Nace Bilby
ACME
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[Rated PG-13 for unsettling themes]
"He today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother. Be he ne'er so vile this day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England now abed shall think themselves accursed they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin's Day!" - From William Shakespeare's Henry V.
---
15 October 2006
Now Zad, Afghanistan
The feast of Saint Crispin would begin as a first mission for the Afghan National Police element being trained by members of 4 Troop, A Squadron, 21 SAS. For several weeks the Afghans were learning basic patrolling and rifle marksmanship by A Squadron’s soldiers.
Nace loaded rounds into the magazines of his SA80A2 rifle and examined the Sig pistol strapped to his leg. The roof of the walled in compound on the edge of Now Zad which served as a patrol base members of the Squadron shared with paratroopers from 7 Para.
The rooftop of one of the tallest buildings had been commandeered by the reserve men from 21 SAS who specialized in long range reconnaissance and surveillance and that rooftop gave them a good vantage point to watch into the town of Now Zad.
Trooper Nace Bilby was atop the roof, scanning the surrounding town with his binoculars briefly. “Another group of refugees.” Nace remarked as he noticed a fleeing group of about eight people clustered around a donkey, a little girl sitting astride it with a blank, frightened expression on her face.
Best not think of Clementine and Katie. Nace thought, referring to his nieces, as he blinked.
Lance Corporal Maxmillian ‘Mad Max’ Maynard, a powerfully built fellow resembling a football hooligan at six foot two remarked, “So much for the community the ANP (Afghan National Police) are to be policing.”
“Haven’t seen too many Bobbies carrying Kalashnikovs back home.” Trooper Ajay Goshdashtidar, a first generation Indian immigrant to the UK, remarked as he adjusted an antennae on his radio set.
Nace scanned through the lens of the telescopic sights of one of the L96A1 sniper rifles that was on the roof briefly, “Stalls in the marketplace are starting to close up.”
“It’s not even that hot outside yet.” Mad Max remarked.
Nace scanned the shadier areas of the buildings, seeking anyone possibly avoiding the day’s heat. “No sign of anyone in the shade. Wonder if they think the Taliban’s going to kick something off today?”
The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs could be heard and the lanky, 5’10” and blonde haired Sergeant Nicholas Angel trotted up the staircase. “Right lads, patrol briefing, half hour.”
“We’ll be there.” Mad Max remarked, “Looks like the shoppers are leaving the marketplace early. Looks like we’re going to get a contact.”
“Right,” Angel said, “let’s just remember we want to make sure that the locals have confidence in their police. And by that we patrol with them.”
“Got it, boss.” Mad Max remarked. Sergeant Angel, in his civilian life, was also a police officer in Sandford Glouchestershire, was the patrol commander for the four Brits and twelve Afghan policemen who were patrolling into the marketplace.
Mad Max was checking, for the hundredth time, the medical kit that he carried. All his trauma management equipment, bandages, tourniquets and saline drips were in place.
Nace checked a few explosive breaching charges that were in his backpack. If he had to demolish an obstacle, he had to make sure the explosives were rigged. He stuffed the other newly loaded magazines into the pouches on his body armor and checked the pouches for his grenades and his night vision kit had fresh batteries in it.
And his final pre-combat ritual was reaching into a pocket of his uniform and taking out a small photograph from a seaside carnival in Mablethrope. It was one of Evey smiling, standing leaning against a railing, her legs crossed at the ankles in a demure sort of pose with the ferris wheel and the seaside in the background. He smiled briefly before tucking it in his helmet.
“That’s bad luck, Nace.” Mad Max remarked.
“Oh bugger off, Max.” Nace remarked, “I don’t go giving you grief over the sodding Manchester United patch you’ve got velcroed into your right arm.”
“That’s because it’s good luck.” Mad Max remarked.
“So’s this.” Nace remarked, hefting his helmet where Evey’s picture rested in its webbing.
"Which reminds me.” Ajay said, with his slight Indian accent, “How did you like that Arsenal FC patch we had sewn into your medical bag?"
“You wanker.” Mad Max grumbled at the reminder of the episode when they’d first arrived in country.
