Deep Behind Enemy Lines, page 19
‘Corporal Newell, you dig in here and Corporal Stevens you dig in at the other spot we found. You’ll both have to come back to my position and collect your equipment, radios, HP Binoculars and NVGs. Let’s get to it,’ Bill ordered.
When the men were organised and the radios set up and tested, they settled down for what could turn out to be a lengthy reconnaissance. Bill had no trouble sending a sitrep to the GWS Centre at Kahawa because connection was good, and it was quite clear Travers had done a respectable job of establishing the rebroadcast station in good time and obviously on high ground to provide a good radio path. Now, all that was necessary was to test the radios between Bill’s team and the coalition platoons when they arrived.
After sorting out his kit and settling down, Bill had a call from Major Brown to say there was a slight change to the plan, and the coalition platoons would be leaving on the 24th December. Bill passed this information along to his men and told them he’d arrange to meet with all parties and, when everyone was assembled, agree a suitable time to test inter-team communication. Now it was time for the surveillance job of the shoreline, just in case the insurgents arrived earlier than anticipated.
Bill reflected Christmas was supposed to be a time of good cheer and happiness. On many occasions during his time in the army he had missed being with his family, so it was with a wry smile he thought how, once again, he’d be missing out. He wasn’t the only one of course. The men would also be missing their colleagues and thoughts of family members, whilst they took part in this operational duty but unfortunately; such was the exigency of being a soldier. The cynical view was no-one ever said life was fair, and if you couldn’t stand the heat then you should get out of the kitchen.
On Christmas Eve morning, Bill received a call from the lead lieutenant on the secure channel, informing him the military platoons were well on their way, and confirming the grid reference location for him and his team. He passed this onto his men, telling them he anticipated they’d arrive close to sundown and the team should be ready to receive them.
At 1830 hours, as the sun made its descent and dusk approached, two three-ton trucks pulled to a stop close to Bill’s position. The officer in charge, a Lieutenant of the Oxfordshire Regiment, told his troops to remain on the vehicles as the second platoon officer, a Lieutenant of the KAR, joined him. The KAR Lieutenant shook Bill’s hand.
‘Staff Sergeant Scraggs, good to meet you again and to assist in this little scrum. OK, as discussed back at HQ, we’ll position two Bren-guns to the north of you and two to the south about 1,000 yards apart and equally spaced. This’ll provide a good lay down area of crossfire once you spot them and confirm their identity and approach. During the next five days our platoons will depend on your information flow relating to any incoming approach from seaward.’
‘That goes with the territory and in accordance with our assignment Sir responded Bill a little sarcastically.
The Oxfordshire Regiment’s officer shook Bill’s hand. ‘As we understood it at the meeting, a communication channel will be kept open at all times between your observation posts and our gunners.’
‘That’s correct Lieutenant and we’re to send nightly sitreps to our command control room in Nairobi on the secure channel, to be coordinated through me. Should an emergency arise then it would be passed to me on the dedicated channel. Otherwise, we maintain strict radio silence whilst on permanent standby.’
‘Agreed, Staff. Once we’re settled into our positions and the trucks are suitably camouflaged we’ll make contact to advise you we’re ready and waiting for action.’
‘So, Lieutenant, the first daily sitrep will be today at 2359 hours. I think it would be a good idea if you take the radios now, otherwise there’ll be no communication between us,’ said Bill, grinning, and walked over to his trailer to collect the six radios and hand generators for topping up the batteries, which he passed over.
‘Thanks,’ said both officers in unison, who then climbed on board as their vehicles moved out.
Inter-team test calls were made to confirm all was quiet on their watch, which Bill acknowledged, and the first sitrep was put through at precisely 2359 hours to the GWS control room. Peace reigned and nothing untoward was being observed from any of the watch positions. Bill and his corporals, using the NVGs, could see the Bren-gun emplacements covering more than 4,000 yards of a crossfire lay-down area. It would be a miracle if anyone in the firing line survived.
