PRIMAL Vengeance

Chapter 21



Abyei District, South Sudan



"UN call sign, this is a friendly call sign. Do you read me?" Bishop keyed the transmit button on the steering wheel of the Wildcat as he fought to keep the four-wheel drive on the sandy track. He checked the mirror; the Hilux was still keeping pace.

"Unknown call sign, this is Victor 44. Identify yourself," a European accent broadcast over the UHF channel. Bishop could make out yelling and gunshots in the background.

"Victor 44, we are friendlies located to your southwest. We are moving to establish a security position at the river crossing to your due south. Please confirm you are in a position to make it that far."

There was a pause as Victor 44 considered their predicament. "We've got no idea who you are, but if you can get these bastards off our tail we would be very grateful, ja."

"Victor 44, can do. You just get here alive."

"We will try!"

The track Bishop was following hit the main route below the river crossing. He spun the wheel sending the Wildcat sliding around the corner. The big V8 roared and the tires gripped the dirt sending them racing the few hundred meters up the track to the river crossing.

The dirt road was little more than a pair of sandy wheel ruts that snaked through the grass and down into the shallow waterway. Larger trees and shrubs dotted the banks, providing concealment for the ambushers. Bishop turned the Wildcat off the track and parked it so that Mirza would have a clear line of fire. He dismounted, flagging down the Hilux.

"Garang, you and your men position on the other side of the track. Cover the river crossing. Wait for the fifty cal to open up and then hit 'em with everything you've got."

The SFF leader nodded, directing his driver to mirror the position of the Wildcat.

Jess jumped from the back of the vehicle and Bishop jogged over to her.

"Jess, you need to be prepared to treat any casualties."

"Of course." She pulled her medical backpack from the tray of the Hilux. Bishop drew his PX4 from its belt holster and handed it to the doctor. "You know how to use one of these?" He expected her to shake her head.

"Sure do." She took the pistol, thumbed the safety off and pulled the slide back to check that a round was chambered.

"I'm not saying you'll need it. But if you're out here in the thick of it you need to carry."

"Garang never let me have a gun. 'Only men are warriors. Women look after children and the animals,'" she mimicked.

"Garang doesn't get out much. The deadliest operative I know is a woman."

Jess gave him a curious look, stuffed the pistol in her cargo pants and shouldered the heavy medical pack. Bishop watched her for a few seconds as she started off down the track at a trot.

Heavy machine gun fire broke the serenity of the African bush. In the distance there was a loud explosion and a thin stream of smoke rose into the air.

Garang's four men fanned out across the bank, seeking cover amongst the vegetation that lined the river. A fifth soldier manned the PKM machine gun mounted on the back of the Hilux. They all focused their sights on where the track entered the river on the far bank.

The Wildcat was also parked behind bushes, hiding the whole vehicle except for Mirza manning the machine gun. He cleared and reloaded the fifty cal, checking to make sure the rounds would feed correctly. Jonjo was breaking branches off the surrounding trees and placing them on the Wildcat's roof to aid in the concealment.

Bishop took a position on the flank. "Mirza, hit the lead vehicle as it slows for the creek."

"Roger!"

The scream of a diesel engine at maximum revs filled the air as the first UN Landcruiser drove down the track and splashed into the river crossing. Close behind it was a second white four-wheel drive.

As the second UN vehicle hit the shallow water, two heavily armed jeeps appeared behind them and Janjaweed gunners opened fire with long automatic bursts. Heavy caliber rounds lashed the crossing, bullets snapped through the vegetation and kicked up dirt. A round tore one of the wing mirrors from the SFF Hilux. The PKM gunner dived over the side of the truck as another bullet punched through the windscreen.

The UN vehicles miraculously finished crossing the narrow waterway as the first of the Janjaweed jeeps slowed down and entered the water after them. Mirza lined up the red-dot sight on his heavy machine gun and depressed the butterfly trigger.

