The Sixteen: The Sensational Story of Britain's Top Secret Military Assassination Squad Part 19

'Weve still got a little way to go to the pick-up point, we might as well head off there now before it gets any hotter, Spot said, checking our bearings.

As we trudged for a short while through the tall gra.s.ses and reeds, parting them before us, we disturbed thousands of flies and mosquitoes and they were becoming a real nuisance as they buzzed around our heads. I kept looking around for any signs of crocodiles but luckily saw nothing. Spot in the lead held up his hand and stopped us.

'The grounds too swampy to go any further.

He was right. As wed walked, the marshy ground had gradually become softer and wetter; my feet were now soaking and I was pleased Id coated them in veg. grease before wed left.

'Youre right, the hack could get bogged down in this lot. Wed better stay back there where the grounds a bit firmer, Chalky agreed.

We retraced our steps to the small spot where wed spent the night. It was slightly firmer and drier than the surrounding area and, hidden from view by the tall reeds, we sat chatting, eating a few dry 'dog biscuits washed down with lukewarm water from the canisters wed brought with us.

'Ken should be here any minute, Chalky said, scanning the horizon with his binoculars.

'Shh, listen! Dynamo urged. I strained my ears and could just make out the sound of the hack although I still couldnt see it. 'There, there he is!

Almost as he said the words, we saw the helicopter heading straight towards us from the west. It flew in right over our heads, its downdraught bending and parting the tall reeds and gra.s.ses, then abruptly turned and landed just a few yards away. We threw off our makes.h.i.+ft canvas coats and, picking up our bags, ran straight towards it and jumped in.

'What the h.e.l.l are you doing over here, you should have been half a mile west of this point? Ken said. 'Youre lucky I found you straight away.

Before we had time to reply or even sit down the hack was back in the air again and heading straight out towards the sea. Ken turned to look at us and gave us the 'thumbs-up sign.

Chalky did the same back to him and shouted, 'Mission accomplished!

Ken headed 140 miles east from our pick-up point, back to the fuel dump, where we refuelled and set off again without a hitch. We then flew NNW again back towards Cyprus where about twenty miles south of the island there was to be a boat waiting to pick us up.

We flew, skimming the waves once more, for just over an hour when Ken pointed ahead. Spot and I immediately picked up our canvas holdalls and strapped them across our backs like rucksacks, putting our arms through the handles and securing them across our chests.

Then we fastened two ropes above the doors on either side of the helicopter to balance our weight and at the given signal from Ken, abseiled down. The hack sped towards a small boat nearby as Spot and I hung just feet above the sea.

The boat was a blue-and-green cabin cruiser, which raced along underneath the helicopter in a cloud of white spray and downdraught. Spot and I dropped onto its deck and seconds later the other two came down directly behind us. Immediately the hack turned away eastwards and disappeared.

I didnt recognise the guy on the boat. It wasnt Lynch, but it was obvious that the other three knew him well, although no one spoke much as we sped off towards Cyprus. About three-quarters of an hour later, they dropped me off at a quiet beach a few miles outside Dhekelia while they went off with the boat. I had no idea why they did this but obviously, they had their reasons I didnt ask and they didnt offer an explanation.

'Just walk along the narrow road leading off the beach towards a junction, and then keep out of sight until we arrive with the jeep, Geordie, Chalky told me.

When they collected me, Id be taken back to the old hangar where I could leave the holdall and change back into my regular uniform.

Crossing the beach, I found the dusty track leading from it and made my way along it to the junction where Chalky had told me to wait. I sat by the side of the road. It was late morning now and scorchingly hot; I was parched and concerned about the effects of dehydration. Ken had given us some sandwiches in the helicopter, but the d.a.m.n things had been dry and tasteless, leaving me hungry and, above all, thirsty.

The cream theyd put on my face and hair to darken them was now uncomfortably itchy, but I couldnt risk scratching in case any of it came off. I was hot, tired and dirty and badly in need of a shave. Not too far from where I sat, I saw a gang of workmen, which seemed to be made up of soldiers and some locals. They appeared to be laying drains or mending the road and behind them stood a refreshment tent.