Operation Sea Eagle was about to commence with a vengeance.
Chapter 36
At a few minutes to midnight the Hola region warlord called his band of around thirty-five strongly armed Somali warriors together, no more than a mile away from the irrigation plant, to finalise their impending attack on the Tana River Irrigation Company. It was decided to launch, as agreed with Khalid, at two in the morning, and they were to remain on standby for final instructions. At 0130, just short of their deadline, they received the order to attack.
Inside the plant’s perimeter fence, four GSU troopers were alert, maintaining vigilant guard on the premises as the first barrage of automatic gunfire came without warning. The troopers took defensive action. Members of this unit had a formidable reputation for bravery on the battlefield and were fearsome adversaries. The firefight raged for more than an hour during which time none of the Somali insurgents could breach the perimeter fencing. Mr Timms had hunkered down in his private accommodation with a Smith and Wesson automatic weapon in his hand, ready for any breach of his private accommodation.
As luck would have it, the insurgents’ mounted machine gun on their old vehicle jammed; it then became a basic small arms battle.
The four GSU guards exited the perimeter of the compound and, firing constantly, moved into the bush to tackle the attacking band in hand-to-hand combat. The GSU troopers spotted several dead bodies, most of whom had died from marksman shots to the head. Others were lying severely wounded having had the misfortune to be in the path of GSU bullets, and they were summarily executed; the GSU was well known for not taking prisoners.
Before a wounded insurgent was despatched to his maker, one of the soldiers held him by the throat and made him say how many there had been in the band. The Somali, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and a gaping wound in his side said there had been thirty-five; he was praying to his God this would keep him alive but was disavowed of this hope with a single shot to the head. Those who had survived beat a hasty retreat; they were no match for these redoubtable soldiers.
The defending force took one fatality and four casualties with non-life-threatening injuries, which were attended to by Mr Timms and one of his medical team, interim to getting them back to BMH in Nairobi.
The after-battle head count of insurgents totalled ten dead and twelve injured who’d been executed, which left thirteen running for their lives.
Timms recounted the attack and details of casualties to the appropriate Duty Military HQ Officer. The entire incident had been extremely concerning but under the circumstances the loss of one life, although very regrettable, was understandable.
Everything remained quiet on Nyali Beach over the whole Christmas period, which was no doubt being traditionally celebrated back in Nairobi. Having nothing better to occupy his thoughts, Bill lapsed into a nostalgic mood, musing wistfully on his mother and sister, remembering the many Christmases they’d shared together before army life took over. He would have so loved to be with them right now. Regrettably, being one of Her Majesty’s defenders of the realm, the importance of his present assignment took precedence; there’d be other Christmases. Assuming I’m not being over optimistic, he thought. At least he’d had the foresight to leave cards and presents with his sister on his last leave for the occasion, so was glad about that at least.
Christmas Day passed quietly, as did the next. Just past midnight the stiff breeze dropped and all that could be heard was the gentle whisper of the palm fronds and the peaceful gurgle of waves that ebbed and flowed across the pebbles.
Bill was scanning the shoreline and further out into the ocean when he suddenly caught sight of what he thought was a brief flash of light as the quarter moon broke through the clouds and reflected off something on the water. He repeated the sweep with his NVG’s and there it was again. He contacted corporals Stevens and Newell on the radio whisper mode.
‘Staff here. I’ve just detected a brief flash about 400 yards out to sea, at around 11 o’clock as you look straight out to the horizon. Take a look and tell me if you see anything.’
They both replied, confirming his sighting.
‘It looks like it might be one, or possibly two, amphibians approaching. If they’re who we suspect, the landing point will probably be near to 400 yards north of the furthest Bren-gun position,’ said Corporal Stevens.
‘OK, I’ll alert the platoon commanders and gunners,’ Bill whispered. He made the call giving the approximate position and continued watching as the craft drew closer to the beach. It became apparent this was their quarry, and he estimated the landing would be in about fifteen minutes.
