Apache

So what was in front of him? Just fields, and…

Geordie jolted to a halt. Not more than fifteen metres in front of him, under the spreading branches of a tree, were three men with turbans and beards. One had a PK machine gun slung across his back, the second rested the butt of his AK47 in the dirt, and the third crouched with an RPG in each hand. They were in animated conversation, keeping in the shadow so the Apaches circling above couldn’t see them. Taliban…

They stopped talking when they saw Geordie. They looked at him. He looked at them. Each was frozen to the spot; each as shocked as the other.

That’s when he realised… We’re in the wrong place. This is the north side of the fort, not the west. Jesus fucking Christ.

The Taliban fighters knew that if the British soldiers came for them, they wouldn’t come alone. There would be a hundred at least, like the last attack. They hesitated, giving Geordie a few crucial seconds. He spun around and took off back in the direction he’d come, pumping his thigh muscles as hard as he could.

‘Go-go-go…Wrong-way-wrong-way…’ he jabbered.

Robinson heard the next word very clearly. ‘TALIBAN!’

He spun round too and sprinted for all he was worth.

Seeing the red face of his approaching RSM, Robinson screamed: ‘Run sir. Run the other way, the other way…’

The Taliban opened fire, and bullets began to kick into the dirt around their feet. Geordie did an impression of the Roadrunner on speed. He overtook Robinson within a few metres. Seconds later he overtook Hearn, too. Then the wall erupted.

Billy had no choice but to sit tight.

His job was to keep the front of the aircraft clear for their return. It was easier said than done; he could only fire the cannon at point-blank range in front of him and up to ninety degrees to his right. If the Taliban came through the hole in the wall, he wouldn’t be able to touch them.

The world’s most devastating fighting machine was now a sitting duck. Apaches weren’t built to be shot at on the ground. From below, fine. Same level, you had a problem.

The Kevlar plating stopped at his waist, and they could hit him in the chest with a pop gun now. An RPG through the window and he was history. Even a brick into the tail rotor would have put the aircraft out of action. How long would it take for the Taliban to know he was there?