The Forgotten Land (39 page)

“Yeah,”
replied Scott.

“Think
so,” said Matt.

“Yup,”
was Will’s weak reply.

Heleena
did not reply. She was curled up in the foetal position in the corner of the
cave, sobbing and shaking.

“You’re
safe, it’s okay,” Will said gently, stroking her back. He gently rolled her
over and pulled her into his arms. “It’s over.”

“Such
loud noises, I thought I would die!” she wiped the tears from her face.

Will
realised she spoke of the exploding bombs they had heard. He also knew there
would be a lot for Heleena to learn about this modern world. Some of it
frightening.

“Radio’s
still here, thank Christ!” Matt said. He took his first aid pack off and
shrugged on the heavier radio.

*
* * * *

Thormdall
head butted the dying warrior and pushed him away. He staggered forward into
the next attack, and kneed the man in the groin before slicing deep into his
jugular. Pushing the Badawark from him, Thormdall roared a prayer to Odin and
waded into the Badawark assault.

“Keep
together! Keep the wall intact!” roared Olaf.

The
Badawarks were fighting desperately now. They were making no ground against the
Varangian shield wall. The Badawark warriors broke off and ran. Henry charged
after them with a mighty cry, hacking two of the enemy down. The Christian
soldier continued sprinting after his adversary and clumsily speared a third
through the back. He cleaved the Badawark to death on the hot sand.

“That
is for my soldiers,” Henry snarled, then he spat on the corpse and turned back
to the cave.

“You
fight well,” said Thrane as Henry walked back. “My God is on my side,” replied
Henry.

“How
wrong you are,” grinned Thrane. “But you still fight well,” said the Varangian
holding out his hand.

Henry
sheathed his sword and shook.

Thormdall
was dead. Not only had he killed the Kadark, but he had fought his way out into
the middle of the Badawark charge. It was estimated that he had killed more
than forty of the enemy. His corpse, along with the other Varangian dead, were
taken back into the cave. The remaining Varangians began praying over the dead
warriors, sending them swift and true to Odin and his hall of heroes in
Valhalla.

*
* * * *

They
were still enveloped in blackness, but holding onto each other. They walked out
of the opening and into the tunnel which led them up towards freedom. Several
times they slid, tripped or misplaced their feet, but finally now they could
see light at the end of the tunnel.

Squinting,
and with Matt’s hand clasped on his shoulder, Steve walked free of the tunnel.
The bright sky assaulted his eyes. Holding his hand against the bright light
and protecting his vision, Steve could see their Land Rover in the cave. But,
leaning over the vehicle and rummaging through their bags was an Iraqi soldier.

CHAPTER
19

Steve
crouched in the rear of the cave to watch the enemy soldier. The Iraqi was
pulling something out of the Land Rover. He struggled with what appeared to be a
belt and as he put his body weight into it, the belt snapped away and he was
able to disconnect the pouch he had wanted. Realisation struck Steve. The Iraqi
was not looting the Land Rover, he was looting Dave, their dead comrade. Anger
coursed through him. Scott, who had also witnessed the event, pushed past Steve
with a growl of fury. Steve tried to stop him but the soldier pulled free.
Hatred burned in him hotter than any melted steel, and he drew the knife
Thormdall had given him. Scott leapt forward with a roar. The Iraqi stumbled
towards his rifle, but Scott was upon him before he could reach it. The Iraqi
soldier grabbed Scott’s knife and tried to pull it from him. The two men fell
to the ground and Scott dragged the curved dagger free of his opponent’s grasp.
The weapon cut the Iraqi’s hand to the bone. Scott plunged the sharp blade into
his adversary’s throat, sawing the blade violently until hot blood spurted from
the wound.

“Fuck
you, cunt!” Scott roared.

Steve
pulled Scott to his feet and pushed him away from the dead Iraqi. “Calm down!”

“Fuck
you!” Scott screamed at Steve. He spat on the dead Iraqi and was about to bring
his boot down on the corpse’s head when Steve threw him to the ground.

“Calm
down!” Steve said. “I agree with you, the bastard deserved to die, but keep
your noise down, we got enemy coming up on our position. Get your shit in a
sock, mate, there’s plenty of killin’ to go around.”

Steve
was looking at the cave mouth and realised that it had not been a land slide
that had blocked the entrance but an avalanche of snow. Outside the bright sun
had worked its magic and the snow had melted leaving a muddy mess. Beyond the
cave mouth in the distance, the small forms of enemy soldiers could be seen
moving in their direction with a sense of purpose. Meanwhile, Matt and Will
were reassembling their weapons, grabbing spare ammunition from the vehicle and
loading their weapons. Matt also took a couple of spare radio batteries and
stowed them away in his webbing.

Whoever
the Iraqi soldier was, his comrades had heard the shouts and were making a
beeline for the cave. They were still some distance away, but contact was not
far away. The familiar rectangular obelisk with strange looking symbols jutted
some five feet out of the ground near the cave entrance.

