They laughed as the Major said, ‘I think you got the wrong briefing on being a Major in the British Army.’

  ‘Also, we’ll soon be losing Major Bradley, but gaining a new officer in charge, a brigadier. The existing colonel in charge of the SAS, Colonel Dean, will be coming here to keep an eye on us, once promoted to brigadier. He will have oversight of the Wolves, “E” Squadron men, stores here, territorials, lots more happening here these days. You will show the correct respect or get a punch to the head from me.

  ‘As most of you know, the veteran Lone Wolves are now based here - save them causing trouble at their parent units, and they will probably accompany us on most jobs we do. And, in amongst the next batch of British Wolves are some shit-hot guys that may join Echo. Slider, I know you’re down a few men, and the Russian speakers can step in for now if needed.’

  I pointed at Henri. ‘Jacque?’

  ‘He has left the Army, yes. At least, his time is on paper.’

  ‘Henri, you’re running out of places on your head to get shot.’

  With the lads laughing, Henri touched his scarred bald plate. ‘I get a wig, no.’

  I nodded. ‘OK, we’ll need some extra bodies, and if there is a need we have externals with the RAF Regiment and our Wolves. And, following my complaints, the Pathfinders officers will be replaced with some that want to see action and not just march up and down.’

  ‘About fucking time,’ Rocko gruffly noted. ‘They’re not pulling their weight.’

  ‘We hope they will in future,’ I told him.

  Rizzo asked, ‘That newspaper still going to print some shit about us?’

  ‘I think they have other things on their minds right now,’ I told him, getting a look from the Major, a few lads snickering. ‘They suffered a mishap, their offices destroyed. And, whilst discussing the media, they’re making a film in America about Camel Toe Base. Rizzo, they couldn’t find anyone to play you.’

  The lads laughed loudly at Rizzo.

  ‘Who are playing us?’ Ginger asked.

  ‘I would assume British actors,’ I told him. ‘We wait to see how they portray us.’ I faced the men. ‘OK, most of you are assisting with the Wolves, but when you have some time I want fitness worked on. Sergeant Major, work up the fitness for this lazy bunch, ready for Sierra Leone, I want some laps. Veteran Lone Wolves, you’re with Swifty, who is now the Staff Sergeant responsible for you, Sergeant Crab is 2ic.

  ‘Intel remain, rest of you head off and do some work.’ I waited till they had loudly filed out, the Intel staff taking seats left warm from the lads. To the Army Intel personnel I said, ‘Colonel Dean will be with us soon, as a brigadier, one day a week at the UKSF Directorate, and you’ll answer to him.’

  ‘Why the seismic shift?’ Major Sanderson delicately nudged.

  I sighed. ‘The Army would like to control this base and the men here, yet we were created by Intel for Intel, and the credit goes to Intel for pushing us along. The UKSF Directorate has been sidelined, and London Intel gives us jobs directly, despite the fact that they shouldn’t, so this is a step towards appeasing the Army, but also a recognition that a base of this size with this many teams needs more oversight.

  ‘We have the Wolves here now, soon to be thirty men, and that’s not a platoon, that’s too big even for a detachment, and we have the territorials using this place and the stores here, so there’re lots of loose ends to tie up, sir.’

  ‘You called him, sir,’ the Major noted.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re a major now, get with it.’

  ‘Right, sir,’ I said, getting a look from the Major. Hiding my grin, I said, ‘OK, we have some new developments, namely the Wolves. If Intel thinks that a close observation of a place is needed, perhaps the bad boys have hostages, perhaps there’s a terrorist training camp, then the Wolves can and should be used for sneak and peek, so keep that in mind.

  ‘The Army have already asked for them on the Kenyan-Somali border, so we’ll probably send them. What’s needed ... is the admin support for them back here and the intel support. If they’re on the border then feed them intel and check their progress, and we need a command and control centre, 24hrs, that’s ready to send a rescue team for a Wolf in trouble.

  ‘I want Army Intel to shoulder that burden, working hand-in-hand with Mi6, because Mi6 cannot be seen to be controlling the movements of the Wolves too much. So, if you think there may be hostages in a certain village, request a Wolf or two to go have a look, plan their transport - and their rescue if needs be.

