Apache

Where the hell was Geordie? He should have got back by now. He’d been out there for a minute and forty seconds. Maybe they needed a hand. Maybe he should lift and start putting some fire down… But if he moved, he’d brown the place out again, and Geordie and the marines wouldn’t be able to see where he was. He couldn’t leave them behind, no matter what.

What if they’ve been hit, and can’t get back? They hadn’t discussed Actions On for that. Billy tried to flush the disaster scenario from his mind. Of course they were coming back.

Lifting and firing was going to be his last resort if ten Taliban came running round the corner. He wrapped his hand around the collective’s grip. It was locked. Geordie must have done it on his way out. He could only take-off in an emergency and fly by wire. Shit. Please don’t let anyone come round the corner. At least Carl and Ed were in the right place. He stamped on the pressel again.

‘Ed, it’s taking too long. What’s going on? Is Ford strapped onto you yet?’

‘Billy, it’s Carl. Ed’s outside. They’re having a really tough job moving him.’

‘There are four of them…’

‘No there aren’t.’

‘What’s Ed doing out of the aircraft?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. There aren’t four of them; just our two marines and Ed. Where are your marines?’

‘Can’t you see them?’

‘Negative.’

‘What about Geordie? Is Geordie not there either?’

‘He’s with you, isn’t he?’

‘Negative.’

Silence.

‘Fuck.’

Geordie swept past the entrance to the field where his Apache was as their third minute on the ground began. He turned to check Robinson and Hearn were still following him and snatched a quick glance at the aircraft, eighty metres away through the haze. He couldn’t make out his co-pilot. He hoped to God he hadn’t been hit.

Geordie was in pain now. He’d run more than 500 metres at a full sprint and his lungs were full of smoke. His throat rasped as he tried to suck in more oxygen. The battle still raged around him, but at least nobody was shooting directly at him now.

The southern end of the west wall was just ten metres away. A left turn and he’d hook up with Mathew and the two other marines. Then they could all get the hell out of there.

Geordie rounded the corner to see Ed and Rigg heaving Ford towards the Apache and Fraser-Perry in position to give covering fire. Muzzle flashes sparked up at the far end of the field. Bullets tore up the furrows, their points of impact careering ever closer.