‘Well, would be hard work, but some might flee. But if the rebels hit this block with RPG and miss us, they get the women and kids.’

  ‘If those women are kids are from the wrong tribe or faction they’ll be killed if they’re caught out on the city streets,’ I emphasised.

  ‘They’d kill the women?’

  ‘Damn right they would, and thousands died overnight north of us in factional fighting.’ I heaved a giant sigh. ‘Take a man, go down to the top floor, try and wake someone, then have those people warn the others, let me know if it’s successful.’

  He headed off.

  Swan took a shot, so I stepped to him. He sensed my presence. ‘Hit him in the shoulder, so he’ll bleed out.’

  ‘Could be more than one, stay sharp, and scan the other apartments.’

  ‘Wilco,’ Ginger called, knelt now with Mitch and aiming. ‘Man with binoculars looking right at us, 400yard shot.’

  ‘Take the shot.’

  He fired a few seconds later. ‘Poor chap, he got a face full of concrete.’

  ‘Keep looking for dickers,’ I loudly encouraged the men. I transmitted, ‘All teams, men on rooftops are watching us with binoculars, spot them and kill them.’

  Mouri appeared with bags full of chocolate, and biscuits. ‘I had them dollars you gave Slider, he said to go shopping, so we got chocolate.’ He handed out bars to the men.

  ‘How many dollars left?’ I asked him.

  ‘Plenty, it’s all cheap as fuck around here, Skipper.’

  ‘Then get a man or two, and get some bottled water, some tinned coffee.’

  ‘Shop has a good stock,’ he commended before he set off again.

  I transmitted, ‘Lieutenant Colonel Liban, I want you over here to coordinate the French teams and supplies.’

  ‘OK, I come over.’

  ‘Cover him,’ I told those lads nearby.

  He appeared on the roof the same time as Mouri got back, Greenie and Dicky, my lads having been shopping, water bottles stacked up, plus Nescafe in jars.

  Liban smiled at the supplies as he slung his rifle. ‘My men had cooked food last night, an old soldier who speaks French. He makes us French roast coffee.’

  ‘And that man’s political allegiances..?’

  ‘He hates all politicians,’ Liban said with a shrug.

  I led him to the north wall and pointed. ‘They will come down this street, so how do we slow them up?’

  ‘Slow up, or shoot them?’

  ‘Slow up, then shoot them, stop them running at us.’

  ‘They ‘av the guts to run at us, these blacks? No, I not think so.’

  ‘They think the President has fled, and that the people support them, and that they’ll be well paid.’

  Liban made a face. ‘Well, some motivated men maybe. We see, I doubt these blacks.’ He pointed. ‘We can move cars.’

  ‘The locals will not like that.’

  ‘They like it less with holes of bullets in,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Contact your men in the building site, please, ask if they are ready.’

  He walked to the west wall and used his radio for a ten minute chat. Back to me he said, ‘There is barbed wire near them, enough to block a few streets.’

  ‘Have them use it quickly, to stop anyone running at their position.’

  He stepped away to give the order, and ten minutes later I could see men down at street level two blocks ahead. They strung out the barbed wire and tied it off to fences, locals making enquiries as to what the men were doing, the locals soon fleeing south when told about the rebels.

  Greenie tapped my arm and I turned. He presented me with a steaming hot cup of coffee in a mug. ‘Guy had a water heater, coal fire under it. Water tap over there.’

  I could see the water heater set-up, smoke rising, lads attending it. I sniffed the coffee and sipped. ‘Good, keep us awake.’

  ‘Got milk and sugar,’ he added with a grin.

  Stood there staring down at the French, I sipped my coffee then shared it with Liban, seeing many men now nursing a mug, the chocolate being nibbled.

  Moran appeared and walked over. ‘You were right, in that they were terrified of me and slammed the doors, but one lady was a school mistress, and she’s rallying people down there to leave.’

  I nodded, and transmitted, ‘Wilco to all teams, have two men go down to the apartments below you and ask them to leave, that there will be shooting, and bombs and rockets. Ask anyone who is friendly to tell the other residents, we’ve done that here.’

