Whisky Charlie One – A Good
Yet another novel of sorts by
Mistersoft
Just to reiterate,
this is just a story, it is historically inaccurate, factually inaccurate, logistically
inaccurate, militarily inaccurate, medically inaccurate, geographically
inaccurate, scientifically inaccurate, linguistically inaccurate, religiously
inaccurate, diabolically inaccurate,
grammatically inaccurate and prone to bad spelling and speling
mist-aches.
Chapter One
They never thought it would happen. The ‘old team’ were back
together and holy shite were they old! “I hope that tw@t of an author never
gets a book deal otherwise we’ll still be doing this when we’re eighty” thought
Flabby to himself but somehow he doubted that would ever happen. They had been
dragged from all corners of the globe but in all honesty most had been found in
the saloon bar of The Grapes, the SAS local in
Round the table and in no particular order sat the rest of the team that had so successfully sorted out the Iranistanis, the IRA and many others. Ryan Christopher, world renowned chef who swore even more than that tw@t Ramsey and presented the TV program ‘Can’t cook, shan’t fcuking cook’ on satellite TV. He had come down from Scotland leaving his restaurant in capable hands and was organising a blind taste test with his different versions of the classic army dish ‘baby’s heads’ or steak and kidney pudding. He looked a bit flabby, which Flabby pointed out and after the fight had subdued Flabby had to agree, Ryan had lost none of his sharpness. He had lost two of his front teeth but he put it down to a lucky kick. Flabby always said Ryan was like a man possessed but due to a foot hygiene problem, this was usually updated or upgraded to ‘cheese possessed’.
As the far side of the room was barely visible, they knew ‘Smudge’ Smith was there. He had taken temporary, unpaid leave from the health sector where he had been working but his absence wouldn’t be noticed for days as most thought he was having a fag break. Smudge was a staunch supporter of the government and especially The Treasury as smoking a hundred a day he had contributed more than most throughout the years. He coughed as he usually did but no lung came up or not that they noticed. It had been a rough time for Smudge as he had found out that he was allergic to his favourite brand of nicotine patches but the resulting lawsuit had seen him take the manufacturers, Nicobollox to the cleaners. “This will keep me in fags for a bit” had amazed the judge even though he had found in Smudge’s favour. He sat smoking with just the one handful of cigarettes while attempting to pick his nose with a Blackberry.
‘Knocker’ Down, Families Officer extraordinaire and dance partner sublime was as subtle as ever and was insulting the only non SAS looking type in the pub but realising it was the landlord, he contented himself by complaining about the sensitive issue he had dealt with the other week. All and sundry who were fortunately all SAS were still not too pleased to learn that one of their wives was ‘gagging for it’ that she ‘took it up the dirtbox’ and that ‘she gives a blowjob like a Dyson’. Ok no loss of suction but Flabby was relieved he was on his own though he did have to admit Knocker was spot on. She had been gagging for it.
‘Danny Boy’ Dhmorerghahenaienain (Wilkins) on penalty of death in case he burst out into song was mumbling into his glass, chiefly because it was empty and Knocker refused to buy a round until everybody else had finished. He was in a particularly bad mood as the karaoke machine had gone t1ts up and Danny Boy’s real passion in life apart from the regiment was karaoke. “I’m gagging for a drink here, so I am” he mentioned rather loudly and looking directly at Knocker. “Pipe down tick mick” replied Knocker with all his usual sensitivity though he did go to the bar and get the round in. “’Bout fcuking time, so it is” commented Danny Boy looking forward to his drink.
Jock
Taff Leek and Nige (Nigel Ruperting-Smythe) had only just got back from secret operations and it was to do with what would happen in the next few days. As leaders of Team Alpha and Team Bravo respectively, they had been deep undercover in unknown territory which obviously wasn’t unknown now but fairly close to their intended targets. They were keeping things close to their chests or at least until the morning when all would become clear at the briefing. Flabby had been slightly annoyed as usually he was the one in the know but as an instructor he sometimes missed out on the juicy tittle-tattle as well as on the juicy jobs. Taff sat supping his pint and tried to read the Max Boyce biography (Volume 12) through the fog courtesy of Smudge’s smoking habit. Nige browsed through a copy of War and Peace in Inuktitut and munched on a bag of hedgehog crisps.
The only one missing from the gang of nine was Rikshaw and
while he had sent his apologies, they were going to give him shite tomorrow at
the briefing. “Any ideas boys?” asked Flabby. “Fcuked if I know, so I don’t”
replied Danny Boy honestly. “Well the way I see it” said Nige looking up from
his book. “The way I see it is that we could be going east” he continued. “Most
of the shitty places are east” he declared. “But the good old US of A is west”
joked Jock pretending he was on stage at
They talked long into the night or until Flabby felt tired which was way after ten so saying their goodbyes they went their separate ways. Flabby returned to the pub a few minutes later as he had forgotten that some were staying at his place for the night. So those that were staying with Flabby followed him at a respectable distance and the rest headed back to camp. “See you in the morning” was shouted so many times that the landlord came out and told them all to ‘Fcuk off home” and while Knocker wanted to punch his lights out, the rest headed off without a murmur. “See you all in the morning lads” shouted Knocker and just dared the landlord to say anything. The rest laughed themselves silly all the way home as “Don’t let the bedbugs bite” drifted through the cold night air from the direction of the pub.
Flabby woke first as he was on top. “Bloody bunk beds” he cursed and cursed again as he stubbed his toe on the leg of the bed. “Can’t go now” he joked and woke the rest of the lads. They all sat down to breakfast, Jock and Flabby ate cereal while Smudge smoked and Ryan dabbled with all of the ingredients in Flabby’s kitchen which wasn’t much but as usual he created a culinary masterpiece out of them. Smudge rushed past dropping ash in the sugar bowl, the milk jug and burning the table cover as he grabbed a quick coffee. “Got to have my fix in the morning” he said already opening his second packet of fags. “Right let’s hit the road” shouted Flabby over the sound of the radio, the TV and Ryan blending something that probably didn’t need blending. “Fcuk sake, we are going to be late” shouted Flabby almost being heard over the radio and the TV but losing badly against the blender. He pulled the plug of the blender and physically dragged Ryan to the car. They were still in civvies but it was only the briefing and nobody seemed to mind. “If I’m going to bored, I may as well be comfortable” was Flabby’s motto and it took something special for him to break the habit. On a job that was different but this was just a mildly official chin wag.
They all squeezed into Flabby’s Kurasawa Panda 4x4. “Crap taste in women but at least I’ve got good taste in cars” he thought to himself and if any presenters of Top Gear had been dead they would have turned in their respective graves. “What the fcuk is this shite?” asked Jock rather ungraciously. “I’ve been in bigger bumper cars” he joked. “Did you buy it off Barbie and Ken?” he continued. “Does it cut the grass as it goes along?” there was no stopping Jock or wasn’t until Flabby pulled up to a very abrupt stop and calmly but with clenched teeth told Jock that “You CAN walk” and finally Jock shut up though he couldn’t resist asking “How often does the elastic band have to be changed?” Flabby let that one go and let one go. “Revenge is better served cold” he thought to himself but he was worried that he might have followed through.
“Morning Joe” shouted Flabby when winding the window down repeated it causing Joe to fall of his chair as per usual; he was just resting his eyes. “Morning Flabby” replied Joe wiping the sleep from his eyes and his breakfast from the rather smart uniform. “Bloody hell, there’s some faces from the past” said Joe, noticing those squeezed into the car. “Can we fcuking move, I’m getting claustrophobic in here” remarked Smudge who actually was dying for a smoke as Flabby had banned him from smoking in the car. “There’s not enough room in here to get claustrophobic” joked Jock and Flabby eased the car forward. “Id’s please” asked Joe refusing to lift the barrier. “Get tae fcuk” replied Jock and Flabby hit the accelerator, the car ripped through the barrier and with tyres screeching sped into the camp. “I was only joking” remarked Joe. He looked at the barrier, all bent and twisted and decided that he would fix it later. He drifted off to sleep again and dreamt of storming embassies, his normal but sadly recurring dream.
Flabby screeched to a halt in an empty parking place and they all jumped out of the car. Smudge lit up instantly and the others stretched their legs, their arms and most other body parts that had gone to sleep in the somewhat crowded car. They made their way to the briefing room while Smudge chain smoked by the car. “Minutes few” shouted Smudge lighting up his third cigarette. The others walked into the main building and into the briefing room, picked a chair each and got as comfortable as they could. Smudge finally joined them and they sat looking at the four walls waiting for something to happen. On the stage was a map or what looked like a map as it was covered up by a piece of cloth that closely resembled a cookhouse table cloth. It was, it was a cookhouse table cloth. “Fcuk, haven’t seen one of those in years” remarked Flabby and they all sat and reminisced about table cloths, the different patterns, the different colours, the different materials and how only some had matching serviettes. The plan of the future operation with a rather obvious ‘Secret’ stamped on it, remained unread as they swung the lamp.
Eventually, the subject exhausted, somebody noticed the map but noises in the corridor made them sit down pretty quick. “Fcuk sake, you’ve still got one left” said a very familiar voice and they all recognized it instantly. It was Knocker and he burst into the room with all his usual subtlety. “Have to tell somebody one of their parents has died and they go to pieces” he explained to the four. “Fcuking wimp” he added. “You didn’t do the ‘all those with both parents, one pace forward, not you whoever’ trick? Asked Smudge knowing Knocker was more than capable of such a lack of care and consideration. “What do you think I am?” asked Knocker though rhetorically and daring anybody to make it otherwise. “I just told him his mum had better get used to paying the single room supplement next time she stays at a hotel” he added and the others laughed, annoying him at first but finally he saw the funny side as well and joined in.
“Bit too much merriment going on here” said a familiar voice and they all recognized Rikshaw. He walked in and there was much catching up to do. Even more so as the rest walked into the briefing room and eventually finding the door actually walked into the briefing room only slightly bruised. Taff, Danny Boy and Nige joined the rest and there was even more catching up to be done. “Fcuk, haven’t seen you since? said one of them. “Yesterday you dicksplash” replied another reminding him about their evening in The Grapes but fortunately the author hadn’t forgotten. There was much talk and the mood was pretty good despite the fact that Knocker was letting rip at anybody no longer serving. He didn’t like civvies, he didn’t much like those in the regiment either but he was slightly more tolerant of them than ‘fcuking civvies’.
The merriment was suddenly interrupted as the SAS hierarchy plus a plethora of suits walked into the briefing room. “Sit up” shouted somebody. “Get tae fcuk” replied Jock predictably and not sitting up. “Sit easy” shouted the same voice. “I already am you cnut” replied Jock. Somebody stared daggers at Jock but he just ignored it. “Right gents, listen in” said the very recognizable ‘Boss Man’, the highest ranking SAS officer on camp. “This is Mister Smith and this is Mister Jones” he explained pointing at two of the suits in turn. “Fcuking muppets” remarked Jock and the withering stares continued. “They will explain the background to this job and then I’ll explain the rest afterwards” said the Boss and handed over to the suits who lectured for what seemed hours about GNP, balance of payments and UN resolutions. Jock of course remarked that he couldn’t see what was so special about a resolution as he’d already broken three he made at Hogmanay. The suits ignored him and yet more dagger glances were heading Jock’s way.
“Boss, do we need all this shite?” asked Flabby and the
suits glared at him. “Not really” he replied. “But it does help to have a bit
of background” he continued. Jock butted in, it just had to be him. “But where
the fcuk are we going?” he asked and ignored everybody on the stage glaring at
him. “
“First, I’d like to introduce the three that will make up the numbers for the three four man teams. Most of you will already know them, some have worked with them and some have trained them. Let’s have a special Hereford welcome for Dave, Dee and Dozy” The Boss Man introduced the two men and one woman who walked onto the stage, made their way down to the rest and grabbing a seat each sat down. “Where’s Beaky, Mick and Titch?” asked Jock sarcastically and just for a change, everybody glared at him. “Shut the fcuk up Jock” shouted the Boss Man but he was smiling.
“Team Alpha will comprise Dave,
“How the fcuk do we get out again? asked Dave. “The same way
you got in of course” replied the Boss Man rather annoyed at the question.
Flabby knew Dave, he had trained him. Dave wasn’t the brightest but he would
and could keep going no matter what. A loyal
“Silly fcuker” joked
“And they call me Dozy” joked Dozy not living up to his nickname. Dozy was indeed not dozy and could give Nige a run for his money with his linguistic skills and could hack an American military network in his sleep. Ex Int Corps and after spells with MI6, he had joined the regiment. In fact the regiment had headhunted him, a new development in recruitment but it had paid off as Dozy was now settled in his work and was always ready to put that analytical brain into top gear. Quite a rarity having an analytical brain in top gear but there always has to be a first time. A protégé of Danny Boy and apart from saying “so it is” all the time, almost a carbon copy or clone of Danny Boy himself.
So the briefing turned into a free for all and while Knocker tried to bait the suits, the rest just talked amongst themselves. The Boss Man and entourage had left for drinkies in the mess and the two suits if they could finally get rid of Knocker were keen to join them. The respective flights were in a couple of days and there wasn’t much to do until then. No silly last minute training or nervous pishes, you didn’t want to pick up an injury now or wet a trouser leg. Danny Boy had managed to fix the coffee machine and free coffees or the brown liquid that looked like coffee but tasted of chicken soup were being handed round. Knocker had to be pulled off one suit, Jock off another, it was just a normal end of briefing day and everybody was relaxed, totally focused and mentally prepared for the job ahead.
Chapter Two
Two quiet restful days later, they all stood in the squadron office except Smudge who waited outside due to a panic attack. Flabby had got caught in traffic lights on the way in and Smudge had endured an extra ten minutes without his nicotine fix. The rest signed for tickets, put in leave passes or just generally got in each and everybody’s way. All their equipment would be sent on, mostly in diplomatic bags or acquired locally but they were all being issued with the new SAS watch, available at all good jewellers or direct from the regiment. The attacks were to take place at exactly the same time or in military speak ‘at the same time’ but to assist in this coordination a watch would be issued to everybody.
The three different locations were in different time zones
or so they thought and while
Team Alpha comprising Taff, Dave, Dee and Dozy would be
flying out to
So Team Alpha sat on the Aeroflot flight to
The flight was cramped as several cultural attaches had been
expelled and had left the
The team trudged through all the controls, passports were
shown, rubber gloves were ‘talced’, the KY Jelly was pulled out of a drawer
somewhere just in case and fortunately for our team but disappointingly for
others not used. The team settled down at a ‘StarRoubles’ and drank vodka as
they had run out of coffee. The Vodka Expresso was particularly good as was the
Vodka Latte. They had a few hours to kill so explored the facilities of
Eventually and at no extra cost, their flight was called and
they piled on board the plane, counted the engines and tried to get some sleep.
Another long flight but they survived, mainly as they had declined the
in-flight meal, declined the in-flight movie but accepted every offer of vodka
and/or a blanket though never at the same time and never in the same glass. As
the plane circled the city, looking for the airport, they could see the grey
boring buildings and strangely all four thought
The following morning, they all sat round a grey table on
grey chairs, eating grey bread washed down with grey tea.
“There have been developments” whispered Mister Evans. “Pardon?” said Dozy. “I said there have been developments” repeated Mister Evans slightly louder. “Pardon?” said Dozy again trying to get closer. “I fcuking said there have been fcuking developments” repeated a rather annoyed Mister Evans. “There’s no need to shout, I’m not deaf” shouted Dozy and added “And there’s no need to tell the whole world” So the team knew there had been developments and sat waiting patiently to learn what they were. Mister Evans had calmed down a bit and he finally continued. “The Chinese have changed their minds and now will help. They will even provide transport for Team Charlie so the coordinated strikes will be able to go ahead earlier than planned. The estimated distance for them had been 140km and we were reckoning with three days for the team to be in place. The Chinese are providing quad bikes which should cut the time down to just the one day. We might have to end up buying some of the things but if it means we can strike earlier then what the fcuk. After all, it’s only taxpayer’s money” he finished off rather sarcastically and rather unfairly as all of the team were taxpayers and how.
“I haven’t finished yet” said Mister Evans even though I
said he had finished off. “The Royal Navy apparently is shelling out more
goodwill then they had previously owned up to and there is a submarine in the
area as well as their surface vessel. Or should I say it was in the area, as at
this very minute it’s steaming round to the east coast of
“I’m still not finished” said Mister Evans which brought a
“For fcuk sake” from three of the four team members. The fourth groaned and put
her head in her hands but I’m not naming names or telling tales, as you’ve
probably already realised. “Look this has come down all the way from the top.
Even Prime Minister Beckham is in on this and the strike will take place in
three days time at 05.45 ‘S’ time which is the time you will all see on your
watches.” He went on (and on). “Shouldn’t we have been briefed on this at the
briefing at
“So today, we can check your kit out at the British Trade
Mission lockup and then you have a couple of days to try and find something in
As Team Alpha examined and checked their kit in the British Trade Mission lockup so called because of the large sign on the door that proclaimed ‘British Trade Mission lockup’ in several different languages, the other teams were on their separate ways to their jobs. Team Charlie had endured the eleven hour flight to Seoul and were already on board HMS Droitwich, a class of 78 cruiser with anti-submarine capabilities, anti-aircraft capabilities, anti-histamine capabilities and a couple of Sea Lynx thrown on the back. All their kit was onboard including the quad bikes which had been news to the team but definitely better than walking. All the kit had been checked and the many items stolen by light fingered matelots had been returned. Flabby had ordered Knocker to first do a stock check and then to supervise security as he had fallen out with a few of the ship’s officers, well all of them in fact and keeping him out of the way seemed a good idea. The rest organized the loading of the quad bikes as two of the four had trailers and this would make life much easier moving such an amount of kit. There were still several hours before they would land and Flabby was still nervous as some of the kit would be going by launch and the rest by helicopter and as an under slung load.
