Thrust & Parry: Z Day (2 page)

Chapter 2

Jim wandered through the university smoking what was left of his cig and pondering the theory he had read earlier. As always he was attracting a lot of attention as he walked round. He was in full kit and everyone was giving him strange looks like he was about to shoot them or arrest them or something. He flicked the butt under a car as he approached the front gates. The TA centre was an innocent looking building situated amongst student accommodation for the Uni. It was built too long ago for anyone to remember its opening but it still looked pretty good. There was a huge archway that now had a door cut out of it that the civilians knocked on to see the recruiter. To the right of it was the vehicle gate, it was automatic and had one code to open the gate around 4 feet or so to let people through on foot and another to open it all the way to let cars in. The car park was surrounded on 3 sides by buildings. To the left was the drill hall, at the back was the garages filled with vehicles that in the civilian world would have been classed as antiques but in the military world they were damn near brand new. And on the right was the cadet centre that housed RAF, navy and army cadets. Jim pondered the point of cadets, since so little of them continued into the forces after, as he punched in the pedestrian code and watched the gate rattle open.

He stepped inside and turned left into the drill hall entrance. The drill hall was a large, rectangular and high ceilinged with a delicately engraved balcony at each end. On each wall was a remembrance plaque of some sort listing brave men of the Yorkshire regiment that had died in service. Jim wondered how long it would be before they erected an Afghan based plaque. He wandered over to the lads and was greeted as he joined in the usual banter. After around 10 minutes or so the call was made to fall in and everyone got into 3 neat rows in the middle of the drill hall.

After the parade everyone trundled upstairs into the bar area that had been neatly set out into rows of chairs facing one side with a speaker’s box and a projector at the front. Everyone was given 10 minutes before the CO was expected so Jim, like many others, nipped out the fire escape for a quick fag.

“You any idea what this is about corporal?” asked one of the newer privates.

“I’ve told you Paddy drop the corporal crap unless there’s an officer about.” Jim had trained Paddy on Tuesday nights and weekends the same as a handful of the privates that had recently passed out (the term given when a recruit passes his basic training.)

“Sorry Jim, what’s going on then?” he persisted.

“Ruski says this is another one of his “future of the army” talks.”

“If that’s the case then why did I get dicked to load a shit load of boxes of ammo into the armoury?”

“Wait what?” Jim’s ears suddenly sparked up big time. We never kept ammo on site. We didn’t have the right classification of TA centre or some bullshit.

“Yeah, and there was like 3 of those new sharpshooter riles in there” The lads always thought it would take years for us to see one outside of combat. The sharpshooter rifle was a new rifle that had recently been sanctioned for use. It was around the same weight as the SA80 but the barrel was around 4 inches longer. It used an ACOG (Advanced Combat Optics Gunsight) which gave it a x4 magnification. As for aiming it had a small green cross in the middle that was slightly transparent so that even when you had your target lined up you could still see it. The SA80 used a SUSAT (Single Unit Small Arms Trilux) sight that had a dirty great needle in the middle to aim with and usually blocked the target from view when firing from range.

“Something big’s happening mate, what else you heard?” Jim was determined to get as much information as possible so he knew what to expect.

“The lads think we’re being called up and the store man just took a fuck load of rations.”

“Rations?
We don’t have another weekend for nearly a month.”

“Look like there was enough for the regiment.”

“Ok cheers Paddy.” Jim stubbed his cig out and took his seat.

He was still pondering the new information when the order was given

“Sit up!” The sergeant major bellowed as the CO walked in. The CO was a balding dark haired man in his late 50’s. Built like a string bean with a hard stare like he was constantly taking Viagra eye drops.

