PRIMAL Vengeance

Chapter 24



PETROCOM H425 gunship



Janjaweed Forward Operating Base, Thepkeni Village, South Sudan



The two guards had been on watch since midnight. Their backs against a tree, they sat wrapped in blankets to ward off the cold African night. From their position on the hill they could see for miles in every direction, from the fires of the camp behind them to the starlit plain that reached out to the horizon.

One of the men stood up, slung his rifle and walked a little way to piss. As he relieved himself, he stared out into the distance. The first trace of dawn was on the horizon, a faint slither of light that would finally bring some warmth. He finished, rubbed his cold hands together and picked up his AK47. On his way back to the tree, he stopped. In the faint grey of pre-dawn he could make out a small bird hovering near a bush. He watched it dance for a few seconds before continuing on his way.

A short distance down the hill two men lurked in the shadows. Mirza was hunched over his iPRIMAL, watching the infrared feed from the Hummingbird UAV. Jonjo was crouched next to him, his suppressed AK104 held at the ready.

"There's only two of them," Mirza whispered. "Forward slope of the hill. Under the big boab."

Jonjo touched him on the shoulder to let him know he understood.

"Sledgehammer, this is Scalpel. Moving in for the kill," Mirza broadcast over the radio to Bishop and the rest of the SFF fighters.

They crept silently up the side of the feature. Jonjo led, his bushcraft beyond anything Mirza had ever seen. The lanky African stalked like a cat, silent as he flitted from cover to cover.

They followed the rise up to where the micro-UAV had spotted the two sentries. The robotic bird was now circling high above them, its tiny IR camera looking for hostiles.

The tree came into sight and Jonjo lifted his AK. Mirza flicked the safety off his suppressed pistol.

They were a few meters from the tree when one of the men heard them. He shrugged off his blanket, stood up and turned to face the sound.

Jonjo's AK snapped once and the Arab toppled over with a bullet hole in his head. The second man had been dozing. He only woke when his colleague hit the ground with a thud. Judgement clouded by sleep, he reached for his weapon and the young Dinka warrior shot him through the face.

The two scouts swept through the sentry point, continuing across the hill, cautious of any additional guards. With nothing found Mirza keyed his radio. "Sledgehammer, this is Scalpel. Objective secure."

Two bursts of static confirmed Bishop had received the message.

Mirza positioned himself on the forward slope of the hill, watching for any activity from the village. He could see the first morning fires in the camp, enslaved women cooking for their Arab captors. A handful of Janjaweed wandered out to where their vehicles were parked. Technicals and jeeps lined up, ready for another day of killing and raping unarmed villagers.

While Mirza maintained sentry, Jonjo moved to the rear and waited for the rest of the men to arrive.

A few kilometers to the south, Bishop and the main SFF force jogged steadily in a long line. Every step took them further away from their vehicles and closer to the camp filled with heavily armed Janjaweed. The only noise they made was the thump of their boots in the dirt and the odd rattle from a weapon or ammunition. Every man was heavily loaded; in addition to their individual weapons and equipment, everyone carried two tins of machine gun ammunition or a brace of RPG rockets.

Bishop had one of the SA-18 air-defense missiles slung across his back, his AK slung across his chest and a tin of PKM belts in each hand. Despite the cool air, sweat was running down his face, drenching his shirt.

"Faster!" Bishop whispered urgently. They were taking longer than expected and needed to pick up the pace. First light had already broken and they only had minutes to get into position.

Garang, who was running next to Bishop, saw the signal first. A single red flash from the top of the hill. He aimed for it, lengthening his stride.

Jonjo signaled the column with another quick flash. Garang gave the order to stop and the men passed it down the column. As rehearsed, Jonjo moved down to meet them, the Dinka scout leading each of the teams to their firing positions. Within minutes there were three separate groups of ten men laid out on the ridgeline, each armed with two PKMs and three RPGs.

Bishop handed his SA-18 to Mirza; his tins of ammo had already been distributed amongst the machine gun teams.

"Any sign of movement?" Mirza asked.

"The camp's just starting to stir. A few men have been working on the vehicles. I think Garang is right; the UN spooked them and now they are relocating."

Bishop looked out to the horizon. The faint glow had grown in intensity, a blue-grey hue washing over the rows of Janjaweed vehicles parked in the camp before them. He turned his head as Garang approached.

"We're ready!" the SFF leader announced.

"OK, let's roll."



