PRIMAL Vengeance

Chapter 13



PETROCON Refinery, Kordofan District, Sudan



Garang waited until Jonjo was back in position before ordering his men to move. The PKM gunner was down to his last fifty rounds, enough to pepper the towers while Jonjo pulled back into the creek line. His team would concentrate their fire on the positions either side of the gate as they leapfrogged back. Jonjo's team would bring up the rear.

The northern team gave off a few more bursts before beginning their move. They scrambled into the creek line, the team leader accounting for all of his men. Spirits were high as they ran down the creek back towards the rally point.

Garang heard the thud of helicopter blades over the gunfire as the Chinese built H425 screamed around the edge of the refinery. He watched in horror as the gun pods and rockets caught them cold, 12.7mm rounds smashing into the men, chopping them apart like butchered meat. Rockets exploded in the creek turning it into a burning hell of scorched flesh and blood. In one pass the aircraft decimated the team, all but three of the men killed instantly. None of them were left standing.

Garang, in shock, hugged the earth as the helicopter gunship roared overhead. A few of his men tracked it with their AKs firing off the last of their ammunition.

The SFF leader fumbled with his radio attempting to raise the team leader. There was no reply.

"Garang, we need to go." The man next to him shook his arm, eyes wide with fear.

The rest of the team looked to him for direction, terrified.

"We need to split up and run back to the trucks," Garang ordered, keying his radio so Jonjo could hear the order.

The men didn't need prompting. They burst into the bush as the helicopter circled around for another pass.

Garang fled as fast as his legs could carry him. He heard the helicopter's guns firing and rockets slamming into the ground. It was off to one flank, near Jonjo's position. He paused under a thick outcrop of trees as the chopper roared overhead, searching for targets. Less than fifty meters away, one of his men raised an AK and blasted away at the helicopter. It was a pointless gesture, the aircraft banked and unleashed another volley of rockets.

For the next half an hour Garang crept through the thickest bushes he could find. Sharp thorns tore at him, drenching his shirt in blood.

The sound of the helicopter disappeared in the distance and when it failed to return the SFF commander started to run again. He followed foot trails and animal tracks, putting as much distance between him and the refinery as he could. At a track junction he met with two of his men. They joined him as they covered the distance to the vehicles.

Two hours later, exhausted, they reached the trucks, the first to return.

"What happened?" Jess asked as she laid her basic medical kit out on the bonnet of a four-wheel drive. She started checking over the two fighters for wounds. "I heard the explosions."

"Chinese had a helicopter." Garang dropped into the sand breathing heavily.

Jess finished her inspection of the two men and made her way to Garang.

"And the rest of the men?" She made to inspect Garang's wounds.

"I don't know." He waved her away. "They are only scratches."

She ignored him swabbing one of the bleeding slashes with an antiseptic wipe.

Garang pushed her hand away. "Damn it, stop mothering me." He walked stiffly over to where the two-man vehicle security detail was sitting under the camouflage nets. Jess checked over her medical kit in silence.

Over the next few hours a few men trickled in. None of the first team that bore the brunt of the helicopter made it; all ten of them had been slaughtered in the creek line. Of Garang's own group, three had been lost, killed as they fled. There was no sign of Jonjo and his men. Garang could not contact them as he had lost his radio, forgotten during his frantic attempt to escape.

There was little work for Jess, a few scratches and a shrapnel wound. Anyone more badly injured had died under the savage onslaught of the helicopter.

Two hours later Garang had accepted total defeat. From a group of thirty fighters he now only had nine. He had lost all but one of his RPG launchers and all of his PKM machine guns. The mission had gone from total success to complete failure in a matter of seconds.

The disheartened remnants of the unit pulled the camouflage nets down from the trucks and climbed in, ready for the long drive back to their village.

As Garang started the engine of the Hilux he heard a piercing whistle. He killed the engine and leapt out of the cab.

It was Jonjo, leading his men into the RV. Glistening with sweat they dropped onto the sand, exhausted.

Garang counted them. They were all there and they still had all their weapons. His losses, although brutal, were not as bad as he had thought. He squatted in the sand next to the exhausted Jonjo as Jess made her rounds amongst the men.

"How did you escape?"

Jonjo shrugged, matter-of-fact. "We hid in the smoke. The helicopter has only so much fuel. So when it landed, we ran, and when it flew, we hid."

Garang allowed them to rest a moment before ordering them into the trucks. He had a long drive back to their base to dwell on the defeat. Convincing the other Dinka warriors to join the SFF, when he had left thirteen men behind, dead, was going to be next to impossible.