Several hours later and several heart attacks or potential heart attacks later, Flabby, Ryan, Knocker and Smudge stood on Chinese soil and all four quad bikes plus the two trailers had been unloaded successfully. They could see HMS Droitwich in the distance and Knocker raised a finger and pointed in the general direction of the ship. He had managed to fall out with ALL of the crew by the time they had got there. They had been joined by a Captain Fred Foo Yung of the Chinese Army as HMS Droitwich had contacted him by radio as had been arranged and he was to escort them while they were on Chinese soil. “He can fcuking walk then” muttered Knocker as he had fallen out with him already but there was room for him on one of the quad bikes as anybody walking would slow them down too much. If they weren’t on time then the other two jobs might be compromised so it was imperative they stuck to their schedule.
Knocker contented himself with forcing the captain to talk about British four wheel drive vehicles or ‘randlovers’ which was about the best the captain could manage. Other than that he spoke pretty good English though Knocker joked that “He talked out of his R’s” which cracked him up and forced the others to hide their faces. Knocker cracked them up as well but they couldn’t afford to upset the captain. The quads loaded, the trailers loaded and the Chinese captain sat behind Smudge which meant he got covered in fag ash, they set off in a north easterly direction making sure they kept the border in sight and on their right. Not that the border was that obvious at times but the Chinese captain seemed to know where he was going and he prevented them crossing the imaginary line with some pretty dubious hand signals.
Team Bravo on arriving at
Back in
“You English, you crack me up” laughed the mafia boss but Taff was seething. Never had he been so insulted. He tried to hide it as the mafia boss and his cronies joined in the merriment but with a move that in the film had to be shown in slow motion he grabbed the pistol of the mafia boss and twisting him shot him through the stomach. Using him as a shield he wasted three of the mafia goons before they had even blinked and the three remaining fled for their lives. The other team members were on them like a flash and picking up the nearest weapon from their kit, the goons were caught and promptly dispatched. The mafia boss lay on the floor, he was fatally wounded but he was laughing. “Me and my big mouth” he gargled, blood oozed from his mouth. “I got it wrong this time but maybe next time” he struggled to speak but Taff cut him short. “No next time” said Taff and shot him through the head.
“What the fcuk do we do now?” asked Dozy as he dumped the last and seventh body onto the pile in the lockup. “We call in the specialists” and reaching for his mobile he dialled a number and walked outside. The others could hear him talking but nobody had a clue what had been said. Half an hour later, they heard the sound of a car drawing up and another suit appeared at the entrance to the lockup. He knocked even though the door was open and introduced himself. He was Mister Brown and also a member of the British Trade Mission but his speciality was apparently refuse and the disposal of. “Come on guys” said Taff to the others and apart from returning their weapons to the pile in the lockup they did nothing other than walk outside, jump into the car Mister Brown had provided for them and drive back to the hotel. Mister Brown would use his speciality skills to dispose of anything that shouldn’t be there and would even re-stock as some ammo had been used. The place would be cleaned from top to bottom and they would be able to pick up their kit when required without any eyesores in the lockup.
“I don’t know about you but I need a drink” said Taff and sat in the hotel bar, done out in a nice shade of grey they all agreed and all indulged. Strange as Taff never used to drink but then this was for medicinal purposes only.
Chapter Three
Flabby and co were making good time, the quads were fair eating up the miles or kilometres for those who are reading in metric. They stopped in a clump of trees as had they gone further, they would have driven into them, a wise move, considering the urgency of their mission. Knocker continued annoying and goading Fred, the Chinese captain and from behind a large bush as Fred took a leak was heard “Lound and lound the lugged lock lan the lagged lascal” The rest were in bits and I think even Fred was seeing the funny side. “Lotten balstewalds” he shouted at them zipping up his flies. “Only joking Fled” uttered Smudge falling on the ground in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. The rest were creased up and Flabby wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, tried to get a bit of order. “Ok, that’s enough” he said trying so hard to be serious. So decorum restored, they took sips of water as Smudge smoked two cigarettes at the same time, making the most of the brief stop. “Ok wagons roll” said Flabby, he’d always wanted to say that and it was just one of many things that made the job so satisfying.
The terrain was pretty nondescript making it all too easy
for the author but they were still making good progress. It was about 120
kilometres from the coast to the small town of
They had reached the large town of
Finally after test driving the local fast food which was nothing worse than chicken but looked like something that had died in a road accident, they hit the far end of town and civilization such as it was finally left behind. They could see the border and occasionally the odd border guard and some of them were pretty odd as if you think Russians wear funny hats then the North Koreans put them totally to shame. “Land a fcuking chopper on it you could” remarked Knocker peering through his binos at one particularly large hat wearing border guard. Flabby egged them on and he didn’t want the border guards catching even a glimpse of them as it wasn’t the usual SAS holiday destination and people might put two and two together, make four or close enough and beef up the security at their target. They pushed leaving a trail of dust while Smudge pushed on leaving a trail of smoke and setting fire to several bushes with his carelessness. Large expanses of scrub were set alight thanks to Smudge discarding his Player’s Army Cut cigarettes though in fairness, he had complained right at the start that the quads had no ashtrays.
It was late afternoon when Flabby pulled them over for a rest and a bit of scran. They pulled the quads off the road such as it was and Flabby made them cover up them up using any available foliage. They couldn’t light a fire but a good old hexy block provided enough hot water for some tea which Fred did not appreciate especially as Knocker had made it and there were nine sugars in there. “Need a bit of energy and s’not my fault I’ve got a sweet tooth” he muttered thinking he must go to a dentist when he got back. The rest was cold fare; Smudge even managed a baby’s head (steak and kidney pudding to you civvies) before the nicotine cravings forced him to light up again. Flabby attacked a tin of baconburgers and failing to open it, stuffed himself silly with contaminated chocolate. Ryan tossed a salad or he was doing something in the bushes so they hoped it was salad he was tossing and Knocker sucked on a dextrose tablet. But Fred was in his element, he had never tasted anything so good and so practical as well. Yes there was finally one. A person that actually liked cheese possessed.
Suddenly and without warning and let’s face it, if you’re going to creep about why would you give a warning but Fred was instantly like a coiled spring and he gave them the official Chinese hand signal for ‘Shut the fcuk up, there’s somebody creeping around noisily and I haven’t a clue who or what they or it could be’. It was a complicated signal but the team understood it eventually as Knocker had already pulled his spoon out of his pocket to stop Fred swallowing his tongue as he had thought he was having an epileptic fit. They froze where they were as the voices got closer. Fred gave the gesture for ‘North Koreans have crossed the border and shouldn’t have’ but this one was wasted on the team. Knocker still wasn’t sure if it was a book or a film and Smudge had guessed incorrectly of course that it was the Sound of Music. The voices went right past their location and it was only thanks to their careful concealment or the fact that North Koreans were blind as bats that they weren’t discovered. The voices became fainter which of course could mean two things, the people speaking were actually further away or they staying where they were, had just decided to speak softer. Guessing it was the former and fortunately they were right, Fred in a low voice mainly because he was lying down, told them that they were North Koreans. To which they argued that they were SAS and definitely not North Koreans but Fred told them he had meant those that had sneaked past their location and finally all was made clear or in Knocker’s case fairly clear.
“What are they doing here?” whispered Flabby. “Fcuk knows” replied Fred. Isn’t it always great when you have somebody with local knowledge who was able and qualified to use that expertise in collating all that knowledge, weighing up the pros and the cons and making an informed judgement on the current situation? “How the fcuk should I know?” said Fred really proving the point. “I don’t speak Korean” continued Fred. “But I did make out the odd word and phrase” The team waited but either it was a secret or he just didn’t feel like telling so Flabby asked. “Come on then spill the beans”. Fred opened the tin and did just that but they left them as they much preferred the ones with little sausages. “They’re looking for you” explained Fred finally realising the team would like to know. “And they do feel that you should play the sweeper system” Flabby wondered at these few odd words and phrases as any language course he’d been on hadn’t been that in depth and certainly not in the case of football team formations. “And they intend to kill you, that’s all” concluded Fred. Flabby thought to himself and let it slip out loud. “That’s all?” “That’s all?” repeating himself for effect and just in case the others hadn’t heard him. “Fcuking will be all if I get hold of them” said Knocker who had obviously heard Flabby and decided on a plan of action.
“So how do they know we’re here?” asked Smudge lighting up after that tense moment. The tense moment had been that he had thought he had lost his cigarettes but wiping the bean juice off them picked them off the floor. “Because I told them” smiled Fred. The smile quickly disappeared as Knocker grabbed him and the tip of a rather large knife was stuck under his chin. “I’ll fcuking carve you up you little yellow fcuker” said Knocker through his teeth as he had put them back in again. Talking gingerly however that is but with the tip of a knife not far away from your windpipe I can probably guess, Fred explained. “Because China does not want North Korea to lose its nuclear capability. You can do to me what you want but I was just obeying orders” Fred maybe regretted saying that the team could do what they wanted to him as he felt the knife point break the skin and felt the blood trickling down his neck.
“Looks like it’s Plan B” said Flabby and ordered Knocker to
tie Fred up. Knocker begrudgingly pulled his knife away from Fred’s throat
wiped the blade on his sleeve and after sheathing the knife, trussed up Fred
good and proper. “That’s too tight!” shouted Fred but changed his mind and
pretty damn quick when Knocker pulled out the knife again. He had to admit it
wasn’t too tight after all. It was just right. “So what the fcuk do we do now?”
asked Smudge. “Up shite creek and without a paddle” he said to nobody in
particular though Fred agreed even though he shouldn’t have. “The soldiers will
kill you all and everybody will think it was
“As I said Plan B” said Flabby. “But that doesn’t mean that
we can’t complete Plan A first” he continued. Knocker kicked Fred again as he
appeared to be listening and a well aimed kick resulting in a broken nose and
suddenly Fred had lost interest. “Well he did say we could do what we wanted
with him” explained Knocker and was just about to kick him again but Flabby
held him back. “We still have his goons to deal with Knocker. Save it for them.
He’s going nowhere” Flabby as ever cool, calm and collected though bricking it
a bit as they were deeply in the poo at the moment. The SAS never left any
trace on a job and even body waste matter was taken away for disposal later.
“No gats but we have to deal with these goons and hope that
Knocker administered the knock out blow on Fred and with a sympathetic “That’ll keep the little yellow fcuker quiet” and joined the rest of team. Using any available cover they made their way in the direction that the voices had gone. Fortunately the terrain was slightly hilly and the undulations gave them perfect cover. It also gave the North Koreans; sorry Chinese perfect cover as well as they almost fell on top of them. Hidden behind a hillock, Flabby who was hidden behind Knocker so hidden behind a pillock popped his head up and counted the Chinese. Six of them were sat around a small fire so about as tactical as Ross Kemp in Ultimate Farce but there was very little cover between him and them so it wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought. Then he had a brainwave or the author thought it was. He sent Knocker back for the still unconscious Fred and Knocker appeared back in minutes few, throwing Fred unceremoniously on the ground. They decided in the usual way who was going to miss out on the fun using the traditional SAS method, paper scissors stone. Smudge lost out so that left Flabby, Ryan and Knocker to deal with the six. Several exaggerated knife sharpening sessions later the trap was ready and while the three waited with baited breath and possibly baited knives, Smudge propped up Fred and proceeded to work him like a puppet. There was surprise when the six spotted Fred but they waved and Smudge working a very limp arm, waved back. Using the same arm he beckoned but as they all rose to make their way towards him, he shook Fred’s head and holding up one finger, beckoned again. There was frantic discussion amongst the six but eventually the winner or loser as he would soon find out started on his way towards Flabby, Ryan and Knocker. He was dispatched with efficiency and the procedure was repeated until there were just the two Chinese left. Fred had started to come round but Smudge banged his head on a convenient rock had put him under again but this had aroused the suspicion of the remaining two.
Smudge couldn’t warn Flabby but he tried the same procedure hoping that the pair had calmed down a bit but both started towards him and were not taking the route of the previous four but were coming directly towards him. Smudge struggled to pull his pistol from the holster but Fred fell backwards and he was suddenly in full view of the remaining two. The pair raised their weapons but froze and dropped to the ground, each with a neat hole in their foreheads. Out of the corner of his eye, Smudge could see Flabby replacing his pistol in its holster and searching on the ground for the spent shell cases. “You w@nker Smudge!” shouted Knocker rushing towards him. Knocker was furious and kicked the still unconscious Fred but a bit too hard as you could hear his skull crack a mile away. Knocker untied him and pocketed the rope. “Won’t be needing that any more then” he said and then to Smudge barked out an order that nobody would have questioned, let alone disobeyed. “Those two have something of ours, get them now!” Smudge lit up a cigarette and pulling out his knife starting burrowing in the first skull. Finding what he was looking for, he remodelled the skull with a rock to destroy any evidence of his burrowing. Lighting up another cigarette he started on the second and whistled to himself as he burrowed.
The scene of the massacre tidied up and any evidence
removed, the four uncovered their quads and headed off towards the town of
Giving it a very wide body swerve, they hacked that important right well before the town and hoped to pick up their true course again once the town was well and truly out of sight. Changing course slightly they continued and in the distance was a single solitary board stuck in the ground for none to see. Getting closer they could see it had writing on it or at least North Korean and from that basic North Korean they’d done a few months ago, they realised it said ‘Welcome to North Korea’. There was a long list under this welcome and trying to remember, Ryan finally sussed out that it wasn’t so much a list of dos and don’ts but just a list of don’ts. Even in this oppressed country, graffiti artists were at work and to the long list of don’ts had been added ‘read signs’. Ryan smiled to himself and shared the joke with the rest who were still struggling with that long list.
“Nine kilometres to the missile storage facility then” said
Flabby and they rode on carefully, now in
Flabby headed for the edge of the wood and peered through his binos. The others joined him and they were not enthusiastic about what they saw. “There’s a fcuking army guarding it” remarked Knocker as he spotted radar dishes, anti aircraft missiles, artillery, heavy armour and worst of all hundreds or what seemed like hundreds of troops. “Got any ideas Flabby?” asked Smudge lighting up. “Yes, you can fcuking cut down a bit” snapped Flabby grabbing Smudge’s cigarette and stamping it into the ground. He stormed off and kicked the trike until the other front wheel gave up and fell off. “Fcuking great. Now it’s a fcuking bike” Smudge sheepishly joined him and asked “You ok Flabby?” “Sorry Smudge but this is going to need one hell of a fcuking Plan B” Flabby apologized but he was also apologizing as he wasn’t really sure how this would be done, if in fact it could be done.
“Could be worse” said Smudge smiling. “Could be out of fags” and he lit up again. Flabby laughed and sucked a dextrose sweet. Knocker smiled, mainly because he had dropped one and Ryan worried that he didn’t have enough fresh ingredients for a decent salad. “I suppose it will look better in the morning” philosophized Flabby. “Especially if we blow the fcuker up” joked Knocker. “Can’t wait” he added.
Chapter Four
Most had managed some sleep as each had ‘stagged on’ at
least the once. Nothing had moved, it was totally quiet and the sun was just
rising. The lights of the missile storage facility were visible in the distance
and occasionally they spotted the lights of a vehicle or perhaps some numpty
walking around with a torch. Flabby was happy that he had probably had more
sleep than they had. As they were ‘going it alone’ that is without American
support they didn’t have the usual satellite photos to give them an accurate
picture of the layout. All that had existed was a sketched diagram which had
been inwardly digested and was now safely locked up in the vault back at
He had volunteered the information and knew the place well thanks to the ‘going to work with your dad’ days at the facility. His father though now retired, had worked there in a supervisory capacity and Kim-Sung had spent many an evening outside the social club with a coke and a packet of crisps while his dad got blootered inside. There had been additions over the years but the general layout of the plant was accurate and even showed exactly where the missiles were stored. What it didn’t show and that worried Flabby, was the army that now guarded it though Flabby knew exactly where they had breakfast and where they had a dump later. Even the gym and sauna were mentioned. Kim-Sung had an eye for detail and had proved that with his very accurate sketch.
Flabby orientated himself using the sketch but they were off the paper so that didn’t help. He was really worried about this job and while he wasn’t frightened of the odds being stacked against them, this was perhaps a bit much for even them. “They’ve been tipped off” he said to himself and Ryan waking from a deep sleep, agreed with them. “We’re fcuked Flabby” added Ryan stretching and trying to warm himself. “Not fcuked but it will be a miracle if we pull it off” replied Flabby as Knocker crashed through the undergrowth with all the subtlety of a wounded rhino. “Morning all” he bellowed and Flabby indicated he should ‘shut the fcuk up’. Flabby could smell burning and knew that Smudge was close-by. Smudge joined them and smoking a cigarette or four joined in the debate. Knocker headed off to stag on and they could hear him crashing through the undergrowth again. They had to get past that army before planting the explosives, then past the army again and well clear when the place went up just in case any mushrooms went up and while the dust might settle, they certainly didn’t want it settling on them.
So they had just over 24 hours to complete the mission. Daylight hours were just laying low with hopefully a quick recce but the work would need to be completed that evening and night for the big bang to go off at exactly 05.45 to coincide with the other strikes. They of course would be nowhere near this but still close enough to see if they had been successful or not. “We should have gone straight in last night” said Smudge burning a hole in his trousers with a wayward fag end. He jumped up and down as the red hot end fell down his trousers and burned his sock. Much stamping and another hole in his trousers later, Smudge was out or at least the fire was and he settled down again to join in the discussion. “I said we should have gone in last night” he repeated. “It isn’t my fault” explained Flabby. “The strike has to be coordinated and the author is having great trouble coordinating all of this, he knows fcuk all about ops like this” he continued. “I think he’s over reached himself running three teams but we’re stuck with him for now” concluded Flabby and Ryan and Smudge agreed. “I suppose it’s his train set” said Ryan philosophically. “Un-fcuking-fortunately!” shouted Knocker frightening off a herd of wild pigs that had been foraging happily on the edge of the wood. In the panic, a cute little baby pig was separated from its mother but happily later they were reunited and frolicked with happiness until a North Korean farmer shot them both to stock up his larder. “He’s using diversionary tactics” noticed Flabby. “Only fcuking tactics he does use” shouted Knocker frightening the pigs again.
