I think we’ve all got it now, but Smythe wants us to have it memorised word for word. I focus on him, but in my mind, I’m already going over how I’ll be playing my part, and precisely what explosives I’ll need to take with me.
“At 23:20, the bird will return for you. At 23:21 I’ll be pressing that detonator, so make sure you’re all clear.” Smythe finishes up. “Any questions?”
We have none. It’s straightforward enough, the unknowns being how many tangos we’ll encounter. I’ll be relying on Tailor, Gun, Slice and Buster to clear my path and allow me the space to do my job. Pooh raises his chin at me and gives a slight nod. It’s far from the first time we’ve worked together.
I’m more than happy to blow that place sky-high, particularly knowing I’ll be obliterating hated mines. I’ve seen only too often what they can do to a body, civilian or soldier alike.
Meeting adjourned, we start to prepare, equipping ourselves with all the best in technology Uncle Sam can supply. Even after all these years, this moment makes me proud to be part of the US military.
While flying in any type of aircraft is not my favourite pastime, jumping out is actually the part I don’t mind. Flying means I need to trust in the pilot’s expertise, when parachuting, or as today, rappelling down, the control is all mine. All my nerves flee as the target comes into sight, and the countdown to exit begins.
“Go!”
I don’t hesitate when it’s my turn. Anticipation, the thrill I live for fills me as the wind rushes past. Landing within seconds, I tilt my head, letting go of the tether and listening for sounds as my five teammates land around me. Above us, the helicopter lifts away, flying off to a safe distance.
As the sounds of the rotating blades fade, using gestures clearly seen via our night goggles, we begin to spread out. Pooh and I follow Tailor and Slice to the stairwell, our task to descend as fast as we can, our two companions clearing the way in front of us. Above me, I can hear Gun and Buster beginning their search on each of the floors.
Tailor pauses. Tango ahead, he signals. His M4A1 leads the way, a burst of fire taking the tango down. No chance to take a prisoner here, it was kill or be killed instead.
We descend floor by floor. Just one more to go, and I’m feeling twitchy, expecting to have found more human obstacles in our way. It’s too quiet. There’s only the occasional burst of gunfire above me. We soon reach the basement where the weapons are stored.
Tailor’s voice sounds through my headphones, mimicking my concern. “It’s too fuckin’ quiet. But do what you have to do, we’ll watch your backs.”
Pooh’s already doing his task. He’s completed one circuit, checking for anyone hidden. He opens his mic. “No one here. No other entrances or exits. We’ll be okay here, Tail.”
Tailor’s eyes find mine. It’s so damn empty it feels like a trap, but Pooh appears to be right. So I give him a sharp nod, then he and Slice disappear the same way we’d arrived.
Wasting no time, I set about placing the explosives while Pooh busies himself opening boxes and crates. I grin. Guess he had the sense to do a quick inventory after all. When they blow up, Smythe won’t know they were closed or open. Through my headphones I can hear repeated calls of all clear.
Turning off my mic, I say to Pooh, “I hope they leave someone alive. Else we’ll have no one to question.”
No one would criticise anyone for shooting back if they were in the line of fire, but there has to be one who’ll surrender rather than die.
“Three dead tangos,” I hear Tailor report. “No one still breathing.”
“Shit.” Smythe’s plans have gone out the window and he doesn’t sound happy. “Sitrep, Stormy.”
“Setting the explosives now,” I say through my now open mic.
Pooh motions me over. Like I did just now, he cuts off the comms for a moment. “I don’t fuckin’ like this. Under these guns is straw. The mines too. This isn’t some large armoury, there’s hardly any shit here at all.”
I grimace and speak quietly as I give Smythe the update. “Got a few mines. Nothing of the amount we were led to believe.”
After a moment, there’s a sharply drawn in breath. “You’re not there to do a fucking inventory.”
“Kind of hard to miss.” Pooh shakes his head at me, making me grin.
Smythe’s unable to argue. Tailor comes back with an explanation, and it’s one none of us like. “Fuck. They might have already planted them. Or moved them on.”
“Not for us to worry about. Complete the mission,” Smythe says. “Set the explosive.”
“Copy that.”
“We could leave it,” Tailor resists. “Stay here and watch for anyone coming back.”
“Our mission is to destroy whatever there is.” Smythe is adamant.
Smythe’s reply makes me roll my eyes. I’m with Tailor, something’s off.
“The bird’s returning. You’ve got five minutes to get yourselves back to the roof,” Smythe reminds us.
“Copy that,” Tailor resignedly confirms.
Having no option, I set the explosive and arm it. The control is up with Smythe who’ll set off the detonation remotely.
“Over here,” Pooh says quietly, waving me too him. He’s just moved a box and has found a trap door.
Signalling I’ll take the lead, I sink down, listening carefully but I can hear no sounds from below. My arm reaches forward, pulling the ring to lift it up. Pulling open the door, I duck back for cover as soon as it’s wide. Pooh’s gun appears over my shoulder, but our night vision goggles reveal nothing inside.
Still hypervigilant, I drop through, my SIG Sauer P226 held at the ready as I scan my surroundings. It’s basically a single room with an alcove off to one side. I step forward to the small opening. Perhaps here’s where I’ll find the real store of weapons. I start to approach the alcove when I hear a low childlike cry which is immediately cut off.
“Trap,” Pooh says quietly. “Gotta be, man.”
Could it be? It could be a recording left playing, but is the doubt I feel worth it? “I’m going to check it out.”
“Storm—”
“Head for the extraction point, I’ll catch up.”
“Fuck that. You’re staying to check, you need someone to watch your back.”
I’ve still got an open mic and my words weren’t heard by Pooh alone. “Stormy, Pooh, get back here now. Tailor, Slice, Buster and Gun are waiting to leave.” Smythe sounds impatient. “That’s an order, Stormy. The bird’s on its way to pick you up. Soon as it’s here, we’re taking off.”
Mentally, I flip him off. It may be nothing, but I’m not leaving here without investigating the sound. When this place blows, it will take most, if not all, of this warehouse. There could be someone here that we could question.
“We got another escape route?” Pooh asks.
“One floor up at ground level. You should be able to get out.” It’s dependable Tailor who’s clearly consulting the plans.
I hear Smythe start to protest, but I ignore him.
“We’ve got two minutes,” Pooh tells me. “Let’s do this.”