“Never, ever underestimate how quickly a local tailor shop can do a custom job in Kandahar.” Ajay remarked, “Go Arsenal FC.”
“Ajay, since when do you give a toss about sports at all?” Nace remarked.
“Never, actually. An opportunity to give Mad Max grief, however, is priceless.” Ajay remarked, as he adjusted a couple straps on the backpack which contained his radio.
Cecil, a lean bodied communications expert from 63 (SAS) Signal Squadron (Reserve) attached to the unit as a communications expert, ambled up the staircase with his own radio set. “Get out the garlic, it’s a sodding vampire.” Nace remarked.
Cecil flipped the men the bird, “Bloody Operations Room feels like a sodding jail cell. I figured I’d get a breath of fresh air.”
“Oh come of it, Cecil.” Nace remarked, “You work in a similar sort of place when you’re at ACME back in London.”
“Hah. Join the Army. See plenty of fresh air and go to exotic places and meet interesting and exotic people and kill them. Bollocks.” Cecil quipped as he headed over to a satellite communications antennae to make a couple adjustments.
There were quite a few other troopers from 4 Troop on the rooftop, either scanning over Now Zad through various optical instruments, dozing under mosquito nets, or reading books.
“Right,” Mad Max said, “Let’s get on with it.”
“Nice to have known you wankers.” Stan, from behind one of the sniper rifles, joked.
“And you dickheads.” Nace quipped back, stealing another quick glance at Evey’s picture before donning his helmet.
What a sodding paradox. Best to put Evey out of my mind for now for the best hope of seeing her again. Nace thought, as he walked down the narrow, cramped staircase into the courtyard where the Afghans were standing with the interpreter who was relaying Sergeant Angel’s instructions.
“We’re patrolling through the market square, establishing police presence in the area.” Sergeant Angel began. He went on about patrol formation, dispersal, speaking with the locals to get a sense of the Taliban presence in Now Zad since the Paras had arrived in the spring where they had been fighting heavily with them.
The men from A Squadron, SAS arrived in a relative lull in the fighting, where they were put to work training the Afghan policemen and doing a handover of responsibilities with the men from B Squadron, 23 SAS.
This day, the Feast of Crispian would be the very first contact A Squadron, 21 SAS, would have with the enemy.
Nace couldn’t help but briefly take a deep breath. Peacekeeping duties all over Africa with the South African National Defense Force working with the United Nations were a far cry from the full on sort of fight he was expecting. He could feel his mouth was dry as he hefted his rifle. Quietly he turned around and crossed himself.
Please God don’t allow me to fail. May I do honor to my father and grandfather and the other generations before me. Nace thought. He turned around to regard his fellow troopers, British and Afghan alike. And knew at once to focus on what was at hand.
No more thinking of the past or the future, just the present. He tugged back on the charging handle on the SA80 rifle and heard the bolt slam a round home into the chamber. He did the same for the 9mm Sig at his hip.
He looked over the patrol and thought to himself. I might save their lives, they may save mine. I cannot fail them.
He could hear his footsteps crunching the gravel of the base. Could feel the heat, the dry arid heat. Feeling the desert dust being flickered about by the light wind. Eyes moving, watching around the town.
“Marketplace looks like its clearing out.” Mad Max remarked.
“Right.” Angel said, “Stay on the alert lads.”
Nace heard the metallic click, flicking the safety catch off of his SA80, scanning through its SUSAT telescopic sights around the market square then heard the first bang of rounds. Saw one of the Afghan policemen fall riddled with holes.
“Contact front! Contact front!” Shouted Mad Max from the patrol front.
All around Nace he could see members of the patrol taking cover behind whatever they could find. Nace ducked behind a junked car and fired several rounds. At near the rear of the formation he scanned behind him, hearing Mad Max and Sergeant Angel engaging the enemy to their front.
He heard more fire from the sides of the patrol as Ajay and two of the Afghans returned fire on another group of Taliban trying to maneuver towards their formation.
Nace noticed a fighter, wearing a pair of high top sneakers and pair of tracksuit bottoms and a grimy white t-shirt carrying his AK-47, trying to sneak towards Ajay and the others.
