Immediate Action Part 32

For them, it was another form of Selection; they did their three-year tour, and if they were any good, they might get invited back to run a squadron. If they screwed up, it wasn't their fault but that of the troop senior or the troop as a whole. It was our responsibility not just to give the rupert a hard time-as you do-but to make sure that he was given all the opportunity in those three years to learn as much as possible. It was no different really from training recruits at Winchester. A bad product was down to us, not the recruit.

It was the senior NCO, the team senior, who really ran the show.

He did the day-to-day planning and all the administration. And it was also his job to make sure that the officer knew what was going on, and we as a team needed to be teaching him as well.

I got bored and went back to my sleeping bag to read my book, The Feudal Kingdom of England.

Then it was time for the container meal. This was, as predicted, "Airborne stew"-Meat, potatoes, vegetables, all cooked up together.

Sometimes there are paper plates on offer, but most people bring and use their own; they hold more. For pudding, there were six rounds of bread I.C each and a sticky bun.

One of the scaleys came in while I was still eating.

"Can we have both teams in the briefing room at nineteen-thirty for an update, I thank you!"

Some of the scaleys were the world's oldest corporals and sergeants.

Because they don't want to leave Squadron, they forgo any chance of promotion that would mean moving out of Hereford.

We sat down in front of the slime and finished off our stickies.

"We still have seen only X ray Two. All the negotiations are still being conducted by the woman."

We could hear her voice on the loudspeakers.

"Can you turn that up?" someone shouted from the back of the team.

Her words filled the room: "If you do not put our statement on the BBC nine P.m. and ITN ten P.m. news, we will start to kill people. We have shown you that we are not savages, you have your old man and children"

"I want to help you," said one of the negotiators.

"None of us want this to turn out a bloodbath, do we? I cannot make any promises, but I a.s.sure you that I am making all efforts to help you.

Everything I said I would do has happened. We need to work together..

. ou must understand I need time." y "It is obvious you are not listening. We will start to kill if the broadcasts are"

Somebody turned the volume down.

The slime continued: "As you heard, the old man and two children have just been released. He is in shock and cannot give any information of any use apart from that he thinks there are four or five and only one of them a woman."

One of the scaleys shouted out: "Stand to the I.A!"

We ran to the vehicles and turned our radios on.

Weapons were made ready and respirators put on while we screamed off to the start line. The people with the entry charges were checking to ensure they were okay, and putting on the claymore clacker that would initiate the charge.

"Alpha, Tango One and Two at the start line, over."

"Roger that, out to you. One, this is Alpha, over."

"One, rotors turning and stood to, over."

"Roger that, out."

On the net we could all hear the snipers giving information on the target: "More movement on White TwoOne and White One-One. There is screaming coming from the ground floor, I can't tell what room."

"Roger that, Sierra Two."

I heard two bursts of automatic fire and knew it wouldn't be long before we went into action.

"h.e.l.lo, One and One Alpha, this is Alpha One. Move to your holding area."

"One, roger."

We could not see them, but we knew that both helis would now be flying off to an area where they couldn't be heard by the terrorists, waiting for the order to move on target. It was dark by now, and all lights were out.

Steve and Jerry would be using their NVGS.

The chief constable now had to wait for confirmation that people had been killed. The sound of shots was not enough.

He was soon to have his confirmation: A body was dumped at the main door with the threat of another one in five minutes if the TV statement demand was not met.

The policeman spoke to C.O.B.R, and the decision was made.

The squadron O.C got on the net: "h.e.l.lo, all stations, this is Alpha One, radio check, over."

We all answered.

"All stations, I have control, I have control. I Call signs One and One Alpha, commence your run-in."

"One and One Alpha, roger that, out."

It was on.

The helis dropped low over the trees, still on their NVGS. The doors both sides of the Agusta 109s were open. Each helicopter had four men aboard. The number one, who was going to come down the fast rope, was looking out of the helicopter as it screamed in, respirator on, looking at the approach. He had two hands on the fast rope, which was six inches in diameter. The rest of the rope dangled around his right foot ready for him to kick it out; he'd put two hands around it, grip also with the sides of his a.s.sault boots, and slide down, very much like a fireman coming down a pole.

"That's thirty seconds, thirty seconds."

This was the last chance to cancel. The O.C would have looked at the policeman for confirmation.

"All stations, I have control. Stand by, stand by go, go, go!"

The vehicles moved off with the teams holding on for grim death.

As we turned the corner, we could see the building; Tango Two came up level with us, and I heard the helis making their approach. They were flying low toward the building, lower than the building itself.

A little arm sticks out from each side of the aircraft with the fast rope; as soon as the helicopter starts to' hover over the target, the number one kicks out the rope. As soon as the rope goes out, the number one goes with it; he slides down the fast rope before it hits the bottom of the roof.

I looked up. The helicopters were coming in, lots of noise, lots of downblast, s.h.i.t flying off the roof. They flared just ten feet above the roof. There were flashbangs exploding, and by now the pilots have taken their NVGs off. The instruments are on a swivel on their helmets; they just push them up above their helmets as NVGs are affected by flashbangs and would be whited out.

The helicopters were striining in a flare position, then started going backward and forward two or three feet in a hover. The blokes were streaming down the rope. The number three on each team had quite a task, because as he fast-roped, as well as his equipment, he would be bringing down a rectangular charge over his shoulder.

He'd have to be really careful with it so he didn't rip off the det or mess up the wiring.

