Spider Shepherd: SAS: #1 (2 page)

Shepherd shook his head.

‘Well you have now,’ said Harry. ‘Well, this is going to be my now personal variation of that: a Chinese Dictatorship. Everyone can have their say and then I’ll decide what we are going to do.’

Diesel pulled a face, he’d obviously heard the joke a hundred times before.

‘OK, Comms,’ continued Harry. ‘As Diesel has already explained, the whole of our operational area - and in fact the whole of Bosnia - is covered by rebroadcasting stations and AWACs aircraft, so normal voice comms are all we’ll need.’ As he was speaking, Shepherd noticed that both Harry and Diesel had a small personal radio, like a sat-phone, on their right shoulders, so a brief glance was enough to tell them what channel and frequency they were on. They also had voice-activated throat-mics, leaving their hands free. Shepherd, who up to now had been using a set with a hand-operated “pressle” switch, that he had to press to talk, made a note to bin it at the first opportunity and get himself a throat-mic instead.

‘Wait one,’ Harry said, and stepped aside to talk into his radio. Shepherd saw his face change as he listened. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ he said. ‘Can the Yanks not deal with it? It’s one of theirs after all… Well, obviously we’ll do it better, that’s always a given, but… Yeah, yeah… All right, we’re on it.’ He gave a rueful smile as he turned to face his patrol. ‘Seems I was a little hasty in announcing my last patrol. We’ve got another job to do first.’

‘What and where?’ Diesel said, at once all business.

‘We’re off to the big city - we’re going into Sarajevo.’

‘What do you mean? Sarajevo is still cut off and completely surrounded by the Serbs,’ Shepherd said.

‘Not entirely,’ said Harry with a sly smile.

Shepherd waited, but Harry offered no further information.

‘So what’s the job?’ Spud said.

‘A little light target marking. A USAF F-16’s been shot down by a Serb missile.’

Spud shot him a look ‘Shoulder launched?’

‘No, a tracked SA-11 SAM system.’

Diesel frowned. ‘So why was its radar not detected and the SA-11 taken out before it could fire?’

‘Perhaps they only switched the radar on for a second or two at a time, giving the F-16 very little warning. The Serbs are getting clever.’

‘Some of the newer ones are also fitted with an optical tracking system, aren’t they?’ Shepherd said. ‘So to beat ECM jamming, they can engage a target without using the radar at all.’

Diesel gave a whistle. ‘Check out the big military brain on Dan,’ he said with a grin. ‘I thought Paras weren’t allowed to think for themselves, so where did you learn that stuff?’

‘I did my homework after school,’ Shepherd said, secretly pleased at Diesel’s compliment, even if it was disguised as an insult.

Harry shrugged. ‘You’re right Dan, but if they waited until the F-16 was directly overhead, its early warning and counter-measures would be at their weakest. Anyway, however they did it, they got off two missiles. One missed but the other one broke the F-16 in half. The pilot did manage to eject but nothing’s been heard of him since. He may be lying up somewhere. USAF pilots are briefed that if they’re shot down, they are most likely to be captured if they radio for help too soon and give away their position to searching enemy forces so their SOPs are not to switch on their radios or survival beacons until two or three days have passed, to give the enemy searchers time to lose interest.’ He paused. ‘Anyway, seems like the gloves are finally coming off and the Serbs are going to get an awful lot more than they may have bargained for. Right, get your kit together, we’ll need to be on our way sharpish, so briefing and work-up training are going to be short and sharp. Because of the time constraints we’ll not be able to convert on to new weapons and, although I would have much preferred that the patrol was armed with Armalites or even AK-74’s, we’re going to take the SA-80 which the non-SAS guys are familiar with. We’re all going to be carrying the same weapon, because the ammo is interchangeable and since you’re all well versed in the SA-80, I’m assuming that you should all be confident that you can hit the arse end of an elephant at twenty paces if I ask you to. Diesel and I will also be carrying M-79 grenade launchers.’

They spent the rest of the day test-firing their weapons, and practising drills for immediate action, anti-ambush, escape and evasion and a series of rendezvous drills. Harry outlined their task and briefed them on their individual roles, and then glanced at his watch before adding ‘Right, wagons roll. We’ll finish briefing it in the back of the truck on the way to Sarajevo.’

