Wilco: Lone Wolf, Book 31 by Geoff Wolak

Author:Geoff Wolak [Wolak, Geoff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-09T00:00:00+00:00

Next, I warned the Skyvan pilots that they would attack at dawn, firing down at any aircraft we missed.

Harris updated his notes, it was a major operation, and the crews would get some food and rest now, Washington to be following the action.

At sunset I was stood with many others as our prop fighters took off, and they climbed away northeast, the three American prop fighters seen, a formation created, and they headed east on cruise mode.

And now I felt like Churchill, sending men off and wondering if they would come back. I sat and sighed out.

‘Stop pacing up and down,’ Harris told me.

‘I’m sat down.’

‘But you want to be pacing up and down.’

I nodded, then went for a walk, to check in on all teams here, a brew with Scarface and his lads, the original radar team still here and now seconded, rifles in hand, the thousand-yard stare being practised.

Back at the Command Tent I enjoyed some food, soon sat with the medics after they had performed their duties and treated twenty wounded Afghan soldiers. And they informed me that Iranian doctors were now in the city.

An hour and forty minutes after taking off, and my seven prop fighters could see the target airfield clearly through their night sights, a town seen nearby.

Splitting into two groups, the three America aircraft would hit the huts, trucks, and the ATC, the British would hit the An12, plus the four additional Yaks now found sat on the apron, the charred remains of the first two still there.

The British aircraft swooped in, bursts fired down at the Yaks and then at the monster An12s, aircraft seen bursting into flames, both An12 soon on fire, the four new Yaks destroyed.

The Americans strafed the huts, hit the ATC glass, and hit six trucks and four jeeps, many set alight.

Circling around, the four RAF aircraft hit the Mi8s sat on the deck, no flames seen, then hit fuel trucks, huge flames seen.

Recall message issued, and the lead RAF prop fighter led the two teams away, professional staggered heights and spacing, a professional radio sound-off practised.

Chivers called me on his sat phone, a bad line. ‘Can you hear me?’

‘Just about.’

‘We hit the two An12, but there were four new Yaks sat there so we destroyed them. And we hit the two Mi8, but no effect really. The Americans hit the huts, the ATC, trucks and jeeps, and then we hit fuel trucks and set them alight.’

‘Good work, safe flight back. Oh, any ground tracer seen?’

‘Not that I could see, no.’

They arrived back almost two hours later, some low on fuel, just ten minutes to spare or they would have put down on a road. The four sweaty RAF pilots, all with red marks on their faces from the helmets, assembled in my Command Tent, cups of tea handed out, the story recounted, Harris taking the detail.

With the pilots sent off for some food and rest, I sat with Harris in dull lamp light. ‘No Dushka to protect that place.

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