I suspected that some of the guys might be from 524 Company, but didnt recognise any of them. Although I knew Id been told to stay out of sight, I was so d.a.m.ned thirsty that I could barely swallow and was beginning to feel light-headed. I hoped that the tent would be empty, as they all seemed to be working on the road, and decided to risk going inside to get something to quench my thirst. Carefully hiding my holdall under a small bush near to the junction, I sneaked around the back of the tent keeping out of sight of the workmen, then pushed open the flaps and walked in.

The tent was fairly large and directly ahead of me was a table with a bottle of clear liquid standing on it, which I presumed was lemonade, together with a couple of gla.s.ses and some empty c.o.ke bottles. To my left was a canvas part.i.tion, which restricted my view of the rest of the tent and I couldnt hear anything due to the racket from a d.a.m.n generator standing not far away outside.

I didnt have any money on me and as there didnt appear to be anyone about, I decided to pinch the bottle of clear liquid.

As I got near to the table, I looked to my left around the end of the part.i.tion and saw several British soldiers dressed in work fatigues standing drinking at a long table, which was covered with empty bottles and gla.s.ses, as were several other tables nearby. Unfortunately, they were inside taking a break and as soon as they became aware of me, the atmosphere instantly changed and became hostile. The general hum of conversation ceased and they all stared in my direction.

One tall, overweight soldier glanced over his shoulder at me then turned around and picked up a cola bottle from the table.

'What the f***ing h.e.l.l do you think youre doing, you cheeky wog b.a.s.t.a.r.d? Why are you in here? he yelled at me aggressively, brandis.h.i.+ng the bottle.

In my desperation to get a drink, Id completely forgotten the way I was dressed and how I would look to them! Another two standing at a nearby table began to move towards me, one of them holding a crowbar in a threatening way. I knew these guys werent going to let me out of this tent without serious trouble! They obviously thought that I was a local and as such had no business in a British servicemens refreshment tent. The recent terrorists activities on the island that had caused the deaths of several British servicemen and civilians, and especially the bombing of a crowded NAAFI, had seriously soured relations between the armed forces and the locals.

Oh h.e.l.l, I thought. I shouldnt have come in here!

I couldnt speak to them to let them know that I was actually British too, it would have simply drawn further attention to me and how could I explain the way I looked and the fact that I was dressed in ordinary trousers and a white s.h.i.+rt?

Suddenly, matters were taken out of my hands as the tall soldier rushed towards me, the now-broken cola bottle in his outstretched hand and I instantly reacted without thinking. I was still wearing my sash, my hand hit its quick-release and it shot into action, smas.h.i.+ng the bottle in his hand and catching his leg on the back swing. He instantly dropped onto one knee groaning, as I spun around and broke every bottle and gla.s.s within range on the nearby tables. The guy with the crowbar and his pal immediately backed off with looks of horrified and shocked amazement on their faces. I let the belt recoil back around my waist and secured the safety catch with one touch.

The tall guy on the floor was screaming his head off in agony and I was furious with myself for reacting the way I had against British soldiers but Id felt that I had no choice. If Id spoken to them, I would have given the game away. I quickly turned around and left, grabbing the unbroken bottle of clear liquid from the table by the tent flap on my way out.

On reflection, I realised that none of them would have realised exactly what had happened because it had all been over in a flash. The time between my releasing the sash and replacing it had been so brief, I knew that theyd only be aware of a swis.h.i.+ng noise followed by bottles and gla.s.ses exploding all around them as if by magic, just as I had been when Id first seen it used on the turnips. Besides, as most of them had instinctively ducked to s.h.i.+eld themselves from flying gla.s.s, they wouldnt have a clue how Id done it, but it would certainly give them something to talk about later!

As I swiftly left the tent, I took a large swig from the bottle Id grabbed. But instead of quenching my thirst, to my horror the clear liquid immediately burned my throat and took my breath away. Ahead of me, I saw the jeep standing waiting at the junction and I ran towards it, collecting my bag from under the bush before I jumped in. When I looked back, no one had followed me out of the tent.

'Jeesus, what was in that b.l.o.o.d.y bottle? I gasped, spluttering and grabbing at my mouth and throat, which both felt as though they were on fire.

'What the h.e.l.ls the matter with you, Geordie? Whats this? Spot said, s.n.a.t.c.hing the bottle from me.