  With many holes made, the lads were mostly laying down, someone’s laundry under them to cushion them, magazines out and stacked ready; we could now shoot men in the streets below without getting hit ourselves.

  As I started on my second coffee my phone trilled, the lads having borrowed a small fold-out table and three chairs to make a coffee area, cake having appeared from somewhere, Robby sat enjoying the cake. I pointed at him, then at my lips, and smirking – he wiped his chops as I shook my head at him.

  ‘Wilco, it’s Admiral Jacobs.’

  ‘Up and smelling the coffee, sir?’

  ‘I got five hours, feel good now, up to my eyebrows in coffee. Listen, we got your request for emergency supplies -’

  ‘No emergency request sent, sir, just a regular request.’

  ‘Well they worded like it was urgent, helos inbound. They got rations, grenades, some 66mm, water.’

  ‘We’re OK for rations and water, local people are selling to us, but grenades and 66mm will be most appreciated. Drop it on the first rooftop west of the TV station, we’ll distribute it from here, but the pilots will see men on many rooftops.’

  ‘OK, they’ll be there soon.’

  ‘Are you evacuating your embassy staff, sir?’

  ‘Not yet, is the answer, because we have boats near them and a shit load of helos, so a decision will be made – by you – when the rebels reach you. I understand they’re moving south towards you.’

  ‘That’s the intel, sir, but since they’re walking it could take hours. And sir, some could slip around us and move south.’

  ‘There’re British and French soldiers at some causeway, they’ve blocked it, got heavy weapons. Rebels will need to get across it.’

  ‘Yes, sir, the choke point.’

  ‘Good luck, chat soon.’

  ‘Seals for Major Wilco, receiving.’

  Slider, Moran and myself looked up and around, no helos seen. ‘Major Wilco here, where are you?’

  ‘Driving to the TV station, sir.’

  We all looked over the east side and down, and a column of civvy jeeps and buses was now coming up the road.

  I transmitted, ‘All teams, check your fire, friendlies coming in from the south. Seals, what are your orders?’

  ‘We’re ordered to join you, sir. Thirty something Seals and two platoons of bad-ass Marines, sir.’

  ‘Keep coming, to the TV station, and that TV station building is yours to hold. Get inside and have men up on the roof, it has a handy bridge across to us here.’

  ‘We see it now. Any hostiles nearby?’

  ‘There are people selling coffee, cake, and chicken, but no hostiles.’

  ‘Coffee and cake would be most welcome, sir.’

  I turned from the wall. ‘Mitch, Greenie, get down and welcome them, lead them into the TV station.’

  Mitch and Greenie jogged to the stairwell and disappeared. Many of us peered over the side and down as the jeeps and buses halted, men out, kit lugged, and they ran into the TV station – a glance at the blood and bodies still lying at the entrance. With all the men out, the jeeps and buses remained there, just blocking one side of the road.

  I glanced at Moran as he frowned down at the abandoned vehicles. Transmitting, I began, ‘Wilco for Seals.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘What you doing with those buses?’

  ‘Well, sir, we might return them tomorrow kinda.’

  ‘Send men back to drive them north a block to where the abandoned APCs are, and to block the roads with them. Pronto!’

  ‘OK, sir, moving.’

  Men ran back out to the buses, only this time not lugging any heavy kit bags. The buses revved and belched smoke, soon moving north around abandoned cars, and one block up to the APC. One bus turned left, soon a second, the final bus rudely reversing into someone’s civvy car before wedging itself between the squished car and the APC. The soldier had to clamber over the car to get back to us.

  Liban noted, ‘We slow them up some. 1st Battalion, they have barbed wire on five streets and some alleys, and they wish to inform you that if the situation is bad – they ‘av cement in bags to drop.’

  I laughed loudly with Slider and Rizzo.

  Stretch walked past with three 66mm and he plonked them down.

  ‘You hogging all the 66mm?’ I asked him.

  ‘Other lads are better snipers, so I’ll hit that bus when it’s surrounded by wogs.’

  I turned to Casper. In Russian I began, ‘Hey, hired assassin. You know how to leak the fuel from the APC?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then go earn your coffee, eh.’