“Flabby quick!” shouted Knocker. Flabby rushed to where
Knocker was on guard and pulled his binos from their case. Looking where
Knocker was pointing, he could see a rather large column of infantry on the
move and they were heading their way. There were several jeep type vehicles and
worse still a couple of T-72 tanks. Even worse than that was the sight of two
Hind E helicopter gunships lifting into the air and tracking the column, they
were heading their direction as well. The Hind E was similar to the world
famous Hind D but with airco, leather seats and the alloy wheels. A year’s
membership of the RAC was probably no good to the North Koreans but no doubt
the free insurance was a real boon. “Get the remaining three quads ready to go
and ditch the trailers” shouted Flabby and Knocker disappeared to carry out his
orders. “And leave a nice surprise with them” shouted Flabby again hoping
Knocker had heard him but a bellowed “Roger to that” came from Knocker and he
was smiling. Knocker just loved leaving surprises. Ryan joined Flabby while
Smudge helped Knocker sort out the transport. “Ryan, you take Smudge and head
for the border. We’re fcuked here and no doubt fcuked in
The three quads raced towards the border, Ryan and Smudge lagged behind a bit they were still outrunning everything or at least almost everything as one of the helicopter gunships flew over them. It hovered feet off the ground and let rip at where Ryan and Smudge had been seconds before. Gravel flew everywhere and trees got an unsolicited pruning but no damage done. The other Hind was flying higher and obvious guiding the other. The three quads were together but only for a second as machine gun fire hit the ground in front of them and they raced off in different directions. Flabby was watching both Hinds or trying to and when he though he couldn’t be seen, he raced ahead and swung the quad into some undergrowth and stopped. He jumped off the quad and rummaged through what they had managed to bring with them. His hand felt the familiar coldness of the long tube and threw away his toothpaste in disgust. “What am I going to do? Brush him to death” he said to himself, cold and calculating.
Finally he found what he was looking for, the rocket launcher. He flicked the on switch which broke off in his hand. This was perfectly normal but at least it was switched on. He pulled out the LCD screen and selected ‘Fire’ in the menu. Going through the options, he discounted ‘Later’, ‘Not now’ and ‘Next week’ and selected ‘Now’ and confirmed it by hitting ‘Yes’ in answer to ‘Really?’. He hit ‘Yes’ again in answer to ‘Really, really?’ and it was ready to fire. Ryan and Smudge came past and the Hind was hot on their heels but what was even hotter was the missile that flew up the number two jet pipe and totally ruined the pilot’s day. The Hind exploded in a huge ball of flame and Flabby lost some of his eyebrows and most of the cover he had been using. The quad was unscathed though the seat was nice and warm and jumping on and starting up, he raced off after Ryan and Smudge. The second but now solitary Hind flew lower and the road or track was repeatedly splattered with machine gun fire. A tree erupted in a ball of flame as a rocket overdid the lumberjack role but the pilot was intent on some revenge and he had formidable armaments at his disposal.
A chain gun rattled and Knocker swerved off to his right just in time. The quad was on two wheels but Knocker held on and managed to keep it upright. Flabby made hand gestures chiefly at the Hind though the pilot just seemed to ignore them but Ryan and Knocker realised he was up to something, kept the Hind occupied and let him race ahead again. Flabby was flat on the tank and the throttle was wide open and kept this up until he was well in front of the Hind. He screeched to a halt and jumped off the quad. He rummaged in his pack and pulled out a roll of harry black and his plastic drinking mug. He pulled out his pistol and holding the mug on the ground, put a round into the engine casing. Oil dribbled out and was collected in the mug. When the flow stopped or had almost stopped, Flabby lashed the mug to the side of the engine, as low as possible away from the heat. Keeping his pistol in his hand he jumped back on, started up and raced back towards where he hoped Ryan and Knocker were keeping the Hind occupied. It didn’t take him long and the Hind pilot must have been dizzy by now. Ryan with Smudge clinging on for dear life and Knocker were leading the Hind a merry dance. Flabby gunned the quad hoping it wouldn’t seize or just yet and tried to attract the attention of the Hind. “Chase me, chase me!” he shouted waving at the Hind.
He thought about mooning but although spring it was still a bit chilly and it’s not easy trying to drive a quad with a pistol in one hand while trying to show your arrse with the other. Finally as he seemed to be the only one riding vaguely straight, the Hind latched onto him and he had a couple of nervous moments as the engine spluttered and the Hind let rip with a couple more rockets. He swerved from side to side heading for the border and the engine minus its oil was still running but he knew he didn’t have much time left. With his pistol, he shot into the plastic mug and the oil started to flow hitting the almost red hot exhaust pipe and letting off a cloud of smoke. Timing was here of the essence and the Hind pilot seeing the smoke, moved in for the kill. But what he didn’t see was the wires that stretched high across the road, the Hind stopped or almost stopped as if grabbed by an invisible hand and then piled into the ground. It broke up and a huge explosion finished it off, smoke drifting into the air and out of that smoke came Knocker his face blackened by the smoke and Ryan and Smudge slightly later looking like the Black and White Minstrel Show as Smudge had been totally untouched by the smoke while Ryan was black. Flabby pulled up or was pulled up by the quad as the lack of oil had finally taken its toll; he was catapulted down the road and landed in a heap in the dust.
“Can we do that again?” asked Knocker as Flabby pulled
himself to his feet and dusted himself down. Ryan and Smudge drew up beside
them and Smudge jumped off as it did seem an opportune moment for a ciggy
break. Flabby laughed, nothing could shake Knocker and most people wouldn’t
have even dared to try. “I still say we should get over that border” said
Flabby and the border must have been quite close. He hoped there wouldn’t be a
reception committee but then they would see pretty soon. Flabby grabbed as much
as he could from the dead quad and piled it on the back of Knocker’s and
climbed on behind him. A few minutes later, they crossed the border and they
were in
That would soon be decided as they instinctively ducked as a pair of Chinese Mig aircraft flew over. I’m not sure what Mig it was as Flabby always failed recognition and I only did it a couple of times and every black blob always looked exactly like the last one. I was always apprehensive about answering as I secretly thought that it wasn’t recognition after all and we were taking the Rorschach inkblot test and somebody would find out I was suffering from personality disorders. Anyway the Migs flew over and there was the sound of gunfire in the distance. More Migs flew over and more gunfire was heard with several explosions and a huge explosion followed by several slightly smaller ones. A huge cloud rose in the distance and it looked like where the missile storage facility was or had been. Explosions continued in the distance and the plume of smoke got ever larger. Small arms fire was heard from close by but the Migs had another run and it all went quiet. The Migs came back and Flabby was sure they dipped their wings as they flew over but it could have been a trick of the light.
“Here we fcuking go again!” shouted Knocker as a large column appeared in the distance but from the Chinese side of the border. The team reached for their weapons and tried to grab any cover they could. “Flabby look!” shouted Knocker looking through his binos. Flabby pulled his out and had a shuftee. Leading the column was a jeep type vehicle and it was flying a white flag. “Don’t trust ‘em. Slanty eyed shifty fcukers” voiced Knocker, ever the xenophobe. The column had stopped but the jeep continued, slowly heading directly towards them. It stopped about a hundred metres away and all weapons were trained on the officer with the white flag. He got out of the jeep and walked towards them. The driver of the jeep could have been armed but had both hands on the wheel and seemed to be quite nonchalant about the whole thing. To emphasize this, he started picking his nose and wiping it on his sleeve.
“Gentleman, I am Major Yu Wan Tu of the Chinese Army and you are my guests” declared the officer. “Don’t you mean prisoners?” asked Flabby not lowering his pistol. “Gentlemen, I said guests and I mean guests” replied the officer and he did look sincere. “We know about you, your mission and your encounter with Captain Foo Yung and his six thugs. In fact we would like to offer thanks for your own particular brand of pest control. They were pests to us” continued the Major and Flabby lowered his pistol. He also gestured that the other should do the same. Knocker was the last to comply and reluctantly, very reluctantly he finally lowered his. “If it makes you feel comfortable, you can keep your weapons but I do have a hundred or so men at my disposal and I’m sure good as you are, the odds are slightly in my favour” the Major was extremely polite and well spoken and Flabby returned his pistol to its holster. Ryan and Smudge followed suit and Knocker eventually, some time later did as well.
They were taken to a huge army barracks at
The Major knocked on an impressive looking door and ushered
them in. “Gentlemen, this is Colonel Mi Tu and he commands the
Flabby asked him how he knew, he had to ask but the Colonel
just laughed and again through the Major mentioned
The four sat on HMS Droitwich on their way back to
Chapter Five
The captain of HMS Seaslug ordered “Up periscope” and a North Korean had a nasty surprise. He was found floating in the sea some days later and had been the only survivor of the North Korean fishing boat the ‘Naughty Lass’. It also took a week of intensive care and a boatload of sedatives before the medical staff managed to stop him smiling. Captain Meno surveyed the scene and cursed. He pressed the button and the lens caps were retracted and he could finally see something. It was dark and he could see the lights of Kimch’aek in the distance. There was nothing moving and the highly technical radar and sonar showed they were totally alone. Also two ratings peered out of portholes as the captain liked to be sure. The captain ordered “Down periscope” and the periscope landed on his foot. Ordering it up again, he limped to a desk and sat down though finding a chair he switched to that. The periscope came down again and Captain Meno rubbed his foot. He gave the order for the sub to surface and the sound of air in the tanks drowned out the ‘muzak’.
Team Bravo sat in the wardroom which was a small broom cupboard with a table and some benches round it. Nige, Jock, Rikshaw and Danny Boy had squeezed in but they weren’t too sure if they’d ever get out again. Danny Boy had just returned from the toilets or the ‘heads’ and he was demonstrating how you had to lean backwards while taking a leak. “I’m no fcuking limbo dancer, so I’m not” he had told the rest and they had all tried it out but not at the same time. HMS Seaslug was a conventional sub so the nearest thing to nuclear was the microwave in the kitchen or ‘galley’. It was diesel electric powered with rows of batteries to power it when submerged so it was very quiet and nobody ever went short on batteries for their mp3 players or digital cameras. There was still life left in the old girl yet and the batteries had recently been upgraded to the gold top variety or Juracell as that’s where they were made, Jura not cell. It was armed with torpedoes and had some sort of gat bolted on the flat bit outside but the captain had been a bit vague on this, so if he doesn’t know, how the fcuk can I?
“Look at this!” shouted Rikshaw as he had spotted that people actually slept in bookcases that lined the hull of the sub. Bookcases with curtains as well and Rikshaw was glad he hadn’t brought all of his books. He could have made several homeless or at least without a place to sleep. None of them had ever had much to do with the Navy. Ok they had been shipped here and there all over the world but they much preferred the comfort of the black Agustas to living in a tin can. They had managed to check all of their kit and after retrieving a few essential items, it was all there and all fully functional. They could hear the ratings blowing up their transport as they were going to be dropped off by inflatable and there was no room to store them already inflated. A rating rushed past the door of the wardroom with a foot pump and they knew they must be close.
They all tucked into a last minute meal. The food was surprisingly good but everything was smaller because of the lack of space so a four course meal was cut down to two but there was still plenty of choice. Danny Boy read through the menu still undecided, should he go for the steak or kidney pie, the liver or onions, the fish or chips or the spaghetti or Bolognese. He knew one thing, he was not having a pudding as he didn’t feel like the spotted and would never be able to hold his head up high again if he had the dick. Their meal was interrupted as an inflatable shot past the door followed closely by a rating still holding a foot pump. The inflatable emitted strange farting noises as it sped past the door and the rating wasn’t exactly quiet either. A few minutes later a somewhat deflated inflatable was carried past the door by an even more deflated rating who was muttering something under his breath and it wasn’t poetry. They continued with their meal as the sound of pumping continued. “Those ratings never give up” remarked Jock choosing a mini can of burdock to drink rather than the dandelion.
Another naval officer stuck his head round the door or rather half a head. “Probably containing the half a brain” thought Jock and they were told that they were scheduled to leave in a quarter of an hour or fifteen minutes in naval speak. The team mentally prepared themselves which meant four nervous pishes and that was just Danny Boy. They buttoned up everything that needed buttoning up, zipped everything that needed zipping up and then undid it all again as it was time for yet another nervous pish. The fifteen minutes went just like ‘that’ or four or five lines in Word but it was time to go and the inflatables that had finally been inflated bobbed up and down on the water as the four tried to get in without getting better acquainted with the water. Eventually two inflatables with Danny Boy and Nige in one and Jock and Rikshaw in the other, paddled their way towards the shore. “Don’t forget there’s a deposit on these!” shouted another naval officer obviously the officer in charge of inflatable deposits or at least deposits for inflatables and waving a suitable wave of the one fingered variety, they struck out for shore.
The topography and the geography had all been memorized so they knew exactly where they were heading. The boats bobbed up and down in the sea and sometimes they lost sight of land but a big neon lit ‘M’ towered over the town and they were heading for just a tad to the right of that. The swell increased as they got close to shore and they held on for dear life but eventually they were stood on the beach with the only casualty being one lost oar and Nige had a wet foot. They pulled the inflatables high onto the beach and tried to find somewhere to stash them. Beach huts lined the area behind the beach and forcing the door of one they threw the inflatables inside. In case they forgot, it was the beach hut between the candy floss hut and the whelk stall and close to the Ghost Train and the Bingo Hall. They hadn’t seen this on the briefing or on the info they had downloaded and all you needed was the Novelty Rock Emporium and it would be like an episode of Dad’s Army. Remembering the layout of the land as if they lived here, they made their way towards the target. Jock bumped into a lamp post as that hadn’t been in the info either but apart from a bloodied nose, he was ok.
The nuclear facility was just outside the town. Close enough to give employment when the tourist season was over but far enough away not to discharge onto the beach though the whole area did have an eerie glow. It also helped when the whelk harvest was over as previously Whelk fishermen had just sat on the beach, got drunk and waited for next season. Any tourists who were brave enough to stay out of the tourist season had terrible times as their deckchairs were repeatedly stolen and if anybody had dug a hole on the beach, a drunken whelk fisherman would come along and fill it up. Not a bad thing, you could always dig another but it was what he would fill it up with that caused the problems. They passed Mrs Pak Yu Ka’s Guest House, had a free go on the helter-skelter and they were on the edge of the town just by the crazy golf. About half a mile away they could make out the nuclear facility, confirmed by a sign that said in North Korean and strangely in English that the nuclear facility was half a mile in that direction and a Day-Glo arrow pointed in that very direction.
They heard the sound of a car and all leapt for cover. Danny
Boy lay there getting beaten half to death by a small windmill on the 7th
hole while the rest had more comfortable places to avoid the headlights of the
car. It was a police car and they hoped this wasn’t a regular thing. Jock
assured them that police in
The gatehouse was nothing special and strangely there were
no guards except for what looked like a night-watchman who looked very much
like Joe back at
So in the small wooded area or copse, they talked things over and by they, I mean the team as the cops were snoring or at least one was as the other was looking for clean sheets as he had just swamped the bed. “Fcuking smells to me” said Nige agreeing with Danny Boy. “That’s because we’re by the outlet pipe” joked Jock though he was dead on. “Will you be serious” snarled Danny Boy. “But I’m Libra” continued Jock and they just had to laugh, sometimes or usually audiences didn’t but then you couldn’t help liking Jock though all (except Jock) agreed that they would like him all that much more if for once, he would just shut the fcuk up. One thing they all agreed on was that something was not quite right here and it did look just too easy. “We’re still going for it, so we are” decided Danny Boy and the rest had no reservations mainly as the hotel was still shut for refurbishments and wasn’t taking bookings until the season had started proper. “Right let’s get past this old goat” joked Jock. “Wait Jock, we’re going to try something different” and the four of them marched up to the gate and rang the bell.
“Ok Nige, all yours” said Danny Boy and Nige’s linguistic skills were put into action. “Hello, SAS here, we’ve come to blow you up” said Nige with the local accent thrown in just to show off. “Go and boil your head” replied the night-watchman who had fallen off his chair with the shock of the bell ringing. “If you try and stop us, we will kill you” argued Nige. “You and whose army?” asked the guard but not as cocksure as he had been. “The British Army obviously” Nige pushed the point home. “You’d better come in and we can talk about it” replied the guard and the gate started to open. The four walked past the gate and it stopped and started to close again. They opened the door to the gatehouse and walked in. “Morning” said the night-watchman. “The nights are fair drawing in” he said trying to make conversation but he looked nervous. Nige just explained everything to him and he introduced himself as Si Ti Park and he was the night-watchman. “How many are here on site now? Asked Nige and Si Ti Park without hesitation answered that and all further questions. “Six and they don’t pay me enough to lie” he had replied. “You were expected you know” he added and the four looked at him. This was confirming their worst fears.
As a lowly night-watchman he had known they were expected,
he had noticed the pretty tight security disappearing almost overnight or at
least overnight the night before last and the facility was still operational
but he didn’t have a clue why everything had been done. He couldn’t even work
the vending machine and for a year had been drinking oxtail soup when he had
really wanted coffee. “Nobody tells me anything” he said looking rather
dejected. All he could add was that there were no extra security measures in
place in the facility and if it was a trap, it was nothing to do with him.
