The New Patrol Page 13

  Liam nodded, still in shock.

  ‘However, you will take on some of what Clark’s role involved. So that means you’ll be in charge of a fire team, among other things.’

  ‘Why?’ Liam asked eventually, his voice unstuck. ‘Why me?’

  ‘Don’t you want it?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘Good,’ said Cowell. ‘This is not just down to me, I can assure you of that. Miller and Steers both agree. In fact, it was actually Miller’s suggestion. You’ve the most recent experience out here. You’re keen. You’ve a good working relationship with the ANA and that is vital. Not to mention the fact that you’re picking up the language. Oh, and you’re a good shot too,’ he added. ‘Which is why you’ll be swapping your SA80 for Clark’s weapon.’

  ‘I get the Sharpshooter?’

  ‘Don’t get all emotional on me. You’re one of the best shots here, we all know it.’

  Liam was stunned. After a night of exhausting fighting, he was now being asked to deal with a serious jump in his role. What made it all the more confusing was that it was Cowell delivering the news, someone who didn’t seem to like him enough to offer any kind of reward.

  ‘Get your team together immediately,’ ordered Cowell. ‘We’re going out with two fire teams to carry out a battle damage assessment. We need to confirm kills from last night, if possible – not that we’ll find any bodies as the Taliban will have taken their dead. But it’s good practice.’

  Liam knew his one definite kill was still lying out there. He’d checked later through his ACOG. The body hadn’t moved.

  ‘And Scott?’

  ‘Yes, boss?’ said Liam.

  ‘Don’t fuck this up, understand me? I’ll be watching you. Like a fucking hawk.’

  Outside the patrol base, Cowell had his fire team, and Liam for the first time had his, making up a patrol of eight men in total. With Cowell commanding, Liam was following his orders to the letter. No mess ups. No mistakes. He wasn’t going to give anyone a chance to come back at him saying that he was a bad replacement for Clark.

  With Liam were Clint, Ade and James. This wasn’t running as a normal patrol, as any contact could be supported easily from the lads up on the walls and in the sangars. So no one was carrying heavy kit, like the light machine gun – LMG – which was based on the Minimi LMG and belt-fed, perfect for sustained suppressive fire. Instead, they were all armed with SA80s, with Clint carrying an under-slung grenade launcher – UGL. James, Liam noticed, though carrying his SA80, also had his combat shotgun strapped to his back. He wondered if James slept with it, as the weapon never seemed far from his side. Liam was armed with his SA80, the Sharpshooter judged unnecessary for what they were now doing.

  After an hour searching, Cowell’s voice came over the PRR. ‘As I suspected, they’ve sodded off with the bodies. Anything, Scott?’

  Liam was making his way over to where he’d taken out the sniper. ‘No bodies,’ he replied. ‘Plenty of blood splatter, though. Looks like some of them got really fucked up. It’s a mess in places.’

  ‘They pick a fight with us,’ said Cowell, ‘then they can expect nothing less.’

  Liam had his three move forward. ‘Cowboy? Can you see it yet?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Clint. ‘You sure it’s this way?’

  Liam was positive they should’ve been on top of his kill. He’d done his best to memorize the very spot he’d dropped him.

  Then a shout. ‘Hold!’ It was James. ‘Up ahead, Scott. Direct. Body on the ground. Partly hidden.’

  Liam looked, spotted it. ‘Nicely done, Stirling,’ he said. ‘I’ll go check it out.’

  ‘No you won’t,’ said James. ‘I will.’

  Liam glanced round at him. Was he disobeying an order? Trouble was, Liam wasn’t sure he’d given an order in the first place. He’d just said he was going to check on the body. Shit, he thought, this is my first time out as a fire team commander and I’m already fucking it up.

  Liam said, ‘What’s up, Stirling? You see something I can’t?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said James. ‘But I’m used to spotting stuff you wouldn’t see till you stepped on it and it took your legs off at the knees. I’ll go check first.’

  Liam was impressed. James was putting himself on point because his skills matched the need at that moment.

  James slipped forward. Liam kept an eye on him, had Clint and Ade scan the scrub around them, ready and alert.

  James came back.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Fucker’s booby-trapped,’ said James.