***



Sagrib was already awake, sucking back a cigarette as he absent-mindedly kicked at a mangled body outside his hut. The girl seemed to stare up at him with blank, bulging eyes; her neck bore the mark of his hands. She was supposed to be a Dinka princess but what sort of royalty did not know how to pleasure a man, he thought. The Janjaweed warlord dropped the cigarette on the corpse and strode towards the middle of village where more useful women were cooking breakfast.

As he walked, he pulled his satellite phone from his pocket and dialed Yang.

"Have my men arrived?"

"Good morning to you, Sagrib. Yes your men arrived last night. They have the new buggies and the mortar ammunition." Yang sounded short of breath. He had been interrupted during his morning training.

"Good. How many?"

"Nearly a hundred men; they've eaten almost everything we have."

Sagrib laughed. "The warrior must be strong if he is to kill. Send them to me as soon as they are—"

The sound of gunfire interrupted the call. Sagrib spun in the direction of the noise. Muzzle flashes lit up an entire ridgeline as gunfire poured into the vehicle park. A rocket detonated amongst the trucks sending a huge fireball skyward.

"Sagrib, what is going on?" Yang asked urgently.

"We are under attack. Send everything you have!"



***



"WE'VE GOT THEM ON THE ROPES!" screamed Garang over the blast of the machine guns and RPG rockets being fired. "We should push down into the village and finish them!"

"No." Bishop shook his head. "That's not the plan. We hit the vehicles then we get the hell out."

"The plan changes. We can finish this now!"

A massive ball of fire rolled into the sky as another Chinese-built jeep detonated under the hail of fire coming from the SFF positions.

"That's exactly what he wants, Garang! Right now you've got him outmatched and his trucks are burning. But he still has at least eighty men in that village armed to the teeth and spoiling for a fight. You leave this feature and get bogged down in the village and you'll die here."

Garang clenched his teeth. He knew Aden was right. This raid had achieved its goal; most of the Janjaweed vehicles had been destroyed. It would take weeks for them to replace the rows of technicals and jeeps burning in front of them. Rounds snapped through the air above them as if to reinforce the point. They needed to withdraw before the Janjaweed could mount a resistance.

He turned to the SFF fighter acting as his signaller. "Bring the vehicles forward!" The man relayed his order over the VHF radio.

In the wadi three kilometers to the south, the small convoy started up, leaving the concealment of the trees to rumble across the plain.

Back on the hill, Bishop and Mirza continued to scamper between the groups of fighters, offering words of encouragement and advice.

"Shorten your bursts."

"Lift your point of aim."

"Increase your rate whilst they reload."

"Fire another rocket."

For every passing minute their ammunition dwindled while the return fire from the village increased. In an effort to take cover the SFF fighters started to slide back over the crest of the hill, reducing their visibility and the effectiveness of their fire.

Down in the village the Janjaweed fighters had formed a skirmish line. Using what they could for cover, they returned fire and started to bound forward. The sun was rising now and their shots became more accurate as the sky became light.

The SFF convoy stopped at the other side of the hill; The Wildcat, two four-wheel drives and the UNIMOG truck. Jess was driving the PRIMAL vehicle. As the first men descended the hill she swung out of the cab.

"Is anyone wounded?" the doctor yelled over the continuing gunfire from the cover group still on the hill.

Men piled into the first vehicle, shaking their heads. "No, miss. Everything fine."

She repeated the process as Garang and the main body of troops jogged down the hill and climbed into the UNIMOG.

"Everyone is fine, woman," Garang yelled. "Get in the truck." He pushed her into the back of his Hilux as his driver started the engine.

Mirza, Jonjo and Bishop were the last to withdraw. The two PRIMAL operatives sprinted across the hill just behind the ridge, placing book-sized objects into the ground as they ran. Jonjo covered them, laying close to the ground, firing at the advancing Janjaweed. Almost every shot missed as he snatched at the trigger, but it slowed the enemy's advance.

"Jonjo, let's go." Mirza tapped the young fighter on the boot.

They scrambled down the hill and leapt into the Wildcat. Garang and the rest of the men had already left and were a few hundred meters in front of them. Mirza swung the .50 cal machine gun to the rear of the ring mount, covering the hill behind them. Jonjo sat on the bench seats at the rear, the SA-18 placed on the other seat, his AK held at the ready.

Bishop gunned the Wildcat and it churned the sand, bashing a path through the dry grass and shrubs as he followed the tracks of the rest of the convoy.