“We’ll have to tie you up and make it look as though we overpowered you” said
Nige and Si Ti Park agreed but then suggested “Coffee first?” They all agreed
but Jock went with him as he didn’t like oxtail soup either and he might need a
hand carrying all those cups. “I’ve always wanted one of those cup carrying
things” he later remarked to Nige as they drank their coffee. “I saw one in a
film once but we don’t have them here in
“Catch you later boys!” shouted Si Ti Park tied to the chair as they left the gatehouse and started investigating the rest of the nuclear facility. Suddenly a figure jumped out in front of them and a lesser mortal would have blown him away but his hands were already in the air. “I give up, I surrender!” he shouted in North Korean. As his cries rang round the building, the team stood in amazement as the other five hearing this, rushed down from all over the complex in an orgy of mass surrender. “They’re not fcuking Eyeties are they?” asked Jock rhetorically and sarcastically. So they now knew the place was empty or at least they were pretty certain it was. “Nige, take them and lock them in that back room in the gatehouse” ordered Danny Boy. “No need to take a weapon, I don’t think you’ll need it” as Nige walked off to the gatehouse with the six workers, technicians or whatever they were following dutifully behind him. “Hurry up!” shouted Nige and they almost knocked him down in the rush. The procession reached the gatehouse and one kind technician held the door open for Nige and they all piled into the building. “Back again” said Si Ti Park still tied to the chair and Nige locked the six in the small room. “I’ll keep an eye on them for you but they shouldn’t give you any trouble “volunteered Si Ti Park and Nige headed back to join the rest.
“You come with me Nige” ordered Danny Boy. “The rest of you
plant the charges” added Danny Boy, climbing the stairs to what looked like
offices with Nige hot on his heels. Jock and Rikshaw set all the timers for 05.45
and plonked one anywhere where they thought it would do the maximum damage.
Nige and Danny Boy had a couple of charges each themselves and setting the
timer they rummaged through each and every office leaving a charge at a
convenient place. One was placed in the control room but it was in what looked
like the head honcho’s office that they got a shock or at least Nige did as
Danny Boy had enough trouble with English, let alone North Korean. On the wall
was a map and highlighted was what looked like
“But they wouldn’t dare” replied Nige finally grasping the
situation. “And they know we know” he added. “But they knew that we would know
that they knew that we would know” added Danny Boy, confusing himself, the
author and possibly anybody else reading this. “Look, we can’t do nothing?”
Danny Boy went through the options. “They can still invade or they could strike
since they have the capability. Or we could beef up the defences on the
“Back again I see” said Si Ti Park, ever the talkative one but ever stating the obvious. Nige untied him and let the six out of the back room. Danny Boy wasn’t sure what he said to them but several world records fell as they legged it up the road. “I’m coming with you” said Si Ti Park and his hand was on the alarm button. Nige explained to the rest and nobody moved, nobody had been expecting him to do that and there was still a chance that even if hit, he would or could press the button. They had fifteen minutes to get clear and that would see them well away from the facility, if not on the way back to the sub. There was not the time to ‘fcuk around’. “Tell him yes and fcuking quick” Danny Boy barked at Nige and he dutifully passed the message on. Si Ti Park’s hand moved to the gate button and the gate started to open. “No time to fcuk around” he shouted at Nige already through the gate. Everybody legged it as fast as they could and for a night-watchman Si Ti Park was surprisingly fit.
They made it to the beach with seven minutes to spare and
unceremoniously kicking the beach hut door down dragged the inflatables out
that were fortunately still inflated they legged it towards the water. The loss
of an oar made it difficult and nobody cared about wet feet as they paddled
with oars, hands or anything else they could find to get clear of the surf and
into open water. They saw the sub surface in the distance and paddled like fury
to reach it in time. They were pulled up by not so much willing hands but
pulled up they were and bundled down below as the captain gave the order to
submerge. An officer who they thought they recognized popped his head round the
wardroom door and congratulated them. “Good job lads, well done and by the way,
you’ve lost your deposits on the inflatables. “Get tae fcuk” replied Jock but
he was laughing as the sub rocked. They checked their watches and it was 05.45
and that was the end (they hoped) of the nuclear facility but there was still
the matter of the Argies so the captain was called and with Nige’s help all the
information was sent back to the
“Well it’s out of our hands now” commented Danny Boy and how wrong could he be as the wheels were set in motion. Si Ti Park who had been thrown in the brig which was a lockable broom cupboard that doubled up as a jail was released when Nige said he would vouch for him and he sat in the wardroom being taught something resembling English by Jock. “Get tae fcuk” said Jock. “Get tae fcuk yourself” repeated Si Ti Park and the penny dropped. “I’m Fa Tu Lo of South Korean intelligence” said whoever he was. “Glad I could be of help” he continued. “But the Yanks are going to be pished. There’s a bombing raid planned for next Wednesday.” he continued, laughing and banging the table. “President Ventura will beat the crap out of somebody” he said starting to annoy Jock who didn’t like being taken for a ride. “Time to sleep” said Jock and his fist shot upwards and whoever he is now slumped on the table. “That’ll teach you to make us lose our deposit” said Jock talking into the comatose Korean’s ear. “Is that how you always deal with hecklers?” asked Rikshaw. “Works for me” replied Jock, banging the table.
Chapter Six
Team Alpha lounged around the hotel for the rest of the day.
They were due to be picked up in the evening as it had been decided by Mister
Brown that due to the fact the hotel would not cook them a breakfast at
sparrow’s fart when they were due to leave, they would be staying at the
Russian airbase just outside the city. Their kit at the lockup would be picked
up for them and what they needed for themselves would be brought to the hotel,
while the rest would be delivered to the airbase and kept in a secure place
until it could be loaded onto the helicopter. The team relaxed in their own
particular and peculiar ways until it was time to be picked up.
Time passed slowly and the team managed to occupy itself for
the remaining hours.
Their kit arrived by VPS (Vladivostok Parcel Service) and
each went up to their rooms except Dave who came down from his room to go up to
his room. They changed into rig and made all the final adjustments but Dozy
walked about with his flies undone so not all the final adjustments apparently.
The desk clerk did try to draw it to his attention but Dozy being Dozy, just
thought he fancied him. They had their final meal at the hotel which was even
greyer than
Finally almost killing the security guard with the shock of
waking up, they drove into the base and looked around. It was pitch black so
that didn’t take very long and there was absolutely nothing to see. They were
shepherded though without the need for dogs into a building and into an office
where a Russian officer sat wearing the biggest hat they had ever seen. “Good
evening gentlemen” he said in perfect English though his eyesight must have
been bad as
The Naafisky was sparse but there was a pool table, a few
video games, some vending machines and at the rear was a serving hatch where it
appeared you could get either food or drink but judging by the way the airmen
were behaving, drink seemed the popular choice. Of course they had been
supplied, courtesy of Mister Brown with some roubles and in fact what they had
each as pocket money was the equivalent of an airman’s wages for six months.
“It explains the love of vodka” remarked Taff and he was probably right. Dozy
being the linguist, cunning or otherwise chatted with some of the airmen and
explained the menu to those with lesser language skills which actually included
some of the airmen. “I always wondered what the fcuk an egg banjo was” remarked
one particular airman now suitably informed.
They didn’t stay long.
“Bollox!” shouted
It was only a short drive but a floral border and two fire hydrants later, they were at the helicopter and were relieved to see their kit being loaded. They thanked the stupid orderly or at least Dozy did and the main thanks were that they were still alive. A couple of big hats arrived at the scene and they were the aircrew. They exchanged big hats for big flying helmets and while one jumped into the Hip, the other walked round and kicked things at irregular intervals. The pre-flight checks over, he jumped into the other seat and hammered on the instrument panel with his hand. The Hip lit up and what sounded like a bag of nails going through a food processor were the engines firing up. So burning and turning, the aircrew gestured for the team to get onboard or that’s what it must have been as the only alternative hand gesture was the one involving sex and travel. They clambered in the back and were not too bothered that there were no seats. Most pulled up their bergens and used those but Dave had to be different and he was lucky not to receive a serious injury by attempting to sit on the gust lock. For those not au fait with gust locks, they are locks to be used in the event of gusts and stop in particular the tail rotor blades beating the crap out of themselves. Not the most comfortable and you would never see that tw@t Kemp advertising one sold by DFDFDS sofas and not even in a sale. They are an integral part of helicopter equipment and this one had almost been an integral part of Dave.
The crew switched the light on and glancing at the
Vladivostok A-Z, checked they were on the right course. It was roughly an hour to
the target and they had to be particular as just a few millimetres on the map
and they would be flying through Chinese airspace. It was a touchy region and
there were no warnings or friendly advice, a missile up your tailpipe would be
probably the first (and last) you would know about it. It was a pretty
uneventful flight,
They all jumped out but then remembering who and what they
were, the pilot and co-pilot jumped back in again and took off. The Hip
disappeared into the darkness, chiefly as the nav lights were bust but they
heard it disappear into the gloom. There was an eerie silence or most of the
time and apart from an owl and a fox in the distance that hadn’t been booked
for Midsomer Murders to provide sound effects, it was totally quiet. Their
boots crunched on the ground and Taff apologized as that had been Dave’s hand.
Dave had dropped his watch but couldn’t find it again and anyway he didn’t
really have time to look for it. They headed off in the direction of the
nuclear facility or at least where they thought it might be. They had been
walking in circles but it had been Dave’s bootlace caught on a tree stump that
had caused that. The pine forest was very confusing and it was very easy to
lose your sense of direction but then Dave was leading so
Reading the sign, since it was here, Taff discovered he
couldn’t read North Korean or not very well. Dozy took over and he knew exactly
where they were. Nuclear facilities are strangely well sign posted which isn’t
as strange as it sounds. In the
“Plan B then” said Taff and they looked at him in amazement. “Taff was usually the one that weighed up the pros and the cons and taking his time evaluate all the pertinent information and after asking for a second opinion and after consulting public opinion and applying said opinion or opinions to a risk assessment and putting all of this forward for further consultation or in other words he usually just asked somebody else what he should do. “We’re going up the pipe” said Taff and Dave thought rude thoughts. They were going to use the water outlet pipes which were large enough to walk through to gain entry to the facility and then blow the fcuker up. Taff explained this to Dave as he hadn’t quite grasped it. Well in fact he had grasped it but then he usually did when he was thinking rude thoughts.
They left the road, it was far too heavy to carry and nobody wanted it and headed cross country towards the outlet pipes and the sea. “I can hear the sea” cried Dave always a bit slow on the uptake. They could see the pipes shining in the distance, the moonlight reflecting off them and creating wonderful patterns on the shoreline as the sea crashed onto the beach under a full moon. It was quite a sight and even here and now they could see the beauty in it all. “My guts are fcuking me up and I really need a shite” said Dave not quite ruining the moment but as he squittered onto the grass the moment disappeared as did the rest of the team because it made them feel quite ill. Dave rejoined them and they all made a mental note to decline if he offered them any chewing gum.
Eventually they reached the pipes and they were indeed large. There were inspection hatches on the top at set distances, obviously to facilitate maintenance and were the perfect way of getting in to the plant. Taff turned the wheel and with Dave’s help pulled the hatch open. Not wanting to risk a torch, Taff climbed down the ladder slowly always expecting to hit water but he reached the bottom and it was almost dry. Everybody climbed in and the hatch was pulled shut again but not locked. Now safe from sending up a beam like a searchlight, they switched their torches on and started up the pipe. It was fairly easy going, the pipe was a bit slippery but other than that it wasn’t too bad at all. They kept going for a good ten minutes and apart from Dave farting which echoed up and down the pipe there wasn’t a sound. “I’m not going to rot in a North Korean jail just because of a fart” Taff was annoyed now and Dave got a bit of verbal. “Either sort your guts out or I will” added Taff and tapped his pistol holster. Dave got the message and was as quiet as a mouse from then on which was a good job as passing the umpteenth inspection hatch, they heard voices. Everybody froze and Dozy tried to make out who was talking and what they were saying as it was obviously North Korean that was being spoken.
“God, I’m bored” said voice one. “You haven’t got the monopoly on that” replied voice two. “SAS, my arrse” added voice one. “I’d laugh if they just came up the pipe” said voice two. “Yer, bypass all the guards” replied voice one. “But where would they get out?” asked voice two and this was suddenly getting interesting to Nige. I don’t mean the story, that’s probably not that interesting but if you’ve read the last few chapters then you’ve either got masochistic tendencies or are slowly wasting away with sheer boredom. “Has he finished yet?” asked voice two eager to finish telling the team where they should get out but of course not realising it. “They need to get out at the blue hatch” said voice two finally having his say. “But why the blue hatch?” asked voice one keeping the conversation going nicely. “Look, if they go out the red hatch, they’ll get shredded by the turbines and if they go out the yellow hatch they’ll get radiation poisoning and I won’t say what would happen if they got out the brown hatch” voice two was obviously the resident hatch expert. “So just to confirm it’s the blue hatch” asked voice one. “That’s what I said” concluded voice two and they went on again about how bored they were and how the price of fish was disgusting and so was the fish.
The team carried on up the pipe but of course failed to hear
voice two telling voice one “Did I say blue? I meant brown. I’m a silly fcuker,
I always get them mixed up” The team reached the blue hatch and despite the
guided tour of hatches thanks to voice two, Taff was still not happy. He had
this gut feeling and it told him NOT to open this hatch.
“We’re going through the brown hatch. I don’t like this blue hatch one bit” said Taff. “It’s quite a nice shade of blue” said Dave but everybody ignored him. They continued until the brown hatch and with everything cocked including legs but mainly weapons, Taff turned the wheel slowly and pushed the door open a fraction. Nothing happened and peering round Taff could see a control room and it was empty. Pushing the door open further he could see this was the main control room or a room just off it and right next to the core. There was nobody to be seen and Taff wondered where they all were. Now if Taff had opened the blue hatch he would have dropped in the on the North Korean Nuclear Facility night shift five-a side football competition as the blue hatch opened high above the gym. The reason that the competition was held at night was obvious, they could play in the firm’s time and still sleep during the day. The voices and the cheering had been Sector A taking the lead over Sector D as Sector A was mainly comprised of the hierarchy and the crowd were a bunch of arrse lickers. This was why the control room was empty, a bit of luck for the team and much easier for the author to write about.
They rushed round planting the charges and trying to make
them as inconspicuous as possible in case the control room staff came back.
They did not fancy being close when this little lot went up. All charges
planted, the team jumped back into the pipe and made their way back down the
fairly gentle slope to where it would be safe to get out. They passed the blue
hatch again and all was quiet as apparently Sector D were running the midfield
and had pulled a couple of goals back. The crowd were not happy, actually they
were but to not enrage the hierarchy they kept quiet about it. The team
slipping occasionally continued on their route to sea level and were rather
worried to hear a roar which seemed to be coming from up the pipe. The roaring
got louder and louder but it was still far too early to get out of the pipe
when suddenly though you could never say without warning they were swept down
the pipe by a torrent of water. It was
Taff dragged himself onto the beach still coughing and
spluttering.
Chapter Seven
Well I say happy teddies but Dave did feel somewhat isolated
after his stomach problems and he sat in the back of the Hip on his own while
the others tried to keep as much distance between them and him. The nuclear
facility had been destroyed and sadly nobody would know the final result of the
North Korean Nuclear Facility night shift five-a side football competition. As
rescue workers dug for those buried, that was all that was on their minds. Two
players were dug out and one from each team so they agreed mainly because there
was nobody left to disagree that they should call it a draw. Voices one and two
who had inadvertently been so helpful, survived the explosion and were
extremely lucky to escape serious injury and after making a full recovery from
minor injuries, they were both posted to the border between North and
The Hip landed at the air base close to
Team Charlie had been enjoying themselves in
The long flight back to Heathrow was uneventful except for
Knocker attacking a stewardess as she had poured boiling coffee over him.
Flabby smoothed things over but not quickly enough as the coffee had already
gone cold. Still that’s what he was used to. They watched the in-flight movies,
slept, ate and generally scratched their nuts bored out of their heads for
eleven long hours. Smudge had been sedated much like Mr-T in the A-Team but
Smudge wasn’t scared of flying, it was going for longer than ten minutes
without a cigarette that threw him and if anybody got close enough, he threw
them. He sat, dazed and very dozy looking out the window and had managed to ask
“Are we there yet?” several thousand times during the flight. Flabby stuck
another patch on him, offered him the excellent Nicobollox Gum available from
all good chemists and told him they weren’t there yet but not for the first
time. Finally they landed at Heathrow and like Team Alpha, found themselves at
a quiet part of the airport as the Agustas dropped in to pick them up. Not long
later Flabby was holding up a rather drowsy Smudge and telling him they were
finally there. Smudge breathed in the
The information that Danny Boy and Nige found had caused a
real stir. Plans had been drawn up immediately and only the higher echelons of
the military, the cabinet and Doris the tea lady knew about this. Doris had
read it while a less, lower, junior under-secretary was taking a leak and they
were lucky Doris was a patriot of the highest but slightly old-fashioned order
otherwise there would have been more leaks and press would have had a field
day. Doris believed that everything could be attributed to the
There was still an alliance between the
Troop reinforcements were already on the way by air flying
direct to the
But to make sure, three SAS teams would be sent to
Meanwhile in
“Fcuk a stoat!” cried Jock when he heard and everybody
looked at him. “Stoats will be the least of your worries” replied a rather
sarcastic Director and handed the briefing over to the Boss Man. “Listen in”
shouted the Boss Man and everybody listened intensely as he described their
mission. The information that Danny and Nige had ‘acquired’ in North Korea had
been superimposed onto a map but unfortunately as it was the information
cartographer’s day off, a trainee had sorted it out and it now looked as though
the teams would be hitting somewhere close to Vancouver Island in Canada. “Ok
cancel my last” said the Boss Man and all mentally cancelled his last. “I
wonder if cobblers that retire cancel their last” joked Jock. “You’re talking
fcuking cobblers” replied Knocker and not just for Jock’s benefit. They sat
around for a few minutes as the information was manually transferred onto the
map and this time showed up as three definite targets in
“Ok listen in again” shouted the Boss Man. They stopped
talking and listened in as requested or ordered really but they didn’t mind and
did him the courtesy anyway. “All of the three teams will go to the
“Team Bravo” continued the Boss Man. “Team Bravo will land
by submarine close to the town of
“Fcuking sub again” moaned Jock thinking of the last
mission. “Could be fcuking worse, you could be fcuking swimming” replied
Knocker looking forward to his jump. “Haven’t had a jump in months” he added
truthful on both accounts. The teams were rushed, pushed and generally fcuked
about from pillar to post but as kit was dragged from stores and everybody got
issued to death, they were ready and managed to get in the first batch going to
RAF Brize Norton for the trip to Bennydorm or the
Knocker reclined his seat sending a cup full of orange juice belonging to the guy behind him onto his lap, leaving a stain, a rather revealing stain and no matter how hard he protested, his mates or after that his ex-mates thought he was incontinent. He tried to complain to Knocker but Knocker didn’t listen, he just hit him and the stain slowly dried as he slept recovering from a large dose of Knocker’s fist. A crabcoat asked Knocker if he would like some orange juice and Knocker being Knocker refused, took it as a personal insult and lumped him one as well. The pilot reluctant to even go near Knocker concluded that there had been no real damage, he wasn’t stopping anywhere to put him off and at least Knocker was on their side or seemed to be most of time. The excitement over they all relaxed and tried to get some sleep and considering how busy they had been in the last few days, sleep wasn’t a problem. Knocker was a problem but sleep wasn’t.