  ‘And there’ll soon be thirty of them, a sizeable force, and a four-man team can go look at some place for you. If a certain road has many kidnappings or shootings you can ask to place a team above that road for a few weeks, so don’t be shy.

  ‘Now, the Americans would like us to look at Somalia again, a firm nudge that way, and we’ll probably run an operation similar to Camel Toe Base on Somali soil, so start looking at the intel there, and along the Kenyan-Somali border.’

  Mutch put in, ‘There’s increased activity in northern Sierra Leone, gangs hanging out on the Guinea side that need to be shot and buried, a few kidnappings of western mine workers, no demands as yet.’

  ‘OK, so let’s do this by the book. You put a report together with a suggestion of action, send it to Colonel Dean and the UKSF Directorate and to myself, all three names at the top. Let Colonel Dean and the UKSF Directorate look at a map, men in Sierra Leone, and request our men or Wolves.

  ‘Gentlemen, in the absence of a panicked phone call ... that is the way we should do it, and if we have nothing else to do then let’s do it that way and keep the MOD happy. And I’ll be in Sierra Leone in two weeks time, and the recruits can cut their teeth, so it dove-tails nicely.’

  Major Sanderson said, ‘Bit of a shock, you doing things by the book.’

  ‘He’s a major now,’ Major Bradley cut in. ‘Must be thinking like one.’

  I faced Sanderson. ‘If the system worked as it should I would never circumvent anyone or stretch the rules. In the past ... a hostage rescue took a year to plan, and then failed to get off the ground. What happened here in recent years was born out of two things. One, Mi6’s desire for a good newspaper headline. Two, my desire to get hostages home to their families. That synergy worked well, and all parties got what they wanted.

  ‘Now, today, we have input from the Americans and the French, the Cabinet Office, a different ball game, more eyes on my every movement, people using phrases like the big picture. This next move, to Somalia, is politically led, led by American politics. Some, in high places, want my time spent chasing down elusive terror groups and not rescuing a dozen mine workers.’

  ‘And if you give in to that pressure?’ Captain Harris asked.

  ‘I hope ... that the Wolves, Echo lads, French Echo, and others are ready to go get the hostages I might have been looking at. Fact is, the Army wants me teaching green-field soldiering, Intel wants me getting them good newspaper headlines, but few want me rescuing hostages save the families. My time is split many ways, but with more men I can do more, I can plan a mission and send a team instead of sending myself each time.’

  ‘My god, he is thinking like a major,’ Major Bradley quipped.

  I smiled. ‘I had great tutelage from you, sir.’ He shot me a look. ‘OK, Intel teams, I want a 24hr rota set-up, I want a list of phone numbers drawn up, I want the men’s individual sat phone numbers and the Wolves, the RAF, the French, the Americans. Think as if you were to run another operation like Camel Toe Base, and in Somalia you might.

  ‘You must know at all times where every man on this base is. If a Wolf is loaned to Intel his name is flagged, the list altered, and maybe we have six Wolves with Intel and four in Kenya. At any one time you must know exactly where they are, and not just what country they’re in; I want map coordinates, state of supplies, wounds.

  ‘Same for my men, we need a movements board, like the Navy in World War II, so get organised, and I want a summary sent to the UKSF Directorate each day, even if it simply says “no change” to yesterday.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we could have the situation a few weeks from now where we have Wolves on three separate jobs, my lot on two separate jobs, all requiring careful planning. For each team on each job we need the local intel and the local weather. Colonel Dean will have his input as to how you run that.’

  ‘Will keep us busy and active,’ Captain Harris noted.

  I told him, ‘Get large maps for the walls, a large table to place models on, toy soldiers, start thinking like World War II, and let’s avoid the fuck-up where we leave a man behind someplace. You also have to consider the French base in Mauritania, the FOB and the teams in Sierra Leone, and the teams in Liberia, as well as Camel Toe Base ongoing.

  ‘At any one time, the MOD, or the Colonel, will want to know who is where, what’s going on, what are the issues. Liaise with Credenhill regarding their men, who will be on rotation to those bases listed, and as we speak there’s a “G” Squadron troop enjoying the pool at Camel Toe Base.’ They laughed. ‘No, seriously, they made a twenty metre pool.’