They piled into the truck with Shepherd wearing his full camouflage uniform, complete with red beret. Harry took one look at his beret and told him to take it off and said put it in his bergen.

‘But we always wear our berets,’ Shepherd said.

‘No doubt, but you’re not with the Paras now. We don’t wear anything that shows people who we are. We keep the enemy guessing because usually what they surmise is more scary than the reality!’

‘And trust me,’ Diesel said, with a wink, ‘the reality is scary enough. Harry can knock an enemy out at fifty paces just with his armpits and his breath. Isn’t that right, Harry?’

‘True enough,’ said Harry. He grinned. ‘Mind you when Diesel farts, he can clear an area twice as big. The only trouble is his farts don’t discriminate between friend and foe, so you’ve got to watch out for friendly fire.’

Shepherd took off his beret and stashed it in his bergen. Harry carried on briefing them as they bounced and jolted over the rough dirt roads towards the capital. ‘As you’re fresh off the boat, Gus,’ Harry said, ‘here’s a little potted history for you. The regular Serb forces here are being aided and abetted by several hundred Russian volunteers - so-called volunteers anyway - and by Serbian police and paramilitaries, or death squads to give them another name. One group, known as the Scorpions, were run by the Serbian Interior Ministry until the end of the Cold War, and they’re still around now. They operate as freelance killers, and are about as nasty a bunch of mass-murderers as you could ever hope to meet.’

He glanced at Shepherd. ‘You’ve been on the ground here a fair bit, Dan. Anything to add?’

Shepherd nodded. ‘Just that the local Serb population also tend to help out the Scorpions and the other Serb forces, by informing on their neighbours and often by taking part in any theft, rape, beating and killing that’s going, and there’s usually plenty of those. The Serbs target a town or village, wipe out the defenders and then carry out what’s become their trademark SOP: the houses and apartments of the Bosnian Muslims are looted and then torched, the civilians are rounded up and herded together, and the men separated from the women. The men are beaten if they’re lucky, but many are killed, and many more are thrown into prison camps under appalling conditions. There have also been allegations of large-scale massacres - in fact, Europe has seen nothing to compare with it since the Nazis. The Bosnian women are also herded into detention centres where they have to endure the worst kind of abuses. Many are routinely raped by their jailers, but squads of Serb soldiers and police also visit the detention centres and select women who are then dragged out and repeatedly raped. It’s a bloody nightmare, And meanwhile the governments of Europe all sit on their hands and do nothing to stop it,’ he said, his fists clenching involuntarily.

‘We’re here, aren’t we?’ Diesel said.

‘Yes, but with one hand tied behind our backs,’ said Shepherd.

‘Mine aren’t,’ Harry said, with a chilling smile. ‘Dan’s right. The politicians have fucked this up big-time. Anyway, the Serbs repeatedly tried to capture Sarajevo but they were driven back every time and instead, beginning in May 1992, they’ve laid siege to the city. They established a total blockade, blocking the roads, cutting off all supplies of food and medicine, and severing the water mains, the electricity cables and telephone lines. There are about 12,000 Serbs dug in on the surrounding hills and pouring down fire pretty much non-stop. The Bosnian forces trapped in the city actually outnumber the Serbs by a factor of three or four but they are very poorly equipped, lacking heavy weapons and often even ammo for their small arms. Most of what they have, including the materials to make IEDs, their main offensive weapon against the Serbs, they’ve had to buy on the black market from people smuggling arms through the Serb lines. However as the main sources of supply of weapons thus far have been criminal gangs - the Bosnian Mafia if you like - the price is pretty high and the quality pretty dubious.

‘They’re also fighting uphill against a well-entrenched enemy force equipped with rocket launchers, heavy machine guns, anti-aircraft guns, artillery, mortars and even tanks. You don’t need a doctorate in military history to know that that’s a pretty bad idea. The city is under continual bombardment from a couple of hundred gun emplacements and bunkers set all around the ridge lines and the surrounding hills. The siege has already lasted twice as long as the Siege of Stalingrad and shows no sign of ending any time soon. The Serbs have already been raining down shells and sniper fire on the poor bastards trapped here for over two years, though it’s usually their Russian friends doing the sniping. They’re raping, robbing and murdering with impunity as well, so if we can finally even up the odds with a little air support, so much the better.’