Chapter Eight
For those that could compare, the
The debate was in full swing and the honourable member for that clump of grass just to the west of Fox Bay West had the floor but was making pathetic excuses why it hadn’t been yet laid. “But I haven’t been laid yet” he added rather unnecessarily. The speaker was sat in pride of place resplendent in the ceremonial robes though didn’t actually say much as sheep don’t often talk. The odd “Baa” but that’s usually it. The deputy speaker who wasn’t a sheep though could be manipulated quite easily recognized the member for the penguin colony just south of Stanley and really there was no reason why he shouldn’t have recognized him as it was his uncle’s, third cousin on his mother’s side or alternatively, his brother as everybody or almost everybody seemed to be related. He reported that the Falkland Islands Defence Force (FIDF) had been totally mobilized which wasn’t strictly true as there were a few sat around who were members of the council. “Haven’t got a fcuking clue” butted in RSM Clary. “The honourable member for the penguin colony just south of Stanley has the floor” said the deputy speaker confusing everybody as they had just been told that the honourable member for that clump of grass just to the west of Fox Bay West had the floor but was just short of the manpower to lay it.
“The honourable member can shove his honourable head up his
honourable arrse if it isn’t already there” shouted RSM Clary and he glared at
everybody daring them to reply. “If you want fcuking protecting there are a
couple of things you should fcuking know” ranted the RSM. “One is that the
military runs these islands and two you can’t solve all your problems by
talking about sheep” Somebody thought about interrupting but thought better of
it as the RSM continued. “Or fcuking them” “I protest!” shouted an indignant
member for
As the RSM rammed home his point, actually with his pace
stick because the speaker had just bitten him as he was clean out of Polos, MPA
or the
Unlike most civilian airports, the luggage, personal kit and the vast array of weapons was sent off with the correct person and loaded onto the correct, truck, landrover, ship or aircraft. It was a logistics nightmare but despite this every thing went to plan or almost as Team Bravo would always wonder how they were to parachute from a sub. Fortunately this was the spare set, so while a minor inconvenience, no real harm was done. The rest of the islands were also a hive of activity as the holes that had been filled in a fortnight previously on an exercise, were re-dug and defence positions took up. Ships of all shapes and sizes patrolled the islands sticking to the water or at least trying to while the airport saw the arrival of troop carrying jets, one after the other while jets flew over and out to patrol the limits of the exclusion zone that had been re-introduced. Satellite dishes listened to it all and each dot on the radar screen was investigated even though the alarm had gone off and it was later found out to be a bit of mayonnaise on the screen. The television service ran repeats of Crossroads while the radio service broadcast information messages on an hourly basis, interspersed with adverts for the West Store’s Invasion Sale and an excellent recipe for lamb burgers that Ryan in particular listened to with relish. There was also the 967th request for Mike Hunt and still nobody had a clue who he was but they put it out anyway.
Diplomatic channels were still open though it had been a bit
frosty at the Polo Club. The British government (HMG) knew that the Argies knew
that they knew and I’m going into that crap again so let’s just say everybody
knew. Resolutions were being thrown backwards and forwards across the United
Nations in
Taff and the rest of Team Alpha were in
Back on deck they saw their kit arrive by truck and rather
than have somebody throw it about possibly ruining something they manhandled it
or in
HMS Endeavour hacked another right passing fleet auxiliary ships that everybody would photograph and no doubt bore the t1ts off everybody back home and sailed into open water. Eventually heading due west but up a bit, the Endeavour headed towards the Argentinean coast about five hundred miles to the west. Dozy didn’t waste his time and read a Mills and Boon novel in Argentinean, Dave looked at the waves, Dee did her nails and Taff after checking the kit, took advantage of an invite to the bridge and even got to drive the boat which put them a few miles off course but nothing serious really. He stood out on deck which was the flat bit in between the two sticky up bits and close to the chimney thing. He could feel the spray in his face and almost caught the fcuker of a kitchen help who had lobbed it over the side only for the wind to bring it back. Taff went for a shower and both scolded himself and froze his nabs off within the spaces of a couple of minutes. Still he was clean and feeling refreshed he decided he’d have a look up the sharp end.
They could see the coast now and Dozy could just make out
Rio Gallegos. The captain ordered left hand down a bit or it could have been
right but there were now on the right course. Despite the hostilities or the
possibility of hostilities, there were still scientists onboard and the deck
was never empty as one or the other or both or a third would be measuring
something or twiddling with a knob on some scientific piece of equipment.
“Counting fcuking fish fingers for all I care” said Dave supposedly
sarcastically but actually being serious. To stop then bumping into
They entered the straits and full marks to the captain, he
must have beaten his high score by now. It was rather eerie with friendly
On the dock and supporting a South American standard droopy
moustache was Captain Emilio Estevez of the Chilean Army Intelligence. He was
immaculately dressed and his boots shone in the midday sun. Quite a sheen in
fact. He welcomed them in perfect English. You could tell he was foreign as he
spoke English so well. “Welcome to
“Gentlemen and lady, your transport” said Estevez pointing to a bunch of sorry looking donkeys. “Two hundred clicks on them, it will take weeks” said Dozy not quite believing what he was seeing. Most of the donkeys looked half dead and they were the better ones. “No, there is your transport” said Estevez pointing beyond the sorry looking donkeys and at two large all terrain vehicles. “Incidentally, the donkeys are off to a sanctuary” he continued pulling a leaflet from his pocket and showing them. Herds of aged donkeys stood about in idyllic circumstances just wondering what the hell to do. “I will have your kit loaded and my willing helpers will also drive you there. Sadly I will not be coming with you as I have my babies to look after” he added pointing to the donkeys. “You must leave soon or else you will not make the border by nightfall” he saluted them again and shouting at somebody out on the dock he and his droopy moustache strode off in search of transport for ‘his babies’.
Though not the quickest workers, as promised all their gear
was loaded and two in each vehicle, the team was on its way. There was a driver
and a co-driver per vehicle while Taff and Dave in one and
Eventually they stopped high in the mountains and thanks to
Dozy’s Spanish they realised they were catching their first glimpse of
Finally down on flat and level terrain, they made good time. It was late afternoon and the mosquitoes danced in the still warm sun. Dozy tried to find out how far there was to go but the vehicle swerved to avoid a capybara with very little road sense and he ended up on the floor. The driver and co-driver argued that capybaras aren’t usually found this far south and the author is talking out of his arrse but in the end they agreed it wasn’t impossible as they were bred for their meat and one might have escaped and that would probably explain its lack of road sense. Attempting to find out again now the capybara was gone and long forgotten, Dozy was told they had another couple of hours to go before they would be there and there was still a couple of miles from the border as the Argentineans made frequent trips into Chile. Dozy laid back and falling onto the floor again, decided to stay there.
The couple of hours passed without incident, a few bruises but no major incidents. It was starting to get dark when the two vehicles drew up at what looked like an old farm building. The vehicles were parked very carefully so they couldn’t be seen from the track that was still visible leading up to the building. The drivers and co-drivers turned into willing helpers and all the kit was unloaded from the vehicles with the team’s equipment safe in one of the back rooms. There were no windows to this room and Taff was able to secure the door using a couple of tie wraps. The willing helpers had lit a fire in the old fireplace and assured Dozy that it could not be seen from outside. Taff not taking their word for it did check and he had to admit that it was true or certainly now as the sun was going down. Dozy also realised that the willing helpers who were called Pablo, Manuel, Jesus and Jose would be waiting for them and returning them to Punta Arenas.
Taff whispered in Dee’s ear and quickly grabbing a coffee that Pablo had made and something to eat, she disappeared first to the room with the equipment and now again armed, headed outside to keep an eye open for anybody around who shouldn’t be around. Everybody was now armed and weapons were by their sides at all times. Taff worked out the guard rota and those that could tried to grab some kip while those that couldn’t sat quietly in the firelight and contemplated. They were still five kilometres from the air base and he wished the author would make his mind up whether he was working in metric or sticking with imperial. It was so confusing at times. He pulled up an old flour sack and making as good a pillow as it would allow, settled down until it was his turn to be on stag. Tomorrow was another day and also another chapter.
Chapter Nine
The alarm had been set for half three and being tactical,
Dave had switched off the buzzer mode. “What’s the fcuking rush? asked Taff
rubbing the sleep from his eyes or so he thought as having used the old flour
sack for a pillow he was actually rubbing weevils from his eyes. Anyway, eyes
suitably rubbed he stood up and stretched, yawned, farted a couple of times,
yawned some more, farted yet again, stretched again, yawned twice, decided not
to fart and rushed outside with a toilet roll. “Fcuk that was close” said Taff
to a convenient bush as he had his morning constitutional. As Taff squittered
the time away, Dave took over from
Jesus protested but in Spanish so only Dozy understood him. Actually Pablo, Manuel and Jose understood him as well but I thought that was obvious so didn’t mention that. “What do you want, a fcuking miracle?” protested Jesus and Dozy smiled to himself. Jesus wasn’t exactly the one you’d call on for a miracle but he definitely was the one who was most aptly named. “Leave in twenty” said Taff and asked that he spread the word so off went Dozy to inform the rest leaving Taff to kick some life into the fire, kick some life into Pablo, Manuel, Jesus and Jose and to kick them again as there was only one sugar in his coffee. Those that fancied it had some of the Chilean flat bread that looked like the flour sack that Taff had been using as a pillow but probably tasted worse. The rest just drank the hot coffee that the four had finally prepared. Still drinking coffee, they made their way to the back room where their kit was stored and each took what was required. Dozy fully kitted up nipped outside to replace Dave who joined them and kitted up as well. Things were cocked and checked and clicked and buttons pressed and then all over again and every meticulous detail examined and scrupulously re-checked. Dozy rushed in and slightly embarrassed picked up his Heckler O’Koch G36C as he had inadvertently forgotten it. “You fcuking dipstick” shouted Taff as Dozy rushed back outside just in case he’d missed anything.
They were now hot to trot and Dozy explained to Pablo, Manuel, Jesus and Jose that they were now stepping outside but they may be some time. Of course the four didn’t get it and neither did I for years but that’s another story and I haven’t even finished this one yet. They waved to Pablo, Manuel, Jesus and Jose as they tabbed off into the darkness. “Have a nice day at the office dear” shouted Pablo in Spanish of course but it was totally wasted on Taff as he was the only one to hear it. They ran or marched the five kilometres to the air base in record time but without official and/or neutral verification were unable to get it entered in the Mackeson Book of Pointless Records. Still it mattered to them and that’s all there is too it and in all the excitement, they hardly noticed they had crossed the border. They crouched in a pile of capybara shite close to the air base and then discovering the shite, moved anywhere and not necessarily closer to the air base but at least the smell wasn’t so bad. Taff pulled out his night goggles and looked for any signs of movement. A couple of minutes later after watching two capybara mating he spotted their first guard. A road ran up to a gatehouse and sat inside the gatehouse was somebody who appeared to be asleep. Taff had this feeling he had seen him before but of course this could not be possible. Or could it?
They crept ever closer to the gatehouse and keeping a good eye on the sleeping guard. There were those that favoured the cut the fence entry method, great if you have wire cutters but not so good if you haven’t. Also it leaves a fcuking great hole that in daylight can’t be missed and even the capybara couldn’t be blamed for that. Taff favoured the direct approach and there was more than one way to skin a cat which has absolutely fcuk all to do with what we’re talking about but at least it bumps up the word count a bit. Taff did his SAS style means of approach towards the gatehouse but after leopard crawling through some capybara shite decided that as he supposedly liked the direct approach, then from now on he would be more direct or at least try to.
Taff was just metres away from the gatehouse; he knew that as he had just measured it. You have to always keep an accurate log, his old instructor had told him but not knowing how a log is calibrated, Taff had never bothered until now. He was just feeling a bit anal which I suppose you didn’t really want to hear but it’s too late now. Taff ducked up rather than fcuked up and stole a glance in the window. “Damn this reflective glass” he whispered to himself after frightening the crap out of himself and crept round to next window and repeated the move. Sure enough the guy inside was asleep, he did look familiar but he was no real guard, just a civvy security guard or some sort of Argentinean equivalent of a mod plod. Taff could see he wasn’t armed, with his limited Spanish and I mean Taff not the guard, he read the Capybara Breeder’s Gazette and had got really excited over the middle page. “Damn those staples” thought Taff remembering the gruesome effects on Max Boyce on last month’s pull out in the fan club magazine. Suddenly and probably completely without warning, Taff slipped on a rather runny patch of capybara shite and grabbing the window knocked over the fire buckets. The guard woke up instantly or within a couple of minutes, slid open the window and seeing Taff on the ground asked him in a Newbridge accent “What you doing by here boyo?”
Taff was amazed. How could the author possibly think that was a Newbridge accent? It was quite clearly a Cwmcarn accent and totally different. Those couple of miles made a vast difference and how ignorant of the author not to know that. Anyway an indignant Taff was still gob smacked but managed to answer “I fell over the fcuking fire buckets” “So I see look you” said the guard not looking particularly bothered that a heavily armed Taff was lying in a pile of fire buckets, outside an air base in the middle of night. “Where you from boyo?” asked the guard more interested in Taff’s heritage then his predicament. “Ystrad” replied Taff as the rest starting dozing off. “Ah the Rhondda, Burberry country” this was a well informed guard or whatever he was but not that well informed as Taff told him that the factory up at Treorchy was going to close with the loss of 300 jobs. They chatted on and Taff finally managed to pick himself up and while chatting tidied the fire buckets. The others who were only just awake were even more amazed as Taff seemed to be invited into the gatehouse and the discussion continued. Taff waved them over and the gatehouse suddenly got very crowded.
The gatehouse was indeed very crowded but the rest of the
team learnt that the guard was possibly even related to Taff through a distant
uncle. Bryn, the guard had introduced himself was a descendant of the Welsh
that had settled in Patagonia but his family had been backwards and forwards
between Wales and Patagonia over the years and he considered himself Welsh
first and not Argentinean in any shape or form, so nothing else second. Taff
had obviously briefed him on why they were there and he was quite blasé about
the whole thing. The only problem was that he needed to get his prize capybara
out from the dog compound which explained his reading material and also
confirmed that there were no dogs to deal with once they got into the base
proper.
Bryn, true to his word, returned a few minutes later and dark shapes made their way to wherever they were going; the homing instinct was strong as was the fear of being seen as none of team even caught a glimpse of even one capybara. “There’s my babies, look you” said Bryn as another dark shape lumbered into the darkness and disappeared but back to business. The security on the base was apparently negligible at best and while there was a lot of manpower, most were tradesmen first and alcoholics second so would be sleeping soundly in their beds. “I doubt if even an explosion would wake them” remarked Bryn but jumping as the phone rang. Bryn picked it up and yabbered away in Spanish with a Newbridge accent with Dozy just checking that they weren’t being given away. “Fcuking orderly officer couldn’t sleep” said Bryn and Dozy nodded in confirmation. “I told him where the med centre keeps the key, so he’s off for a pill and hopefully back to sleep” added Bryn and again Dozy nodded in confirmation. “You’ll have to rough me up a bit or at least tie me up” said Bryn which was true otherwise it would be glaringly obvious that he had helped them.
“The hangars are alarmed by the way” said Bryn already tied to the chair but just before they administered the harry black to his mouth. “Small building between them” he managed to finish before the tape was put in place. He also made gestures towards the wall and there was the camp plan with all the fire points. They could see the two hangars and also the small building between the two. If the scale was correct then it was quite a way from the gatehouse and since it would be light in a couple of hours, they needed to get their arrses in gear. Bryn was tied up and gagged and looked as though he was nodding off again. His capybaras were safe and this was just too much excitement for one night. The four made their way towards the hangars, it was quiet as a grave and not particularly well lit but that suited them fine. Sneaking from building to building it took them a quarter of an hour to get to the small building. Dozy took charge here and first with his stainless steel, all weather, multi-purpose tool with skeleton keys, all neatly packaged in a leather pouch, he unlocked the door. Fortunately the door wasn’t alarmed or else they would have been up shite creek without a paddle. Rummaging through his kit, Dozy pulled out what looked like a PDA with two crocodile clips hanging off it and prising open each of the alarm control boxes the innards were laid bare. Connecting up the first box using the clips, he powered up. “Fcuking Windows CE” he cursed as the tiny lcd screen turned blue. He banged it a few times and the blue disappeared.
Time seemed to stand still as Dozy tried to disarm the alarm
system and on the PDA it had done as the inbuilt clock had stopped. That didn’t
matter but what mattered was to find the correct six digit code for the alarm
and this was just the first one. Thousand upon thousand of combinations were
being tried but the rest were getting impatient.