  ‘They did?’ Captain Harris queried.

  ‘Yes, and it’s a gap in your knowledge that you never knew that important fact. Call the senior British officer there, get a sitrep every day, same for the FOB and Mauritania.’

  ‘This will keep us busy,’ Harris complained.

  ‘As opposed to you complaining that you have little to do and that I cut you out the intel loop..?’

  ‘You do cut us out,’ he complained.

  ‘If you need more people, get more people, the MOD won’t say no,’ I told him. ‘And all of you, get some pistol work in and stay sharp, ladies and all, take no risks around here, and when you leave here drive alternate routes, go around in circles, never drive directly home.’

  An hour later, as I sat talking paperwork with the Major and Moran, O’Leary stepped in. ‘A Green Beret is at the gate, says he’s posted here now.’

  ‘Ah, I did ask, yes – guy who can fly an Mi8 helicopter. Bring him over.’

  Moran asked, ‘He’s checked out on the Mi8?’

  ‘Hundreds of hours,’ I responded as I stood. ‘But I still want you flying, Cessnas and helos, good to have pilots in with us.’

  Outside the hangar a car pulled up, and I recognised the man from Camel Toe Base. ‘You took your time getting here, Sergeant,’ I said as he eased out.

  ‘I had a holiday, some stitches to heal, sir.’

  I waved over Rocko as he walked towards us. ‘Sergeant Major, room in a hut for this man, he’ll work with Echo, Slider’s troop. I want UK style kit for him, a briefing on this base.’ To the Greenie, I said, ‘What do they call you?’

  ‘Moby.’

  ‘We’ll call you Greenie, keep it simple. This is Sergeant Major Rocko, not a man to be fucked with, do as you’re told. Move your car, get sorted, we’ll chat later when you’re settled. Find Slider, you’re in his troop now.’

  ‘Slider I remember, tall guy.’

  ‘Yes. Thank you, Sergeant Major.’

  ‘Sir,’ came back, odd to hear from Rocko.

  Back in the Major’s office, I said to O’Leary, ‘Get that Mi8 helicopter back, the one in Essex, lessons for the Greenie and Captain Moran.’

  ‘There’s a Wolf that can fly, Intel has been giving him helicopter lessons as well.’

  ‘Great, get him on it as well.’

  Sat down, Moran said without lifting his head from a file, ‘Everywhere we go there’s an Mi8, shooting at us or available to us.’

  I nodded. ‘If we had one in Africa, a good pilot, my Russian speakers could fly into a place and look legit.’

  At 4pm I found our Greenie in British greens, but wearing his own distinctive boots, Wolf recruits jogging past in a group. ‘Settled in?’

  ‘Got a room, sir, got a uniform and webbing, and I’ll get some time on the Valmets soon.’

  ‘You know about the film crew in New Mexico, a recreation of the battle at Camel Toe?’

  ‘Yeah, two of our guys are playing themselves, Army falling over themselves to cooperate.’

  ‘Who’s playing me?’ I asked.

  ‘Got some New Zealand guy that sounds British, they said.’

  ‘And how accurate will it be?’

  ‘They got the timeline down to the minute from the Pentagon, who are supplying men and machines and paying fuel.’

  ‘The Hollywood propaganda machine,’ I quipped.

  ‘People don’t realise, sir, that the Air Force has an office in Los Angeles, fifty staff, there to help the studios.’

  ‘So long as the US military gets a say in it..!’

  ‘Sure, and if they don’t like the script the studio has to hire all the hardware at top dollar. If the studio alters the script it gets all the hardware they want free of charge.’

  ‘Our own military is moving that way, they love to show off, good for recruitment.’

  ‘In the States they showed that two-hour special about the Brit para drop in Liberia.’

  ‘The man who led it, Lt. Col. Marsh, will become head of the SAS very soon, our landlord here.’

  ‘Be good to meet him after watching the film. So what’s the plan, sir, as far as I’m concerned?’

  ‘You’re now part of the team, you go where we go, you get a mission like Camel Toe every month.’

  ‘Every month? Shit...’

