Stephen Leather - The Hunting

Strictly speaking it was supposed to be Raj who issued orders, but he was enough of a realist to know that operational matters were best left to the sergeants. Kershaw did at least look at Raj and give him a nod. Raj nodded back.

‘We’ve got company, Sarge,’ said Jimmy Belcher, who was manning the machine gun on the roof of the Mastiff. He pointed off to the south. Three sand-coloured pick-up trucks were heading their way. They were flying black, green and red Afghan flags and the men in the back were wearing Afghan Army uniforms. Two of the pick-up trucks had machine guns mounted at the rear.

Raj had a pair of binoculars on his belt and he used them to check out the vehicles as they sped along the road towards them. They were heading from the direction of an Afghan Army base, but ISIS often attacked under false colours. There were three men in the back of each of the trucks with machine guns, and half a dozen in the back of the third truck, which was bringing up the rear of the convoy. The vehicles looked legitimate and had the Afghan Army insignia on the side. The uniforms also looked right, as did the weapons the men were toting. Then Raj stiffened as he spotted an RPG in the hands of one of the men in the final truck.

‘They kosher?’ asked Kershaw.

‘I see an RPG,’ said Raj.

‘That’s not good.’

It wasn’t good at all. Rocket-propelled grenades were used against armoured vehicles or fortified defences, neither of which were used by ISIS, so it wasn’t the sort of weaponry carried by a regular Afghan Army patrol. Raj lowered his binoculars and turned towards Ahmad. Ahmad was monitoring Taliban radio frequencies and listening for any talk of ambush or attack. He shook his head. ‘No chatter,’ he said.

‘Tell the guys to …’ Raj was cut off by a hail of bullets from the lead truck that thwacked against the protective screen around Belcher. One of the rounds smacked into Belcher’s helmet and knocked him back. A second burst of fire hit the screen again and Belcher was hit in the throat. Blood spurted over his gun as he fell back, arms flailing.

‘Take cover and return fire!’ shouted Kershaw, crouching by the rear of the Mastiff. He started shooting at the approaching pick-up trucks.

Ahmad had ducked down and turned to face the Afghan cops, who were already scattering, most of them heading into the police station.

‘Tell the fuckers to return fire!’ shouted Kershaw.

Raj took up position at the front of the Mastiff, next to Cross. Cross moved to the side to give Raj room, knowing there was little point in firing his shotgun. The three pick-ups had fanned out, with the one in the centre heading straight for them, its machine gun firing full on. Raj took aim at the offside tyre and started firing single shots. Behind him, Ahmad began to shout at the cops. Malone joined Raj at the front of the Mastiff and began firing.

There was a whooshing sound from one of the trucks, and a puff of grey smoke. ‘RPG!’ shouted Raj. As the missile sped away from the truck, Raj realised it wasn’t heading towards the Mastiff – the police station was the target. He opened his mouth to shout a warning but there was no time. The warhead slammed into the side of the building, close to the door. Two of the Afghans who had been fighting to get inside the station were blown apart, and three others fell to the ground screaming in agony.

Raj looked back at the approaching vehicles. They were continuing to fan out and bullets from the machine guns were thudding into the Mastiff or whizzing overhead.

Two of the remaining cops had run around behind their pick-up trucks and were returning fire but they were doing it haphazardly, more concerned about their own safety than hitting the target. One was holding his gun up but keeping his head down below the side of the vehicle as he fired, unable to see where his shots were going. Another of the cops scrambled inside what was left of the police station.

Fire was starting to come in from the sides now that the pick-up trucks were further apart, and it wouldn’t be long before the jihadists would be able to shoot around the Mastiff.

Raj switched his aim to the truck on the left. So did Malone. Another Marine joined them – Billy McKee, a red-haired Scotsman on his third tour of Afghanistan. He grinned at Raj. ‘All go, eh Sir?’

All three Marines continued to fire at the pick-up truck, Raj aiming for the front wheel with three-shot bursts while McKee and Malone aimed single shots at the men in the back. Cross pulled out his Glock and joined in the shooting.

Raj heard shouting to his left and he turned to see the police captain standing by the shattered wall of the building, screaming as he fired his Kalashnikov from the hip, like the star of some second-rate action movie. In his panic he’d clearly forgotten everything he’d been taught about firing from cover. ‘Ahmad, tell him to get down!’ Raj shouted.

Ahmad started to yell at the captain but the moment he opened his mouth the officer was cut down in a hail of machine gun fire that practically ripped him in half. He staggered back and fell into the doorway of the station. The three cops who had been injured in the blast had all stopped screaming and their uniforms were glistening with blood.

Raj fired another short burst at the front tyre of the pick-up on the left. The rubber disintegrated and the pick-up began to veer from side to side.

‘Nice one, Sir,’ said McKee.

The pick-up flipped over and rolled twice before it came to a stop, white smoke pouring from under the bonnet. Two of the men in the back lay still on the ground but when the third got to his feet McKee picked him off with a single shot.

Raj switched his attention to the pick-up truck on the right, which was now heading directly for the Mastiff. He and McKee both aimed their carbines at the vehicle, but Kershaw beat them to it, firing three-shot bursts at the driver. There was another puff of smoke and a whooshing sound as a second RPG warhead roared through the air. ‘Down!’ shouted Raj and they all ducked. The warhead hit the Mastiff dead centre but the slat armour did its job and it exploded without penetrating the vehicle. The Mastiff shuddered and the noise was deafening, but within seconds the Marines were back up and shooting.

Two of the Marines had set up behind one of the police trucks and were firing at the truck to their left. They came under heavy return fire from the machine gun mounted in the back and they ducked down. Kershaw fired at the truck’s gunner, taking single shots, and the fourth hit the man in the head, blowing away the top of his skull. As the man fell back he kept a grip on the machine gun and the barrel swung up, the bullets heading skywards. The two Marines behind the police truck were immediately up, firing again.

Raj and McKee continued shooting at the truck that had fired the RPG. McKee took out one of the men in the rear of the truck, then Malone killed a second. Raj aimed at the front wheels and pulled the trigger but cursed when he realised he was out of ammunition. He ejected the magazine and slapped in a new one. His first burst hit the passenger door but his second hit the target and the tyre exploded. The truck slowed and Raj switched his attention to the passenger side window. The window disintegrated and after the second burst the truck came to a shuddering halt. There were only two ISIS fighters still alive in the back and McKee picked them off with two quick shots.

The third truck had come to a halt and two fighters jumped down, firing Kalashnikovs. McKee, Malone and Raj ducked as bullets came their way, then bobbed back up and fired off quick shots. Raj caught one of the fighters in the leg and the man fell to the ground. The driver and the front passenger got out and took cover behind their truck, then started firing at Kershaw. The sergeant moved back behind the Mastiff to avoid the bullets. Raj moved to the side to get a better angle but realised he’d immediately exposed himself to the fighter running towards them. The man’s Kalashnikov moved towards Raj but before he could pull the trigger McKee brought him down with two quick shots to the chest. ‘You’re welcome, Sir,’ said McKee.