  Complaining, he led his team down.

  I told stretch, ‘APC fuel will be leaking.’

  ‘It’s diesel, no flash and bang,’ Stretch complained.

  ‘Swifty for Wilco.’

  Go ahead.’

  ‘We see a column of men, mile away still.’

  ‘How many men?’

  ‘Fucking hundreds of them.’

  ‘All teams this is Wilco, you have twenty minutes to get some coffee down you, to have a shit, and to get ready!’

  ‘Seals for Wilco, look at the TV station.’

  I turned, soon seeing men waving as they broke windows. I transmitted, ‘I want the senior men assembled and on this frequency.’

  ‘Most are here, sir, and the Marines sergeants got the frequency.’

  ‘Those in the TV station, listen up. That building is a prime target for the rebels, they’ll want to make a broadcast, so you’ll see probing attacks all day. You also need to go floor to floor to check for the spies that were out and about last night, they have pistols and grenades.

  ‘You lot facing me, turn to your right.’ They did. ‘OK, that’s north kindof. Northeast of you one block is French Echo special forces. East of you ten blocks are British SAS. Behind you and right and left are American and British Lone Wolves, excellent snipers.

  ‘West, this building, is British Echo. Two blocks north and two west is French 1st Battalion, south of them are British SAS, west eight blocks are British Lone Wolves, so we’re spread out, at least twenty men per group on the rooftops, some rooftops offering more than thirty men.

  ‘We’ve cut the city centre and surrounded the TV station on purpose, to stop them moving south, and to stop them moving on the TV station. Seals and Marines, do not aim at the rooftops, aim down at the streets, black soldiers in green, AK47s and old FN SLRs, and maybe a few of them are in civvy clothes. Have men inside the main door, men in the stairwell, men on the various floors aiming out, all points of the compass. Sergeant Crab, you hear me?’

  ‘Go ahead, Boss.’

  ‘Have some of your men cover the TV station pavement, all sides.’

  ‘Got that covered already.’

  ‘Good man. Seals and Marines, don’t worry about street level below you, that’s our job. Each team that’s up on a roof here shoots at the street level of other teams, we cover each other.’

  ‘What about the civvies in here, sir?’ came an American accent.

  ‘Civvies? What civvies?’

  ‘The TV crews, sir, there’s like two hundred of them, they slept at their desks.’

  ‘Shit. Ask them to leave.’

  ‘We suggested that, sir, but they don’t want to go, and some want to film the action.’

  ‘Well … you can’t force them out at gunpoint, but point out the dangers. And don’t let them film our faces!’

  ‘I’ll talk to the boss man here again, sir, but he did hand us coffee and doughnuts.’

  Men around me laughed.

  ‘Soldier, were you bribed with coffee and doughnuts?’

  ‘Didn’t get any breakfast, sir, so I was weak and fell to temptation.’

  ‘Get settled in, you have fifteen minutes to the first shot fired.’

  ‘Mitch for Wilco, do we stay here?’

  ‘Send Greenie back, you stay there and liaise with me, you know our tactics. Get them ready, good snipers up high and facing north and northwest. Windows are already broken.’

  The drone of Sea Hawks had us all peer south, a line coming in.

  ‘Make space for them!’ I shouted. ‘Kneel and get ready to grab the kit and supplies!’

  The first helo loudly buffeted us as it set down, green kit bags tossed out, heavy bags placed down, twelve in total, a thumbs-up from the crewman and it slid forwards and off, hardly ten seconds on the roof.

  My lads grabbed bags and dragged them quickly to the side, the second helo already buffeting us, normal conversation drowned out, another dozen green kitbags stuffed full, some very heavy.

  Third helo, and a Major and Captain stepped down with heavy kit and they moved bent-double to the wall, soon kneeling. With the helo pulling away we grabbed kit bags, and I moved along to the men.

  ‘Who are you?’ I shouted.

  ‘Press Corp, but regular Marines.’

  ‘You’re in a war zone! It’s going to get nasty around here!’

  ‘Admiral Jacobs sent us, said you’d look after us.’

