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Authors: Damien Lewis
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of the key issues with Reggie, the squadron OC. That was the least he owed himself and the rest of the men that he was leading into war.
The men gathered for a more informal mission-planning session. Reggie opened things, signature mug of coffee clutched in one hand. He started by outlining their mission in more detail: they were to cross the border from Jordan into Iraq at full Squadron strength and drive north as one unit for several hundred kilometers. The plan when they finally reached the 5th Corps position was pretty loose: it was to drive up to them and ask to speak to their general.
The men scrutinized the maps as the OC talked them through the options for their route in. The Squadron’s passage into northern Iraq would take them through the Ninawa Desert, a vast area ofsunbaked wasteland a good three hundred kilometers or more from end to end. It would offer them open driving in a terrain devoid of human presence and with little chance of being compromised.
But once the Squadron neared the Jabal Sinjar—the Mountain of Eagles—on the northern border of the Ninawa Desert, that bleak and impassable range of hills would serve to funnel the vehicles eastward, whereupon they’d start to hit roads and more built-up farmland. By then the Squadron would still be a good hundred kilometers short of Salah and the Iraqi 5th Corps’s positions, and they’d have to find a means to sneak through undetected. It was crucial that they did so.
The OC went on to stress the vital strategic importance of their mission to the entire Iraq war effort. If M Squadron could take the 5th Corps’s surrender, it would constitute a major breakthrough in the coming conflict. In one fell swoop, the entire north of the country would have fallen into Coalition hands. Nothing of this scope and daring had been tried by UKSF for decades, and that, the OC argued, was all the more reason for M Squadron to grab the opportunity by the balls and to make it happen.
“Boss, I hear what you’re saying,” Grey remarked, once the OC had finished his briefing. “But still, several things trouble me. First, there’s a hundred and thirty thousand Turkish troops massed on the border and poised to sweep south to take Kurdistan. Let’s say they don’t take the carrot of EU membership. At that moment, in their troops go, and they’re going to brass up anything in their path, including us.”
Reggie gave his trademark easygoing nod: “Okay, boy, I hear you.”
“Second, we’ve got a hundred thousand troops from the Iraqi 5th Corps to take the surrender of, and there’s sixty of us in a handful of Pinkies. No way can us lot keep tabs on that number—that’s supposing they do want to surrender, which is a big presumption to make.”
Reggie took a long slurp of his brew. “Thanks, buddy. Got it. Good point.”
“Third, we’re supposed to infiltrate into the area covertly overland. By my reckoning that’s a seven-hundred-kilometer drive asthe crow flies, so a lot further once we’ve navigated through, plus dodged around the enemy. From the maps it’s clear that the further north we go, the more heavily irrigated and vegetated it becomes, so we’ll be channeled onto tracks and roads. That makes us highly visible.”
“Okay. Okay, boy. I hear you.” Reggie had a supercool way of responding, and nothing ever seemed to ruffle him.
“For those reasons I’d question the feasibility of the mission, at least as it’s presently constituted,” Grey concluded. “I’m not saying I don’t want us to get in there and do this, boss. I’m just saying there must be a better way to go about achieving our tasking.”
Reggie smiled. “Thanks again, buddy, all points well made. I’ll have a think on that one. We’ll put our heads together in the Head Shed and see where we get. But for now at least, boy, we’ve got to crack on.”
That pretty much silenced Grey’s objections—although he did wonder whether the OC would be quite as laid back
The men gathered for a more informal mission-planning session. Reggie opened things, signature mug of coffee clutched in one hand. He started by outlining their mission in more detail: they were to cross the border from Jordan into Iraq at full Squadron strength and drive north as one unit for several hundred kilometers. The plan when they finally reached the 5th Corps position was pretty loose: it was to drive up to them and ask to speak to their general.
The men scrutinized the maps as the OC talked them through the options for their route in. The Squadron’s passage into northern Iraq would take them through the Ninawa Desert, a vast area ofsunbaked wasteland a good three hundred kilometers or more from end to end. It would offer them open driving in a terrain devoid of human presence and with little chance of being compromised.
But once the Squadron neared the Jabal Sinjar—the Mountain of Eagles—on the northern border of the Ninawa Desert, that bleak and impassable range of hills would serve to funnel the vehicles eastward, whereupon they’d start to hit roads and more built-up farmland. By then the Squadron would still be a good hundred kilometers short of Salah and the Iraqi 5th Corps’s positions, and they’d have to find a means to sneak through undetected. It was crucial that they did so.
The OC went on to stress the vital strategic importance of their mission to the entire Iraq war effort. If M Squadron could take the 5th Corps’s surrender, it would constitute a major breakthrough in the coming conflict. In one fell swoop, the entire north of the country would have fallen into Coalition hands. Nothing of this scope and daring had been tried by UKSF for decades, and that, the OC argued, was all the more reason for M Squadron to grab the opportunity by the balls and to make it happen.
“Boss, I hear what you’re saying,” Grey remarked, once the OC had finished his briefing. “But still, several things trouble me. First, there’s a hundred and thirty thousand Turkish troops massed on the border and poised to sweep south to take Kurdistan. Let’s say they don’t take the carrot of EU membership. At that moment, in their troops go, and they’re going to brass up anything in their path, including us.”
Reggie gave his trademark easygoing nod: “Okay, boy, I hear you.”
“Second, we’ve got a hundred thousand troops from the Iraqi 5th Corps to take the surrender of, and there’s sixty of us in a handful of Pinkies. No way can us lot keep tabs on that number—that’s supposing they do want to surrender, which is a big presumption to make.”
Reggie took a long slurp of his brew. “Thanks, buddy. Got it. Good point.”
“Third, we’re supposed to infiltrate into the area covertly overland. By my reckoning that’s a seven-hundred-kilometer drive asthe crow flies, so a lot further once we’ve navigated through, plus dodged around the enemy. From the maps it’s clear that the further north we go, the more heavily irrigated and vegetated it becomes, so we’ll be channeled onto tracks and roads. That makes us highly visible.”
“Okay. Okay, boy. I hear you.” Reggie had a supercool way of responding, and nothing ever seemed to ruffle him.
“For those reasons I’d question the feasibility of the mission, at least as it’s presently constituted,” Grey concluded. “I’m not saying I don’t want us to get in there and do this, boss. I’m just saying there must be a better way to go about achieving our tasking.”
Reggie smiled. “Thanks again, buddy, all points well made. I’ll have a think on that one. We’ll put our heads together in the Head Shed and see where we get. But for now at least, boy, we’ve got to crack on.”
That pretty much silenced Grey’s objections—although he did wonder whether the OC would be quite as laid back
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