Their mission had been shrouded in secrecy and this was mainly
due to the Official Secrets Act, an act that prevents all who are serving or
who have served in the military from divulging anything that might compromise
national security or help a foreign power that aren’t American. It also applies
to the civil service but under a clause probably negotiated in the corridors of
power or more likely just off that corridor but the civil service if they don’t
like a secret then they become moles and we all know what happens to moles? In
All charges had been placed, all had been set and they had
about an hour to get well clear of the base and hopefully
They hadn’t expected Pablo, Manuel, Jesus and Jose to mount a guard but they might have stayed awake or at least one of them. So four rude awakenings later and a rather loud “There’s no fcuking time for fcuking coffee” from Taff that Dozy translated and the vehicles revved up while rather sleepy drivers prepared to leave in a hurry. Taff and Dee dived in one vehicle and Dave and Dozy in the other and off they sped into the night. They were in Chile but they didn’t want to find out how far Argentinean troops or whatever would wander across the border especially as in minutes few there would be some pretty pished off Argies and some would be getting up with a bang. They made good time while on the flat but as they started to climb, progress became extremely slow. Still they would get a good view of the fireworks which were due to start in about four minutes. Finding a convenient place to stop without falling down a sheer drop and killing the lights, they waited for the fun to begin. “It’s not going to go” said Taff nervously. It’s always the way at times like this, time seems to stand still and then you doubt the equipment and even doubt if this is real and you’re not just dreaming.
Dreaming they were not as the night sky lit up with
explosion after explosion. “I wouldn’t like to be down there” commented
They jumped into the vehicles and this time appreciated the journey back to Punta Arenas slightly more as being dark they couldn’t see the dangers and Pablo, Manuel, Jesus and Jose couldn’t gun the vehicles as much as they had when it was light. The team settled down as best they could and made the most of being shaken around for hours on end. They thought of Bryn or mainly Taff did as he’d hated leaving a fellow Welshman. But Bryn was just fine thank you. For his attempts in preventing the attack although unsuccessful he was awarded the Medal of Honour and class two specially reserved for acts of gallantry and security guards. He hadn’t suffered during the explosions due to being safely tied up inside and refusing to leave the gatehouse for the next five days. His prize capybaras had made it home safe and sound and were safely tucked up in their accommodation when the world had light up. “War is hell” thought Taff. “But I hope Bryn and the capybara were ok” he was a bit of a softy at heart was Taff, clipping Jesus round the head because thanks to a huge hole in the road that he had just driven into, Taff’s head smashed against the window. He clipped Jose as well. “Wouldn’t want him feeling left out” said Taff rubbing the bruise.
Chapter Ten
Team Bravo after much searching found their transport and it was another sub but not the tiny tin can that had taken them to Kimch’aek. Compared to HMS Seaslug, the long sleek modern shape of HMS Enterprise was from a different era, which wasn’t a surprise as it was. They stood and admired it as their kit was loaded onto a conveyor belt that disappeared into the huge hull. The dock was awash with activity and awash with tomato soup as a rather large pallet had slipped out of its net while being loaded. Smashed and dented tins of tomato soup lay all over the dock and Jock was quite relieved as he usually preferred Scotch broth. An officer greeted them, saluting smartly or what the navy called smartly and he beckoned them onboard. He gave the usual spiel more like a holiday rep than a naval officer and handing over to a steward, they were shown to their quarters and some quarters they were. Each member had their own individual room with en suite facilities though it was extra if you wanted Sky Sports. This was a far cry from HMS Seaslug and its wardroom or broom cupboard. They would be able to fine tune plans for the mission in the comfort and privacy of their own quarters and away from prying eyes or escaping inflatables.
“I wonder what the author has planned for us” pondered Nige. “I wonder if the author has anything planned more like” remonstrated Jock. “The base is supposedly heavily guarded but I bet we won’t be walking in the front door this time. He’s used that too many times already and it’s wearing a bit thin, so it is” Danny Boy briefed them. “A bit like his fcuking hair then” Jock was in that sort of mood again. Danny Boy pulled out the map of the target and swivelled it half a dozen times trying to get his bearings. Nige turned the map over and Danny Boy finally got it the way he wanted it. “Easy mistake to make, so it is” he said reflectively though slightly embarrassed. The target was way to the west of the town and quite a way from the sea. They would either have to make a huge detour or risk going through the town and Comodoro Rivadavia was a very large town with a huge port as well. There was a knock on the door and an officer walked in. Danny Boy covered the map not wanting prying eyes seeing their target. “We’re leaving in ten minutes” said the officer and left but just as he was leaving added “We are on the same side you know”. “Doesn’t fcuking seem like it sometimes” quipped Jock and the officer left in a huff.
A voice came over the tannoy and it was the captain. “This is Captain James T Kirk and I’d just like you to welcome you onboard HMS Enterprise. We will be cruising at a speed of fifteen knots and at an altitude of zero feet until we submerge then it will be minus eighty feet. The weather today is fine and the sea conditions rough to dog rough. Thank you for choosing HMS Enterprise and don’t forget the duty free shop that will open as soon as we are in international waters. Have a nice day and a pleasant trip.” “Goes on a fcuking bit” said Jock as the captain finished his address but why he was giving everybody his address was a complete mystery to the team. “Must be a naval thing I suppose” suggested Nige and they got back to the map. They would have to land well away from the port and this meant that they would have to either take the southerly route round the town or straight through the middle of it. The time would be in their favour perhaps but not knowing much about Argentinean night life or when the night crawlers came out to play or went home again, the detour route seemed favourite at the moment.
The
They had dinner with the captain and the senior officers, an
honour and the team hoped that the navy wouldn’t forget this as they didn’t
just dine with anybody. The soup was off or at least to the officers as the
rest of the crew tucked into tomato soup with tarmac and/or concrete croutons.
The team had an excellent salmon mousse for starters, washed down with an
excellent Vimto. To follow was Beef and vegetables en croute or a huge fcuk off
pasty but as the serving wench or the navy equivalent thereof went to serve it
and with much rolling of eyes and wobbling of the chins and stomachs, the chief
engineer for some reason got into a panic. “She can’t take it captain, she’s
breaking up” he cried in his strange accent. “Shut the fcuk up Scotty” said the
captain and he did. The rest of the meal went ok and with no further references
to Star Trek except Jock boldly going to the cheese trolley where Jock hadn’t gone
before and one of the lesser senior officers, a Commander Roddenberry was sat
on a rubber ring as his klingons were playing up. “The meal over it was time
for port and cigars and Jock spent most of the time trying to light his cigar
as he had dipped it in the port first. There was small talk and while everybody
agreed what an excellent voyager the captain was, there was much talk of
So the previous evening forgotten and hopefully most of my
attempts at jokes, it was another day and yet another re-run of Judge Judy.
They were due at Comodoro Rivadavia the following day and apart from ensnaring
a couple of fishing boats and drowning all the crew, the journey was still
pretty uneventful. The sub was in constant communication with the
Danny Boy, Nige, Jock and Rikshaw were kitted out and their kit had been transferred from deep space nine to the departure lounge in preparation for them leaving. They had visited the inflatable dinghy department but it was empty except for one sad rating who was attempting to patch up his live size Lusty Linda as he had been overly passionate with her a few nights ago. The inflatables that the team were looking for had already been moved to the departure lounge but as the team had taken the scenic route, they had not seen each other. Actually they had not actually taken the scenic route but had got lost again, this sub was huge and it was easy to do. They returned to the departure lounge and kit and inflatables were united. The team had a courtesy coffee and read the magazines lying about just waiting for the word to go. Not really knowing what the word was but trying something that he thought might work, a rating shouted “Go” and they were allowed through. They arrived on deck while ratings bounced the inflatables and the team’s kit up a flight of narrow steps. “What the fcuk?” shouted a rather surprised Danny Boy as he spotted the four parachutes amongst the kit. “We’re not fcuking taking those” and rather annoyed ratings bounced them down the flight of narrow steps again and threw them all in a cupboard marked ‘Misc’. Jock and Rikshaw with kit paddled towards shore while Danny Boy and Nige also with kit but not with parachutes waited, Danny Boy signed the release form and they too paddled towards the shore.
They knew exactly where they were heading which is a good job as I don’t. They had finally decided that they would take a detour round the town to prevent being discovered by any night crawlers. Night crawlers were the same the world over. They were initially friendly and would ask you ‘What’s up?” or “What’s your name?” a few hundred times before offering you a drink. They won’t take no for an answer but once you’ve accepted that drink, you’re in trouble. They’ll then turn on you as you’ve just drunk the last of their drink. If you’re lucky they’ll forget about it but if they don’t, you’re in the poo. Fortunately the route they would have to take was mainly industrial or commercial and Danny Boy hoped there might be a garden centre he could get a quick peek at. Jock and Rikshaw landed first and the pair of them dragged the inflatable up the shingle beach trying to find somewhere it could be stashed. There was every chance they wouldn’t be back for twenty-four hours, so the hiding place had to good. Danny Boy and Nige finally landed and dragged their inflatable up the beach and next to Jock and Rikshaw. Jock dumped his kit and investigated a cave in the smallish rocky cliff that rose from close to the beach. Jock rushed back and announced that the cave was ideal so the inflatables were dragged in as far as possible, tied and also weighted down with rocks. The inflatables well taken care of, the four headed off on the detour of the town.
Despite carrying heavy kit and having to detour a few times on the detour, they had made good time but sadly no garden centres to look in. A wide detour had to be taken round a 24 hour doughnut shop and all the traffic it attracted but the team had remained fortunately invisible to the sweet toothed sector of Argentinean society. Danny Boy reckoned perhaps another forty minutes and they would be there but there was still the problem of the base being so well guarded and heavily guarded at that. They were quite capable of taking on anybody and the odds weren’t generally a problem but this was perhaps his toughest challenge. He hoped that the author wouldn’t do something silly, like all the guards coming down with food poisoning or the base was commanded by one of team’s mother, just earning those few extra shillings to make ends meet. “Fcuk, life is tough enough without being fcuked about by the author as well” he thought.
Sure enough, thirty-eight minutes later and there was the
air base in the distance. It was lit up like
Danny Boy made a mental map of the area and they headed west, further from the sea but if he had remembered correctly there was a wooded area here that could be used to hole up during the day. Noting where the wood was they continued and this was no place to get caught in during daylight hours as there was little cover at best. Air bases or airfields are not places to walk around unless you are a serious walker as while he couldn’t be sure about the one here, it could be huge distances. They continued round the air base and there were no obvious ways in and still very little cover. Fortunately being dark, it didn’t matter that much but the fact that the base was so well lit, made it difficult to get really close. “This is shite” said Jock and Danny Boy agreed. There had been nothing vaguely like a weakness in the base’s defences and to reinforce it, they all dropped to the ground like stones as a vehicle drove past in the base. Not exactly close but close enough for them to get caught briefly in the headlights. They stayed flat until it drove off and they all jumped back to their feet again.
There was about half an hour before they would have to head back towards the wood and find somewhere to hole up when Danny Boy spotted it. “I’ve spotted it” he said predictably and the others wondered what the fcuk he was on or up to. “The weakness, the chink in the base’s armour” he added and now the rest understood. They hadn’t spotted it themselves but it would be nice if he shared it with them. Unless it was a secret of course but they’d still like to know. “Or at least I think I’ve spotted it” said Danny Boy not quite so sure but there was the distinct possibility that perhaps they might, if they were in luck, manage to find a way in and not far from where they were standing. “Of that I can be sure” added Danny Boy, totally confusing the rest. “Have you fcuking found it or not?” asked Rikshaw.
“Listen in then” said Danny Boy getting their attention. “We know the fence is electrified” said Danny Boy. “Yes” replied the three. “And what does electrickery not like?” asked Danny Boy. “Chip pans fires” said Jock. “Lawn mowers” said Rikshaw. “Mice” said Nige. “For fcuk sake, water, fcuking water. Electricity does not like water so it doesn’t!” cried Danny Boy in desperation. “So?” asked Jock. “Look over there” said Danny Boy pointing to where the fence disappeared under a few inches of water. The area was boggy and stagnant pools covered the ground. “Don’t get it” said Rikshaw not getting it but just about to get it off Danny Boy. “The fence can’t be electrified there, can it?” Danny Boy was finding this difficult but not as difficult as Nige, Jock and Rikshaw. “I’d put money on it, so I would” said Danny Boy and he headed towards the boggy area. His boots squelched as the area got boggier and boggier. Reaching out a hand but with palm facing downwards so if it was live, he wouldn’t be forced to grab it, he lifted his hand and touched the wire with the back of his hand. Nothing, he had been right, there was no juice going through this section of the fence. “Fcuk, that’s clever” said Jock squelching closer to get a better look.
They retreated back to the darkness again and pretty quickly as the vehicle was on its way back. They had heard it in the distance, a horrific crash of gears and it sounded like somebody was having a nocturnal driving lesson. Finding a less boggy area they lay flat as the vehicle rode the clutch and with another grating of gears, it was off again. They heard it disappearing and a final crash of gears and a screech of the tyres and it was gone. “Time to head back” said Danny Boy and they started making their way back. They headed for the wooded area and it seemed ideal for them to hole up for the daytime hours. It was very dense with no paths or roads and a layer of moss covered the ground. There could be no lights as they were far to close to the base but it seemed relatively comfortable or at least by his standards. Better than living in a hedge near Crossmaglen as he’d done many times. He was pleased he had found what he had been looking for and he was grateful to the author for him being the one. Some like to spread the glory about but he was team leader and he always lead from the front and using his extensive skills and knowledge. He hoped this would be the start of a beautiful friendship with the author but somehow he doubted it.
Jock lay on the moss cleaning his boots with a large clump
he had pulled, Nige ate a piece of chocolate but looked relaxed and Rikshaw was
hoping nobody would need the wire cutters as he’d forgotten to pack them. Danny
Boy smiled to himself, these so-called impregnable fortresses would be like
Chapter Eleven
Nige and Jock were playing ‘I-Spy’ to relieve the boredom and it didn’t seem to be working. “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with ‘M’” it was Jock’s turn and had been for some time. “It’s not fcuking moss again?” asked Nige really getting fed up with Jock. “No, it’s MORE moss” replied Jock happy to get one over on Nige yet again. “That’s fcuking cheating. How the fcuk can I guess that?” retorted an indignant Nige. “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with ‘Y’” said Jock ramming it home if you’ll pardon the expression. Do you give up?” asked Jock seeing the blank look on Nige’s face. “It’s YET more moss” replied Jock pishing himself with laughter. Nige not quite seeing the funny side lunged at Jock and a scrap broke out or briefly as Danny Boy dived in and separated the pair. “Nige, you take over from Rikshaw and you Jock start acting as if you’re on a job and not on stage at the fcuking fringe. You’re a pain in the arrse so you are” Danny Boy was annoyed; nobody seemed to be taking this thing seriously or certainly not seriously enough.
There was finally activity at the air base and a Capybara, of course the aircraft not the rodent, flew over them and headed off towards a destination unknown. The runway was just out of sight and Danny Boy’s heart stopped for a minute as what looked like a maintenance crew loitered close to where they intended to get into the base, they could just about see it from the edge of the wood. Fortunately they moved on without doing much except perhaps justifying their existence but it didn’t take them long to find out why the fence was being checked and it was nothing sinister. In the distance, what look like a pack of dogs appeared and they seemed to be getting closer. Danny Boy peered through his binos and there they were, whatever you call a social gathering of them but it was a group of capybara. The capybara headed towards the boggy area and Danny Boy’s special bit of fence and frolicked in the muddy pools. The dominant male or they assumed it was the dominant male, picked the biggest, the muddiest and rolled around like a pig in shite. Actually it was Rikshaw who thought it was definitely the dominant male as to quote him “If I had bollox like that, I’d find it hard to be anything else but dominant” He also casually mentioned that those tight jeans of his would have to go.
They watched the capybara doing what capybara do and had they been able to watch more David Attenborough, they would have realised that this mud bathing was to deal with parasites and I don’t mean double glazing salesmen. They and I mean the capybara, frolicked and rolled in the mud, some were rubbing up against the fence and the fence didn’t like it, as it buckled and twisted under the weight. The top half was fine but you could almost drive a bus through the gap at the bottom and Danny Boy prayed that the maintenance crew wouldn’t be back. This was even easier and no need for wire cutters. “No need for wire cutters now Rikshaw” he mentioned to Rikshaw who smiled and thought “Thank fcuk” to himself. The capybara beauty treatment seemed to be drawing to a close and Danny Boy was still praying that the fence wouldn’t be spotted before they had a chance of taking full advantage of the capybara’s work. “They must sense the fence isn’t electrified” said Rikshaw admiring the clever little buggers but one clever little bugger strayed too far and rubbed the fence a bit too far away from the boggy area. There was a flash, some smoke and suddenly there was an ex-capybara after some serious involuntary twitching. “Or maybe not” added Rikshaw. “Poor little sod got the shock of its life”
The dominant capybara looked at his watch and decided enough
was enough or he would have done if he’d had one. He sauntered, bollox
swinging, back to where he’d come from and the rest of the group, except one of
course, followed at a distance. They didn’t seem to have noticed that they were
one light which was probably a good job as they might have hung around for ages
otherwise. There would have been funeral arrangements to make and the team
might have been compromised by the mourners. The team were still very much
alert as there was plenty of air traffic and most if not all kept flying over
their location. While it was a dense wood, all it needed was for some eagle
eyed pilot to spot a face and the game would have been up. Fortunately the
pilots weren’t eagle eyed which isn’t necessarily generalizing. Rikshaw lay on
the moss, with a moss pillow and after cleaning his boots with some moss, blew
his nose on some moss and nipped off for a dump. After wiping his arrse using
some convenient moss, he came to the conclusion that moss was extremely handy
especially when you can’t move for it. Years later he would write a best
selling book entitled The SAS Moss Handbook which was part fiction and part
drivel but a film was made of the book and unfortunately caused a moss shortage
worldwide that the criminal world were all too keen to exploit.
