Andy McNab - Battlefield 3 - The Russian

‘Button it, Montes. Just try and do the job, all right?’

All the way along the main drag westwards from the border they had seen giant posters of Al Bashir pasted on to billboards.

‘Should be keeping them off the streets and in their bunkers.’

‘Trouble with quakes, brings everybody out the buildings.’

‘Cole says the satellite images are showing a big exodus north. Should just be us chickens.’

‘Yeah, real cosy: just us and the PLR high command.’

Closer to their position, on the edge of town, PLR loudspeakers were pumping out the voice of Al Bashir, intermittent bursts of Farsi penetrating the barrage over the city.

‘ . . we will claim back. . with swords we will strike down the invader. .’

Black nudged Matkovic, who also knew a bit of Farsi.

‘He’s gonna need a lot more than swords when we ride into town.’

Matkovic twitched.

‘He don’t shut the fuck up I’m gonna stick it right up his loudspeaker, man.’

In front of them at the bottom of the hill, on the other side of an overpass, was an apartment building. On the upper floors, the PLR were setting up a machine-gun nest.

Black stiffened, pointing into the darkness down the hill.

‘You see that?’

‘Fuck these NVGs.’ Montes threw his goggles on the ground. ‘Preparing to strike Tehran and we’re fresh out of batteries.’

‘Gun trucks coming in.’

Matkovic stood up and peered at where Blackburn was pointing. ‘The fuck did they come from? We’re not even in overwatch position.’

A convoy of five Humvees were headed on the western approach into the city. Cole slid under the camo and snatched up the radio. ‘Haymaker actual, this is Misfit actual, we do not have target secured. Say again, target not secured. Hold your position, over.’

Silence from the radio. Cole’s temperature was rising.

‘Come the fuck on, Brady.’

Hearing the name, Blackburn and Montes exchanged looks.

‘The Brady Bunch are rolling into town! We’re saved.’

Loved and loathed by equal numbers, Lieutenant Brady had a reputation for pushing his men hard, a habit of putting his own interpretation on orders — and if there was any glory going, grabbing it for himself. A tank-shaped thirty-two-year-old who seemed to have been in the army since he could walk, Brady was the opposite in every way of the wiry, cerebral Cole.

When the answer finally came, Brady’s voice was distorted with interference and full of impatience. ‘Misfit 2, we are not stopping. So you better get your ass in position and cover our advance, out.’

‘This is so fucked up.’ Cole shook his head and got back on the radio. ‘ All call signs Misfit, we are mission launch, repeat we are mission launch. Hold your position, out.’

The hill came alive as forty plus marines erupted from under the camo net and moved downhill towards the overpass. In Black’s group, Montes and Matkovic led the way, Campo coming up behind with the mortar. As soon as the squad reached the cover of the overpass, Cole was on the radio.

‘ We need illumination rounds in the air like now, needed down range now.’

Before he had finished speaking the first enemy round came in. Blackburn jumped forward into the scrum of men erecting the mortar, grabbing the tube and angling it.

Campo had the carry case. He slid out the white round with black markings. ‘Direct lay. One round illumination. Half load. Elevation one zero niner.’

‘Round up!’

Matkovic adjusted the charges at the base of the round.

‘Round up.’

‘Hang it.’

He slid the round into the tube and held it near the rim.

‘Hangin’.’

‘Fire!’

In one fluid motion Matkovic slammed the round downwards and ducked below the muzzle. A bright flash of light illuminated their position for a split second before the round popped high above them and lit up the entire area.

They found cover behind a low wall, with the overpass and a ditch between them and the apartment block. It was already heavily damaged by the tremors, the whole structure listing to one side, lumps of concrete swaying on twisted metal rods. The few trees still standing were shredded and leafless. They moved forward to the first wall between them and the building. A mortar swept in and one side of the wall disappeared in a cloud of debris. PLR troops swarmed out of the destroyed structure.

Black was first over the remains of the wall. On the other side was a concrete sewer ditch. There was nowhere to go but down into it. He flattened himself against the opposite side, away from the PLR fire.

Montes jumped down behind him.

‘Welcome to Tehran. Please leave the facilities in the condition you found them.’

He tapped Blackburn on the shoulder and pointed. Beyond a pile of rubble that had blocked the canal downstream, the carcass of a cow lay on its side, bloated with gas.

‘Better not hit that.’

As he said it the carcass took a direct hit, drenching them in foul smelling fluid.

‘Shit and shit again.’

‘You said it, man.’

A flare drifted past, illuminating a machine-gun nest on the second floor. Blackburn poured fire into it as they ran to the side of the building.

‘Frag their ass. I’ll cover. Get that grenade out.’

Montes ripped out the pin, doing a split second check to see that he had both ring and pin, and lobbed the grenade. The machine-gun nest dissolved in a cloud of concrete.

The Humvee column had now advanced beneath the overpass and had made a left turn into the city. A wrecked Nissan truck, half obscured by the rubble from a demolished building, blocked the way. Blackburn was fifty metres away. He could see Lieutenant Brady yelling while half a dozen of his men tried to remove the obstacle. Two gunners gave cover from the Humvee’s turret-mounted machine-guns.

Montes closed up behind Black.

‘Dickhead shouldn’t have gone ahead. What’s up his ass?’

Brady spotted them.

‘You, what the fuck you looking at? Get down here and help move this fucking wreck now.’

They started to run towards the convoy as one of the Humvee gunners keeled over. Brady pointed up at where it came from.

‘Suppressive fire. Now!’

Montes, Matkovic and Campo fired into the building. The blockage was cleared. Brady was back on the radio to Cole.

‘ Misfit 2 this is Haymaker actual, I need back up here right now, over.’

They heard Cole’s reply on their headsets.

‘ They’re yours, over. ’

Brady pointed at Black.

‘You, you’re riding shotgun with me. Climb aboard soldier. Next stop Ministry of the Interior. Let’s go get a piece of Bashir.’ Brady heaved himself behind the wheel, Blackburn beside him. ‘ This is Haymaker actual, we’re Oscar Mike to the Ministry, out.’

‘ Haymaker actual this is Misfit actual, Eagle eye reports personnel running in and out of building. HVT must be secured, repeat secure, copy?’

‘ Roger, good copy. Out.’

Brady grinned at Black.

‘Let’s go fetch.’

They rolled past another set of PLR bullhorns, still blasting Al Bashir’s message. Brady swerved into them and laughed maniacally as they were flattened under the Humvee’s wheels. Then, without warning, a car appeared right in their path where the road narrowed. Brady flattened the brakes.

‘ Ambush! Back up! Back up! ’ An RPG whistled over them followed by fresh gunfire. ‘ Everyone fall back!’

The convoy shuddered to a halt. Brady’s turret gunner poured fire into the car and it erupted in flames, but the bullets were still coming from a window above. Precious seconds went by as each vehicle engaged reverse, while fire rained down on them, dust filling the air as tracer rounds ricocheted into the sky. The turret gunner screamed and slumped to one side, his face gone. Brady grabbed Blackburn by the shoulder.