  ‘We don’t sit around, Sergeant. Oh, and we have an Mi8 coming here for you to practise on, my Captain Moran flies it, but not that well. You can help him.’

  At 8pm I sat down in my lounge and joined Swifty. ‘How’s it going?’ I asked him.

  ‘I got the files all up to date on what they specialise in, and I never knew what strange things they were good at. One is shit hot with computers and Intel is teaching him to steal information from computers. Another is shit hot with radios, they all speak a language, one even speaks Serbo-Croat, and four have had advanced lessons on bomb making and bomb disarming.’

  ‘Next time we do a job, remind me of those skills, we could make use of them.’

  ‘They’re a good bunch, happy to be away from their old regiments, but the simple fact is ... they like working with us, rather than lonely jobs for Intel.’

  ‘It’ll be a mix for them, plenty of team work, some solitary missions.’

  ‘I picked out a route across The Green, the para drop zone, very flat and no features. They’ll have to zig-zag and find objects left behind, count paces, judge distances.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And I booked coaches for a trip to Brecon Wednesday morning, night out and back Thursday, a good leg stretch. I remember the route I did when I first got to Hereford, route they use at Fort Wannabe.’

  ‘Green Beret arrived today, same guy was at Camel Toe, and he can fly an Mi8.’

  ‘Ah, that would be handy, yes.’

  At 9pm I led Swifty to the large recreational centre, finding Echo lads lounging around or playing pool for money, a few of the veteran Wolves here.

  Nicholson told me, ‘Tomo is a bit of a pool shark, but Henri is taking his money.’

  I had a look at the tea and coffee area, finding it well stocked, and at the back of the large room sat a video machine and projector, a group of lads watching some old Vietnam War movie. To one side sat a bookshelf stacked with second hand paperbacks bought in Oxford, most of them military fiction, but a shelf had been set aside for technical books and language books. A large map of North Africa hung on a wall, the map six feet across.

  In the smaller recreational centre, the portakabin, I found a dozen Wolf recruits sat diligently studying. ‘Don’t get up,’ I told them. I had a peek at their homework. “You have a truck that goes 20mph, fuel for 3 hours, twelve men, two are wounded...” I smiled as I remembered the scenario.

  I clapped a hand on the shoulder of recruit Murphy. ‘All healed up, Murphy?’

  ‘Yes, sir, but they said not to do anything too hard till next week or so.’

  ‘All book work this week, then first aid, so you have time to heal yet.’

  ‘Fellas from the film studio came and interviewed me, sir, and the Air Force, about the film they’re making. Said I was ordered to cooperate.’

  ‘Film in New Mexico, yes. Hope they get it right, and leave out bodies with hands sticking up.’

  The recruits all laughed quietly as they attended their homework.

  The next day I observed as Major Sanderson organised the main Intel room, now a busy hub, a large central table with a map of North Africa as big as the one hung on the wall in the recreation centre. Small models depicted the bases in Mauritania, Sierra Leone, Liberia, as well as Camel Toe Base.

  On the wall now hung three white boards edge to edge, men listed in green marker pen, Echo on the left, then the Wolves, columns drawn up for wounds; holiday, active position, and specialist skills. Next to the Wolves they had detailed the various languages and skills.

  Pinned to the walls were lists of phone numbers, the main numbers for the MOD listed, the RAF, as well as the various bases in Africa. It was starting to look organised.

  Captain Harris told me, ‘Starting next week we’ll have a new 24hr rota, a bit ad-hoc at the moment. And we’ll have camp beds next door for when there’s a job on.’

  ‘How’re things with..?’

  He awkwardly replied, glancing around, ‘We have the new house to keep us busy, she doesn’t mention the security issues here.’

  ‘Maybe she’s hoping you’ll get shot,’ I teased.

  A lady captain nearby laughed and turned away, getting a look from Harris. ‘I hope not, is all I’ll say. Things are ... stable.’

  I offered a few suggestions regarding the battle board and their planning before I left.

  After lunch David Finch called. ‘We think it best if the line manager for the Wolves was down there, since you’re creating a command and control centre. He’s a bit detached up here.’

  ‘Is he single, or in a difficult marriage?’