The men in the two silently approaching amphibians were using paddles instead of outboard motors, and the closer they got to the shoreline it became obvious the amphibians carried eight heavily-armed Shifta insurgents. The amphibians beached and were pulled up a little back from the water line. Bill relayed this information to the commanders who could clearly see the insurgents, and instructed their gunners to stand by and wait for their command.
Everyone watching was totally amazed to see the insurgents openly walking south along the beach in a group instead of heading for cover of the tree line. Of course, they had no need to be worried since they weren’t aware of the reception awaiting them. Like lemmings, they were heading straight into the crossfire zone. When they reached ground zero the KAR commander lifted his loud hailer.
‘Lay down your arms, you are surrounded,’ and repeated the command in Swahili. ‘Lala chini mikono yako uko kuzungukwa.’
Spotlights lit up the entire area and the insurgents started to run to the treeline above the beach for cover, a distance of about 100 yards away whilst indiscriminately firing off their Kalashnikovs. The platoon leaders gave the order to open fire as Bill and his team followed the developing action through their NVGs.
The cacophony of the ensuing battle from the four Bren-guns’ crossfire was ear-splitting as tracers rained down on the rebels. Khalid al Gurreh was running at breakneck speed ahead of his gang, and he made it to the treeline. Unfortunately for him he’d dropped his Kalashnikov during the melee. If Khalid was capable of any thought at the moment it was how the military had learned about his change of date and time. If he got out of this situation in one piece he would surely have the head of the traitor.
It was a total massacre with blood on the sand everywhere. The gunfire lasted for about twelve minutes and the insurgents were cut down almost to a man, after which there was the occasional sporadic gunfire from a couple of the wounded rebels.
As Khalid sped on into the cover of the trees, Bill could see the man’s flight through his NVGs. Without even thinking, he leapt to his feet and gave chase. With superior running speed and fitness, he began to gain on Khalid through the bush but suddenly faltered, falling to his knees with severe pain in his right calf. He thought he’d caught his boot under a protruding tree root but when he looked down he saw blood soaking through his trouser leg from a wound. Not the result of his fall, but probably a stray bullet from the sporadic gunfire or even a ricochet from the beach. Although in great pain, he got to his feet and stumbled on with the chase.
Pale moonlight filtered through the overhead canopy, and about fifty yards further into the bush a clearing was dimly lit with a weak, ethereal light. Khalid had stopped on the far side of the clearing, bent over and breathing heavily. He straightened up when he heard Bill’s approach and turned. Bill, who’d now reached the opposite edge of the clearing, was feeling decidedly light-headed from blood loss.
Khalid fumbled and managed to draw his Russian side arm, aimed at Bill and pulled the trigger. The bullet narrowly missed him, but at the same time he’d drawn his H2S and fired off a shot in return, striking Khalid in the right shoulder causing him to drop his weapon and fall to his knees. In pain and as quickly as his wound allowed, with his gun still trained on Khalid, Bill limped to the fallen man and levelled his weapon at his head. Both of them were bleeding profusely from their wounds.
Three KAR Askaris who had seen Bill in pursuit and heard the gunfire, crashed into the clearing just before Bill collapsed. They ran forward and handcuffed Khalid none too gently. It was obvious both men needed to be returned to the beach and treated urgently, so two of the Askaris grabbed Khalid by the collar and wounded arm, hauled him to his feet and shoved him back the way they’d all come, whilst the other stayed with Bill and fashioned a tourniquet for his leg until more help arrived.
Back on the beach al Gurreh was shackled to the handle of one of the vehicles. Being helped and getting back to the beach a qualified medic checked Bill’s tourniquet, applied a field dressing and administered a shot of morphine. Although in great pain, Bill looked around under the spotlights at the carnage of dead and wounded Shifta. Khalid was given like attention and taken into official custody. The medic knew his stuff, but it was a foregone conclusion that both men would need hospital attention. The pain from the wound in Bill’s leg had begun to ease with the help of the morphine and, before it knocked him out completely, he managed a brief call to the coalition commanders and advised all the insurgents were either down or dead and their leader was in custody.