'You daft sod, youve just had a swig of one hundred per cent proof vodka! he spluttered and then burst out laughing. 'Now you know what its like to drink liquid paraffin! How the h.e.l.l did you get this anyway? You were supposed to stay out of sight, young man! he said, still laughing as he threw the bottle away.

'I was parched and didnt have any money, there wasnt anyone around so I just grabbed the first thing I saw from that tent over there, I explained.

I couldnt tell them what had really happened, I was too embarra.s.sed. Id never touched alcohol before and I was now more determined than ever that I would never touch the disgusting, foul stuff again!

The jeep bounced off down the rough track and I began to feel ill. My stomach was burning and I felt very sick. The three of them fell about when I explained that Id thought I was drinking lemonade.

When we arrived back at the hangar, I couldnt get to the water quickly enough!

We put our equipment away and I changed back into my regular tropical uniform after first taking care that Id got rid of all of the make-up I was wearing. Four hours later, after some lunch, I was taken back to where my lorry was parked. Once again, all the paperwork was in order to confirm where I was due to be picked up by the working partys truck.

Id been away for less than two days and, apart from the usual banter, no one on the truck took the slightest notice of me, let alone suspected that Id just been all the way to Cairo and back!

CHAPTER 10.

A LOW PROFILE.

After the tension and excitement of our operations, camp life was difficult to take. As in all army camps such as this, soldiers generally endure long periods of relentless boredom, broken only by routine daily tasks. This largely depended on what you were consigned to do. Outside working parties for instance, mainly consisted of digging latrines, putting up marquees or building roads for other regiments. While those who remained back at camp were generally a.s.signed to tidying the place up or work in the cookhouse, which meant endlessly peeling potatoes or cleaning dixies, the only exceptions being those a.s.signed to guard duty.

Outside working parties would usually have a corporal in charge of them and those who remained in the camp would be under the command of a sergeant. As a result, it wasnt easy to 'disappear without someone noticing unless you were sent out of our camp on detachment to another. Due to the nature of our regiment, this often happened, sometimes for a couple of days but often for weeks at a time. Other than being off-duty, the hours spent travelling between the camps was the only time when a regular soldier would possibly have a period without someone of rank being there, until they arrived at their a.s.signed camp, where once again someone would be in charge of them.

On the occasions when I was sent on detachment, I presumed that this had to be arranged by someone of seniority who could fix it so that the camp I was supposedly a.s.signed to would not be expecting me, thereby making it possible for me to 'disappear. I believed that these orders would have to come from somewhere to my CO specifically asking for me to be a.s.signed to these detachments, otherwise my camp would naturally send whoever was available, not me specifically. And I often wondered what the reaction to this by the officers and NCOs at 524 Company must have been. Having said this, Ive seen better-organised building sites than the British Army, so it possibly wasnt so difficult to arrange after all!

I constantly wondered about the logistics of this and felt that there had to be someone at my platoon who ensured my name was regularly put onto the list of off-site workers. It could have been the CO or perhaps he knew nothing about it, maybe a junior officer or even a sergeant compiled the working party rosters. I hadnt a clue whose job it was to organise these lists but I knew that someone had to be given orders regarding my whereabouts. It was the only explanation I could come up with but, obviously, I couldnt ask anyone about this.

And I would often look at some guy or other, an officer or NCO, and wonder whether they had something to do with it, if perhaps they were the one who organised it. Two officers in particular were quite pally with me, Captain Myers and Lieutenant Stevens, and they, for some reason, always seemed to take a keen interest in what I was doing, but then they were also fairly friendly with most of the men, so whether they had any knowledge of what I did or not, I never really knew. Then there was this sergeant called Lupton, who had a peculiar way of walking as if he had springs in his heels. He always seemed to be near the gate whenever I arrived back at camp and always made a point of speaking to me.

'Enjoy yourself, Geordie? he would ask me. 'Had a good holiday?

He always seemed to single me out but I think that was just his way of being reasonably friendly towards me; again he never really gave me any reason to suspect that he knew anything about my whereabouts out of the camp.

Ken had warned me at my initiation into 'The Sixteen that from that point onwards I shouldnt think too much about the organisation of things, or ask too many questions. He knew that I would be curious and want to find out more but advised me that it would not be in my best interests to try, that I should just accept the ways things were.