  Liam wasn’t sure what he was getting at. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘The body’s wired up to something I can’t see,’ James replied. ‘Someone must have sneaked in, set the body up, then legged it. Crafty bastard.’

  Liam was taken aback, not just by what James had discovered, but by the fact that his actions had potentially saved his life.

  He called it in over the PRR. ‘We’ll need Shah out here,’ he said. ‘He’s best placed to deal with this.’

  ‘That decision is not yours to make,’ Cowell replied. ‘Fall back to the compound. We’ll discuss there.’

  ‘But, Corporal—’ began Liam, but Cowell cut him off.

  Back in the compound, Liam was with Cowell, Miller and Steers.

  ‘We should send Shah,’ Liam said again. ‘Stirling says the body is fitted up with some kind of explosive device. He couldn’t see it but he was pretty sure.’

  ‘My view is we call it in, sir,’ said Cowell. ‘We need the lads from Bastion out here. Counter IED. They’re best suited for this.’

  Lieutenant Steers thought for a moment, then said, ‘I think Corporal Cowell has a point, Scott. Shah is good, I agree, but none of us have seen him deal with this kind of situation. He may have no experience.’

  Liam noticed that Cowell was staring at him, almost daring him to disagree.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Liam. ‘Shall I punch it through?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Steers. ‘Is the site marked?’

  Liam nodded. James had marked the body and surrounding scrub with almost a whole can of the red spray paint he used to identify possible IEDs.

  ‘Then call it in now.’

  Liam set off to where the radio was situated when Cowell came over. ‘A word to the wise,’ he said. ‘It’s never a good idea to openly question someone senior. Me, or the lieutenant.’

  ‘I wasn’t, I didn’t . . .’ said Liam.

  ‘I’m just telling you now,’ replied Cowell. ‘You may be good, but don’t get cocky. If you do, I’ll be all over you, Scott, of that you can be certain.’

  Cowell turned and left Liam alone to punch in a call to Bastion. As he did so, he reflected on what had happened. How had he been cocky? He wasn’t even sure that he had. But Cowell probably had a point, he realized. He was now more visible to the corporal, and to Miller and Steers. His actions would be scrutinized very closely. He needed to be even more alert.

  Mistakes were not an option.

  16

  A few days later, Liam and the rest of the multiple, with Zaman along on Lieutenant Steers’s request, had left the compound to head on out to the next ANA patrol base, PB2. The first month in Afghanistan was already over and for Liam it had flown by. The pace of what they’d been doing hadn’t let up from the moment they’d got off the plane. From the RSOI training in Bastion, to the firefight on arriving at the HLS, and on through everything since, Liam hadn’t had a chance to sit and think about what he was doing. Not that it mattered. He was happy to be soldiering, and to be doing it with a bunch of blokes he trusted.

  He sometimes found himself thinking about Martin, but because he had already gone through the loss of Cameron, he felt better equipped to deal with his death and it wasn’t affecting him like he’d initially worried it might. And now, with Lance Corporal Clark gone, he was responsible for his own fire team, and had been given charge of Clark’s Sharpshooter rifle, in addition to his own personal SA80
. Life was tough, but it was that which kept Liam hooked. He was learning all the time, even by his mistakes.

  ‘Another day, another shit hole,’ said Rob, dropping his bergen off by a bed in PB2.

  ‘Look, if you’re not happy with the accommodation, you should talk to the manager,’ said Clint. ‘Ask for an upgrade.’

  Rob wasn’t listening, though. Once again, he was back on his iPod.

  Zaman came over. ‘Corporal Cowell has asked for you,’ he said to Liam, and pointed across the compound. ‘Over there.’

  ‘What’s it about this time?’ Liam asked.

  Zaman shrugged. ‘He did not say. I was told to get you. That is all.’

  Ade sparked up with, ‘Off you go, then. Remember to take an apple for teacher.’

  ‘Piss off,’ Liam replied. ‘I’m not his pet.’

  Ade laughed. ‘Denial won’t work, Scott,’ he said. ‘The more you deny it, the more it becomes obvious that it’s true. Now be a good boy and fuck off.’