“Evening chaps. As you were” The CO smiled at the lads as he set a few sheets down on the speaker’s box. Everyone visibly relaxed. “Now I bet you’re all wondering what an old cunt like me is doing this late at night out without a blanket and his fucking slippers.” A few giggles from the crowd and he continued. “Well I thought it best you all know that as of this moment you are all on standby. You will sign your weapon out and take it up above the garages to the pistol range where you can get a few rounds off and get it to shoot something right? We don’t expect at this point that you will need it but there is a chance you will be doing some crowd control. We have received intelligence that there will be a mass protest in Leeds in response to the government’s new cutbacks to benefits. For those of you who are completely culturally fucking illiterate the government has made some massive cutbacks as it has been seen that those who are on the dole have a shitload of disposable income. Now, whether you agree with these cutbacks or not you signed on the dotted line to protect the queen and you will do it. Personally I think they’re a fucking brilliant idea. Disposable income should be earned not just fucking given as a right.” As he looked round he saw he had everyone in the room’s full attention. “Once you have zeroed you will take all your kit
including
weapon with you and go home. You are to have your phone on you and on loud at all times and if you’re called you will kit up and move to a designated area that will be revealed to you in the call. Unless you are covered by a sick chit that states ‘no combat situations’ you will answer your call or you will be court marshalled. Now, your primary role will be stationed behind the police in case things get out of hand. You will get a full briefing on this if and when you get to the deployment area. Now on that note, are there any questions?” A few hands went up.

“Yes?” He pointed at Danno, a small stubby private that had been in around 8 years and had 3 tours under his belt. He kept being pushed towards promotion but always refused as he liked being a private.

“Sir, what’s the SOP (Standard Operating Procedure) for getting to these deployment areas?”

“If you are called up you’re to treat this as a national emergency. The police have been warned to ignore any speeding motorists dressed in camo. If you get stopped you are to show your deployment papers.”

“Wow” thought Jim “this really is serious.” More hands went in the air.

“Taylor” the CO pointed to the back of the room where a ginger sergeant from stores stood.

“Do we hold the same rights as the police once deployed sir?” Taylor had served in Northern Ireland and his stories of riot control were legendary.

“You do, as part of your kit you will be given plasticuffs to restrain any civilians. Your store man should supply them, speaking of which, who is he?” The CO enquired.

“Me, sir.” He replied with a smile.

“Ah and have you not been issued them yet?”

“No, sir.” The CO glanced to officer, who had accompanied him that evening, stood by the door to the left of him. The officer disappeared promptly. Taylor followed.

“Anyone else?
Yes” He pointed at Jim whose hand had shot back up.

“Yes sir, why us?
Why now? The police handled the London riots fine, why do they need us for local rioting.”

“We have collected information from various sources and it seems that the riots are being organised by a resistance group known locally as the Republican Rebellion. They originated in Texas but have recently created cells over here. They have access to some serious weaponry and we have it on good authority that they have managed to get hold of some over here.” Jim had been taking notes so far and he flicked over to his 5
th
page as the CO finished.

“But still sir, why use us? Surely SO19 are better trained to deal with this.”

“This is true. However, our good Mr Cameron has decided to take a no bullshit policy on this one and wants us there as we can shoot on command with a lot less paperwork. Right, I’ve got places to be. Any more questions pass them up the chain. If I don’t see you beforehand, good luck lads, stay safe.” And with that he gathered up his papers and left.

“Fucking hell Twitch this is serious.” It was Paulie who spoke from the seat behind Jim. Paulie was a massive guy. He was only 5 foot 11 but Jim was sure that when he
laid down he was still the same height. He was widely known for being thick because of his size but in actual fact he was an accountant, and a fucking good one.

“I know mate but it sounds like it’s either going to be getting a shit load deployment pay to lay on a bunk for a few month or it will be getting the chance to get stuck into some cunt on home turf.”

“You’re a sadistic bastard you know that Jim.” Jim flashed him an evil smile as he slid his fags out and stood up. He stepped out into the cool night air and lit up. Thinking about the possibilities he was lost in a world of preparation. He would need to tell his boss and inform him that he might be borrowing his car at some point. That would go down well. Dan’s car was his baby. It was an old Mini Cooper that he had been fitted with racing seats with an 8 point harness and a roll cage. He’d ripped out any other seating as he planned one day to take it rallying.

“Parry?”
It was the sergeant major who had just reappeared at the bar door. “Twitch where the fuck are you?”

“Sir?”
Jim stuck his head back in the fire escape.

“Ah, a word in my office ASAP please?”

