First Into Action by Duncan Falconer Read Free Book Online

else was going to, I jumped up on to the lip of the ditch and shouted for each section commander to advance his men in staggered formation. Then I turned and led them into the wood. Although it was just an exercise I knew I would have done it for real. I had notched up another lesson in life. Whenever you drop down, and the odds are you will once in a while, use it to bounce yourself back even higher. But I was never destined to lead a section of soldiers into a battle like that. During my career in the British military, my involvement in every conflict would be in small teams, pairs, or alone.
    After the pass-out parade I walked up to my father feeling a little awkward, as he had never seen me in uniform before. When I got to him, the way he greeted me, I suddenly felt like a schoolboy again. He forced a smile and nodded his understanding of the whole charade then immediately moved on to the subject of times of buses and trains back to London. He never asked what the training was like, or where was I headed next. He wasn’t deliberately trying to be mean. That’s just the way he was. Why did I think my new experiences would change him at all?

2
    The second night I waited for O’Sally and his partner to appear, the wind had picked up. I was disappointed they had not showed the night before. Another lesson. Never expect. Patience is a special forces operative’s most important virtue, something I for one was not born with. Recognising its importance was easy. Nurturing it into a quality was hard. I was helped along by knowing the odds on them turning up tonight were now greater. I would wait quietly.
    As the wind blew erratically through the farm, causing noise and movement, it allowed me to shift my weight a little, which gave my aching backside some relief. But I was paying a price for that added comfort I had wished for. I had lost some of my advantage. The wind meant O’Sally could get closer before I could hear him. Swaying branches were no longer a warning signal. A new noise no longer proved life was close by. The ground around the old farm was littered with obstacles big enough for O’Sally to sneak up to and hide behind. There were piles of rubbish and foliage, pieces of rusting farm equipment and dozens of bushes and trees. A low stone wall came out from the far corner of the house and curved in a dog-leg in front of me. It would be possible for O’Sally to crawl close to my position behind the wall without me seeing or hearing him. A loose object was now constantly banging against one side of the building, like a hinged shutter. I thought through the several possible scenarios that could happen.
    The most important thing of all was not only did I have to get off the first shot, it had to kill O’Sally instantly, otherwise, even peppered with bullets, if he was not dead he would hang on to that trigger, set to full-automatic, and spray everything in front of him as he went down. Twenty bullets his magazine held, and it only needed one to hit me. The high velocity of an M16 bullet meant it would make a pinhole puncture in the front of a man and an exit hole the size of a frying pan in his back. That was the main difference between low and high velocity bullets if they hit you. If I did get O’Sally, what about the other man? He would no doubt be several yards behind and would likely bolt the instant there was trouble. I wondered if I should chase him, and if so, how far? Obviously not at all if he headed around to the front of the house, because the SAS lad would destroy him. I could not pursue him far into the fields either because of the danger of running into other special forces in the area. That could prove lethal for the hound as well as the fox.
    We were not always briefed on minor details. I was expected to work out the finer points and make decisions for myself. Regular soldiers are told when to eat, sleep and take a shit. Special forces are given the mission objective and expected to succeed in the