Think you’re a clever sod do you? Nace thought, he knew now one thing with certainty. He was going to kill the man as he tracked him through the SUSAT sight and then he squeezed the trigger, sending four rounds in rapid succession that pierced the Taliban fighter’s chest, neck and head, just underneath the jaw line.
Right then, a life just like his had ended and he had been responsible. All he felt was the recoil. That man was trying to kill me. But I got him first.
Nace noticed a door out of the corner of his eye, “Building to the right.”
Sergeant Angel noticed around the same time, “Max, Nace, break into that building, we can flank the sods that way.”
Mad Max removed a couple explosive charges from Nace’s backpack and attached it to the metal door.
“Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!” On the third shout Nace pulled the igniter and a loud boom sent the door flying into the building.
Trench clearing time. Nace thought as he flicked the SA80 safety to burst and moved to the right into the room and Mad Max hooking left as they scanned the room.
"Clear!” Nace shouted and followed Mad Max into a second room of the building before he ran towards a staircase. Nace headed up the staircase first, with Mad Max behind him and a couple other Afghans.
Sergeant Angel was next, along with Ajay. Ajay reached towards Nace to grab a couple more explosive charges. This was going to blast a hole through the wall, mouseholing to get to the next building to fight towards the enemy.
Once again Nace shouted “Fire in the hole” three times before blowing a hole into the wall. Immediately on the other side of the hole were several Taliban fighters trying to run outside to take the fight to the British infidels. Mad Max immediately started firing, and so did two of the Afghan National Policemen nearest him, riddling the three Taliban fighters, to include one carrying a Rocket Propelled Grenade launcher.
“Grenades! Watch out!” Mad Max shouted as he charged into the room with Nace on his heels as two Russian grenades rolled down the staircase near the building he had just breached a hole into.
Nace and Mad Max jumped to the floor facing away from the grenades which rolled slightly past the two men before exploding, throwing shrapnel around. Nace briefly checked himself, no blood he could feel.
Christ the King. Nace thought to himself as he pulled a pin from one of his own grenades and hurled it up the stairs. After a boom he heard a burst of gunfire from up the staircase. Both Mad Max and Nace hurled a grenade apiece up the stairs and then Mad Max used the 40mm grenade launcher underneath the barrel of his SA-80 before running up the stairs with Nace directly behind him.
A Taliban fighter with an AK-47 lay dead at the top of the stairs, the grenade shrapnel having ripped wounds all over his body. Ajay and Sergeant Angel went in next, “To the roof.” Angel shouted.
Nace noticed a wooden ladder that led to the building’s roof and slinging his rifle he drew his pistol and climbed the thing, hoping the ladder wasn’t going to break under his combined bodyweight and all his kit.
He popped open the small wooden cover and scanned around 360 degrees before shouting, “Clear!”
Ajay followed up the ladder followed by Sergeant Angel and Mad Max and several of the Afghans.
“Right, we hold the rooftops. Ajay, get a hold of the operations room.” Angel replied, “Everyone else, make sure none of the sods get up this roof. We’ll strongpoint here.”
That would mean that the SAS men and their Afghan allies would hold up at that roof until help arrived.
Nace could hear Ajay on the radio to the operations room, “This is Alpha Zero One, we are at the rooftop of the second house on the south end of the square. We’ve got heavy enemy fire and…”
Ajay ducked as rounds zipped by him, before he popped a 40mm grenade and a short burst across the market square at the opposing rooftop where he figured the shooting was coming from.
Nace continued to scan for targets through his SUSAT scope, firing rounds. He noticed the Taliban fighters weren’t acting like the usual neighborhood riff raff who would hold their weapons out and fire off single long bursts to hope to hit British troops. No they were moving like trained soldiers, ducking in and out of cover, firing single shots or controlled, short bursts..
Professionals this lot. Nace thought.
More shooting, and not from the lads on the rooftops or the Taliban. These were coming from the British outpost’s rooftops. The men on the roof were returning fire with the sniper rifles and occasionally the machinegun if large groups of enemy presented themselves.
Nace heard the pop of the UGL (underslung grenade launcher) from Mad Max’s rifle go off as he let fly with a 40mm grenade towards an alleyway where he’d seen some Taliban trying to flank around the building. Nace watched as some of the Afghan National Policemen fired back as well.