The big gun roared, sending a stream of 12.7mm Raufoss rounds slamming into the first jeep. It shuddered under the impact as the high explosive incendiary bullets shredded the occupants, rending limbs from bodies. The driver's head exploded as the rounds blasted through him into the torso of the gunner. The four men sitting in the back were blended into mince as the SFF weapons joined the fight. An RPG screamed from the bank, detonating as it hit the bonnet. The vehicle's fuel tank exploded, consuming the jeep in a ball of fire.

The driver of the second Janjaweed vehicle reacted instinctively, wrenching the steering wheel sideways to avoid the slaughter in front of him. The jeep bounced in the wheel ruts, the front wheels jammed in and it flipped, sliding on its side for a few meters.

His immediate reaction kept the six-man crew alive. The driver and co-driver, the gunner and the three men in the back all got clear of the vehicle before Mirza could hit it with the fifty cal.

"Switch targets!" Garang screamed at his men as they continued to pour automatic fire into the first burning jeep. "Switch targets!" He jumped up onto the Hilux and pumped the action on the PKM. He unleashed a long burst into the flipped jeep. The thud of Mirza's heavy .50 cal joined the angry rattle of the lighter weapon as Mirza concentrated his own fire on the jeep. It exploded into a ball of fire as the exposed fuel tanks ignited.

The Janjaweed were not as ill-disciplined as the SFF fighters. They quickly realized their predicament and made for the concealment of the thick vegetation that lined the creek line. The men ran low and fast, dashing for cover.

Bishop spotted them from his position at the flank of the ambush. He dropped one with a snap shot from his AK before they disappeared into the bushes.

"Tangos right flank!" he bellowed as the Janjaweed took up fire positions amongst the vegetation and started to fire back. He returned a burst from his AK and scrambled for cover.

Mirza tried to swing the heavy machine gun around to engage but it was too late. The Janjaweed had pushed to the edge of the water and were under the depression of the barrel.

It was Jonjo who responded first. From his position near Bishop, he lobbed a grenade across the water. It exploded in the bushes, wounding two of the Janjaweed and creating a distraction.

Jonjo sprinted to a better position, ignoring the bullets cracking through the air. He lay prone and fired methodically, his suppressed AK spitting rounds into the remaining Arab raiders. Bishop started firing controlled bursts from a knee, covering Jonjo's movement and adding to the weight of fire smashing the far bank.

Mirza ripped his AK from the rack, jumped down from the Wildcat and bolted forward, joining them.

Bishop, Mirza, and Jonjo blasted away for another full minute before all movement on the other side of the river ceased.

"Cover me," ordered Mirza as he waded into the shallow water, AK in his shoulder. Jonjo joined him, both steadily wading across the water, weapons ready. At the other side they patrolled the riverbank, looking for someone to take prisoner. There was no-one left alive. Jonjo checked the bodies, stripped weapons and ammunition from them, throwing it in a pile.

"Good work." Mirza placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"None of them are him."

"Sagrib? We didn't think he would be here. Not enough men."

"We need to kill him, Mirza. He is evil."

"We'll get him, Jonjo, don't you worry about that."

Jonjo nodded to himself, trusting Mirza's words. He reloaded his AK104 and looked thoughtfully at one of the dead Janjaweed, the man's face splattered across the ground from a headshot.

"How is the new AK?" Mirza asked.

"Amazing. Sight is so accurate." Youthful excitement overcame his disappointment at not killing Sagrib. He shouldered the rifle again, practising looking through the advanced optic.

"OK, let's go back," Mirza said. "We need to help Bishop and the doctor." He turned back to the water.

"Wait." Jonjo pulled a plain necklace over his head and held it out to Mirza. It was a simple talisman, a length of hide cord with a bullet hanging from it. "Take this."

"What is this for, Jonjo?"

"You have it. This will protect you from Janjaweed evil."

Mirza looked at the necklace, unsure what to say.

Jonjo pressed the talisman into his hand. "You gave me the rifle. I give you this in return."

Mirza accepted the gift and dropped it over his head. It hung around his neck, the bullet cold against his skin. "Thank you."

Jonjo turned and waded back into the river. "Come. We do not want to keep the Doctor waiting!"

