The Iceman. Jeff Edwards
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she responded reassuringly. ‘We’ll sort it out.’
We were having supper in the company canteen when the news came through that the rangers had returned and that they had managed to recover the bodies of both our men.
I saw the RAF recruit look over at me with a look of utter disgust before pushing his plate of food aside and heading toward the bar. No doubt he was now fully intent on drinking himself into oblivion. A few of the other men from our convoy were less obvious in demonstrating their feelings but also left the table to join him.
I considered having a few stiff drinks as well but knew that I would not be made welcome. Besides, I would have to remain sober so that I could take command of the convoy on its way back to Baghdad.
My alarm awoke me before dawn. I breakfasted and noted the ashen looks on many of my men’s faces as they sipped at their coffee. That and the fact that they shied away from eating their normal hearty breakfast showed that they had had a long and heavy night and few of them would be in an operational state for the day’s work ahead.
I called in to see the duty officer at the company’s office. ‘I’ve got a string of hung-over men out there. I’ll have to sober them up before we leave. What time are we due to pick up our VIPs?’
‘The good news is that your VIPs don’t need to be taken back to Baghdad. It seems getting attacked by assassins has elevated their status and they now rank high enough to be flown home. You’ll be travelling back empty and the company wants you to leave straightaway. There are other assignments waiting for you back in Baghdad.’
‘In that case I’ll get them assembled. They can suffer the after-effects of their drinking in the comfort of a noisy carrier. That should teach them not to drink when they have duty the next day.’
‘They did have a good reason to get drunk last night, Sergeant,’ he chastised me.
‘But they also have a duty to the rest of their team to be on top of their game for our return trip,’ I replied grimly.
‘Duty, Sergeant? You’re confusing this with the army. This is business, not the military.’
For the return trip I broke the men up into new groups. Down two soldiers in the lead vehicle, I moved the RAF recruit to fill one of those vacancies, mainly so that I wouldn’t have to look at his accusing stares of utter hatred for the entire trip. I then reassigned one man from the centre carrier to give them a full complement. A further man from the centre carrier was moved into mine to replace the RAF recruit.
Now the centre carrier was left to operate with the barest minimum of troopers, but I considered that the best way to go as it would be the least able to launch a defensive response from its restricted position.
As I was now in command of the convoy, my carrier took up the lead position with the lieutenant’s vehicle now guarding our rear. I assigned the most experienced trooper the task of commanding the centre vehicle. It was the first time he had done so and I left him with the simple instructions to maintain a set distance between the vehicles and to keep moving no matter what happened.
Overall I was not satisfied with the result but saw that it would be the best that could be done under the circumstances.
I silently prayed that the trip would go off without a hitch.
We set out in the cool of the early morning and were well advanced by the time the sun began to have its full effect.
The air-conditioners were operating on full power as we travelled through the heat haze, but even so we heard the roar of the explosion and saw the plume of dust and smoke rise into the sky some distance ahead. The unmistakable rattle of machine-gun fire followed soon after.
‘What do we do, Sarge?’ asked my driver.
‘Keep going,’ I replied. ‘I want every man on the alert.’
‘But, Sarge, we could be heading into a full battle down there.’
‘You’re soldiers, aren’t you? Or at least you told the company you were. Get into full defensive positions and keep going.’
‘Shit, Sarge. You’re asking to get us into trouble.’
‘All right genius, I’ll give you a choice. Sit here for who the hell knows how long and then have to walk home when we run out of fuel. Or do we go on until we find out what’s happening up ahead and then decide the best course of action?’
‘Okay, Sarge,’ agreed the man reluctantly. ‘We go on.’
As we neared the plume of smoke it became obvious what had happened. Guarded in the front and read by an armoured carrier, a convoy of trucks had been heading toward us and had come under attack when a bomb planted in the road had been remotely detonated under a truck in the centre of the convoy.
The carriers had turned off the road and launched an attack on a small rise from where they believed the enemy had lain in wait. Their attack had been in vain as the signal that detonated the bomb had come from someone hidden at much closer quarters and it left the convoy unprotected.
Small arms and machine gun fire raked the halted convoy, destroying more vehicles. Confusion reigned as the truckers dove for cover off the side of the road and they could only watch helplessly as their trucks and valuable cargos were shot to pieces.
At the sound of our approach the attackers must have realised that their position was about to become untenable and pulled back, disappearing into the rugged countryside.
As I pulled up beside the lead vehicle its driver popped his head up from behind a pile of rocks beside the road.
‘Are you all right?’ I called.
‘Thank heavens you turned up. The silly buggers who are supposed to be protecting us are off chasing shadows while those bastards are making minced meat of our trucks,’ he said, angrily pointing off in the direction from where the machine gun had come.
I looked over and could see their carriers making their way back to their charges. ‘Here comes your escort now. We’ll leave you to sort it all out.’
‘Thanks, mate. I can’t wait to give those silly bastards a piece of my mind.’
We made our way past the halted convoy and saw that two trucks were burning fiercely with several more so badly damaged that they would be going no further.
‘Now I know why you always want to us to keep moving,’ murmured one of my men.
‘They would have suffered losses, but not nearly as many as they have if they had kept going and gotten themselves out of the attack zone.’
The man nodded in agreement.
At least I’ve convinced someone, I thought to myself.
As soon as we arrived back in Baghdad each man was taken aside and rigorously de-briefed not only by our own company officers but by Americans from Military Intelligence. We were laboriously questioned on all aspects of our outward and inward journeys, but mainly with regard to the attack where the lieutenant and Dick had been murdered.
The impression I formed from the demeanour of the Americans was that our lieutenant was nothing short of an idiot who got what he deserved and that what I had done was the best that could have been done in the circumstances.
On the other hand, the company representative was less than impressed with my efforts, particularly when it came to the matter of the second soldier. ‘Why didn’t you make more of