He flicked the safety on the SA-80 back to single shot. No telling how long they were going to be marooned on this rooftop. He scanned through the SUSAT scope and noticed a fellow with an RPG trying to aim towards the roof.
One of the ANP had seen him and started firing bursts from his AK at the man, causing the RPG gunner to backpedal, accidentally squeezing the trigger and sending the rocket flying upward at a forty-five degree angle into the sky where it exploded harmlessly.
Wanker. Nace thought, firing a couple rounds back towards the gunner in case any of his mates decided to fire from that low wall atop the rooftop on the other end of the courtyard.
“Need some help here.” Sergeant Angel said calmly over the radio as a round cracked past his head.
More shooting, Nace turned and noticed a force of men from the Paras and other members of 4 Troop were moving towards the sound of gunfighting and now the Taliban were reacting to this next contact.
A loud bang. Dirt and debris thrown into the air. An IED had exploded, severely wounding one of the Paras. His mates dragged him to safety and a torrent of gunfire was leveled toward the Paras.
To their credit the Paras reacted exactly as airborne troops would in any such situation. With aggression. One group of Paras returned fire while a second group took over a second rooftop getting one of their machine guns atop it to establish a base of fire and a third group began trying to move on the Taliban positions nearby.
The Taliban turned their guns on this new element. He could overhear Sergeant Angel talking to the reaction element.
“Right,” Angel said, “Bravo One One, we see you moving.”
Nace scanned through the SUSAT telescopic sight, firing towards the muzzle flashes he could see coming from near the windows of different buildings.
The Paras’ movement had slowed. They had fought their way into the market’s northwest corner and could see the combined Afghan and British patrol, however they were also running into some drama of their own.
Mortar bombs began exploding, but these were British mortar rounds. The Paras back at the outpost were firing from their mortar tubes, the rounds exploded onto the roofs that Sergeant Angel and the commander of the Para quick reaction force.
The Taliban fire still didn’t die down much, if at all. There would be lulls only for the Taliban fighters to relocate to other buildings and fire back from alternate positions they had prepared the day before, having watched previous British patrols into the market.
The sound of rotors could be heard and Nace glanced up in time to see a pair of Apache gunships flying towards Now Zad. He could hear Ajay on the radio with the Paras who had an air controller with them.
Max was setting up a large orange VS-17 panel to prevent the helicopter crew from engaging the joint British and Afghan patrol. A second was set up near where the Paras were. The Apaches made a second pass, but this time they were firing the 30mm chain guns underneath their noses at targets the Para’s forward air controller was indicating.
Ajay was also relaying other targets that he noticed, even exposing himself to potential danger to direct targets. Rounds zipped close by his head. Nace fired down that same direction the shots had come as well, noticing a couple tracer rounds, bullets with chemicals that burned bright to help direct fire for a shooter.
Under this combined onslaught of direct fire the Taliban fighters began to move off, the fire began to die down.
Soon the fire stopped all together. An eerie lull settled over the marketplace turned battlefield as Nace loaded another magazine into his rifle, noticing everyone else doing the same as he scanned over the battlefield.
Nace could hear scattered talking on his own Personal Role Radio (PRR), the small radio set that each individual soldier had in order to talk to his mates.
Reporting on the status of ammo, equipment, injuries if any. Mad Max was tending to wounds on one of the Afghan National Policemen before the patrol joined the platoon from the Paras and headed back to base.
The wounded were being flown out by a helicopter, two British and three Afghan. Nace felt the adrenaline surge just wind down as he climbed to the rooftops where he and his mates were standing their vigil.
Nace removed his helmet, looking out over the setting sun, drinking a bit of water before he disassembled his SA-80, cleaning it with an old toothbrush and a rag in one of his shirt pockets after sliding off his body armor.
He looked inside the helmet and allowed himself a small smile despite the rough day, the picture being a window back into a better time. Then he glanced around at his mates, who were cleaning weapons that had just been fired before reassembling them.
He today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother. Be he ne’er so vile this day shall gentle his condition. Nace thought as the sun set.