  Liam tried to laugh it off, but couldn’t. Now that he’d been given additional responsibility, Cowell seemed to have made it his mission to be on him 24/7, making sure he was keeping an eye on things, giving him additional responsibilities like carrying out spot checks on weapons and feet. The weapons Liam didn’t mind, but checking people’s feet was not his idea of fun. It made sense, because if your feet were shagged, you were useless out on patrol. He’d managed to delegate the role to Nicky – she was the medic, so it made sense – but he still had to be alongside. Well-cared-for everyone’s feet may have been, but sweet-smelling they weren’t.

  Liam walked over to Cowell. ‘You wanted me, boss?’

  The corporal motioned for him to sit down. ‘We’ll be running a patrol later,’ he said. ‘We’re doing a recce into a potentially hazardous area.’

  ‘How so?’ asked Liam.

  ‘As you know, Yakchal is a proper badlands place. Highway One is the focus of the ANA. They work in the main on keeping it clean, keeping it secure.’

  ‘It’s the main supply route through the area,’ said Liam. ‘They’ve not got much choice.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Cowell. ‘Which is why they want us to have a scout about to see if the Taliban are around and up to some of their shitty bollocks mischief.’

  ‘They have suspicion?’

  Cowell nodded. ‘They’ve got intelligence, but it’s scant, to say the least. All they really know is a whole stack of mights and possibles. We need to see if any of that has the potential to become definites.’

  ‘So what’s the plan?’

  ‘We’re going for a look-see,’ said Cowell. ‘Get an idea of the area, use binos to get a wider idea without treading too far into what could be a big pile of shit.’

  ‘Why not use the trucks?’

  Cowell shook his head. ‘They’d draw too much attention,’ he said. ‘We’ll be able to get enough of an idea with this approach. We’ll see what to do after. Right?’

  ‘I’ll get everyone together,’ said Liam. ‘What time are we going?’

  Cowell checked his watch. ‘Get everyone to push their scoff into their faces. We’ll go at 1300.’

  It was just gone two hours into the patrol and Zaman, to everyone’s frustration, was dealing with the third IED that day.

  ‘Not liking this,’ said Ade. ‘Area should be clear. It’s like someone’s got their eye on us, putting sodding IEDs down ahead of us every step we take.’

  Liam was inclined to agree, and again found himself thinking back to when they’d come under sustained attack on arrival at Patrol Base 1. But he kept those thoughts to himself; no point spooking everyone even more than they probably already were.

  ‘Just keep your ground sight working,’ he said, knowing that despite his reservations, which were growing with every step, it was Corporal Cowell’s call. IEDs or not, the patrol was going ahead. And with James on point and doing a good job of finding them, and Zaman dealing with them in his usual relaxed manner, Liam wasn’t too worried. Not yet, anyway.

  ‘I’ve not blinked since we set out,’ said Clint.

  Zaman came past, the IED now safe. Liam nodded a thanks.

  ‘An easy one,’ said Zaman with a shrug. ‘Could do it blindfolded.’

  ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t,’ said Liam.

  Zaman grinned and walked on past.

  ‘Still can’t believe he doesn’t wear protective kit,’ said Rob. ‘Fucking mental. One of those things go off, at the range he’s at, all we’ll get to see is pink mist and no more Shah. The lunatic.’

  ‘He’s good,’ said Liam. ‘That’s what counts. And if he thinks wearing that stuff will hinder him, then I’m not going to complain. Whatever it is he does, it works.’

  Nods all round. Everyone agreed. They’d all grown to like Zaman, and it hadn’t taken long for the soldiers to accept him. He was easy-going, which helped, as did his sense of humour. But above all, he’d done a good job in keeping them alive, never bragging or expecting thanks, just getting on with it and doing it well.

  An hour later, Cowell called Liam up over the PRR. Liam headed up the line to chat face-to-face.

  ‘We’ve scanned this whole area,’ Cowell said, pointing at a map in his hands. ‘I’ve enough notes from what we’ve seen to put a report together for the ANA on potential Taliban threat. Do you have anything to add?’

  Liam shook his head. ‘I’ve given you everything we’ve all seen,’ he said. ‘The Taliban are here, I’m sure – the IEDs are evidence of that – but wherever they are, they’re hiding well.’

