The Network - Jason Elliot [46]
The interior of a vehicle, unless it’s armoured, offers no protection at all, which makes getting out fast a priority. H explains that a high-velocity round has no difficulty going through the body of a car and that the only part of a normal vehicle which can provide cover is either the engine block or the wheels. Since you can’t manoeuvre from behind an engine block, that leaves the wheels.
‘There’s just one problem,’ he says, asking me to lie down behind one of the wheels and imagine that I’m trying to return fire. Between the ground and the underside of the car is a thin strip of space, beyond which the ground obscures everything. The only thing I’ll be able to shoot from this position is our attacker’s toes.
‘You can’t see a bloody thing,’ I say.
‘Exactly.’
At that moment I hear a rapid panting in my ear as H’s terrier runs up and begins feverishly licking my face.
‘Jeffrey!’ hisses H. ‘Get out of it! Fuck off!’ The dog persists, so he leads it back into the house and, apologising, settles down beside me again.
‘If you stick your head up over the wheel, you’ll have a better view.’
That makes sense. Steadying my imaginary weapon over the bonnet of the car, I line up on an enemy sheep in the field beyond.
‘Get the idea?’ H retrieves the AK, puts it on the rear seat, and we get into the car. ‘Most important is to agree who goes where, so we don’t end up on top of each other. Let’s say we’re coming under fire from my side. You go back, I’ll go front. Shall we try it?’
I throw open the door and tumble out, slamming it behind me instinctively just as H is trying to dive out. He blocks it with his hand and peers at me over the edge of the seat with a tolerant look I haven’t seen before.
‘Best not to slam the door in my face. Let’s try again.’
We return to the seats.
‘Last one out gets the AK. Enemy left – go!’
H rolls out of the passenger side and crouches behind the front wheel as I follow, grab the AK out of the back and position myself behind the rear wheel, firing imaginary rounds at our attackers.
‘Better,’ he says.
‘You must feel pretty vulnerable with your head sticking out like that,’ I say.
‘You do,’ he replies. ‘That’s why you don’t want to be there too long.’
We install ourselves back in the car.
‘Now we’ll withdraw under fire.’ He points around the garden. ‘I’ll move to that tree while you give covering fire. When I say, you move along the same path until we’re both behind the rhododendrons. When one of us is moving, the other is firing.’
‘Got it.’
We tumble out again at his signal. Bang bang bang bang bang! H runs to the tree. Then I follow as he covers me from the bushes beyond. Bang bang bang bang bang! We end up lying beside each other thirty yards from the car.
‘Fine,’ he says. ‘But I probably would have shot you. You ran through my line of fire. Try to keep a sense of where I am.’
Leaving me feeling like a small child, H disappears inside his garage and emerges with two black nylon waist packs.
‘Here,’ he says, handing me one of them, ‘your go bag.’ From the weight of it I know the Browning is inside. We check the weapons, which are unloaded, and put the packs on the bonnet.
‘You’ll usually have something like this on an op,’ he says, unzipping the main pouch of his bag. ‘Medical kit, E & E stuff, money, maps, heli marker for your exfil, and some other bits and pieces – it depends on what you need at the time. We’ll pretend these are ours and keep them under the seats.’
We stash the bags behind our heels and pretend once again to be heading into an ambush. If we’re expecting trouble, the best place for the Browning is on the seat under one’s leg, which saves having to scramble about for it. I copy him as he slides the weapon under his thigh with the butt facing out.
The Brownings are in our hands as we dive out again, then bound in turn across the drive into the garden.
‘Good, but you forgot the bag.’
But I’m learning. We repeat the drill several more times, upping the tempo each time until we’ve covered all the combinations. Speed, aggression