Dirty Deeds Done Cheap by Peter Mercer Page B

just started blasting away at anything that moved in a situation like the one we were now in. This is totally counterproductive, doing more harm than good. As you travelled through towns like these, some of the locals would often actually warn you of imminent danger and guide you away from what would almost certainly end up with the demise of some of your team in some sort of explosion or ambush. So it is always the smart option to keep some or as many locals on your side as possible.
    This can also be a double-edged sword, though, as they could quite as easily be leading you into some sort of a trap. You have to make a rapid risk assessment on the spot, but a good rule of thumb is not to go down any narrow streets that could end up in any unfamiliar potential cut-off points. If you’re on one of the main routes you can almost take it as gospel that there is going to be some sort of device that’s going to do you some real harm: take out, kill or maim your patrol. This was part and parcel of the job; there wasn’t a lot you could do about it.
    As we were getting to the relatively safe areas, adrenalin was now slowing down, so we stopped to assess and stabilise the injured Gurkha (poor little fucker). His injuries weren’t life-threatening and our medic did a fantastic job of patching him up. What had happened was that he’d had one round go through the right shoulder just below the clavicle – serious but he’d get to go home with a lot more medical insurance money in his pocket than he would have earned the whole of that year in Iraq, plus some great scars to show the girls when he arrived back in Nepal!
    Everyone was now buzzing from the contact we’d just gone through – and it is a massive, massive buzz – probably from the amount of fire being put down from the Iraqi insurgents. I think that, after this one, we sent quite a few of the insurgents off to paradise and I think the Yanks would definitely have to stump up for a new apartment building! All my company would have to fork out for would be a new wheel. With all of this gung-ho shit, you’d think you would want to be getting to a safe place as soon as possible, but I tell you what sometimes: do you fuck! ‘Bring it on’ was the case sometimes. The smell of cordite does get you going and you feel alive and invincible at times. Of course, it’s pure testosterone and adrenalin kicking in most of the time. Difficult to explain to some people, perhaps.
    As we’d now cleared the worst of it all, we were still on edge a bit, but our little colleague was fine. We’d had no further casualties so far and things were looking good. However, as we approached Mosul we had a bit of a scare – nothing serious but quite spectacular. While we’d been away, the insurgents had launched a combined attack on the Yanks. This attack had involved RPGs, mortars and gunfire. The Yanks in turn had called in a huge airstrike on them; this was truly awesome. We had to go firm, get defensive immediately, and then we settled back to watch the fireworks. To watch these fighter planes (F-16s) drop from the skies along with Apache attack helicopters sending guided missiles into houses is something awesome and was certainly better than Guy Fawkes Night. Our new puppy was completely oblivious to all of this and slept right on through it!
    After witnessing these dramatic airstrikes and with, no doubt, an untold amount of dead or wounded insurgents, altogether we’d had quite a busy day trying to get through what must be one of the toughest cities in Iraq. We hadn’t delivered our package or completed the mission, but we’d had no losses. Of course, one of the guys had sustained a gunshot wound and we’d had a blown tyre, but overall it was not a bad result.
    We were soon back in camp and we sent the wounded Gurkha off to the sickbay. He would in time, undoubtedly, be sent back to a hospital in Germany to recuperate and when he was recovered he’d be sent back to Nepal. At least he