At one time there were all four of them on the fast rope. As soon as each man's feet hit the bottom, he moved out of the way. As they came down, they were looking around, looking at the floor, making sure n.o.body was coming out of the skylights to start taking a pop at them.

Seconds later the helis were gone.

Someone put his head out of the top left-hand window; we knew Sierra One had him in his sights; there was no need for us to worry, that was his job. He didn't get on the radio, he just got his telescopic sight on him, covering the a.s.sault as it went in. If he was a threat, he would soon have a 7.62 Lapua round in his head to make sure he stopped being one.

On the standby the other two snipers around the back, Sierra Three and Four, had gone running forward with G3s, choosing areas where they could cover two sides each. They didn't need telescopic sights because they were so close; their G3s had normal iron sights.

They had the outside covered; they could take any runners that were coming out. If the X rays ran out beyond the snipers, they'd get caught in the police cordon, but that never came into the equation; as somebody in B Squadron once said, no one runs faster than Mr. Heckler & Koch.

As the Range Rover stopped, flashbangs were going off.

We jumped off and ran to the main doors. They were locked and still covered over with curtains. Dave secured the charge to the left-hand side door with doublesided tape; there was enough explosive to blow the whole thing in.

Everyone was back against the wall, looking up with weapons covering the windows. If anyone poked his head out with bad intentions, he would not enjoy the view for long.

As he moved back, Dave checked with his hand the line of the det cord to the detonator and then to the firing wire, a last check to make sure everything was right. By checking, he could say, "Bin it," if it was screwed up, and we'd go straight in with the axes, just as Tiny had had to do at the emba.s.sy. Dave, was rushing, but he was still taking his time to make sure the charge was complete. The last thing he wanted to do was push that clacker and have nothing happen.

Both teams were ready. As Dave went past, Tim, the number two, was ready with another flashbang.

I had my weapon up in the aim, ready to go in. As I took off the safety, I shouted, "Go!"

Our charge and one of the first-floor teams' went off at the same time.

I started to move. The flashbang flew past me, and I followed it in. It would be no good going in after it had finished; I had to be there with it.

The hallway was dark and was starting to fill with smoke from the flashbangs. Another one exploded, and I felt the effect of the blast.

The noise jarred my whole body, and I could feel the pressure on my eardrums. The flash was blinding, but I had to work through that.

We'd trained enough in these situations; my hands still arried burn marks from when one of the maroons had chit me.

The whole building was shaking with concussion and seared by sheets of blinding light.

On my right I could see the other team moving. I didn't look, but I knew that my group would be heading for that first door.

The hallway was clear.

I turned and saw that I was number two at the door.

The last two of my lot had gone straight for it and were waiting.

I heard flashbangs and firing from the other floors.

I ran over, pulling out a flashbang and getting right behind the first man. I put it over his shoulder so he knew that we were ready.

The number three on the opposite side of us kicked the door open.

As soon as four inches of gap appeared, the flashbang was in, and so were we.

n.o.body was worried about what was inside or what would happen when the door was opened. We'd done it so many times. There was no time to think about danger or the possibility of c.o.c.king up.

The lights were on, and the noise and flashes were doing their job well.

Dave went left; as I came in, I saw a group of people huddled together in a corner but no people with masks or weapons.

I heard an MPS fire. One of the group pulled an AK and was bringing it up.

I got my torch onto his head and gave him a quick burst. The Yankees were screaming and crying and had to be controlled.

Tim, who was covering both of us as we took the room, shouted, "Get down, get down!" He pointed his weapon at them to make them understand that he was serious-and because there could be terrorists in the group.

He was now dragging them down onto the floor if they weren't doing what they were told. This was no time to be sensitive and caring.

Dave moved forward at the same time to clear the room. Because he had to move a settee, he let his weapon go on its sling and pulled his pistol.

At the same time Tim was shouting: "Where are the terrorists, any more terrorists?"

Once we cleared the room we were going to the next one. As I came out, Tim was pushing people onto the floor and shouting, "Stay there, don't move!"

The other teams were still doing their stuff. I ran past our number four, who was covering the hallway. He was in a corner so that he dominated the whole area and at the same time could see up the staircase.

I got to the door and became number one. The bottom of my respirator had filled up with sweat, and I was breathing so heavily under all the body armor that I could feel its diaphragm clanking up and down. Tim came up behind me and shoved a flashbang under my nose.

Once we had a number three we were ready, and in we went.

The room was empty.

Shouts echoed from other rooms as the Yankees were controlled. My breathing was labored, I was listening to the net, listening to two lots of people speaking at once.

Oral commands were being shouted through resp' orators; hand signals were flashing from man to man. Throughout the building there were weapons firing, maroons exploding, smoke and people everywhere.

It was very claustrophobic Inside the respirator. I was a big sweaty mess, trying to do my job and think of about ten things at the same time.

We still had a problem. We didn't know if any X rays had hidden among the Yankees-or maybe the Yankees were actively shielding some.

The Stockholm Syndrome bonds victims to their captors; they had to be covered with weapons until we knew who was who.

Tim started to move up the stairs, covered by a member from the other team. He moved very slowly, his pistol out, ready. He was making sure there was no threat on the stairs, and ensuring that he didn't have a blue-one blue with the other link man he was to RP with.

They linked up, and I got on the net.

It had been just over two minutes from the "Go. go, go! "_ The firing had stopfed, but the shouting had not.