---
Terms:
Squadron - Roughly sixty people
Troop - Roughly sixteen people
Brick - Four man patrol
"He today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother. Be he ne'er so vile this day shall gentle his condition. And gentlemen in England now abed shall think themselves accursed they were not here, and hold their manhoods cheap, while any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin's Day!" - From William Shakespeare's Henry V.
---
15 October 2006
Now Zad, Afghanistan
The feast of Saint Crispin would begin as a first mission for the Afghan National Police element being trained by members of 4 Troop, A Squadron, 21 SAS. For several weeks the Afghans were learning basic patrolling and rifle marksmanship by A Squadron’s soldiers.
Nace loaded rounds into the magazines of his SA80A2 rifle and examined the Sig pistol strapped to his leg. The roof of the walled in compound on the edge of Now Zad which served as a patrol base members of the Squadron shared with paratroopers from 7 Para.
The rooftop of one of the tallest buildings had been commandeered by the reserve men from 21 SAS who specialized in long range reconnaissance and surveillance and that rooftop gave them a good vantage point to watch into the town of Now Zad.
Trooper Nace Bilby was atop the roof, scanning the surrounding town with his binoculars briefly. “Another group of refugees.” Nace remarked as he noticed a fleeing group of about eight people clustered around a donkey, a little girl sitting astride it with a blank, frightened expression on her face.
Best not think of Clementine and Katie. Nace thought, referring to his nieces, as he blinked.
Lance Corporal Maxmillian ‘Mad Max’ Maynard, a powerfully built fellow resembling a football hooligan at six foot two remarked, “So much for the community the ANP (Afghan National Police) are to be policing.”
“Haven’t seen too many Bobbies carrying Kalashnikovs back home.” Trooper Ajay Goshdashtidar, a first generation Indian immigrant to the UK, remarked as he adjusted an antennae on his radio set.
Nace scanned through the lens of the telescopic sights of one of the L96A1 sniper rifles that was on the roof briefly, “Stalls in the marketplace are starting to close up.”
“It’s not even that hot outside yet.” Mad Max remarked.
Nace scanned the shadier areas of the buildings, seeking anyone possibly avoiding the day’s heat. “No sign of anyone in the shade. Wonder if they think the Taliban’s going to kick something off today?”
The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs could be heard and the lanky, 5’10” and blonde haired Sergeant Nicholas Angel trotted up the staircase. “Right lads, patrol briefing, half hour.”
“We’ll be there.” Mad Max remarked, “Looks like the shoppers are leaving the marketplace early. Looks like we’re going to get a contact.”
“Right,” Angel said, “let’s just remember we want to make sure that the locals have confidence in their police. And by that we patrol with them.”
“Got it, boss.” Mad Max remarked. Sergeant Angel, in his civilian life, was also a police officer in Sandford Glouchestershire, was the patrol commander for the four Brits and twelve Afghan policemen who were patrolling into the marketplace.
Mad Max was checking, for the hundredth time, the medical kit that he carried. All his trauma management equipment, bandages, tourniquets and saline drips were in place.
Nace checked a few explosive breaching charges that were in his backpack. If he had to demolish an obstacle, he had to make sure the explosives were rigged. He stuffed the other newly loaded magazines into the pouches on his body armor and checked the pouches for his grenades and his night vision kit had fresh batteries in it.
And his final pre-combat ritual was reaching into a pocket of his uniform and taking out a small photograph from a seaside carnival in Mablethrope. It was one of Evey smiling, standing leaning against a railing, her legs crossed at the ankles in a demure sort of pose with the ferris wheel and the seaside in the background. He smiled briefly before tucking it in his helmet.
“That’s bad luck, Nace.” Mad Max remarked.
“Oh bugger off, Max.” Nace remarked, “I don’t go giving you grief over the sodding Manchester United patch you’ve got velcroed into your right arm.”
“That’s because it’s good luck.” Mad Max remarked.
“So’s this.” Nace remarked, hefting his helmet where Evey’s picture rested in its webbing.
"Which reminds me.” Ajay said, with his slight Indian accent, “How did you like that Arsenal FC patch we had sewn into your medical bag?"
“You wanker.” Mad Max grumbled at the reminder of the episode when they’d first arrived in country.
