CONTACT by CLARKE AFN

Author:CLARKE, AFN [CLARKE, AFN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: AUTOGIOGRAPHY/MILITARY/WAR
Publisher: Clarke-Books LLC
Published: 2012-05-27T22:00:00+00:00

Finally, the other patrols arrive and move into position and I can now go on up to the top of the hill and see just where we are. I struggle through another blackthorn hedge cursing silently. Fall over, get to my feet and carry on.

Suddenly a loud explosion rips the air from the direction of the base, followed rapidly by another and then the rippling crack of machine-gun and rifle fire. Holy shit, they’ve done it. The bastards have done it. I leap forward, Bill running with me. Turning to yell, I can see the O.C. standing stock-still, the shock keeping his feet rooted to the ground. My yell has penetrated and everyone is moving.

Through the next blackthorn panting with exertion, heart hammering, shaking with nerves, and there is the base a thousand metres ahead with a pall of smoke hanging over it and the gunfire echoing across the fields. We must get to a road and put a V.C.P. on and see if we can get the bastards before they get back across the border.

“Come on you cunts, get your butts up here,” I yell, running down a track that I hope will lead to the Crossmaglen and Cullaville road. All caution is thrown to the wind in the confusion of the moment. Got to block the road. There it is.

“Smith, over here with the radio. Jones, get the gun up there. Bill, your patrol back up the road. Where’s Cpl. Edge?” Where the hell is he? Then I see him just on the brow of a small hill overlooking the road.

“Smith, tell Cpl. Edge to stay where he is and cover us.” The O.C. comes racing up, white-faced.

“Smith, a message to One. Tell them that we are blocking the Cullaville road.”

Before the O.C. can say anything a message comes through that a rocket or two were fired at a Wessex coming in to land, followed by a small-arms attack on the base itself. The O.C. is hopping up and down wanting to know the full details and I’m trying to get him away from the radio so that the 2I.C., who is in command at the base at the moment, can get on with the job of putting in a counter attack. There is nothing we can do from here except block off the road and hope we catch someone. I’m having my doubts, because looking at the map the easiest way to the border is down the Dundalk road, which is a thousand metres over to our east. Shit, shit, shit.

The firing dies away and the silence stretches on as if nothing had happened. It’s weird and a little spooky. Nothing has changed, the trees are still there, the clouds are drifting by and the sun is still shining. If it wasn’t for the radio traffic and the now dispersing black smoke, there would be no reason to think that this wasn’t an ordinary day. What am I saying? It is an ordinary day in this part

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