Read Online Zero Six Bravo by Damien Lewis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Damien Lewis
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about things if the 5th Corps proved somewhat less than keen to surrender when they hit the deserts of northern Iraq.
Sixty against 100,000: it would take a real Ice Man to maintain his cool with the odds so stacked against them.
CHAPTER FIVE
Briefings followed briefings thick and fast now. The Americans had divvied up the territories in which each Special Forces unit could operate. The British, Aussie, and Kiwi SAS had got the Western Desert, territory with which they were familiar from the First Gulf War. And in getting the north of the country, the SBS had landed either the jackpot or the booby prize, depending on how you looked at it.
The more he learned, the more Grey reckoned that the mission they’d been given was actually a real first. He knew his military history well, and the last time that British—hell, any—Special Forces had embarked upon anything like such a mission so deep behind enemy lines had been in the days of the Second World War.
Back then the SAS and the Long Range Desert Group (LRDG) had penetrated the North African desert driving Chevrolet trucks and Vickers jeeps, carrying out recce, capture, and sabotage missions, hitting enemy supply lines, fuel dumps, airfields, and ammunition stores. In September 1942 had launched perhaps their best-known and most epic of missions—Operation Caravan. Seventeen vehicles carrying forty-seven men traveled 1,859 kilometers across the desert. On reaching their objective—the Italian-held Libyan town of Barce—the patrol split up, one half attacking the enemy barracks and the other the airfield. During the airfield assault overthirty aircraft—mainly three-engine Italian Air Force bombers—were damaged or destroyed, and despite the losses incurred by the raiders the mission was seen as a great success.
If they could only pull it off, M Squadron’s Iraq mission would be up there with such legendary exploits. And when in the entire course of military history had one squadron of elite operators ever taken the surrender of an entire corps? Sure, the mission feasibility left a bit to be desired, as did the intelligence picture, but this was the kind of operation that would get talked about in the officers’ mess for years to come.
It was also going to be a massive personal test for each and every man on the Squadron. Sure, they were burned out after months of back-to-back operations. But equally, they were riding high on the success of the MV Nisha assault, not to mention their Afghan ops. So, while Grey had doubts about the specifics of the mission, he had every confidence in the individuals tasked to achieve it.
M Squadron also had an ideal opportunity to prove itself in Iraq. In the First Gulf War the SBS had never really got a look in, whereas the SAS had got decidedly down and dirty. This time around, the SAS was going to get similar taskings to the previous war—scouring the Western Desert for units that might be preparing to lob chemical weapons at U.S. and British forces massing in Kuwait. By contrast, M Squadron had just landed a deep-penetration mission, one that would entail covering vast tracts of enemy territory to achieve an epic end.
As if to reinforce the hunger of the young guns to get going on this mission, Moth showed Grey a makeshift adaptation that he’d made to their Land Rover. Using bungee grips, gaffer tape, and camouflage material, he’d cobbled together a cowboy-type sling for his Colt assault rifle. It lay to the right-hand side of the steering wheel, so the weapon was held barrel downward against the dash.
Moth demonstrated how he could reach for the weapon’s butt, draw it one-handed, and aim and engage the enemy out of the front of the vehicle while keeping his other hand on the steering wheel. His Colt had an M203 grenade launcher attached beneath it, and intheory he could lob off 40mm grenade rounds single-handedly as he drove with the other.
Grey smiled indulgently. He appreciated Moth’s keenness to engage with
Sixty against 100,000: it would take a real Ice Man to maintain his cool with the odds so stacked against them.
CHAPTER FIVE
Briefings followed briefings thick and fast now. The Americans had divvied up the territories in which each Special Forces unit could operate. The British, Aussie, and Kiwi SAS had got the Western Desert, territory with which they were familiar from the First Gulf War. And in getting the north of the country, the SBS had landed either the jackpot or the booby prize, depending on how you looked at it.
The more he learned, the more Grey reckoned that the mission they’d been given was actually a real first. He knew his military history well, and the last time that British—hell, any—Special Forces had embarked upon anything like such a mission so deep behind enemy lines had been in the days of the Second World War.
Back then the SAS and the Long Range Desert Group (LRDG) had penetrated the North African desert driving Chevrolet trucks and Vickers jeeps, carrying out recce, capture, and sabotage missions, hitting enemy supply lines, fuel dumps, airfields, and ammunition stores. In September 1942 had launched perhaps their best-known and most epic of missions—Operation Caravan. Seventeen vehicles carrying forty-seven men traveled 1,859 kilometers across the desert. On reaching their objective—the Italian-held Libyan town of Barce—the patrol split up, one half attacking the enemy barracks and the other the airfield. During the airfield assault overthirty aircraft—mainly three-engine Italian Air Force bombers—were damaged or destroyed, and despite the losses incurred by the raiders the mission was seen as a great success.
If they could only pull it off, M Squadron’s Iraq mission would be up there with such legendary exploits. And when in the entire course of military history had one squadron of elite operators ever taken the surrender of an entire corps? Sure, the mission feasibility left a bit to be desired, as did the intelligence picture, but this was the kind of operation that would get talked about in the officers’ mess for years to come.
It was also going to be a massive personal test for each and every man on the Squadron. Sure, they were burned out after months of back-to-back operations. But equally, they were riding high on the success of the MV Nisha assault, not to mention their Afghan ops. So, while Grey had doubts about the specifics of the mission, he had every confidence in the individuals tasked to achieve it.
M Squadron also had an ideal opportunity to prove itself in Iraq. In the First Gulf War the SBS had never really got a look in, whereas the SAS had got decidedly down and dirty. This time around, the SAS was going to get similar taskings to the previous war—scouring the Western Desert for units that might be preparing to lob chemical weapons at U.S. and British forces massing in Kuwait. By contrast, M Squadron had just landed a deep-penetration mission, one that would entail covering vast tracts of enemy territory to achieve an epic end.
As if to reinforce the hunger of the young guns to get going on this mission, Moth showed Grey a makeshift adaptation that he’d made to their Land Rover. Using bungee grips, gaffer tape, and camouflage material, he’d cobbled together a cowboy-type sling for his Colt assault rifle. It lay to the right-hand side of the steering wheel, so the weapon was held barrel downward against the dash.
Moth demonstrated how he could reach for the weapon’s butt, draw it one-handed, and aim and engage the enemy out of the front of the vehicle while keeping his other hand on the steering wheel. His Colt had an M203 grenade launcher attached beneath it, and intheory he could lob off 40mm grenade rounds single-handedly as he drove with the other.
Grey smiled indulgently. He appreciated Moth’s keenness to engage with
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