“Never, ever underestimate how quickly a local tailor shop can do a custom job in Kandahar.” Ajay remarked, “Go Arsenal FC.”
“Ajay, since when do you give a toss about sports at all?” Nace remarked.
“Never, actually. An opportunity to give Mad Max grief, however, is priceless.” Ajay remarked, as he adjusted a couple straps on the backpack which contained his radio.
Cecil, a lean bodied communications expert from 63 (SAS) Signal Squadron (Reserve) attached to the unit as a communications expert, ambled up the staircase with his own radio set. “Get out the garlic, it’s a sodding vampire.” Nace remarked.
Cecil flipped the men the bird, “Bloody Operations Room feels like a sodding jail cell. I figured I’d get a breath of fresh air.”
“Oh come of it, Cecil.” Nace remarked, “You work in a similar sort of place when you’re at ACME back in London.”
“Hah. Join the Army. See plenty of fresh air and go to exotic places and meet interesting and exotic people and kill them. Bollocks.” Cecil quipped as he headed over to a satellite communications antennae to make a couple adjustments.
There were quite a few other troopers from 4 Troop on the rooftop, either scanning over Now Zad through various optical instruments, dozing under mosquito nets, or reading books.
“Right,” Mad Max said, “Let’s get on with it.”
“Nice to have known you wankers.” Stan, from behind one of the sniper rifles, joked.
“And you dickheads.” Nace quipped back, stealing another quick glance at Evey’s picture before donning his helmet.
What a sodding paradox. Best to put Evey out of my mind for now for the best hope of seeing her again. Nace thought, as he walked down the narrow, cramped staircase into the courtyard where the Afghans were standing with the interpreter who was relaying Sergeant Angel’s instructions.
“We’re patrolling through the market square, establishing police presence in the area.” Sergeant Angel began. He went on about patrol formation, dispersal, speaking with the locals to get a sense of the Taliban presence in Now Zad since the Paras had arrived in the spring where they had been fighting heavily with them.
The men from A Squadron, SAS arrived in a relative lull in the fighting, where they were put to work training the Afghan policemen and doing a handover of responsibilities with the men from B Squadron, 23 SAS.
This day, the Feast of Crispian would be the very first contact A Squadron, 21 SAS, would have with the enemy.
Nace couldn’t help but briefly take a deep breath. Peacekeeping duties all over Africa with the South African National Defense Force working with the United Nations were a far cry from the full on sort of fight he was expecting. He could feel his mouth was dry as he hefted his rifle. Quietly he turned around and crossed himself.
Please God don’t allow me to fail. May I do honor to my father and grandfather and the other generations before me. Nace thought. He turned around to regard his fellow troopers, British and Afghan alike. And knew at once to focus on what was at hand.
No more thinking of the past or the future, just the present. He tugged back on the charging handle on the SA80 rifle and heard the bolt slam a round home into the chamber. He did the same for the 9mm Sig at his hip.
He looked over the patrol and thought to himself. I might save their lives, they may save mine. I cannot fail them.
He could hear his footsteps crunching the gravel of the base. Could feel the heat, the dry arid heat. Feeling the desert dust being flickered about by the light wind. Eyes moving, watching around the town.
“Marketplace looks like its clearing out.” Mad Max remarked.
“Right.” Angel said, “Stay on the alert lads.”
Nace heard the metallic click, flicking the safety catch off of his SA80, scanning through its SUSAT telescopic sights around the market square then heard the first bang of rounds. Saw one of the Afghan policemen fall riddled with holes.
“Contact front! Contact front!” Shouted Mad Max from the patrol front.
All around Nace he could see members of the patrol taking cover behind whatever they could find. Nace ducked behind a junked car and fired several rounds. At near the rear of the formation he scanned behind him, hearing Mad Max and Sergeant Angel engaging the enemy to their front.
He heard more fire from the sides of the patrol as Ajay and two of the Afghans returned fire on another group of Taliban trying to maneuver towards their formation.
Nace noticed a fighter, wearing a pair of high top sneakers and pair of tracksuit bottoms and a grimy white t-shirt carrying his AK-47, trying to sneak towards Ajay and the others.