“Sir” was all he got back as he dragged in the last of his cig and flicked it in the general direction of the bin. He followed him out the bar, down the stairs and across the drill hall.

“Something wrong sir?”
Jim enquired as they climbed the stairs to the CSM’s (Company Sergeant Major) office.

“No, no I just need to sort a few bits out.” He replied as he pushed open the door and stood to one side to let Jim in. He braced up in front of the desk and waited for the CSM to settle. As he sat down his bald head shone to the extent Jim was sure he polished it as much as his boots.

“At ease Parry, take a seat.” He motioned to an old fabric chair next to where Jim was stood. He took a seat and relaxed. “Right, first of all I understand you hit marksman rank on your last 4 ACMT’s (Annual Combat Marksman Test) is that right?”

“Yes sir but I thought they didn’t count anymore.”

“That was until they brought this new pea shooter out. I’m giving you one.”

“Shit, thank you sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet Twitch, I’m also giving you a section.”

“Sir?”
Jim mused. He had only got his rank a few months ago and hadn’t really had any experience with it yet.

“The 9 new privates, you trained them didn’t you?”

“I taught them as best I could sir.” Jim saw where this was going.

“Well they’re all yours. You’re Mini-me and Gimpy trained aren’t you?” The LMG (Light Machine Gun) or Mini-me as its commonly known was a belt fed machine gun and the GPMG (General Purpose Machine Gun) or Gimpy is
it’s big brother.

“Yes sir.”

“Good, pick 3 of your lads that you think can handle them and take a Gimpy and 2 Mini-me’s. I want them trained up and ready to zero within an hour.”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh and Jim?”

“Sir?”

“Get this deployment right and I’ll make sure you’re fast tracked to full screw.” Full screw was a military term for a corporal.

“Thanks sir. What section am I now then?” A section consists of 2 fire teams Charlie and Delta that work together in firefights. The section commander (usually a corporal) looks after the section and delegates tasks to the 2ic (2
nd
in command) to be completed. Each fire team has either the section commander or the 2ic and 3 other soldiers.

“7 platoon, 5
section.”

“Thanks sir.” Jim stood, braced up to the CSM and got a nod in return and then left. As he re-joined the lads he cleared his throat.

“Right lads listen in, the following people on me over here” he pointed to a vacant corner of the drill hall. “Paddy, Reg, Dave, Jones, Jolly, Stump, Whethers, Pinky and Rim.” The group followed Jim over to the corner. He looked round his new section. They all looked so new and green. Paddy had moved from Northern Ireland to go to Uni 3 years ago and had joined up to make some money. He had been waiting to get the security checks to clear for over a year before he was sworn in. They must have been making sure he wasn’t a secret IRA activist. Reg was a painter and decorator that always managed to have some paint on him somewhere. He wasn’t a small guy by any means. Standing at 6 foot 4 with biceps that could bench press Jim. Dave was another student. Studying criminal science he was heavily into CSI style programs and once he had a drink always ended up talking in depth about the best way to kill someone and get away with it. He was built like a twig but had proved that he could carry the same as everyone else on his basic training. Jones was a mechanic just round the corner which had given his some serious upper body strength. Jolly worked as a cashier in some crappy supermarket and had to be the most morbid bloke alive. He had his nickname coined on his first trip down to the TA centre after giving the entry forms a look like they’d just shot his dog. Stump had been on the books the longest and didn’t have a job per say. He bounced about a lot between different jobs but never settled long. He got his nickname from the limp he had. He had fallen off the assault course in Catterick and shattered his Tibia on his basic first time round. He was in rehab for 6 months and came back to try again. Whethers was a quiet guy that kept his head down and got on with everything. The true grey soldier. Jim hadn’t found out what he did outside of the TA yet but it seemed he preferred to listen to others conversations than talk. Pinky first came down to the TA centre with bright pink hair and even after dying it black he still kept the nickname. He worked as a barman and part owned a bar in the centre of town. Jim had been in a few times and always drank for free. Finally, Rim had to be the filthiest bloke going, stories of his conquests could turn your stomach and he could make any sentence dirty. A real sexual deviant.