Not much was happening but I still have to write something
as unlike a video or DVD, you can’t just fast forward to the action when it
finally happens. They were still safely holed up in the wood, up to their
nipples in moss and just grateful Ray Mears wasn’t about as he would have
rubbed two Boy Scouts together and using the moss, burnt the bloody wood to the
ground. Fortunately for them he was away in northern
“The nights are fair drawing in, so they are” said Danny Boy watching the sun slowly setting. They were all awake, most had managed to rest up during the day and catch some sleep. There had been a few rude awakenings thanks to air activity but all aircraft seemed to be safely tucked up in their hangars and judging by last night, the personnel never wandered even close to the top end of the air base. Their target was close to the top end of the base and that hopefully lessened the risk of bumping into anybody once they were in. There were vehicle patrols but they were infrequent and after last night’s driving, they wondered if a vehicle with a serviceable gearbox remained. “Move in one hour, so we do” said Danny Boy telling each in turn. As quietly as possible, kit was given a final check, some rushed off for nervous pishes and Rikshaw said goodbye to the moss. It got dark very quickly and the base lights came on, giving the whole area an eerie glow.
“Let’s go” whispered Danny Boy and the four broke cover and headed for the fence. All was quiet except for the squelch of their boots in the mud. Luckily for Rikshaw, on closer inspection, the capybara had done enough damage for the team to just duck under the mangled fence. Their kit had to be handed through but at least they didn’t have to grovel in the mud. Rikshaw held the wire up for the last man while cleaning his boots with some moss he had brought with him. All through, they crossed what looked like a service road, the one that the vehicle had been seen (and heard) on the previous evening and crouched at the back of the first building. The lights cast huge shadows on the ground as Danny Boy checked what sort of building this was and if he could find the number. There was no evidence or certainly not yet of the fact that the base was heavily guarded. Danny Boy hoped that the hangar, hangar seven, that was their target was just the same. Finding out they were behind a sports store and getting his bearings, Danny Boy headed off in the direction of hangar seven. They ducked from building to building and tried to stay out of the well lit areas. They were close, Danny Boy could feel it in his water, however that feels but rounding yet another building, he almost bumped into somebody, it was a guard. He dived back round the building, hoping he hadn’t been seen but with a quick glance discovered the guard was looking the other way and was not alert in any shape or form. Another glance and Danny Boy spotted another guard and another and yet another. He could see their target and this was made more obvious by the fact that it was guarded and guarded by at the last count, six guards.
Danny Boy using hand signals and polite ones as well, sent Rikshaw and Jock round the other side of the building and they were to hopefully come in to the target from the far end and hopefully take care of some of the guards. Rikshaw and Jock rushed off as quietly as possible and made their way slowly round to the back of the target. Meanwhile Danny Boy had dealt with guard one. Drawing his knife, he had grabbed the guard who had strayed too close to the corner of the building and had silently skewered him with the knife. Tucking the body up against the building and hoping it wouldn’t be spotted, he and Nige continued towards the target. Nige had almost pished himself. Him and Danny Boy had been sneaking round another building but a guard had come round the other way but in the gloom had not recognized them and had actually asked Nige for a light. Nige pretended to rummage in his pockets and at the exact moment that some sort of alarm showed on the guard’s face, Danny Boy’s knife had skewered him as well. They tucked the body up against the building and crept to the next building.
Rikshaw and Jock made the long slow sweep to get to the target and hopefully get behind the guards. They were close and peering round a corner of a building, Jock could see a guard leaning against the next building smoking. “It’s going to fcuking kill you” said Jock to himself more about the knife in his hand than the Argentinean Marlboro the guard was smoking. Rikshaw went one way, catching a glimpse of their next victim and Jock went the other. Waiting at the far corner of the building, Rikshaw let out a hopefully not too loud “Pssst” and the guard walked towards him with Jock following him as quietly as possible. The guard stuck his head round the corner of the building and instantly wished he hadn’t as Rikshaw’s knife plunged into his chest. Just to make sure, Jock stabbed him in the back and releasing their knives that were holding the now lifeless guard up, he flopped to the floor. The body was tucked away as best they could and Rikshaw signalled Jock to follow him as he knew where the next guard was. The next guard didn’t put up much of a fight, he might have done had he been awake but he quickly slipped into a much deeper sleep after being introduced to Rikshaw’s knife.
Jock and Rikshaw continued to the next building and hearing a noise, dropped to the ground just as Danny Boy and Nige crept round the corner. Fortunately their reactions were as sharp as their knives and nobody got skewered which would have been a real body blow. According to Danny Boy’s reckoning there was still one guard left and they could see him but there was a large open area to cross to where he was and it was well lit so no chance of sneaking up on him. The situation was not helped by the arrival of what looked like a guard commander and they suddenly realised he might actually care where the rest of his guard was and would probably get vocal if he found any of them. It looked as though the guard commander was giving the sole remaining guard a rollocking and while they couldn’t hear him; his body language suggested this wasn’t an invite to Sunday lunch. Thinking on his feet while crouched down on one knee, Danny Boy pulled out the silencer from his kit and attached it to the Heckler O’Koch. We switched the telescopic sight to night vision and took aim. There was a thud and the rattle of a shell case and the guard commander’s duty suddenly ended. Another thud and another shell case and the guard was also stood down. Picking up the shell cases and incidentally burning his fingers, Danny Boy pocketed them and returned the silencer to his kit. The rest rushed across the open ground and hid the bodies. Danny Boy followed them a few seconds later and they were stood outside their target, a large ‘Hangar 7’ was painted on the side door and pulling it open, Nige stepped in and the rest followed.
Five very hectic minutes later, they were all chargeless and anything that looked as though it might bang, pop or fart had a charge placed on it. The missiles had been suitably decorated and they were pretty sure they wouldn’t like to be around when this little lot went up. They were also worried as the guard might be missed and they didn’t know how often it was changed or if anybody actually checked up on it. Anyway it was time to leave and quick. They retraced their steps back to the wire and went under it as quickly as possible, this time not caring if they got muddy or not. They headed back the way they came, still not happy about going through the town. From the direction of the camp, a siren went off and they guessed that either the guard had been found or the charges found or even both. They weren’t worried about the charges, as they were completely tamper proof and you could cut wires ‘til you were blue in face or even drop the whole thing in a vat of acid and it would still go off. The finding of the guards meant they might get a bit of heat soon but they hoped they could get back to the shore before they were caught up with.
The shore wasn’t far as they rushed towards it and remembering where they were, headed off on a small detour to miss the 24-hour doughnut shop. But too their horror the way was blocked. There must have been fifty heavily armed troops and some sort of light tank, possibly the Armadillo but there wasn’t time to check and nobody was that really bothered anyway. They rushed down the road and were almost past the doughnut shop when they noticed the end of this road was blocked as well and with much the same sort of odds though no Armadillo this time, it was an Anteater APV. “In here quick” screamed Danny Boy and they crashed into the doughnut shop. They rushed behind the counter and waited for the attack. The staff protested in Spanish but a Heckler O’Koch against two chocolate and three strawberry jam doughnuts was no match so they didn’t protest too long or too loudly. In fact as the first burst of fire hit doughnut shop, the staff legged it down the road to be shot dead by their own troops. The firm later were quite sad about it but there were plenty more under managers in the sea as opposed to fish.
The team had the shop to themselves and they secured it as best they could. Rounds whizzed above their heads as they fortified the place. Hundreds and thousands flew about like shrapnel and jam covered the floor. Danny Boy was behind the counter and he noticed a hatch in the floor. Pulling it open, he climbed down the stairs and into a large stone cellar. There were no windows and the power now seemed to be off but pulling out his torch, he could see there were no secret passages leading to the sea as this isn’t the sodding famous five now is it? Danny Boy climbed back up thinking the cellar could have possibilities as heavier munitions hit the shop. The Argies were closing in for the kill and they thought the odds were with them. There was a whooping sound and it seemed to be coming from out to sea. Danny Boy twigged instantly and screamed at the rest to get down the cellar. They jumped, were pushed or fell down the steps and rushed to the side furthest from the hatch. They crouched holding their heads as the first explosion hit the doughnut shop. The dust was choking but the cellar was still intact. Explosion after explosion went off above them or near by and the earth moved for them as it’s never done since. Then there was silence, complete and utter silence.
Danny Boy still choking from the dust was the first to try the hatch but it wouldn’t budge. Nige gave him a hand and it moved a little so they all tried and after much straining and one partial hernia the hatch flew open and they could see the stars. The doughnut shop was gone and so was much of the surrounding area. Where there had been industrial premises, there now stood nothing, just rubble. Spluttering and choking, they breathed in the cool night fresh air. They looked around and a solitary street lamp had a doughnut hanging off it and even the big ‘M’ over the town was now leaning at a strange angle and had a pink tinge to it. They headed for the beach and Nige dragged out the inflatables one by one. He had wondered why they had been that heavy as Jock took the rocks out. The four paddled out to sea in the two inflatables, the sea was fairly calm so the journey was relatively easy. There was no sign of the sub but they could make out lights in the distance.
A launch drew up beside the inflatables and they jumped onboard. They did have a bit of an argument with the rating as they had to bring the inflatables back. They’d already lost one deposit and weren’t going to lose a second one. The launch with the two inflatables in tow and the four on board made its way towards the lights and the lights turned out to be HMS Piddletrenthide, a Mark IV destroyer. They were piped on board, which was strange as only Jock is Scottish and they spoke to the captain, Captain Jean-Luc Picard who sounded French and I mean the name but his mother had been a Star Trek, The Next Generation fan and he actually hailed from Bognor Regis. “I hope you didn’t mind the little extra firepower I laid down for you” said the captain. “Where’s the sub fcuked off to?” asked Jock not standing on ceremony. “Ah yes, the sub was called away but didn’t leave until we got here” explained the captain to which Jock graciously replied “Should fcuking think not”
Back at the air base Captain Diego Maradonna (no relation)
of the Argentinean EOD was attempting to disarm the charges. The hangar had
been cleared; in fact virtually the whole air base had been cleared but he had
managed to disarm the first charge and was just about to disarm the rest. Being
rather too proud of himself and basically a big headed barsteward, he walked out
of the hangar holding the charge. “Look gentlemen, the hand of God” he said
proud of his handiwork and his wit and intelligence. It was at that exact
moment in time that the charge exploded, as did the rest and Captain Diego
Maradonna went to pieces as did most of the airbase but importantly for Danny
Boy and company, so did the missiles. From the ship the explosion was seen and
much appreciated. It was congratulations all round followed by drinks all round
and the captain hacked a right and set the course for
Chapter Twelve
Flabby, Ryan and Knocker sat around drinking coffee while
Smudge occupied the only smoking table at the airport. The table wasn’t exactly
smoking and it was outside but at least Smudge could feed his habit. A Hercules
had been booked for them but even the SAS don’t come first sometimes. A party
of backbenchers had been on a fact finding trip to the islands and with an eye
on the defence budget especially the few quid allocated to the RAF, the trip
had still gone ahead as planned. The fact finding had started early for the MPs
as most didn’t even know where the islands were. Two thought they were off the
coast of
The team had already been kitted out with the equipment they would need and apart from the usual shooty bangsticks to shoot people, the method to blow things up plus associated equipment such as the new SAS sock which had really taken off. The motto ‘Who dares wins’ had been adapted and the socks sold under the motto ‘Who cares who dares wins as long as my feet are warm’. “Quite catchy” thought the marketing guy, “Quite crappy” thought the advertising guy but they never agreed. Flabby and co. had been issued with the new HAHO (high altitude, high opening) parachute (one each plus one spare each), easier to manoeuvre and resplendent in a Day-Glo pink. For tactical reasons they wouldn’t be allowed the navigation lights on but it was certainly an improvement on the last version. Plus people no longer attempted to steal panels to make ladies underwear. Flabby wasn’t quite sure how that affected ladies and their underwear now, as the women he had met were certainly wearing them and they were equally determined to keep them on no matter what.
They had also been issued with oxygen and masks as they
would be jumping from 25,000 feet or thereabouts. There had been a slight
mistake as an illiterate, colour blind RAF storeman had issued them nitrous
oxide by mistake. Still, they had a bloody good laugh over that and the
storeman did rectify his mistake. Other than that it was just waiting for the
MPs to get bored or air sick or hopefully both and they would finally have
access to their transport. They couldn’t leave
It was business but not as normal at MPA as jet after
continued to bring in reinforcements. A special wide bodied jet brought in more
wide bodied Naafi staff or Effi as they wore woolly pullies and got a notional
rank thrown in as a bonus. The troops had to be entertained and to prevent a
repeat of last years riot, Jim Davidson was sent to somewhere extremely sandy
and told to stay away from the
The press were everywhere and snapped at anything that moved
and quite a lot that didn’t. Somebody shot at John Simpson to make him feel at
home and a rather badly preserved Kate Adie tried to embed herself and had to
be taken to hospital. The islanders were leaving in droves or only as far as
the airport than an aeroplane would take them the rest of the way. The
departure lounge was full of sheep waving goodbye to their owners and sadly
their owners didn’t have the sense to wave back. Priority was given to women
and children though those that deposited large amounts of money into a numbered
Swiss bank account didn’t do too badly either.
Sat at the airport drinking a coffee that tasted of oxtail soup, Flabby wished he could do more but he knew his time would soon come. Smudge knew he could do more but would be in after this next ciggy. Ryan hoped to meet Jamie Oliver as he too was on his way down south. He had given up on his campaign for better school meals. “Fat little barstewards” he had called them and switched his allegiance to the military. Ryan had ideas himself and he was extremely excited. It did get him some funny looks as I don’t think you’re supposed to get that excited but the RMP held back from arresting him mainly because nobody had complained, quite the contrary in fact but Knocker had sworn to rip their heads off if they came near. Knocker as usual was itching for fight and he wasn’t choosy.
Finally the Hercules landed and some very green looking backbenchers staggered out the back of the plane. After a morning’s cross party vomiting, the backbenchers were in no position to argue, something that the RAF took full advantage of and this was highlighted in the following year’s defence budget. The navy or the odd ship that was left received another cut in expenditure, the army was forced to amalgamate all the regiments left into one big super regiment but yet the RAF had the funds to finance a second Red Arrows team and joy of joys, as much coloured smoke as they needed no matter what the cost. The kit was being loaded except of course the spare parachutes that had somehow been sent to the docks and loaded on a sub. The RAF turned the Hercules round, shoved a few litres of Euro 95 in it and washed the puke out. It was ready to go and Flabby and co. walked to the aircraft wondering where the smell of Dettol came from. If the pilot put his foot down they should just make it before it got dark. They strapped themselves in and settled back for the journey. “Put your fcuking foot down, Crabby bollox” shouted Knocker determined that they would get there before nightfall and using all the subtlety he could muster told them so. “And don’t get fcuking lost” he shouted, the smooth talking barsteward.
The pilot took off and headed due west. They were headed for the Straits of Magellan and the pilot climbed to their ceiling which if you read various sites on the net was 27,000 feet, 30,000feet or 33,000feet. So cruising at one of those heights at an undetermined speed as the sites were much the same about cruising speed, Flabby and the team stretched their legs, walked up and down the aircraft a bit and sat back down again. Now wasn’t that interesting? They checked their kit, not much else to do really and discovered that they didn’t have the spare parachutes with them. “I’ll kill that little fcuker” shouted Knocker but he would have been in a queue as none were happy with the situation but Flabby decided they would still go on. It was a democratic decision; he asked them for their views, listened to their views, mulled over and discussed the various possibilities then ignored them and made the decision anyway. At least democracy had been seen even if it hadn’t been seen to be done.
Smudge was starting to suffer so lit up. He was told in so
many words that if he didn’t extinguish the cigarette that the plane would be
turned around and they would return to
They continued north-ish with Argentina on their right, Flabby slouched in his seat fast asleep, Ryan was reading a copy of the in-flight magazine, mainly because he’d already read the safety notice and the sick bag. It wasn’t that bad a read really, the job opportunity page, Flight Mate of the Month, Reader’s Wrafs had some good piccies but some real woofers as well, holidays for the over fifties or corporals which sounded the same thing to Ryan and a superb recipe for fresh crab. Knocker played with his face mask that he was to use later for the jump and Smudge just sat and twitched determined he was going to have a fag as soon as they jumped whatever happened. The pilot smiled at the co-pilot and perhaps too much as the co-pilot was getting nervous now and was going to ask for a transfer as soon as they got back. “You have Reginald” said the pilot. “I have” replied Algernon and the pilot disappeared to have a shave as this Hercules was one of the few to have been modified. Fire retardant foam would kill any fire in the fuel tanks but it also meant the crew never went short, especially those that preferred foam to gel.
Smudge mumbled something and wrestled with the face mask. “Turn the fcuker on!” shouted Knocker and Smudge stopped squirming as if by magic. He could breathe again. They had their parachutes on and were carrying out final tests on the face masks and the oxygen bottles. The drop was imminent which for Knocker’s benefit meant pretty soon as they made last minute adjustments. Straps were tightened, harnesses were pulled tight and then loosened again as nobody could breathe. They were waiting for the green light and for those who are colour blind or are reading in black and white, that’s the one below the red one. The loadie, who appeared as if by magic as he’s not been mentioned before and quite right in my mind, stood by the open door at the back. Even loadies don’t like other loadies and this one was no different to the rest and it would have only come to blows as Knocker fcuking hates loadies with a vengeance.
The green light lit up and the loadie stuck up one finger and Knocker punched him as he leapt out. The loadie stuck up two fingers and Flabby kicked his shin before jumping out. The loadie stuck up three fingers and Ryan jumped, not hitting him but since he’d already stolen his I-Pod, he didn’t have to. The loadie stuck up four fingers and Smudge stubbed out his cigarette that he’d been sneakily puffing on the loadie’s bare hand and jumped. They were at 25,000 feet and the chutes were already open. Breathing oxygen as the air was a bit thin and the nights are fair drawing in but they proceeded to stack with Knocker at the bottom and guiding them to their target that lay approximately 30 kilometres away. The sun was already setting and it was the perfect time for a descent though Smudge desperately wanted to light up but couldn’t. The descent was a magical experience for them, they didn’t do this too often but it was definitely worth the ride.
