Andy McNab - Crossfire

'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 gone.

I gripped Dom, the stench of shit burning deep into my sinuses. 'This is as far as we go, all right?'

He pointed frantically to a fallen wall about fifteen away. 'There, Peter, look!'

A body lay motionless in the half-light, face down on the wasteground.

Pete started filming. With his camera's night-viewing capability he could see better than we could. 'He's got one round through the nut and there's an AK next to him.'

Dom spotted another body sprawled on the road further on, just before the warren where the patrol must be. The snipers couldn't have missed the fuckers at that range.

SA80s stuttered behind us back in the street. Pete arranged Dom at the edge of the alley so he had the body in the background. Dom started gobbing off to camera in hushed and dramatic Polish.

Above us, another sniper added to the soundtrack. It was going to be award-winning footage.

Pete was still filming as a burst of AK screamed out of the warren. The rounds zinged over our heads and into the walls behind us.

Pete jerked the camera away from Dom. 'Tel!'

I turned to see a body staggering out of a half-demolished building and into the wasteground.

It was a Rifleman – the dome of his helmet was silhouetted against the distant glow. He stumbled a few steps more and fell.

Pete pushed the camera into Dom's hands and legged it across the wasteground.

'Pete, stop!'

Either he couldn't hear me or he didn't want to. I shoved Dom back against the wall. 'Stay here!'

I tried to gain ground and catch up with him but it wasn't long before my boots were sinking into calf-deep puddles of sewage.

The Rifleman lay prone on the ground. Sniper fire cracked off above us. The rest of the patrol was now engaged in a contact inside the warren. As long as they kept the fire going I could get Pete and the Rifleman – if he was still alive – back into cover.

Pete was bent over the body. I fell on my knees next to him. Sewage splashed up my Osprey.

Pete must have spotted Terry through the viewfinder. The boy groaned.

'Pete, he's OK, he's alive. Come on, let's get him up.'

Terry had taken a couple of rounds into his front plate. The force would have knocked him to the ground, but he wasn't injured, just bruised. He lay there in shock at still being alive. 'Fuck… fuck…'

For Pete it was relief.

'Get up, both of you. Come on!'

I grabbed Pete as a scream from the snipers told us to get out of the killing ground. They cracked a couple of rounds over our heads.

I looked up towards the warren as a body dropped just metres away. His AK hit the ground before he did.

More bodies poured from the darkness. They weren't firing.

'Run! They're going to lift us!'

Pete and Terry were on their feet. I pushed them on through the stinking mud as the snipers tried to cover us.

It was too late.

An arm appeared from behind me. Then I felt hot breath on my neck and a head against my shoulders. He tightened the armlock, and the world was full of grunts and stale tobacco. His weight was dragging me down. The Velcro of my PRR ear pad ripped away and fell to the ground.

Other bodies swarmed over Pete and Terry but they were going down fighting. There was nothing I could do for them until I was free.

The screams, gunfire and Warrior engines receded into the background as I jerked left and right, pushing my head back to nut him, anything to get the fucker off me.

My knees buckled. I fell to the ground and he collapsed on top of me. I kicked, pushed, punched, anything to get him off so Barney – anyone – could take a shot.

I kicked out but this boy was massive and he kept hold. Wet with shit, his hair slapped against my face. We tumbled into a shallow ditch. I made a grab for his head and tried to butt him.

We rolled over and over in the shit puddles. I saw the stars, and the next thing I knew my face was in the mud. I tried to keep my mouth shut, but I had to breathe. It was like holding your mouth and nose as a kid after taking a deep breath, then carrying on until it becomes unbearable and keeping on going a few seconds past that.

I felt a stabbing pain in my eyes and ears. I felt pressure in my chest and throat. I thrashed and bucked, but only succeeded in burrowing my head further into the slime.

My body was telling me to breathe, but it wouldn't let me inhale water. I jerked and convulsed like a madman. After ten or fifteen seconds more I felt like I was in a vice that was being gradually tightened across my breastbone and spinal column. Water seeped into my lungs, my body was a mass of pain and I knew I was dying.

I didn't even sense the other body appearing above us, or jumping down into the ditch, or the boot that must have come in fast and hard and smacked against the Iraqi's head. All I heard was a bone-crunching thud, then the man crushing me spasmed and relaxed. Next thing I knew, his weight was pulled off me. My lungs roared as I filled them with air.

Another kick barrelled into my assailant as I gulped and coughed.

The boot was Pete's. I could see him through the blur of mud and shit that covered my face. And then I heard the loud bang as he followed up with just one round from Terry's weapon into the Iraqi's head.

'Staying down there all night, mate?'

His free hand was outstretched. He hauled me to my feet.

Sniper rounds whistled overhead, thudding into the warren. I fought for breath and spat shit from my mouth.

A few metres away, Terry was kicking another dead body off him. He scrambled to his feet and stepped over the one Pete must have dropped.

'Man on! Man on!' The screams came from the snipers.

I spun round to see more bodies closing fast.

Pete didn't miss a beat. Terry's SA80 went straight into the shoulder. 'Go, go!'

I turned and ran, pushing the boy ahead of me. Pete put down a series of short sharp bursts that punctuated the stream of sniper fire above me.

I stopped halfway and turned back, letting Terry go on. AK muzzle flashes strobed in the darkness as Pete kept firing.

'Enough, Pete. Come on!'

My body jerked as if somebody had swung a pickaxe handle into my chest. I was hurled back. My hands were flung into the air and I fell, pain searing my arm. The force spun me round and I crumpled, face down.

I lay there, a bundle of pain, fear and disbelief. Like Dom with his invisible forcefield, I'd thought I'd never get shot again.

I didn't have as much as a nanosecond to start crawling before Pete caught up with me. He managed one short burst before he ran out of rounds.

He dropped the SA80 into the shit next to me and his bony hands grabbed my good arm and pulled. His grunts sounded louder than the gunfire.