Apache

We’d come so far in we were now ‘Danger Close’.

‘Ugly Five One resetting and…’

Carl threw the aircraft onto its left side and powered up violently; the G sucked my arse deep into the seat.

‘…clear.’

‘Ugly Five Zero running in from the west with Hellfire.’

I craned my neck to keep my eyes on the compound. There were still three buildings untouched. If these guys really were senior Taliban commanders, they’d have a SAM close by. We couldn’t give the bastards a single second to pull it out.

‘Carl, just get us round as quick as poss.’

‘I am, I am…’ The engines screamed as he ratcheted up the torque. The poor guy was doing his best.

‘Engaging,’ the Boss called.

A thousand metres would have to do. ‘Right, bring us in now, Carl.’ We needed to cover each other; we couldn’t have both aircraft turn tail on the enemy.

As Trigger’s Hellfire impacted on the far south-easterly building, Carl rolled us back to face the compound. I waited for Five Zero to get clear before aiming Hellfire Number 6 at the building immediately to the north of the one they had just destroyed. We were far too close to it, but had run out of choices. I squeezed the trigger 650 metres out then Carl wrenched us around in the tightest turn I had ever experienced.

As the Apache lurched upwards, I went from twelve stone to nearer thirty. My head, encased in its helmet, NVGs and monocle, immediately tried to bury itself between my shoulder muscles. I didn’t have time to brace myself. I didn’t even have time to reach for the steel grab handles on the roof frame. I threw my hands onto the console and held it fast.

My monocle drilled into my cheekbone as it pressed against the console’s brow pad. My harness clamped down on my shoulders and the survival jacket forced the chicken plate deep into my bladder. I felt the blood rush from my head to my feet, now pinned firmly to the floor. As the foam cushion in the seat was squashed flat and my haunches dug into the Kevlar base, I heard myself give a low moan. Carl rolled us back out level, and normal transmission was resumed.

Billy and Trigger were turning inbound for their next Hellfire. We were out of missiles, but needed to provide cover for them as they ran in. We didn’t get the chance.

‘Ugly Five Zero, Knight Rider. Intelligence from higher; there are enemy in a compound by the canal two hundred metres north of the original target. Stand by for grid.’

‘Ugly Five Zero. Running in from the west with Hellfire. Ugly Five One you take that target; I’ve got two buildings to finish off here.’

There was an awful lot of smoke and dust in the air so Carl swung us away from the hornets’ nest and over to the west side of the canal. It kept us out of Ugly Five Zero’s way and gave me a better view.

The new compound was the furthest north of a cluster of three. We held off 2,500 metres south-west of it, so as not to spook the enemy and to give Carl eyes on our wingman.

I picked up a series of white shapes on my FLIR and zoomed in: four men stood in a group against the high compound wall. One had what appeared to be an RPG alongside him. Two others had a moped in front of them. A donkey flicked its tail disconsolately in the top left-hand corner of the compound, thirty metres to their west. I needed to confirm that this was the correct target, but there wasn’t a single unique identifying feature.

‘Knight Rider, Ugly Five One. Can you confirm the target precisely?’

‘Ugly Five One, Knight Rider. I am told there are people in the north-east corner of the compound. You are cleared hot on those people.’

Yes, but who was telling him all this? And was I definitely looking in the right compound? Knight Rider couldn’t know; he didn’t have eyes on. The targets were getting progressively further from the main Taliban base. I didn’t want to open up on third party information without better clarification. If I was going to kill, I needed to be 100 per cent sure.

‘Ugly Five One. I need something to hang my hat on. Can you give me more information on the target?’

‘Ugly Five One, this is Knight Rider Five Six. Higher has cleared you hot onto that target.’

‘Ugly Five One. Give me a unique feature or tell me who’s buying my weapons. I must confirm that we are both looking at the same target.’

‘Ugly Five One, this is Maverick Zero Bravo. How do you read?’

Maverick Zero Bravo? Who the hell was that? No callsign I’d ever come across. The voice was short and clipped, its nationality indistinguishable; I put the accent as mid-Atlantic at best. I flicked through the top pages of my Black Brain; no joy there. Maverick wasn’t a callsign we’d been given for the operation. But it was impossible for him to be on the secure net if he wasn’t authorised so he had to be 100 per cent bona fide.

‘Maverick Zero Bravo, Ugly Five One. Lima Charlie. You, me?’

‘Maverick Zero Bravo. Lima Charlie also. Stand by… Can you see the donkey in the north-west corner of that compound?’

‘Ugly Five One. Affirm.’ But that didn’t mean a thing. Everyone had a bloody donkey!