired towards Steve. But it was wildly
inaccurate; the huge rounds screamed through the air metres above his head.
Steve threw the weapon to the ground and was reaching for the second 66 when he
heard another APC main gun open up. The thundering boom of Matt’s rocket
launcher engaged a second target. Steve released the lock button and slid the
66 out to its full extent, the sights flipping up out of their recess. He stood
back up to see that the APC he had hit was now motionless. One track had been
destroyed so the armoured vehicle could not advance any further. He could see
the 25mm gun, which only had a limited range of movement, tracking left and
right as it sought a target. The vehicle Matt had targeted was still hidden by
a dark cloud of dust. Placing the weapon down Steve crouched by the .50 cal. As
the first of the Iraq soldiers came spilling out the back of the immobilised
APC he opened fire in short bursts, watching them fall systematically. A tracer
round hit the APC and ricocheted to the left in a white blur, slamming into a
tree and dropping to the ground where it lay smouldering. Steve ducked as the
25 mm gun fired. Several rounds shattered segments of the large fallen trunk he
was hiding behind. He could feel warm liquid sliding down his left arm where a
tiny piece of shattered trunk had lodged in his skin. When the gun fell silent
he knelt up. Several Iraqi soldiers who were more cautious had dismounted from
the APC and had taken cover behind the armoured vehicle. They waited for a
moment before sprinting for the safety of cover but Steve gunned them down
swiftly, throwing himself to the ground as the 25mm gun opened up once more.

Scott
fired his 66 which sounded more distant, but Steve watched the rocket hammer
into another APC with a violent explosion. Although it was almost impossible to
tell, he was sure it had hit the right-hand side track dead centre. Steve could
feel the powerful diesel engines rumbling the ground violently now as the APCs
grew closer. The APC Matt had hit was also disabled, and a second before Steve
opened fire on the soldiers streaming out the back of the vehicle, he heard the
distinct crack of Matt’s sniper rifle. Within ten seconds the bodies of the
Iraqis were strewn around the disabled APC. The main guns of several APCs were
firing now, their murderously large rounds buzzing, zipping or hammering into
the ground near the Australian soldiers.

Will’s
rocket scudded towards its target but hit the APC itself. The armoured vehicle
drove right through the explosion.

“Shit!”
Steve yelled and stood up. Abandoning the .50 cal, he brought the 66 into his
shoulder and fired. The rocket exploded in a violent roar that shattered the
track and disabled the APC. Now out of 66s, Steve knelt by the massive
machinegun. The APC Scott had engaged had also been disabled and as Steve
brought his weapon to bear, he saw that Scott had killed the occupants. They
lay around the armoured vehicle like rag dolls. But Scott had disappeared
behind cover again as the 25mm main gun of the APC sought retribution.

Matt’s
66 shattered another APC track, but a small group of the Iraqi soldiers were
wise enough to throw smoke. They had broken contact and taken cover behind a
stand of rocks some two hundred metres from the Australians’ position. Scott’s
rocket hammered into another APC and before the dust had settled, he had opened
fire with his mag 58 in a narrow corridor either side of the hidden vehicle.
When the dust and smoke settled it was obvious the heavy machinegun had dealt
some horrific work. Obviously the Iraqis had been taught to dismount their APCs
and come streaming up to the left and right of the vehicle, but it was a
practise that was costing them their lives. Several had retreated, however, and
return fire was zipping up towards the Australians.

Will’s
rocket hammered into another APC, but again he missed. The vehicle moved
swiftly towards the Australian position.

“You
fuckin’ retard!” Scott shouted.

Matt’s
rocket hit the APC’s track and the vehicle shuddered to a halt. Scott’s rocket
flew into another APC with a shuddering explosion that hid the vehicle from
sight, but the APC appeared seconds later, its tracks intact and the 25mm gun
thundering towards Scott’s position. Will fired his rocket, which took the APC
in the side. The track broke away from the drive wheels.

“Who’s
the retard now?” shouted Will.

“Yeah,
righto,” yelled Scott, as massive bullets whizzed above his head, hungry to
find flesh.

Steve
glanced over the tree trunk at the eight disabled APCs. Their 25mm guns were
still active. One tree was cut in half. The huge trunk fell to the ground in a
shrieking roar, throwing dust into the air.

Steve
gathered up the .50 cal and sprinted for Matt’s position, hunkering down behind
the cover of the rocky outcrop.

“Didn’t
turn out quite as planned,” Steve said with a grin.

“Move
in!” he yelled towards Will. Then yelled the same command to Scott.

The
two soldiers gathered their weapons, left the spent rocket launchers and made a
sprint for the rocky outcrop. The APCs’ 25mm guns followed lethargically.

“We
still got the fuckin’ tank!” yelled Scott. “Yeah I know, mate, no need to
yell!” said Steve.

“Shit
sorry, mate, I’ve only had half the Iraqi army firing at me for the last five
minutes! All I can hear is a high pitched scream in one ear and Will’s whining
in the other!” shouted Scott.

“Piss
off,” said Will.

Heleena
was glowering at Scott, her hand hovering over a knife hilt.

“He’s
only joking!” Will laughed.

“Bloody
hell,” Scott was looking at Heleena, arms spread out in mock surrender.

More
25mm rounds zipped overhead, hammering into trees, sparking against and shattering
rocks, slashing through undergrowth and bouncing violently into the air.

“Righto,
we’re going to use smoke, blind those fuckin’ APCs. Their 25mm guns aren’t
doing us any favours. Once they’re blinded, we move on that tank, fast as fuck.
We need to be able to get under the elevation of his turret before he fires.”

“Then
what?” asked Will.

“Get
up onto the tank, open the hatch and slot the fuckers inside,” replied Matt.
“One or two grenades should do the trick.”

“We’ll
work something out,” said Scott pulling two smoke grenades out of a pouch on
his chest webbing.

“You
should still have smoke, yeah?” Steve asked Will who had the 203 grenade
launcher attached under his M4 rifle. He nodded.

“Good,
so do I,” said Steve.

“You
stay here!” Will told Heleena. “Please! We’ll be right back!”

She
nodded.

The
grumbling roar of the tank was far lower and much more powerful than the idle
burr of the APC engines. The massive vehicle doggedly attacked the slope, and
with a burst of dark diesel fumes from its exhaust, began climbing towards the
Australian position. Its 105mm gun was still pointing skyward, but as it
climbed, the huge weapon began descending towards its target.