Still descending they ate up the kilometres or miles and
were already in
Several minutes and a couple of fags later, Smudge was back on terra firma and his mask and chute hidden, things got back to the job in hand. Flabby pulled out the SAS GPS handheld available from the regiment or all good map stores and clipped the aerial to Knocker’s ear. Knocker protested at first but he seemed to be in a kind of trance. He stood there motionless which was a good job as Flabby was getting excellent signal strength. Flabby finally got their position and released Knocker from his trance. “I must remember that trick” said Flabby. “What trick?” asked Knocker who was with them again in body and in spirit. Flabby ignored him and tried to work out their position in relation to the target and at a rough guess, with a bit of luck, he reckoned they were only about six kilometres from the last reported position of the target. Slapping Knocker to see if he was really with it and instantly regretting it as he was, the team headed eastwards with Knocker still chasing Flabby.
It was almost dark as they hit the spot or the last reported position of the target. There was nothing, absolutely nothing to see. There were no tracks or any other evidence that anything had been here except for a large animal possibly a rodent as Flabby wiped the shite off his boot. “What the fcuk do we do now?” asked Smudge lighting up. “Fcuked if I know” replied Flabby and he really didn’t know this time. As far as the eye could see which wasn’t that far as it was virtually dark but as far as the eye could see was scrub, a sandy soil and it was flat, hardly an undulation let alone a hump. “Ok everybody take a look around and back here in fifteen” said Flabby and they all set off in opposing directions.
Knocker trod in some shite and cursed. He looked for a stone to wipe it off on or a bush to wipe it on but this particular area of nothingness had less than the rest. He wandered about looking for something and then tripping over something found himself eating the dirt. He pulled himself slowly to his feet and looked for what had tripped him up. He found it again and it was like a small chimney, a metal pipe with a little hat on the top. It was a vent pipe to something and remembering his days in sandy locations and the fate of some thunder box complexes, he hoped it wasn’t that. Marking it so he could find it again, he retraced his steps and headed back arriving back just after Ryan. Flabby and Smudge came in a few minutes later.
Knocker explained his find to Flabby and they all headed over to the vent that Knocker had marked. Knocker picked up his marker again which was actually a rather filthy hanky but it was the only one he had. They explored the area further and thought it safe enough to use torches. A couple of other vents were found as was what seemed to be a hatch that was just below the sandy soil. The hatch seemed to be set in concrete and after much searching Ryan, Smudge and Knocker stood on spots that seemed to mark the extremities of whatever this was. Flabby had his suspicions but he wasn’t letting on yet. The distance between the three markers was quite large and Flabby knew what they had found. It was a bunker and the missiles were most probably underground which is why they had seemed to disappear. There had been spy satellite imagery of some sort of irrigation works but this had obviously all been a cover. He beckoned to the rest to join him but they didn’t see him as it was now dark. He explained his suspicions and most seemed to agree. There was nothing that could be done now so they headed off for somewhere with enough cover where they could hole up for the day. “Tomorrow is another day” said Flabby philosophically. “Fcuking obvious thing to say you tw@t” replied Knocker slightly less philosophically.
Chapter Thirteen
They spent a reasonably comfortable night in one of the larger thickets but still close to the bunker or what they thought was a bunker. The thicket was a bit light on moss so not as comfortable as Team Bravo had been and not much chance of a best selling book ever coming out of it either but it had been comfortable enough. Flabby was awake and peered out from behind a twig that didn’t give him much cover but he was still pretty well camouflaged. The sun was almost up and a light mist hung over the ground. It had been quite cold so Flabby enjoyed the sun on his face and pretty soon the mist had disappeared. It was turning into a beautiful spring morning and Flabby felt good to be alive. He’d feel even better when the missiles had been disposed of but for now he was contented with life in general.
Flabby heard him first and quickly shook the others. Ryan covered Knocker’s mouth to silence his usual protestations at being woken. Between two thickets and heading their way was a man in overalls and wearing a plastic hard hat. He whistled as he walked and not particularly tunefully. You can’t just kill somebody for whistling out of tune but Knocker was still not happy at being woken up and he did consider it. The man walked and whistled past them, proving men can multi-task and headed towards the bunker. He stopped, looked around and seeing nobody, fumbled on the ground and raised the hatch. He climbed down what must have been a ladder and disappeared from view. The hatch closed and he was gone. “I think they have a staffing problem” suggested Ryan. It did seem strange that if it was a bunker, there was just the one person entering and while they were pleased he took Health and Safety seriously, he certainly didn’t look military. “Fcuk, that’s a tough one” said Knocker finally joining in the conversation. “Be even tougher if he’s got twenty mates down there” replied Flabby as they honestly didn’t know.
“Well, there’s only one thing for it” Flabby jumped to his feet and the twig flicked him in the eye. “Bollox!” he shouted hoping the man hadn’t heard him but that had been really sore. “Flabby’s crying” joked Knocker and Flabby swung at him fortunately missing him but hitting Ryan full in the face. Ryan kicked at Flabby who ducked which didn’t help at all but managed to knee Knocker in the gonads. Knocker dropped like a stone reaching out a hand, a hand that grabbed Smudge’s arm and pulled the cigarette from his mouth, tearing his lip. Smudge lighting up first threw a wild punch that missed Knocker by a continent but caught Flabby who was hitting Ryan at the time. The thicket shook as the four worked out their frustrations. Every so often somebody would fly out of the thicket but after dusting themselves would dive back into the melee. The man who had climbed up from his bunker sat on the concrete watching. He took his plastic hard hat off and putting it down on the ground, lit a cigarette and watched the action.
Knocker recovering from the knee to the gonads had hold of Ryan’s throat but something caught his attention. He released his grip on Ryan and tried to attract Flabby’s attention. Flabby was rolling on the ground with Smudge, biting and scratching and trying to punch each other’s lights out. Knocker finally got Flabby’s attention and stopping in mid roll, they looked at where Knocker was indicating. The man having finished his cigarette was now eating his sandwiches and a steaming hot cup of coffee sat on the ground next to him. The man waved and added some extra salt to his sandwich. He didn’t look bothered by them; in fact he didn’t look bothered at all though he did pull a face as the coffee was obviously without sugar. Pulling a sachet from his pocket, he emptied it into his coffee and pulled out a pen to stir it. He waved again and took a sip of his coffee. The sugar had obviously done the trick as he smiled and put his thumb up. “Do go on” he said in Spanish but seeing the blank looks on everybody’s faces, went through a few languages before ‘English’ brought some sort of recognition from the team. “Good morning” he said in fairly good but heavily accented English.
The team sheepishly pulled themselves to their feet and dusting themselves down mumbled a return greeting. Nobody reached for weapons, the man seemed totally friendly and they did all feel slightly embarrassed. “Who are you?” asked Flabby finally getting a grip of the situation and pulling a cigarette butt from his hair. The team had regained some of their composure and after a quick search regained their weapons as well. The man still didn’t look overly perturbed. “I’m Carlos Del Monte” replied the man. “Yes ok I know he’s the man from Del Monte but can we cut the fcuking jokes” shouted Flabby. The rest of the team were acting like children. “I’ve heard them all before” said Carlos standing up and shaking his cup. “But what are you doing here and what is this place?” asked Flabby. The team was finally back on track and just in case, Carlos had a couple of weapons pointing directly at him. “I’m an irrigation engineer and this is an irrigation pump and control centre” replied Carlos and added a ‘See for yourself” as he started climbing down the ladder. Flabby pushed Ryan’s pistol down and followed Carlos down the ladder. “Come on then” he added to Ryan and Smudge but gestured to Knocker to stay topsides just in case.
They could hear Knocker moaning as they climbed down into
the bunker. It was now obvious for all to see, that Carlos had been telling the
truth and this was definitely not a bunker. “I always get the fcuking crap
jobs” was heard from topsides as Knocker vented his spleen. Carlos gave them
the full guided tour, answered all their questions but apologized that there
was no café or gift shop. It was indeed nothing more sinister than what he had
told them it was, an irrigation pump and control centre. “But if you want to
know where the missiles are, I might be able to help” added Carlos at the end
of the guided tour and they all looked at him. “But why is this place
underground and so secret?” asked Flabby, he wanted info about the missiles but
he needed to know where they had gone wrong with their assumptions. “This is a
nature reserve” explained Carlos. “That’s why I have to walk here from the car
park, almost a mile away. No vehicles are allowed here.” he continued. They had
wondered why there were no tracks close to what they had thought had been the
bunker. “A nature reserve, I can see that but for what? asked Ryan. “Why
capybara of course” replied Carlos. Cabby what? asked Smudge who wouldn’t have
known a capybara if he’d woken up next to one. Mind you, he probably wouldn’t
have kicked it out of bed but that’s another story. “Capybara or Hydrochoerus
hydrochaeris are not usually found in these areas but some have moved west and
we want to protect them. That’s why this was built underground, they are easily
disturbed and you wouldn’t want things pumping while you’re humping now would
you?” continued Carlos and Smudge while not taking notes, was inwardly
digesting this. “They are like giant guinea pigs and weigh up to 75kg” he
concluded and Smudge wisely cancelled the urge to cuddle one.
“About the missiles?” asked Flabby, getting bored with the life and
times of a capybara. A shot rang out topsides and they rushed up climbing up
the ladder and themselves and after it was proved and quite conclusively that
three would not fit through the hatch, they took it in turns and this slight
delay gave Knocker the time to let off another shot. Fcuking rats!” he shouted
pointing to a thicket some way away. “Fcuking giant rats!” he shouted again.
“Missed the fcukers though” and everybody was relieved. Flabby explained to
Knocker and Knocker being Knocker shrugged his shoulders. “Shouldn’t look like
giant fcuking rats then” he added as Flabby tried to chastise him. The drama over and the capybara population
still intact, Flabby got back to the matter in hand. “Now about these
fcuking missiles” he said rather impatiently.
Carlos did have a thing about capybara but as he was the conservation
representative for his company as well as the irrigation engineer, this explained
everything. So armed with everything you ever wanted to know about a capybara
but were afraid to ask, they waited for the gen on the missiles. And wait they
did. Each plant, bush or tree in the nearest thicket was broken down into
species and sub-species and with not a hint of anything regarding the missiles,
they were all suddenly quite expert on the flora and fauna of the region. “The
fcuking missiles!” exploded Knocker who couldn’t take any more. “I’ll shoot
anything that moves including those fcuking capy-fcuking-bara if you don’t tell
us and now!” Knocker was never known for his patience. “They used to be here”
said Carlos was really starting to annoy everybody. “But they were asked to
leave” he added. “The fcuking missiles or the fcuking capybara?” exploded
Knocker. “I’ll take you to the missiles if you want” said Carlos and that was
what they wanted to hear. Carlos had a tidy up underground and closed up the
hatch, removing any traces of human activity including removing footprints in
the sandy soil using a branch from one of the small trees. Actually he hadn’t
been entirely truthful with the team. Another irrigation complex in a neighbouring area but not built
underground, had been vandalized in a matter of days and while this one was
acceptably capybara friendly, at least it didn’t get trashed this way.
They walked towards Carlos’ vehicle. Flabby didn’t like being out in
the open and during daylight hours but they had no choice. The missiles had to
be located and that was the end of it or the end of them once they found them.
They made it to Carlos’ car without being seen or knowing they had been seen as
a male capybara had been keeping a watchful eye on them for ages and in
particular, the one who had tried to shoot him. Carlos’ VW Beetle was a tight
squeeze but they managed and tore out the car park and onto the road. They
chugged along at the Beetle’s top speed which was slightly faster than walking
pace but only just. Carlos gunned the engine, something they had all thought
about but the speed never changed. The road was long and flat; you could see
for miles and in the distance were mountains. These were the mountains that
separated
Carlos told them to look as inconspicuous as possible as they were
entering a small town, the town of
“Why are you doing this Carlos?” asked Flabby, wanting to know how far
they could trust him. “Let’s just say I represent another point of view in
Ryan shook Flabby trying to wake him. It was getting dark and they soon
would be off. They raided Carlos’ fridge and another week’s ration disappeared.
Smudge sat at the kitchen table and smoked, the ashtray was overflowing, the
room full of smoke but at least somebody was happy. They did trust Carlos and
this was proved when the police arrived at Carlos’ door. Flabby positioned
himself behind Carlos but not too close otherwise people would talk, Ryan
covered the front window, Smudge was upstairs also covering the front and
Knocker was outside but with a clear shot of the front door. But it was nothing
or as far as they could tell with their very limited Spanish. Apparently a
capybara had been involved in a traffic accident and while the capybara had
limped away with just a sore foot, a bus load of nuns on an outing had swerved
to miss the beast, hit a telegraph pole, the only one for miles and the bus had
burst into flames. There had been no survivors but even Carlos had to agree
that God indeed did move in mysterious ways his miracles to perform. He hoped
it hadn’t been Shakira as she was his favourite capybara. Shame about the nuns as well but there were plenty more
where they came from.
It was dark enough to go and the four piled into the Beetle again and
Carlos squeezed into the driver’s seat but only just. He started the engine and
off they went on the short distance to the scrap yard. “First time we’ve been
driven to a job like this” remarked Smudge insisting on smoking and burning a
hole in Knocker’s sleeve. The car swerved on a reasonably straight road as the
rear passengers got stuck into each other but finally they were there and at
last Knocker had somebody else to fight. It was all quiet in the scrap yard
until the Rottweilers heard them and they went crazy but not for long. Two
silenced shots in quick succession and the Rottweilers went to meet their
maker. There was no sign of the crew but there was a cheap hotel across the
street and Carlos had earlier thought that’s where they would be staying. It
was cheap and nasty in the right places, so would suit the crew down to the
ground. Flabby did contemplate paying them a visit but he didn’t want to ruin
their night so thought better of it. Using Carlos’ bolt croppers that were
actually used for trimming the capybara’s front teeth, the gate was open and
without the Rottweiler welcome committee, the unguarded missile launcher
received their welcome attention with half a dozen charges, all set for an hour
from then. Leaving as quickly and as easily as they had arrived, they piled
into the Beetle and headed towards
They stopped just round the corner as they had misunderstood Carlos. He
didn’t want to go to
It was slightly less cramped in the Beetle but only slightly. The
Beetle also managed to go faster but that was easier to measure with a calendar
than a stopwatch. They were en route to
“What the fcuk!” shouted Flabby screeching the car to a halt. His hands
were shaking and they were precariously close to the edge and even in the
darkness, he could see it was a sheer drop. He opened the door and took a look.
Two figures rushed to the car and Flabby’s hand reached for his pistol. “You
going to
The over loaded Beetle struggled but made it all the way and as they
came over the brow of a hill, they could see the border post in the distance.
It was a huge long hill but downhill and this presented a new problem as the
brakes really had problems stopping a normally laden car but with extra weight
and the extra persons it was just too much. Flabby threw the car into third
gear hoping that the engine would give some braking but it was too little and
too late. The Beetle hit the Chilean border post at 70mph and demolished the
checkpoint, the customs shed and a newly built ‘StarPesos’ coffee house before
wiping out a small garden centre and a scenic picnic site. Eventually with not
a panel left unscathed the Beetle came to a halt and Flabby sat there with the
handbrake in his hand. He had pulled it clean off on the way down and he threw
it out of the shattered window in sheer disgust. The border guards rushed onto
the scene or those that weren’t being pulled out of the rubble and jabbered
away at them in Spanish. It was all getting heated when Flabby carefully, as
some of the guards were pointing gats at them, pulled out his SAS credit card
and one guard who appeared to be in charge, spoke to him in reasonably good
English. “That will do nicely sir”
Chapter
Fourteen
Flabby, Ryan, Knocker and Smudge were unhurt, a few dents and bruises
but nothing worse. The two backpackers were undeterred and were on their way to
The team was taken to the nearest airbase as the Beetle had really had
it this time and they awaited a Hercules to take them back to the
Team Bravo were taken back to
the Falklands by HMS Piddletrenthide though not directly as the ship was
involved in a stand off with the Argentinean navy. It was thoroughly boring as
not a shot was fired and involved days and days of plain and simple posturing.
Danny Boy, Jock, Rikshaw and Nige and were bored shiteless though while
everybody was on a high alert, they pretty much had the ship to themselves.
Jock just went round pressing buttons and it was only sheer good luck that the
two fleets didn’t get thrown into serious conflict. Fortunately Jock wasn’t
that stupid pressing buttons though one poor rating was buried at sea twice and
he wasn’t dead. Jock swore blind he hadn’t pressed that button but we all know
he did. It’s amazing what sheer boredom can do.
Team Alpha made it back to
The twelve were assembled again at Mount Pleasant Airport (MPA) as MPA
had the largest building on the islands that wasn’t usually reserved for sheep.
They had all been briefed that there would be a debriefing but Flabby hoped
they’d be brief as there was still work to do. The threat was still there but
there had been rumblings in
So briefed and debriefed and quite briefly, Team Alpha was sent off to
The nuclear threat had been dissipated but there was still the very
real claim made by
And then it happened and not for the first time. Those that had
effectively started what could have been a serious conflict were removed from
office but unlike some previous coups, were given a fair trial and not a bullet
in the back of the head down some dark alley. It was a bloodless coup unlike
the last one that had been a spineless coup but in an instance the threat was
lifted as talks were of permanently handing the Falklands over to the
The defence of the
Some were later involved in the 25th anniversary of the
Falklands War and while some were involved, nobody would ever forget those that
sadly died in the conflict. The ultimate sacrifice but we WILL remember them.
RIP
THE
END