War with Russia

Just like being on stag, on sentry duty, back in the forest blocks at Sennybridge in Wales, he thought. Only difference is, it’s not raining… yet.

Normally he would have a number two beside him to feed the belt smoothly into the breach—they might be fearsome bits of kit, but they were also temperamental and prone to jamming, if not operated correctly—but right now Morland was alone. He was on guard while the rest of the team slept in the bunker behind him. He liked taking the last stag before dawn “stand to.” It meant he was awake before the rest of his team and able to think through and reflect on what the day ahead would bring. It had been bitter overnight, but around him the forest was coming to life. The dawn chorus of songbirds was sounding as the first gray light began to filter through the fresh green of the new leaf cover. In front of him, the river tumbled over stones into pools of clear water. A red deer stag grazed on the far side of the river, blissfully unaware of his presence.

However, try as he might, he could not expunge from his mind’s eye the blinding flash and roar as HMS Padstow had been blown apart five days earlier. Since then events seemed to have gone into uncontrolled overdrive. During the drive to Ādaži, Krauja remained silent at the wheel, stunned by the violence she had witnessed and the probable death of her brother at Riga Airport, but staying focused and determined as she drove the Toyota at speed through Riga and back to the Latvian Special Tasks Unit training camp. They had arrived not a moment too soon, as the Latvians were preparing to deploy into the forest; going underground to fight. Ādaži would be a key military target for the Russians as soon as they were established in Riga. They had to get out and fast.

“The rest of the unit is on the border. We’ve only got twenty guys and we could really use reinforcement—if you’re happy to work with us, Tom,” said Major Jānis Krastiņš, the Special Tasks Unit commander. “Why don’t you check back with the UK and then we need to get you kitted out fast. Just tell me what you need.”

They’d set up the satellite link and called PJHQ, who’d agreed Morland’s suggestion that he and his team should remain with the Special Tasks Unit. However, they were only to coordinate with the Latvians so as to be able to observe and monitor the situation. Morland was under specific orders to avoid confrontation with the Russians, until it became clear what action NATO was to take. Killing Russians, or being caught or killed himself, might well limit the government’s ability to maneuver. When he reminded PJHQ of his description of the sinking of Padstow and suggested that must change his mission, he was abruptly told to follow orders.

Helping pack away the satellite Morland saw that, at this stage, no one back in the UK had the first idea as to how to react to the Russian attack. But the situation was stark to him; he and his team were trapped in Latvia, Padstow had been sunk, and like it or not, the UK was at war with Russia and that was that—even if they had not realized it yet. He’d do what he was told and lie low, but if the opportunity came to have a crack at the Russians, he would grab it. Meanwhile, Morland was to set up a twice-weekly prearranged radio “sked” to brief back and to receive orders.

It had not taken long to prepare themselves. Their bergen rucksacks were already packed with minimal personal kit. The Latvians gave the team a spare GPMG to supplement their SA80 rifles and as much ammunition as they wanted from the armory. The rest was already being driven off to be buried in the forests.

Their Inmarsat satellite system was too heavy and bulky for a patrol moving fast and light, so the Latvians gave them a spare Harris secure manpack radio. Not only would it enable them to talk to the Latvians in the forest, but its satellite capability would also allow them to link up securely with PJHQ in the UK. Bradley, the team signaler, spent half an hour with the Latvians testing it, checked he could speak to PJQH and pronounced himself more than satisfied, but with one concern.

“What about batteries, Sir?” he asked. “Where are we going to get a replen?”

Major Krastiņš reassured him. “Don’t worry, we’ve been preparing for this. We’ll be using an old Forest Brothers bunker as our safe haven. It’s deep in the forest and it’s been well stocked with batteries, ammunition, rations and everything we might need for a prolonged stay.”