  ‘Yeah, and who’s going to look after me as I look after you, eh?’ I shook my head at them. ‘Go down the stairs, across the street to the TV station, American Seals in the building. Go!’

  They lugged their heavy kit across the roof and into the stairwell before the next helo hit, kit bags placed down carefully, 66mm seen, and now the roof looked cluttered.

  The next helo offloaded many bags, but also two men without rifles, two NCOs. I waved them over. ‘Major, we’re corpsmen.’

  ‘Good to have medics always, stay here, but the rest of the Seals and Marines are in that building.’

  They lifted heads to peek at the TV station.

  The final helo dropped off green water cans, hardly needed, and soon it grew quiet as the lads opened bags. Grenades were most welcome, and I had them stacked up and counted, soon sending men off to take grenade bags to other rooftop teams, Liban calling for his men to come collect grenades. And we now had hundreds of grenades.

  Seemed that we also had combat rations - few of my lads wanting them, green flysheets – not much use, first aid kits – always handy, and the water. Slider had six bags of 66mm lined up, so we were well stocked, Stretch coming in to grab another bag or two.

  The two medics were led to the stairwell. I told them, ‘This is your triage area.’

  ‘Is that blood?’

  ‘We shot local black soldiers yesterday, you might want to clean it down. Their bodies are … somewhere down there. There’s a water tap behind this housing, coffee and cake, so it’s not all bad.’

  They set about washing down the area inside the stairwell, their kit stacked up outside.

  I stepped to the wall. ‘Wilco for Mitch.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Send some boys over to get supplies; we have grenades, 66mm, and god-awful Yank rations.’

  ‘Skip the rations, Boss, we have sandwiches here, fresh sandwiches.’

  The echo of the French outgoing fire had us look northwest, Liban reporting 1st Battalion shooting at rebel columns on the coast road.

  My phone trilled. ‘Major Vilco, sir, it is Sergeant Tobo here on the telephone.’

  I smiled. ‘Go ahead, Sergeant.’

  ‘We see the soldier come, now five block north of TV station yes.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Oh, now only maybe a hundred men, sir.’

  ‘Do you see any tanks or artillery?’

  ‘No, sir, only dee man on dee pavement, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, we have many men here, and we’re ready.’ I transmitted, ‘Wilco to all teams, column of rebel soldiers five blocks north and moving south, one hundred men.’

  I stepped to the east wall and peered north up the street, soon seeing them.

  ‘It’s Nicholson, I see them, walking with rifles balanced on shoulders and thumbs up arses.’

  ‘Snipers get ready, silencers on, I want them stopped at three blocks without knowing where we are! Shoot officers and NCOs first.’

  ‘Mitch for Wilco, our snipers see the column.’

  ‘Wait for us to fire first, tell your men to hit officers and NCOs.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  Below me, I could see pedestrians wandering around without a care, but those civvies who spotted the column ran off, cars speeding past us and south.

  ‘Wilco to all teams, single well-aimed shots, don’t waste ammo, it’s going to be a long day!’

  ‘Swifty for Wilco.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘French hit men on the coast road, so those columns on the coast road have moved inland a block, now snaking along.’

  ‘Are they in range of your lads?’

  ‘Soon will be, yes.’

  ‘Let the French attract them, then hit the column from behind and the side, silencers on. “B” Squadron, same orders.’

  ‘This is “B” Squadron, we see them.’

  ‘Let the French in the building site fire first, five or ten minutes, then hit the rebels from the side.’ I made eye contact with Liban. He nodded, and got on the radio.

  As the French started to increase their rate of fire, no silencers used, my phone trilled. ‘Wilco, it’s Colonel Mathews, what’s happening on the ground?’

  ‘Seals and Marines arrived, say forty, they’re in the TV station, plus some press corp officers of yours. Rebels are four blocks north and northwest and moving in, we’re about to engage them.’

  ‘You got the supplies?’

  ‘Yes, sir, we’re well stocked, got fresh coffee and cake, locals looking after us.’

  ‘I’m following the action, reports from the positions south of you, a few spies in the city north of you.’

  ‘Any overnight reports on the factional fighting, sir?’