  ‘Could be caves,’ said Cowell. ‘The ANA have mentioned that the area round here has pockets of them. Not that they’ve checked them out.’

  ‘Can’t blame them,’ said Liam. ‘We all know what happened in the caves of Tora Bora.’

  During the second Iraq war, the SAS had gone into a warren of caves occupied by the Taliban and Al Qaeda. The fight had been close quarter and brutal, the SAS troopers in the end resorting to hand-to-hand, falling back on using knives. Caves were not a good place to go pick a fight. Despite that, though, the SAS had come out on top. It was already told as legend.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Cowell, ‘we’re not about to go looking. That’s the job of the sneaky beaky lads, the ones doing reconnaissance stuff. SAS, Pathfinders, Recce Platoon.’

  Before joining the army, Liam’s view of the blokes who passed SAS Selection was that they were untouchably hard. You just didn’t fuck with the SAS. Since joining up, he’d learned a little more about them, and the rest of the lads doing reconnaissance. They weren’t built like Superman, and most of their actual role was to collect intelligence deep behind enemy lines. What made them hard was that if anything kicked off, they were usually left to their own devices to get the hell out. Their motto wasn’t just ‘who dares wins’, it was: train hard, fight easy; train easy, die. And a small part of Liam, the part that had kept him going through his training, stopped him giving up, wondered if he too had the steel to pass and join such an elite group.

  ‘So we head back?’ he asked.

  Cowell nodded. ‘I’ll bring up the rear this time,’ he said. ‘You can lead us back in.’

  Liam nodded confidently, but underneath his gut was twisting. This was another step up in what he was having to do. He just had to focus and everything would be fine. With Cowell watching, hawk-eyed and seemingly keen for him to make a mistake, he had no other choice.

  The walk back to the compound was quiet, really no different to the walk out. The scenery was the same, the sun, moving slowly across the sky, burning down on them with the same heat. Liam spotted things he’d seen on the way out, odd rocks here and there, a bush he remembered for no real reason. But – and why it was he couldn’t quite pin down – every step had him spooked. Something was up, but he didn’t know what. Everything looked normal, but his sixth sense was going haywire.

  Half an hour into the walk back, James pulled everyone up.

  ‘Got another
one,’ he said to Liam over the PRR.

  ‘But we cleared the way,’ said Liam, and his sense that something was wrong was immediately heightened. ‘This is ground we’ve already walked. You positive?’

  ‘I fucking know that,’ said James, an edge to his voice. ‘This one is right where we walked. It’s even got our footprints over the top of it.’

  Liam went cold. Someone was out here with them, following, and with lethal intent.

  ‘Say again?’

  ‘This one is right under our route out here,’ said James. ‘I shit you not, Scott. Some fucker’s sorted an IED under our feet.’

  Liam called for Zaman and explained.

  ‘Very dangerous,’ said Zaman.

  ‘It’s an IED,’ said Liam. ‘Of course it’s dangerous.’

  Zaman shook his head. ‘No, that is not what I meant, Scott. Listen . . .’

  Liam leaned in closer.

  ‘It is not as you may think with IEDs,’ said Zaman. ‘They are not laid and set to detonate at the same time. The Taliban are sneakier than that.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘They lay the IEDs first,’ said Zaman. ‘They can leave them there for months if they wish.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘They wait,’ Zaman continued. ‘They wait for soldiers to be in the area, then they go round and connect up the battery packs. This means all evidence of digging is gone.’

  ‘So what you’re saying is someone’s come back and connected this one up because we’ve been pinged? They’ve been watching us?’

  Zaman nodded. ‘This, and others perhaps. I do not know. But this one for sure.’

  ‘Shit . . .’

  ‘Scott, what’s the hold-up?’ Cowell was on the PRR. ‘Why is Shah talking to you when he should be up sorting the IED?’

  Liam fed back what Zaman had told him. ‘They’re following us, boss. Probably have been since we left. I don’t like it.’

  ‘And neither do I,’ said Cowell. ‘We need to shift. And by shift, I mean get a fucking move on!’

  Liam ordered Zaman forward. But no sooner had the ANA soldier dealt with the IED than the telltale crack of gunfire shattered the moment and dust was kicked up all around the patrol.