Steve
reassembled and loaded his weapon then crawled forward on his stomach to the
mouth of the cave to keep a watch on their advancing enemy. Scott climbed
aboard the Land Rover and dismounted the mag 58. Making sure the heavy
machinegun was fully loaded, he leapt down from the vehicle and made his way
forward.

“You
got any 40 mil ammunition?” Steve asked Will.

Will
nodded.

“Good,
see that fat bastard on the far right?” Again Will nodded, grinning as he
watched a large Iraqi soldier struggling up the incline towards the cave. “I’m
gonna shoot him first, and continuing shooting. When you hear my first shot, I
want you to pump two 40 mil rounds down range. Scott, while this is happening I
want you to provide suppressing fire to add to the confusion. Matt, you’ve got
a good scope on that sniper rifle, see if you can identify the officers and
higher ranking soldiers, and drop ‘em. Once there’s absolute chaos amongst
those bastards, we’re gonna start fire and moving forward to better cover. See
that rocky outcrop?” Steve asked looking at the other three soldiers. They
nodded. “That’s where I want to end up.”

“Any
questions or disagreements?” asked Steve. There were none.

“Well
then, let’s kill them,” he growled.

Heleena
had both her knives ready. She was also on her stomach beside Will. The Norse
woman had regained her composure.

“You’re
not going to need those,” Will said.

“Will
I not?”

“Nope,
there’s no way you’re going to get close enough to them to use your weapons.
Like us, this enemy can also kill from afar. Just stay with us, and for
Christ’s sake stay low to the ground.”

She
reluctantly re-sheathed her weapons and watched the approaching enemy
curiously. There were close to fifty Iraqi soldiers advancing upon their
position. Looking beyond them, Steve saw that in the time that they had been
gone, what was left of the Iraqi Army in this area of the country had relocated
and erected a small tent city on the closest side of Barzan.

The
time travel had not been perfect, but then worse things could have happened.
Steve cocked the M4 and flicked the safety catch off.

Taking
out fifty soldiers was one thing. But with the element of surprise, it would be
possible, especially with a heavy machinegun and grenade launchers. Steve knew
it would raise the alarm in the small tent city, so the Australians could have
anywhere up to several hundred Iraqis bearing down upon them.

“You
got your radio Matt?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,
new battery’s in, all I can find is the British channel though,” shrugged Matt.

“Better
than nothin’,” said Steve, watching the fat Iraqi come closer. Will pushed a 40
mil grenade into the breach of the M240 grenade launcher which was attached
underneath the barrel of his M4 rifle. Closing the breech with a snap he
flicked out the grenade sights and stared down them. Will would not miss, and
whichever poor bastards the grenade landed amongst had only a short time left
on earth. Both Steve and Will had 40 millimetre grenades laid out near them to
ensure they did not need to delve into pouches in search of ammunition.

“Any
call sign, this is Bravo One, over,” Matt spoke into the radio handset.

Steve
ran back to the Land Rover to pull out a map of the local area.

“Any
call sign, any call sign, this is Bravo One, this is Bravo One…over.”

Steve
dived to the ground beside Matt, laying the map out in front of him and
pointing on the map to their present location.

“Bravo
One, this is Alpha Seven Four,” replied the strong British accent, “go ahead,
over.”

“Bravo
One, we are an Australian call sign at grid 2149 1720 and about to come in
heavy contact with enemy. Need immediate exfil, over.”

There
was an extended pause, then, “I acknowledge your last Bravo One, hold your
position, more information to follow, over.”

“Bravo
One, understood, out.” Matt clipped the handset back into place and ran a hand
over his face. “We’ll be fuckin’ dead by the time they get back to us,” he
chuckled drily.

“Ye
of little faith,” said Scott, cocking the Mag 58 and settling the heavy
machinegun into his shoulder.

“Keep
your ear out for that radio, mate,” Steve told Matt, “I’m about to start the
party, okay?”

“Righto,”
replied Matt . “Let’s go home.”

“My
thoughts exactly,” replied Steve, staring down the ACOG scope of his rifle,
nestling the overweight Iraqi into the middle of his sight.

The
Iraqis were still battling up the hill towards them, but the Australians had
not yet been seen. Steve stared down the rifle scope, with the target reticule
ascending and descending over the chest of the fat Iraqi. Taking a deep breath,
Steve fired two shots in quick succession. His target crumpled to the ground.
Scott’s mag 58 spoke in thundering bursts, tracer rounds showing the fall of
shot as the bullets ripped through flesh, drilled through bone and sent Iraqi
soldiers to whatever afterlife they believed in. Shortly after an explosion
threw several soldiers from their feet, leaving two dead, another five bleeding
and screaming.

Steve
was firing a shot a second, some rounds missed, stitching the earth or thudding
into trees near his target, but most of the bullets found their mark. Will’s
grenade shrieked down to a group of Iraqis sprinting towards a large boulder.
It exploded violently. None survived.

