the north too,’ said Mitch, also scanning the landscape.
‘And the south,’ added Tug. ‘So I think we can truthfully say we’re surrounded.’
‘How many of them?’ asked Nelson.
‘Judging by the amount of gunfire: forty. Maybe fifty.’
‘They’ve got at least one RPG launcher,’ said Benny. ‘So they could do serious damage to the vehicles, armoured or not.’
‘In which case, we’ll all fry,’ said Tug.
‘Cover me. It’s time we unloaded some of our own big guns,’ said Two Moons. ‘Maybe level this playing field a bit, as you Brits are fond of saying. Give me a hand, Mitch?’
‘You got it,’ replied Mitch.
Tug, Benny and Gaz started laying down covering fire in a circular pattern, tracers of bullets tearing into rocks, ridges, scrub and the few thin, twisted trees, while Two Moons opened up the rear of one of the vehicles. He and Mitch began unloading a mortar and rounds. Swiftly, Two Moons set the mortar up on the ground, the trajectory of the shellsset so they would sail over the roof of the vehicle towards the target.
‘Someone give me a bearing,’ said Two Moons.
Tug gave him a set of coordinates. ‘There’s quite a group of them there, judging by the bullets coming from that direction.’
‘Then let’s give ’em something to think about!’ Two Moons fired off two mortar shells in rapid succession. Tug watched their flight, then focused his binoculars where they exploded.
The enemy responded with more gunfire, forcing the men to duck down and take cover. Some of the bullets found the gaps between the cars, and Tug stumbled back, clutching his chest.
‘You hit?’ demanded Nelson.
‘No. Luckily the body armour took it,’ Tug reassured him.
Nelson took Tug’s position near the front and fired off a burst at the attackers.
There was the familiar
whoompf!
of an RPG being launched in the distance.
‘Incoming!’ yelled Two Moons.
They heard a
whoosh,
and the rocket-propelled grenade passed over the tops of the vehicles and exploded in the desert on the other side of them, not far off.
‘That was close,’ groaned Gaz.
‘Too close!’ snapped Nelson. ‘If he gets his eye in, the next one will kill us.’
‘We’ve got to take the battle to them,’ said Tug. ‘We use the Humvees.’
‘We don’t know what the conditions are off road,’ Benny pointed out. ‘We could get bogged down in sand.’
‘But at least we’ll be forcing them to spread their fire. Here, we’re trapped like fish in a barrel.’
More gunfire poured into their position, bullets ricocheting around them, tearing into the ground around their feet.
‘They’re closing in on us,’ said Nelson. ‘This isn’t looking good.’ He turned to Omari. ‘You’ve got a chance if you surrender.’
Omari shook his head. ‘I was with you when you killed the Taliban at the village,’ he said. ‘We’re tarred with the same brush.’
‘You could tell them you were our prisoner,’ said Nelson.
‘Somehow I don’t think they’d believe me,’ said Omari.
The firing from the Taliban was getting heavier as the fighters drew nearer to their position.
‘This is like Custer’s Last Stand,’ grunted Gaz.
‘Except you got an Indian with you,’ said Two Moons.
Another RPG flew over their heads, barely missing them. They responded, letting fly with tracers of bullets towards the Taliban. Suddenly Benny crashed back against one of the vehicles and slumped forwards, blood streaming down his face.
16
‘Man down!’ yelled Nelson.
Mitch had already slid over to Benny, who lay unconscious with a bullet wound bleeding high on his forehead. Suddenly Benny made a choking sound, and then stopped breathing.
Acting quickly, Mitch pushed Benny down on the ground so he was prone, and began to carry out CPR: pinching Benny’s nostrils tight and blowing air into his lungs, then pressing down on his chest, counting silently as he did so: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7… then blowing into Benny’s mouth and
‘And the south,’ added Tug. ‘So I think we can truthfully say we’re surrounded.’
‘How many of them?’ asked Nelson.
‘Judging by the amount of gunfire: forty. Maybe fifty.’
‘They’ve got at least one RPG launcher,’ said Benny. ‘So they could do serious damage to the vehicles, armoured or not.’
‘In which case, we’ll all fry,’ said Tug.
‘Cover me. It’s time we unloaded some of our own big guns,’ said Two Moons. ‘Maybe level this playing field a bit, as you Brits are fond of saying. Give me a hand, Mitch?’
‘You got it,’ replied Mitch.
Tug, Benny and Gaz started laying down covering fire in a circular pattern, tracers of bullets tearing into rocks, ridges, scrub and the few thin, twisted trees, while Two Moons opened up the rear of one of the vehicles. He and Mitch began unloading a mortar and rounds. Swiftly, Two Moons set the mortar up on the ground, the trajectory of the shellsset so they would sail over the roof of the vehicle towards the target.
‘Someone give me a bearing,’ said Two Moons.
Tug gave him a set of coordinates. ‘There’s quite a group of them there, judging by the bullets coming from that direction.’
‘Then let’s give ’em something to think about!’ Two Moons fired off two mortar shells in rapid succession. Tug watched their flight, then focused his binoculars where they exploded.
The enemy responded with more gunfire, forcing the men to duck down and take cover. Some of the bullets found the gaps between the cars, and Tug stumbled back, clutching his chest.
‘You hit?’ demanded Nelson.
‘No. Luckily the body armour took it,’ Tug reassured him.
Nelson took Tug’s position near the front and fired off a burst at the attackers.
There was the familiar
whoompf!
of an RPG being launched in the distance.
‘Incoming!’ yelled Two Moons.
They heard a
whoosh,
and the rocket-propelled grenade passed over the tops of the vehicles and exploded in the desert on the other side of them, not far off.
‘That was close,’ groaned Gaz.
‘Too close!’ snapped Nelson. ‘If he gets his eye in, the next one will kill us.’
‘We’ve got to take the battle to them,’ said Tug. ‘We use the Humvees.’
‘We don’t know what the conditions are off road,’ Benny pointed out. ‘We could get bogged down in sand.’
‘But at least we’ll be forcing them to spread their fire. Here, we’re trapped like fish in a barrel.’
More gunfire poured into their position, bullets ricocheting around them, tearing into the ground around their feet.
‘They’re closing in on us,’ said Nelson. ‘This isn’t looking good.’ He turned to Omari. ‘You’ve got a chance if you surrender.’
Omari shook his head. ‘I was with you when you killed the Taliban at the village,’ he said. ‘We’re tarred with the same brush.’
‘You could tell them you were our prisoner,’ said Nelson.
‘Somehow I don’t think they’d believe me,’ said Omari.
The firing from the Taliban was getting heavier as the fighters drew nearer to their position.
‘This is like Custer’s Last Stand,’ grunted Gaz.
‘Except you got an Indian with you,’ said Two Moons.
Another RPG flew over their heads, barely missing them. They responded, letting fly with tracers of bullets towards the Taliban. Suddenly Benny crashed back against one of the vehicles and slumped forwards, blood streaming down his face.
16
‘Man down!’ yelled Nelson.
Mitch had already slid over to Benny, who lay unconscious with a bullet wound bleeding high on his forehead. Suddenly Benny made a choking sound, and then stopped breathing.
Acting quickly, Mitch pushed Benny down on the ground so he was prone, and began to carry out CPR: pinching Benny’s nostrils tight and blowing air into his lungs, then pressing down on his chest, counting silently as he did so: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7… then blowing into Benny’s mouth and
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