‘It’s just a shame it had to take a Yank pilot getting shot down before our political masters decide to send us in,’ Diesel said. ‘What sort of message does that send? That one American pilot is worth a thousand civilians?’

‘What about the UN forces?’ the signaller asked, earning a burst of derisive laughter for his pains.

‘UNPROFOR?’ Harry said. ‘United Nations Protection Force? Don’t make me laugh. The Serbs take them hostages and use them as human shields, and they also steal their uniforms and then use them to hijack UN convoys and weapons. Just last month Serbs disguised as French troops, complete with stolen French uniforms, flak jackets, helmets and weapons, and driving a hijacked French armoured personnel carrier, captured another dozen UN troops without firing a shot. Two are now being used as human shields, the rest have simply disappeared and, given the Serbs’ previous record, their fate is easy to predict. So that’s the UN forces and as for the Bosnian army, the only thing that they have managed to achieve is to dig the Sarajevo Tunnel.’

‘Which is what?’ Shepherd asked, intrigued.

‘The only way in or out of Sarajevo. It links the Dobrinja district inside the besieged city, with Butmir, a territory that the Bosnians still hold on the far side of Sarajevo Airport. As you know, apart from Camp Pegasus, the airport itself is neutral ground and supposedly under the control of the United Nations forces. The Bosnians couldn’t use heavy equipment to dig the tunnel because the activity might have alerted the Serbs, but in any case there is virtually no intact heavy equipment behind the Bosnian lines, so instead the entire tunnel was dug by hand, with picks and shovels and wheelbarrows. Most of the labour was supplied by the army though civilians helped. They were paid for their labour, a daily rate of one packet of cigarettes because the paper currency is pretty much worthless.’

‘The notes make good bog paper though,’ Diesel said with a grin. ‘Nice and soft with none of those tiny metal security strips to rip your arse to shreds.’

‘But unfortunately it doesn’t muffle the sound of Diesel talking through his arse,’ Harry said. ‘The Serb siege and the constant shelling of the city have disrupted supplies of almost every commodity so the tunnel is used to keep the Bosnians supplied with food, water, medicines, fuel, alcohol, cigarettes, even newspapers. The tunnel is also used to bypass the UN controls and the international arms embargo and supply the Bosnian forces in the city with weapons and ammunition, and it even has an oil pipeline and electricity cables laid in it. Of course it’s also used by people, though as usual here, bribery and corruption mean that anyone using the tunnel, whether entering or leaving the city, has to have a permit issued by the Bosnian army who are guarding the entrances at both ends of the tunnel. And charmingly, they make their own countrymen fleeing the shelling and killing pay a fortune to escape. I’ve heard of civilians having to pay over one hundred dollars - more than most people here earn in a year - to get themselves and their families through the tunnel. The President of the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina also used it to make his escape as the siege tightened but unlike his subjects, he didn’t have to dirty his patent leather shoes, apparently, because he was carried through the tunnel on a chair.’

‘They made the refugees pay to leave?’ asked Shepherd.

‘Yeah, their own people,’ said Harry. ‘They should be ashamed of themselves, but…’ He shrugged. ‘Let’s just say wars don’t tend to bring out the best in people.’ He shook his head sadly before continuing. ‘Parts of the tunnel run close to the surface, so it’s more of a covered trench than a tunnel for part of the way, but it also runs right underneath the airport runway and for obvious reasons it’s much deeper - about five metres down - under the runway. Oh and a couple more things: there’s no ventilation and the air is apparently so foul in the middle that we need to use breathing masks, and it’s also subject to flooding, so bring your water wings if it looks like rain. However, at least that may help to deal with the other problem.’

‘Which is?’ Spud said, eyeing him suspiciously.

‘It’s crawling with rats, apparently.’

‘So where is it?’ Shepherd said, as the truck lurched to a halt a hundred yards short of the airport perimeter fence.