Free Dirty Deeds Done Cheap by Peter Mercer Page B

populated by women and children and we always did all we could to avoid collateral damage. Killing innocent civilians was not in our code. While we were deciding what to do for the best, the Gurkhas, cool as cucumbers, just calmly got out of the truck and started changing the wheel. One Gurkha had the jack and another had the wheel brace and they carried on as if they didn’t have a care in the world. We started putting down covering fire for them. Mad little fuckers!
    We were pretty much pinned down, though, and there was no way we would be able to get through this town safely; and, as we got closer, the firing would almost certainly become more intense. We were in trouble. Best thing we could hope to achieve was to fix the wheel, then turn around to get the fuck out of Dodge. I was shouting to the Gurkhas to keep their heads down, but they didn’t seem to care. They’d been through a lot of firefights in Iraq and a lot of them were religious and believed in fate and karma: what will be will be. They didn’t seem scared of death. I just thought they were little nutters but we were all on the same page when it came to the tasks and missions we were given – we all just wanted to get out of there in one piece. These guys were priceless.
    The road right next to where the mad Gurkhas were changing the wheel was now littered with hundreds of empty bullet cases and I did my best to control the rate of fire from our guys. When you’re not taking casualties and you’ve got the upper hand and superior firepower, you can find these situations quite exhilarating. My senses were sharp but, in the back of my mind, I was always thinking that to try to take the fight to the insurgents was suicide.
    It could easily have been a come-on – a trap. Insurgents had used this tactic very usefully and cleverly with American troops in the past. The insurgents would start off with a very small force, and then often retreat. The Yanks would then do a follow-up, and then there would be loads of insurgents waiting in ambush with explosives and all kinds of ordnance to take them out. This was certainly one situation we would never purposely get into. Our job was simple: get from A to B with as little hassle as possible. At the end of the day, all we wanted was to get home in one piece. Although I did wonder about one or two of the guys!
    The wheel on the Hilux was now done and there was no more damage to the vehicle. It was now decided to do a fighting withdrawal and come back the way we’d come. Tal Afar seemed too fucking risky to go through at this time. If the insurgents in the meantime had managed to circle us we would then be in the desert and could let rip with everything we had: M19s, M203s, M240s, M249s and .50-cals. I had a strong feeling the insurgents also knew this and, as I said before, they’re not stupid. It was an acceptable risk for us to attempt; plus, we had little or no choice: to try to pass their fire position was suicide, because they were fortified and well armed. We were in a no-win situation.
    As we mounted up and prepared to get out of the area, we put down more suppressing fire on the flats, when an American Stryker patrol showed up and we all took cover behind these huge armoured vehicles. The Stryker commander, a captain, jumped down. ‘You guys OK? We heard a lot of shooting so we came to investigate. You guys need a hand?’ We explained in detail about our predicament. After discussing our options the American captain said, ‘Why don’t I just fire some missiles at that goddamned block of flats, then you can drive right on through?’ We explained about not wanting to injure or kill civilians and our aim to minimise collateral damage. He told us that the apartments were still under construction and no one lived there. The insurgents used them quite frequently to ambush American troops. I think he just wanted an excuse to flatten them. That was all the information we needed. ‘Flatten the fuckers,’ our