Think you’re a clever sod do you? Nace thought, he knew now one thing with certainty. He was going to kill the man as he tracked him through the SUSAT sight and then he squeezed the trigger, sending four rounds in rapid succession that pierced the Taliban fighter’s chest, neck and head, just underneath the jaw line.
Right then, a life just like his had ended and he had been responsible. All he felt was the recoil. That man was trying to kill me. But I got him first.
Nace noticed a door out of the corner of his eye, “Building to the right.”
Sergeant Angel noticed around the same time, “Max, Nace, break into that building, we can flank the sods that way.”
Mad Max removed a couple explosive charges from Nace’s backpack and attached it to the metal door.
“Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!” On the third shout Nace pulled the igniter and a loud boom sent the door flying into the building.
Trench clearing time. Nace thought as he flicked the SA80 safety to burst and moved to the right into the room and Mad Max hooking left as they scanned the room.
"Clear!” Nace shouted and followed Mad Max into a second room of the building before he ran towards a staircase. Nace headed up the staircase first, with Mad Max behind him and a couple other Afghans.
Sergeant Angel was next, along with Ajay. Ajay reached towards Nace to grab a couple more explosive charges. This was going to blast a hole through the wall, mouseholing to get to the next building to fight towards the enemy.
Once again Nace shouted “Fire in the hole” three times before blowing a hole into the wall. Immediately on the other side of the hole were several Taliban fighters trying to run outside to take the fight to the British infidels. Mad Max immediately started firing, and so did two of the Afghan National Policemen nearest him, riddling the three Taliban fighters, to include one carrying a Rocket Propelled Grenade launcher.
“Grenades! Watch out!” Mad Max shouted as he charged into the room with Nace on his heels as two Russian grenades rolled down the staircase near the building he had just breached a hole into.
Nace and Mad Max jumped to the floor facing away from the grenades which rolled slightly past the two men before exploding, throwing shrapnel around. Nace briefly checked himself, no blood he could feel.
Christ the King. Nace thought to himself as he pulled a pin from one of his own grenades and hurled it up the stairs. After a boom he heard a burst of gunfire from up the staircase. Both Mad Max and Nace hurled a grenade apiece up the stairs and then Mad Max used the 40mm grenade launcher underneath the barrel of his SA-80 before running up the stairs with Nace directly behind him.
A Taliban fighter with an AK-47 lay dead at the top of the stairs, the grenade shrapnel having ripped wounds all over his body. Ajay and Sergeant Angel went in next, “To the roof.” Angel shouted.
Nace noticed a wooden ladder that led to the building’s roof and slinging his rifle he drew his pistol and climbed the thing, hoping the ladder wasn’t going to break under his combined bodyweight and all his kit.
He popped open the small wooden cover and scanned around 360 degrees before shouting, “Clear!”
Ajay followed up the ladder followed by Sergeant Angel and Mad Max and several of the Afghans.
“Right, we hold the rooftops. Ajay, get a hold of the operations room.” Angel replied, “Everyone else, make sure none of the sods get up this roof. We’ll strongpoint here.”
That would mean that the SAS men and their Afghan allies would hold up at that roof until help arrived.
Nace could hear Ajay on the radio to the operations room, “This is Alpha Zero One, we are at the rooftop of the second house on the south end of the square. We’ve got heavy enemy fire and…”
Ajay ducked as rounds zipped by him, before he popped a 40mm grenade and a short burst across the market square at the opposing rooftop where he figured the shooting was coming from.
Nace continued to scan for targets through his SUSAT scope, firing rounds. He noticed the Taliban fighters weren’t acting like the usual neighborhood riff raff who would hold their weapons out and fire off single long bursts to hope to hit British troops. No they were moving like trained soldiers, ducking in and out of cover, firing single shots or controlled, short bursts..
Professionals this lot. Nace thought.
More shooting, and not from the lads on the rooftops or the Taliban. These were coming from the British outpost’s rooftops. The men on the roof were returning fire with the sniper rifles and occasionally the machinegun if large groups of enemy presented themselves.
Nace heard the pop of the UGL (underslung grenade launcher) from Mad Max’s rifle go off as he let fly with a 40mm grenade towards an alleyway where he’d seen some Taliban trying to flank around the building. Nace watched as some of the Afghan National Policemen fired back as well.