In the turret Mirza pulled his iPRIMAL out of his vest and activated the detonator app. Four devices were active; he selected them all and touched the red fire button.

The ridgeline disappeared in a cloud of dust as the custom directional mines exploded, thousands of pellets blasting into the advancing Janjaweed. The first line of raiders fell to the ground and the dust cloud covered the SFF withdrawal.

In the Hilux, Garang sat in the tray beside Jess and other SFF soldiers. He grinned as the hill detonated. "Victory!" He pumped his fist in the air as the other men in the truck joined the chant. "Victory!"

Jess sat in silence, the wind whipping at her long brown hair.

Without warning, sounds like the beating of massive drums filled the air and gouts of dust intercepted the lead vehicle. Heavy caliber rounds smashed into it, tearing men apart and shredding the tray where they sat. The truck skidded to a halt as the rear axle detached from the chassis. A rocket streaked across the sky and exploded in the cabin, flipping the wreck and killing those who had survived the burst of machine gun fire.

The helicopter gunship roared over the destroyed vehicle and swung around in a wide arc. Garang's driver swerved to miss the burning pickup and slammed into an ant nest hidden by the long grass. The mound of compact earth stopped the UNIMOG dead, sending the passengers flying.

The panicked SFF pushed and shoved as they leapt out and scattered into the grass.

Bishop took evasive action and skidded the Wildcat 180 degrees. Mirza opened up with the heavy .50 cal but the chopper was moving way too fast. It raced around in an arc, maintaining speed for the next pass.

Jonjo jumped out, the SA-18 in his arms, running through the pre-firing drill that Mirza had taught him. He shouldered the long tube and activated the missile's seeker.

The chopper had almost finished its turn, and the SA-18's heat-seeking warhead had a clear line direct to the hot engines. It picked up the thermal signature, announcing a lock with a high-pitched squeal.

Jonjo took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened!

The chopper was coming straight for him. He could see flashes as pod-mounted machine guns fired.

He pumped the trigger franticly. Nothing happened.

A hand reached over his shoulder and flicked off the safety bail.

Explosions of dust tracked towards him as he squeezed the trigger. The rocket leapt skyward just before a body slammed into him, pitching him into the ground as heavy rounds cut through the air where he was standing.

The pilot of the helicopter reacted on impulse, pushing the stick sideways as the missile streaked towards him. It flew directly under the helicopter at almost two thousand kilometers an hour. The proximity fuse registered the airframe and detonated a split second later. Fragmentation was thrown forward and out missing the helicopter. The blast damaged the tail rotor, sending the helicopter spinning sideways.

Alarms wailed as the pilot fought to keep the aircraft in the air. Yang cooly adjusted the straps of his safety harness and gripped the sides of his seat, ready for the inevitable.

To the pilot's credit, he managed to push the helicopter another two kilometers before he put it down. They slammed into the ground with a crunch forcing the control stick up and through the pilot's chest. Yang's seat collapsed, as it was designed to do, taking some of the force out of the impact. Despite the searing pain in his back, he managed to extract himself from the wreckage. As he made to abandon the ruined aircraft, the pilot lifted his head. Blood oozed from his mouth as he tried to talk.

"Thank you for keeping me alive," said Yang in Mandarin. He drew his pistol and shot the mortally wounded pilot in the head. He limped from the wreck, making for the smoke of the burning village and the safety of Sagrib's forces.

Back at the convoy, Mirza had lifted Jonjo from the ground and dusted him off. The young warrior had come away unscathed.

Bishop picked them up in the Wildcat and drove up the track to the SFF vehicles.

Jess was standing in shock, staring at the destroyed pickup, watching it burn. The air was filled with the stench of burning flesh, bodies cooking in the intensity of the fire. Fat dripped from exposed bones.

"For f*ck sake!" exclaimed Bishop. He grabbed her by the shoulders and bundled her into the back of the Wildcat. "Jonjo, talk to her. Now where the hell is Garang?"

Bishop found him next to the Hilux. He was sitting in the grass, his fists clenched on his knees. He looked up as the PRIMAL operative approached.

"Another seven men dead," Garang muttered. "The oil companies better come good on this, Aden."

"There aren't going to be any oil companies if you don't get your men together. That helicopter isn't going to be here alone, Garang. More Janjaweed are on the way."

The SFF leader said nothing. He dusted himself off and issued orders to his remaining fighters. The men, who had scattered into the grass, reappeared and piled back into the remaining vehicles. It was a far more subdued group of men that drove south.