The two officers gave the order for their men to advance with caution for a mop-up operation, and within minutes were at the scene. Much to their astonishment, they found that half the insurgents were wearing explosive vests; this was a new type of threat. The coalition forces were asking themselves why they hadn’t been detonated, and the conclusion was either the insurgents realised the impact wouldn’t have taken out the distant gunners or, more likely, they were either too busy trying to stay alive or too cowardly to meet Allah. In fact, only two of the vest-toting bombers were still alive, the rest had departed this life; that was, apart from their wounded leader.
The Lieutenant of the Oxfordshire Regiment radioed a local Royal Engineers Unit in Mombasa on a normal open emergency frequency, requesting specialist bomb disposal support after explaining the situation. Thirty minutes later two RE bomb disposal experts arrived to assess the explosive vests, which were packed with sticks of dynamite. They could only assume the detonators had been lost during the affray but in any event, it took the bomb disposal boys just thirty minutes to make safe the dynamite on both the live insurgents, and recovered the explosives from the dead. The lieutenant thanked them for their assistance and the RE experts confirmed they’d make a full report on return to their unit.
Full results of the Operation Sea Eagle assault had been radioed back to Majors Brown, McIntosh and Jessop informing them it had been a resounding success, including the best news of all; they’d captured Khalid al Gurreh alive, albeit wounded. Regrettably, so was Staff Scraggs. The KAR would tidy things up and then they’d return to base on Sunday 29th December in transport sent to collect them.
The two surviving insurgents were formerly taken into custody ready for the return trip to Nairobi, where they’d have their wounds attended, be interrogated and charged with their crimes. The Oxfordshire platoon went on ahead with the two captives in the trucks that had brought them to Nyali, and because of the extent of their wounds and loss of blood, al Gurreh and Bill would be airlifted back to the Buller Camp Medical Centre with three soldiers from their regiment as armed escort, along with their lieutenant.
Bill, now conscious, asked the KAR Lieutenant to contact AAC Air Wing to task the Huey helicopter as a matter of urgency, and was advised it would be with them in about fifty minutes. When it arrived al Gurreh, Bill and the escorts were airlifted back to Nairobi. Meanwhile, the KAR Lieutenant ordered several of his askaris to get shovels and bury the dead in the nearby bush there and then, to preserve the bodies for identification purposes and to deter scavengers. He would include this action in his report to HQ East Africa Command. When the air transport arrived for them they prepared for the return journey to base camp.
Bill’s two corporals, who’d waited for the Land Rover, loaded their team’s equipment and headed back to GWS base and a cold, cold beer; after handing all of the equipment over to the stores.
Josh met them to get more information on Bill’s condition, then commandeered a Land Rover and drove to Buller Camp where he found the on-duty medical officer. He asked if it would be OK to see Bill and the MO told him it was a nasty wound which had required several stitches, but fortunately the bullet had made a relatively clean exit missing any arteries, and only a few clothing fibres to dig out. Bill had also been given a blood transfusion to replace the loss. It wasn’t a life-threatening situation so yes, Josh could go through to see the patient in the ward, but was warned he’d just been given a sedative so might be somewhat woozy.
The MO also informed Josh, Bill should be ready to leave the medical centre by late afternoon the next day, assuming there were no signs of infection. He would, of course, have to rely on the assistance of a temporary walking stick. He’d already been given strict instructions to take it very easy because they didn’t want the wound to open or have the stitches broken. Josh thanked the MO and went through into the small ward where Bill was lying with his eyes closed.
‘Hey, Bill, what have you been up to. I can’t leave you on your own for a minute, can I? You weren’t supposed to get yourself shot up.’ This raised a weak smile. ‘Anyhow, congratulations, mate, on an outstanding result. Quite a day to remember, eh?’