He flicked the safety on the SA-80 back to single shot. No telling how long they were going to be marooned on this rooftop. He scanned through the SUSAT scope and noticed a fellow with an RPG trying to aim towards the roof.
One of the ANP had seen him and started firing bursts from his AK at the man, causing the RPG gunner to backpedal, accidentally squeezing the trigger and sending the rocket flying upward at a forty-five degree angle into the sky where it exploded harmlessly.
Wanker. Nace thought, firing a couple rounds back towards the gunner in case any of his mates decided to fire from that low wall atop the rooftop on the other end of the courtyard.
“Need some help here.” Sergeant Angel said calmly over the radio as a round cracked past his head.
More shooting, Nace turned and noticed a force of men from the Paras and other members of 4 Troop were moving towards the sound of gunfighting and now the Taliban were reacting to this next contact.
A loud bang. Dirt and debris thrown into the air. An IED had exploded, severely wounding one of the Paras. His mates dragged him to safety and a torrent of gunfire was leveled toward the Paras.
To their credit the Paras reacted exactly as airborne troops would in any such situation. With aggression. One group of Paras returned fire while a second group took over a second rooftop getting one of their machine guns atop it to establish a base of fire and a third group began trying to move on the Taliban positions nearby.
The Taliban turned their guns on this new element. He could overhear Sergeant Angel talking to the reaction element.
“Right,” Angel said, “Bravo One One, we see you moving.”
Nace scanned through the SUSAT telescopic sight, firing towards the muzzle flashes he could see coming from near the windows of different buildings.
The Paras’ movement had slowed. They had fought their way into the market’s northwest corner and could see the combined Afghan and British patrol, however they were also running into some drama of their own.
Mortar bombs began exploding, but these were British mortar rounds. The Paras back at the outpost were firing from their mortar tubes, the rounds exploded onto the roofs that Sergeant Angel and the commander of the Para quick reaction force.
The Taliban fire still didn’t die down much, if at all. There would be lulls only for the Taliban fighters to relocate to other buildings and fire back from alternate positions they had prepared the day before, having watched previous British patrols into the market.
The sound of rotors could be heard and Nace glanced up in time to see a pair of Apache gunships flying towards Now Zad. He could hear Ajay on the radio with the Paras who had an air controller with them.
Max was setting up a large orange VS-17 panel to prevent the helicopter crew from engaging the joint British and Afghan patrol. A second was set up near where the Paras were. The Apaches made a second pass, but this time they were firing the 30mm chain guns underneath their noses at targets the Para’s forward air controller was indicating.
Ajay was also relaying other targets that he noticed, even exposing himself to potential danger to direct targets. Rounds zipped close by his head. Nace fired down that same direction the shots had come as well, noticing a couple tracer rounds, bullets with chemicals that burned bright to help direct fire for a shooter.
Under this combined onslaught of direct fire the Taliban fighters began to move off, the fire began to die down.
Soon the fire stopped all together. An eerie lull settled over the marketplace turned battlefield as Nace loaded another magazine into his rifle, noticing everyone else doing the same as he scanned over the battlefield.
Nace could hear scattered talking on his own Personal Role Radio (PRR), the small radio set that each individual soldier had in order to talk to his mates.
Reporting on the status of ammo, equipment, injuries if any. Mad Max was tending to wounds on one of the Afghan National Policemen before the patrol joined the platoon from the Paras and headed back to base.
The wounded were being flown out by a helicopter, two British and three Afghan. Nace felt the adrenaline surge just wind down as he climbed to the rooftops where he and his mates were standing their vigil.
Nace removed his helmet, looking out over the setting sun, drinking a bit of water before he disassembled his SA-80, cleaning it with an old toothbrush and a rag in one of his shirt pockets after sliding off his body armor.
He looked inside the helmet and allowed himself a small smile despite the rough day, the picture being a window back into a better time. Then he glanced around at his mates, who were cleaning weapons that had just been fired before reassembling them.
He today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother. Be he ne’er so vile this day shall gentle his condition. Nace thought as the sun set.
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Terms:
Squadron - Roughly sixty people
Troop - Roughly sixteen people
Brick - Four man patrol