Back on the other side, Mirza ordered Jonjo to help Garang maintain security. Bishop was already supervising their reorganization, ensuring the SFF reloaded and kept watch for any Janjaweed follow-up force. They had been fortunate; there had been no SFF casualties. Once they were satisfied with the security, Mirza and Bishop jogged up the track to where the two UN vehicles had stopped. Jess was there, tending to the wounded men.

"What's the situation, Doc?" Bishop asked placing his AK on the bonnet of the UN Landcruiser and putting on a pair of rubber gloves.

Jess was working furiously on one of the men, the contents of her medical kit strewn on a patch of grass. "We've got two dead in the rear vehicle. The driver's a little shook up but not badly wounded." She pulled a tourniquet over the shattered arm of one of the men and closed it with a twist of the handle. "There's two more in the back. One of them is shot up pretty bad."

Bishop wrenched open the rear door and found one uniformed man sitting next to another who was slumped forward in his seat, blood pooling at his feet.

"I can't stop the bleeding," said the soldier in a heavy European accent.

"Mirza, give me a hand with this guy." Bishop eased the slumped body of the unconscious man out of the vehicle. Mirza grabbed his legs and they sat him on the ground.

Bishop spoke in a monotone as he worked. "Gunshot wound, upper chest. Clean in, clean out. Gonna need a valve." Bishop sliced the man's shirt off with his knife as Mirza rummaged through Jess's medical kit.

It took ten minutes to stabilize the survivors. The final tally was two dead, two badly wounded, and three with minor injuries.

"What happened?" Bishop questioned the Dutch Major as Jess finished with the two wounded men.

"We were part of a standard observations group, conducting assessments of the villages. We started with three Landcruisers and a light armored vehicle. This is all that is left, ja!" He spoke quickly, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

"Where did you hit the Janjaweed?"

He gestured to the two shot-up four-wheel drives. "They shot at us on the outskirts of the village. The APC went up first: no survivors. They had too much firepower so we turned and ran."

"Can you show me the village?" Bishop asked unfolding a map.

"Ja, this one here," the UN officer pointed out a small village approximately twenty-five kilometers to the northeast.

"How many men?"

"At least a hundred. They had more of the jeeps, maybe ten. They also had technicals and some trucks."

Jess interrupted the conversation, "Major, you need to get these people to medical aid as soon as possible."

"Of course. Thank you so much for everything you have done. Without your help we would all be dead." The man took Jess's hand in both his hands. He turned and shook Mirza's and Bishop's hands in turn. "Tell, me, who do you work for? I will ensure the UN gives you a medal."

"We don't work for medals," Bishop said. "But thanks anyway."

"OK, OK, I understand. Thank you again." The UN Observer's men finished loading their wounded into their four-wheel drives.

The PRIMAL operatives and Jess stood by the road as the two shot-up Landcruisers limped off down the track.

"Poor bastards," said Bishop. "That f*cking blue beret is getting more people killed." He turned, slung his AK, and strode back to the creek.

"What were they doing out there with no weapons anyway?" Jess asked Mirza while packing up her medical kit.

Mirza crouched down, helping her. "You don't want to get him started. Come on, let's get out of here."

"Well, I'm impressed by Aden. He handled the wounded like a professional. If I didn't know better I'd think he was a trained paramedic or a doctor," said Jess as they followed Bishop back to the SFF.

"He might be a trained killer but he could have been a doctor. Sometimes he cares a little too much," said Mirza.

"A liability in your line of work?"

"No, a necessity!"

As the doctor and the former Indian Special Forces operative loaded their equipment into the back of the Wildcat Bishop sought out Garang. The SFF Commander was standing next to the Hilux watching the Chinese jeeps continue to burn.

Bishop stood by his side. "Not a bad day's work. You did well today. You should be proud of your men."

"Except Sagrib isn't here. That bastard is still alive."

"True, but now we know where to find him."

Garang's head snapped from the burning jeep to Bishop's face. The intensity burned in him like a fire. "Where?"

Bishop showed him the map and pointed out the village with the point of his knife. "Here!"