Hellfire. Ed Macy. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Ed Macy
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Биографии и Мемуары
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780007342921
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fields were dark and the river pitch-black, but the two tree lines positively glowed.

      I aimed the Target Acquisition and Designation Sight (TADS) crosshair between them. Holding it steady I squeezed the laser trigger and pushed a switch.

      T10 appeared at the bottom of my MPD screen, below the thermal image.

      I now had the position stored, but the fear of an inquiry forced me to double-check it. I knew Jake would be doing the same a hundred metres further north.

      We discussed looking for mortar base plates and heavy machine gun positions to give the Taliban something to talk about then lased and stored our firing positions in front of the 100 metre tree line on the LS.

      T11…

      ‘Wildman Five Two this is Wildman Five Three,’ I called. ‘I have detected Taliban hiding in the buildings to the south of the DC.’

      I hoped they’d assume I’d located whoever was waiting.

      T12-right in front of Macy House.

      ‘Wildman Five Two,’ Jake said ‘I have Taliban in both tree lines to the south-west of the DC. Stand by.’

      Neither of us had so much as begun to look for the Taliban.

      We called the JTAC and he confirmed that the Taliban commanders were telling their men to stand their ground and fight.

      It was now 0330 local.

      The bluff and counterbluff had continued for the best part of twenty-five minutes-but they knew our ROE better than we did, so we just had to sit tight until the time was right.

      Jake decided it was time to raise the stakes.

      ‘Wildman Five Three this is Wildman Five Two. Fireplan: we will engage the Taliban in the trees to the south-west of the DC with Apache rockets. Copy?’

      ‘Copied.’

      ‘Then we will use the Apache guns. You shoot at the buildings to the south. I will shoot at the trees. Copy?’

      I copied.

      ‘We will fire from the south on my order. Kill all of the Taliban. Read back.’

      I read it back as Simon banked us gently towards the south.

      It was beginning to get light, but not light enough to bring colour to the silhouettes of trees, the canal that ran from Bridge Two or the rooflines of the town.

      Four klicks to the south of the DC Simon and Jon turned back in a perfectly obvious and synchronised manoeuvre. We were nice and high so we stood out against the rapidly lightening sky.

      We began to run in at forty knots.

      Simon made the call we’d been waiting for on the secure inter-aircraft radio. ‘I have two rotary icons on the FCR in the desert to the north-west. The Hardwood callsigns are inbound to Sangin and on time.’

      ‘Widow Seven Six this is Wildman,’ Jake called the JTAC on the secure frequency. ‘Chinooks inbound; confirm we are clear to engage.’

      I felt our nose dip and level again as Simon increased to ramming speed. A quick glance left with the naked eye confirmed Jon was 500 metres away and on level-pegging with us. We were in full view of the Taliban.

      ‘This is Widow Seven Six. Pegasus. Clear hot. Clear hot.’

      I pressed T10 and called ‘Come Co-op’ to Simon after I actioned the rockets.

      ‘Co-op,’ Simon replied.

      The MPD confirmed everything I needed to know: co-op bottom right and T10 bottom left. My crosshair was smack in the middle of the field and I was hands off. The Apache would hold the TADS on the position without any help from me. More importantly I could see where Jake was supposed to be firing.

       Please be dead on. Please hit the target…

      ‘Running in to engage Taliban positions with rockets,’ Jake said. That should encourage them to look south.

      The range was counting down above T10.

      3.5KMS…3.4KMS…

      ‘On Jake’s executive word of command, Simon: match and shoot.’

      ‘Match and shoot with Jake,’ Simon replied.

      The crosshair was static and Simon lined up the rocket steering cursor by adjusting our flight path. We were a hair trigger from firing.

      ‘Engaging with rockets,’ Jake called on the secure radio before switching back to the Taliban frequency.

      3.0KMS…2.9KMS…

      ‘Wildmen engaging in five…’ Jake paused to allow the JTAC a final opportunity to call off the firemission.

      Nothing…

      ‘Three…two…one…’

      2.8KMS…Rockets peeled off both sides of our gunships with a whoosh.

      I couldn’t bring myself to look out of the cockpit window…

      Their time of flight (TOF) crept down on the MPD.

      TOF4…

      Four seconds to impact and they were far too high on my screen to judge if they’d hit.

      ‘Hardwoods have about three klicks to run…’ The tension was getting to Simon too.

      TOF3…

      The rockets were still too high and fading fast to a pinpoint glow.

      ‘Engaging,’ Jon called, for the benefit of the boss back at Camp Bastion.

      TOF2…

      They began to drop down the screen, but far too slowly for my liking. Then they disappeared entirely.

       What the fuck…?

      TOF1…

      Two huge dust clouds blossomed right under my crosshair.

      My focus shot up the screen; Jake’s rockets had also landed bang on the button.

      ‘Get in…’ I punched in T11.

      Both sets of rockets had landed safely.

      The TADS jumped right in front of the 100 metre tree line. I deslaved the lock because the rockets were so accurate. I moved the crosshair to a gnat’s knacker away from the foliage and called to Simon to match and shoot again.

      A gentle right bank followed by a roll out, then another set of rockets rippled off our gunship and landed with pinpoint accuracy. They too disappeared just before impact as their thermal signature matched the surroundings. A confirmatory glance told me Jake had matched us shot for shot. Simon and Jon were doing a storming job.

      ‘Hardwoods have about a klick to run,’ Simon said.

      ‘Switch to guns,’ Jake responded.

      I had already slaved the TADS to T12.

      I pushed up the weapon select button and the rocket symbology on my MPD was replaced by 300 rounds of cannon.

      With the crosshair twenty metres in front of Macy House I let rip with a ranging burst. Ten white hot pins of light dropped down the screen. My heart started to pound as they passed through my aiming mark and headed towards the building. They ploughed into the ground with a metre to go, kicking up a column of earth and dust fifty metres high—enough to screen the LS from the sniper’s positions.

      ‘Fuck…that was close…’ I changed the burst limit to twenty.

      ‘Not close enough for my liking, but I’d still aim off a bit if I were you,’ Simon replied before updating us on the secure radio. ‘Hardwoods are about to cross the river and come into view of the Taliban.’

      I deslaved the TADS from T12, adjusted the sight, lased and fired a twenty-round burst. I felt every one of them through my calf