At first, I couldnt fathom out why 'The Sixteen would recruit someone from a general working regiment such as mine rather than from an 'active regiment, but all I was ever told was that it would have been virtually impossible to organise if Id been in any other. In time, of course, I realised that the way in which my regiment operated totally suited their purposes but I never found out whether I would have still been recruited if Id been in another outfit or whether theyd only looked for likely candidates in regiments like mine.

Another thing that really baffled me was how my death would be explained if I was killed on a mission, miles away in another country, or wherever it happened. What explanation could be given if I was supposed to be on detachment at another camp yet that camp had neither doc.u.mentation nor knowledge of my being consigned to them?

But then, I supposed, someone like me being found out of uniform, miles from my unit, would probably be easy to cover up by claiming that Id gone AWOL and was a deserter. n.o.body would suspect anyone from my type of unit as being part of any special force.

Ken was right, I shouldnt think about it too much, it was too mind-boggling, and I wasnt going to come up with any answers, so eventually I tried to give up thinking about it, it was pointless wasting time trying to fathom it out. It was obvious that the powers-that-be knew exactly what they were doing and had every angle covered.

Even so, it was difficult sometimes not to wonder about it all. They had encouraged me to think differently, for myself, to question everything and to only believe half of what I saw or heard. They had educated me and Id changed drastically as a result. Id grown up and the shy, stammering eighteen-year-old had disappeared along with his innocence. For all I looked much the same physically, inside I was a completely different person and even my strong Geordie accent was quickly disappearing.

When I first got back from Beirut its difficult to explain exactly how I felt it had been so exciting and I couldnt believe what wed just done. As Spot had said, something incredible was happening to me. I believed that nothing was beyond our capabilities, there was nothing we couldnt do, no task we couldnt handle. With my combat skills and all of the other tricks theyd taught me, I truly believed that nothing could touch me. So, when I returned to camp it felt as though I was walking into a graveyard, everything was so deadly quiet, everyone just lounging around.

It was much the same after our Cairo mission, and for several long months afterwards my life settled into periods of mind-numbing boredom at camp or undetected periods of intense training and practising with Dynamo, Chalky and Spot.

I lived for the time I spent with them, and crazy as it may seem, I believe I was becoming addicted to living on the edge. Looking forward to the excitement and adrenalin rush of the risks we took was the only thing that made the long, boring ch.o.r.e of life around the camp in-between times bearable.

Although I knew I was now a very different person, I still had to pretend to be unchanged when I was with my pals in 524 Company. I didnt find this too difficult, as I would sometimes be with them for only an hour or so in the evening before they went off for a drink to the NAAFI. However, it was more awkward if I was sent out on detachment with them and was around them for a greater length of time.

During these periods, I would frequently go with them to the NAAFIs at other camps and often found it difficult to restrain myself if they got into any trouble, which happened quite regularly, as it was generally considered an amusing pastime by other regiments to 'take the Mickey out of the Pioneer Corps.

On one particular occasion, just before my first job up in the Troodos Mountains, a few of us were on detachment working at another camp and decided to visit their NAAFI. This consisted of a large tent about thirty by seventy feet, with a bar, tables and chairs that was frequented by lower ranks and some lesser NCOs. The bar had a jukebox and besides beer and soft drinks it also sold hot dogs and light snacks. Some of the larger camps had several such marquees.

Generally, people bought their drinks and went outside but on this occasion the tent was especially crammed with upwards of sixty personnel from a number of different units and regiments, including RAF, marines and some Americans. Apparently a few of the records on the jukebox had recently been changed by some Greeks and word had spread around that theyd managed to get a copy of a record about the late Buddy Holly, 'The Seven Stars. This had been banned by his mother after his fatal aeroplane accident, and naturally, because it was banned, everyone wanted to hear it. The Greek blokes had pressed several numbers on the jukebox so we had to wait until these records played through before the banned record came on.

As usual, I was drinking orange juice, unlike my pals and the majority of those around me. As the evening wore on and the beer flowed a disagreement broke out between one of my pals and some RAF personnel, sitting at a table behind us. It was obvious to me that something was about to happen but, despite my efforts to try to calm the situation down, my pals continued to swap verbal insults with the guys on the other table.

I just wanted to get out of the way and avoid any possible trouble. 'Look, come on you lot, lets take our drinks and go outside, I said.