The
mag 58 went silent. Scott flicked the weapon open and put a new length of chain
link ammunition onto the feed plate. Slamming the cover down and re-cocking the
weapon, he fired into a small group of soldiers who had peeled away and were
half crouching, half running, desperate to flee the fight.

Three
more grenades had exploded amongst the Iraqi advance whilst Scott had been
reloading the machinegun. The Iraqi soldiers had been reduced to a bedraggled
twenty men. They were behind cover and their inaccurate return fire slammed
into the cave walls and ripped through the air above the Australians’ heads.
Heleena was pressed against Will’s body, she was shaking with fear and he knew
that to her, this must seem like a battle between gods. The grenades had
stopped for the time being. Steve and Will were now shooting at, and around,
where the Iraqis were hidden. This tactic reduced the Iraq’s return fire and
made them more hesitant to lean out from cover to take aim. The louder, deeper
sounding M110 sniper rifle fired occasionally and within the opening minutes of
the firefight the Iraqi chain of command would have been cut to ribbons by
Matt.

Not
able to take any more, two Iraqis sprinted from cover and ran back towards the
tent city in the far distance.

It
was the worst thing they could have done. The fire from the Australians
intensified for several moments and the lifeless corpses of the Iraqi soldiers
ploughed into the ground.

“We’re
just wasting ammo here!” Steve shouted over the noise. “I’m gonna move forward,
cover me!”

The
others nodded as Steve sprinted forward and dived to ground behind the thick
trunk of a tree. Glancing out from his position of cover Steve fired several
times before he was running forward again and disappearing behind a small
boulder. He gave a thumbs up, signalling for the others to move forward. The
remaining Australian soldiers with Heleena following Will, took turns firing
and moving forward until they had advanced substantially upon their adversary
who were still taking half hearted pot shots.

The
Australians were in extended line, but spread out at least thirty metres. Each
of them hunkered down behind cover, shooting sparingly but accurately. Spotting
a group of Iraqis wedged behind a fallen tree, Scott sprinted forward,
supporting the mag 58 with both hands. He leapt onto the trunk of the fallen
tree clumsily and opened fire, killing the five soldiers in seconds. Two other
Iraqi soldiers who had been lying behind a nearby bush spotted Scott and both
opened fire simultaneously. But the bullets whirred and ripped around Scott as
he threw himself backwards off the fallen tree. He landed on his back.

“You
all right, Scott?” shouted Steve.

“Yeah,”
Scott grunted. “Fuckers,” he muttered.

The
enemy return fire was dwindling. Some of them tried to make a run back to their
camp, but were hammered from their feet by Australian bullets. The Australians
fired and moved methodically forward, fighting through their enemy position,
only to find them dead. Some of them were shot again to make sure. It was not
uncommon for enemy soldiers to fake death as they clenched a grenade or mine in
their hands, hoping for an allied soldier to venture closer. Steve was taking
no chances.

Only
one Iraqi soldier had survived, and he had taken cover at the furthest edge of
the fire fight. He stood firing his AK-47 from the hip. He was dead before he
hit the ground. The Australians advanced to the rocky outcrop which Steve had
originally ear marked as their main position. They reorganised in silence. Will
was sent back to the Land Rover. The fuel tank had been pierced in several
places by bullets and diesel soaked the ground. Although the vehicle would not
start, Will managed to push it out of the cave and using the force of gravity,
clumsily reversed it down the gentle slope. The vehicle was as close to the
rocky outcrop as he could get it. They refilled their magazines with ammunition
and cleaned their weapons. Steve dismounted the .50 cal machinegun from the
Land Rover.

Matt
had the remaining 66 rocket launchers from the Land Rover. There were eleven
left and these were shared amongst the soldiers. They had no doubt that the
distant tent city was aware of a disturbance and that they would soon be
mobilising.

Steve
had a two-hundred round belt loaded into the mag 58 and another thousand rounds
nearby. They were determined to put up a strong fight, and if they were overrun
they knew they would fight in a way that would make Odin proud.

“Bravo
One, this is Alpha Seven Four, over,” the British voice crackled into Matt’s
radio handset.

“Thank
Christ for that,” breathed Steve.

“Alpha
Seven Four, This is Bravo one, over,” Matt replied.

*
* * * *

“This
is Alpha Seven Four,” spoke Corporal Stuart Evans. “Hold your position, I say
again, hold your position, we will have an exfil for you by sundown, over.”

The
British communications room was a-buzz with noise, not only because of the
small Australian SAS patrol, but with hundreds of other multinational units all
over Iraq. Stuart was under the command of a chubby warrant officer, Scott
Blamey, who in turn was under the command of Captain Jason Otter. The British
communications centre room was around six metres wide and fifty metres long; it
was full of computers, telephones, radios, printers and faxes. Out of the one
hundred and fifty personnel who worked in the building at any one time, only
five were not on radios or telephones. There were also eight supervisors who
walked up and down ensuring that the centre ran smoothly and efficiently.