slammed in a fresh one, hit the release catch for the working parts to go forward, and swung back into position. Pete moved behind him, filming over his shoulder.
Dom tugged at my arm. 'Let's go.'
Another bright burst of AK lit the alley mouth and thudded into the command wagon. Pete turned back to Dom. 'Go forward? You got a death wish, Drac, or what? We'll get enough good gear here.'
Before he'd even finished, all hell let loose on the PRR. The snipers had seen more Iraqis moving in.
16
Dave didn't want to know about the dramas, he just wanted a body count.
Barney got on the air. 'Five. But we got groups of two or three moving all over the arc.'
'Wait out. Boss – Chindit?'
You could have heard a pin drop on the net. Nobody was going to talk over the top of those two.
'Chindit now mobile.'
It was hard to see exactly what was happening in the dark now the street-lighting was dead. Riflemen ran all over the place. Contacts could be heard left and right, as well as beyond the buildings on both sides of the street. Shouts and screams of command filled the short lulls when the Bulldog guns weren't firing. I didn't try to work out what was going on. It's always best just to get on with your own stuff.
An eight-strong Rifleman patrol came up behind us, panting and sweating, just as the wagon's gunner aimed a long burst at the end of the road. My ears rang. Empty cases tumbled off the hull and clinked on to the crumbling tarmac.
The patrol's NCO yelled at the gunner. 'We're moving into the alley, crossing your front!'
The last thing they wanted was a blue on blue.
Pete filmed them as they hunched behind the Bulldog, waiting for the gun to stop. 'All right, Tel?'
Pete had the handheld up to his eye. He couldn't use the hinged screen like a tourist because of the telltale glow.
Dom got into reporter mode. 'Can you tell me what's happening?'
The NCO didn't bother looking at him or the camera as he replied. His eyes switched between the road and the gunner, who was still firing. He had to force the words out as he tried to regain his breath. 'We're going to go down the alley and bomb-burst out the other side of the building. We got movement in cover over there and the snipers can't get 'em – so we're going to flush 'em out.'
Pete put the camera on Terry, but only for a second before our gun stopped and the NCO legged it. The patrol followed. I watched the last man, the little Manchester lad, as he ran across the street and veered right, up towards the alley mouth. Blue cyalumes hung off buildings either side.
There was no need for discussion. Dom was already on his feet and about to follow.
I restrained him as another long burst came from the other side of the buildings, and checked he and Pete still had IR cyalumes gaffered to the backs of their helmets. 'You've definitely bent those things?'
They nodded. I kept low and followed the patrol, who were well ahead of us now. An RPG kicked off to our right and flew straight down the middle of the road. It slammed into a building fifty metres further on and exploded. Lumps of concrete rained down on us. When I looked up again, the last man was disappearing into the alley.
'Come on, quick!' We needed to get there before they were swallowed into the darkness.
I stopped at the intersection.
A dull glow shone along the alley from the street a couple of hundred beyond it. It was about two metres wide. Rusty metal doors and barred windows lined both sides. The ground was strewn with litter, rubble, puddles, dog shit. The patrol was nowhere to be seen. They had already bomb-burst out the other end.
We crunched our way towards it. Dom needed controlling. He'd switched on his forcefield again and was surging ahead.
'No one goes any further than the end, OK? We've got snipers above us and we don't know what the fuck's going on out there.'
Pete snorted. 'You won't have to tell me twice, mate.'
Dom got there first. He was scoping up and down as I joined him. Out there somewhere was the distant rumble of Chindit Company's Warrior tracks. Immediately ahead, across about thirty metres of sewage-covered wasteground, lay a rabbit warren of side-streets, ramshackle buildings and bomb-blasted sewers. That was where the patrol must have