Desert Patrol by Phil Ward

Author:Phil Ward [Ward, Phil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-04-12T04:00:00+00:00

17

TROUBLE COMES AT YOU FAST

The Hudson flew over the limping Y-patrol column at 1525 hours of the second day. Squadron Leader Paddy Wilcox buzzed them at haircut altitude, kicking up dust devils as he went screaming past. The patrolmen were shouting and waving.

Lieutenant Colonel John Randal had kept the patrol marching most of the night. Nevertheless, the men had only traveled approximately twenty-five miles. While no one was going to die now and none of the damage was permanent, the men were nearly all crippled.

That is, the ones who had been wearing sandals and soft, slip-on desert boots. Lt. Col. Randal, the mercs, and the Raiding Forces personnel were not even tired. It was a lesson not lost on the future Raiding Forces Desert Squadron operators.

“Out here in the deep blue,” Captain “Geronimo” Joe McKoy said, “trouble comes at you fast—ain’t no warning. Need to be prepared.”

“I don’t get it,” Lt. Col. Randal said. “The LRDG has been in business a year; they’ve had people make survival-forced marches that dwarf this hike. And still, their troops take to the field like they are going on a picnic.”

“Ain’t no good answer to that one, John.”

The LRDG was a highly specialized special force. They were able to travel to distant places across unmapped, trackless desert and stay in the field for long periods of time. While it was easy to find things about the unit to criticize, it was not going to be so simple to duplicate their skills or their successes.

Lt. Col. Randal knew Raiding Forces was not going to be able to simply plop volunteers into gun jeeps, send them on their way and have instant desert raiders. RFDS needed to acquire the specialized knowledge necessary to give it the confidence required to operate in the dangerous environment into which it was surely headed. His problem was that the squadron did not have the luxury of time to develop it.

Lt. Col. Randal was toying with an idea that might stack the deck in their favor—just a little.

The Hudson came back around. A canvas packet trailing a three-foot-long white cloth streamer flew out the bay door. Lieutenant Westcott Huxley ran to retrieve it.

As the plane thundered over, Lt. Col. Randal blinked out “WATER” with a flashlight. Sqn. Ldr. Wilcox rocked his wings to acknowledge he understood the message. Then the Hudson made a lazy circle and headed back in the direction from which it had come.

Lt. Huxley handed Lt. Col. Randal the message from Sqn. Ldr. Wilcox: “STAND FAST. R-PATROL WILL ARRIVE YOUR POSITION FIRST LIGHT TOMORROW.”

When the patrol heard the news, most of the men simply fell down right where they were standing. No shade—no problem. They went to sleep on the ground in the sun.

The casual observer would have thought the men were dead.

At 1745 hours, the Hudson returned. Sqn. Ldr. Wilcox lined up at 1,000 feet. Parachutes began to appear in trail behind the airplane, looking like swimming octopuses. Then they blossomed into full canopy.

Y-patrol roused itself. The troops made a rush to secure the containers when they came down.

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