They were playing dominoes and didnt want to leave.

'No, just stay here, forget about them.

'Come on, Geordie, have another c.o.ke.

'Aw, dont worry about them, we can handle them.

'Theyre just a bunch of poufy Brylcreem Boys, anyway!

The guys at the other table didnt let up either, as more people crammed into the hot, smoky marquee.

'Hey, whereve you left your f***ing pick and shovel, chunky?

The insults were coming thick and fast and I knew that things were quickly going to get out of hand.

I was trying to concentrate on what my mates were saying to me while at the same time keeping an eye on what was happening at the table behind us. Suddenly, one of the RAF blokes stood up and grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher, brandis.h.i.+ng it above his head. It was obvious to me that he intended to bring it down on the head of my pal, who was sitting next to me with his back turned. Swiftly standing up, I disarmed the RAF guy, cracked him across the jaw with the fire extinguisher and let him fall to the floor.

There were several corporals and some sergeants in the tent, and as I didnt want any trouble, I quickly propped the extinguisher against one of the tent poles, grabbed the guy, dragged him back to his table and flung him into his seat.

'And dont you lot get any bright ideas, either, I said, leaning across the table to warn his mates. 'Otherwise Ill stick my pick right where it hurts!

I quickly sat down again, hoping that in the smoky crowded tent my actions had been too quick for anyone to see what happened properly. Unfortunately, this wasnt the case.

'Whoa, what are you on, Geordie? Ive never seen you do anything like that. I didnt know you had it in you! Give us a swig of what youre drinking, mate, the guy sitting next to me said and slapped me on the back.

'I didnt do anything, I just helped him back to his seat, I said, trying to make light of the situation.

'Helped him back to his seat? one of my other pals, exclaimed. 'Nearly put him through it you mean!

As he was sitting across the table from me, hed watched the whole incident and immediately began to tell everyone what hed seen.

'He was like a b.l.o.o.d.y robot, honestly, you should have seen it! he went on. 'Ive never seen anyone move like that, show us what you did, Geordie.

'Dont be daft, stop b.l.o.o.d.y exaggerating, I told him. 'I didnt do anything, he was drunk and overbalanced when I made a grab for the extinguisher. He must have hit his head as he fell.

But the guy was nowhere near as drunk as the others, and was far from convinced by my explanation. He shook his head and kept on saying hed never seen anything like it. Luckily, none of the others had really seen anything, there had been too many people around and all theyd been aware of was just a bit of a commotion behind them. Besides, they were so used to my general lack of involvement and avoidance of trouble that they all considered me a bit 'soft. Unconvinced by the guy across the tables explanation of my involvement, they quickly lost interest in the whole thing and went back to their dominoes and drink.

'Dont be daft, theres no way Geordie could have done that.

'Nah, hes just a lucky b.u.g.g.e.r, the other guy was p.i.s.sed!

The image that I was so careful to project of myself as being shy and quiet had helped me to bluff my way out of a potentially difficult situation. It also helped a lot that Id always been a bit of a loner, normally keeping myself to myself, trying not to attract too much attention. Years of stuttering had seen to that.

Whats more the atmosphere in the tent was still pretty tense and it was obvious that it was going to get worse with the amount of beer that was being drunk. Besides, it was stifling, as more and more people shoved their way inside and the air became thick with smoke, and heavy with the smell of beer and perspiration. It wasnt too difficult now to convince my pals to go outside, it was much too crowded in the marquee. My training taught me that I always needed to be in a position where I could see exactly what was going on all around, so I was glad when they agreed to come with me.

We moved well away from the entrance to the marquee and sat on the ground with our backs against the piles of sandbags surrounding it. Although there was a lot of activity going on around the camp, compared to inside the marquee it was fairly peaceful. The light was just beginning to fade and the air was calm and relatively cool. We sat with our drinks listening to the records playing then voices began shouting excitedly: 'This is it, this is it! Everything went quiet as the long-awaited record began to play.

'Look up in the sky... As the gentle melody began, we settled back to listen to the softly singing voices. The song was full of emotion, in remembrance of the pop stars who had lost their lives on the ill-fated flight Buddy Holly, the Big Bopper and Ritchie Valens.

'...Theyre s.h.i.+ning so bright, from Heaven above.