Mom
I know you won’t read this til I’m home again, as it’ll never get past the censors, but I figured I’d write anyway, to keep track of how things are going out here. I’m still with Endgame Red, and we’re back at Maxwell Field. As a base it’s pretty good, we’ve definitely had worse, but there’s still snakes and midges everywhere, and the heat and humidity are still as oppressive as anything the Chelt could throw at us. Anyway,I figured I’d tell you about a little trip we just got back from. We’re assigned to SAR duties, which means we’re the ones that go and pick up any flyers who get themselves shot down. This time though, the pilots had already been rescued, but Command needed the crash site secured for long enough to insert some sappers to destroy a bunch of confidential equipment in the airframe, so off we went.
I was the first to spot the black smoke from the crash site, but the sense of achievement was short lived as approach to the site we came under AA fire from a Chelt site across the river. We returned fire but our bird was hit. Leroy, who was flying, managed to get us on the ground north of the plane crash site but the helo was unflyable. We were down though, so we set off through the jungle to find the wreckage of the bomber. Turns out I didn’t notice the parajumpers we had with us had bailed out over the target as I was machine gunning the AA site, but they contacted the enemy in the vicinity of the wreck and we navigated by that. Well that and the giant plume of black smoke, but I don’t really want to get into the habit of navigating by burning wreckage.
I might have somewhat sanitised the report of our landing back to the Colonel, which provoked an interesting conversation later on, but we do try and keep things brief on the radio.
We found Chelt as we got close to the crash site and dealt with them. I’m still a terrible shot, and now I’ve got a grease gun, which is a terrible weapon, but at least they’re not wasting a decent rifle on someone who can’t shoot. I think I racked up a few before we made it home though, so maybe there’s hope for me yet? Anyway, we found the wreck, and the parajumpers, and dug in. Spud would have built better defences, but I’d like to think she’d’ve been proud of us for making an effort. Did I ever tell you about Spud? She was my buddy and she liked digging defensive positions, but I guess I can tell you all about her exploits when I’m home.
Anyway, what remained of the plane was in a jungle valley, so lots of trees, and steep hills to both east and west, with the river downslope to the south.I tell you this, because we then spent a lot of time getting shot at from one ridgeline or the other. I had very little sight of the enemy, but my gun doesn’t have a great range, so I left most of the shooting to the rifle users and tried to work out where we were exactly so we could call in the engineers. Between three of us we got our rough position so I made myself small in the dirt for a bit and called in an air attack on the AA site that would try and stop said engineers arriving.
While we were waiting for this we actually stormed one of the hill tops to clear it out. I never liked hills, and in this humidity, while under fire, I like them even less, but the squad was going up so up I went. It was very steep. I hated every moment, especially as there was no cover at all. I made it to the top though, and once the area was clear I used the opportunity of new site lines to help confirm our position. Not that I stayed up there long mind, I’m not Captain Scatter, and I am at least vaguely aware that I shouldn’t skyline myself.
Speaking of Mr Scatter, he appeared in the skies above us in his bronco (a kind of observation aircraft), just as we faced a platoon of Chelt coming down at us. Then a section of the forest caught fire near us, which I’ve chosen to believe was him, but I’m not sure and am afraid to ask in case it wasn’t. With aircover now on station we called the engineers and a supply drop. The latter of which of course drifted south, but so far as to end up in the river at least.
From that point things got a bit chaotic. The engineers arrived, so did the Chelt. They threw molotovs, we threw napalm (thank you Mr Scatter Sir), I had to resort to firing my gun, they fired their guns, and no one had a good time. Well, maybe Torrent did, he seems to like this sort of thing. At one point I even had to run into a hail of Chelt gunfire to put a smoke grenade close enough to them for the airboys to hit. Pardon me for cursing mom, but fuck me that was terrifying, but we were in danger of being over run and we needed that gun run in. I’ll spare you the gory details, but I did then spend a chunk of time getting as close as I could to the hostile held ridges by running from tree to tree until I could throw red smoke close enough to the enemy for the air to hit them but not the squad. And then running away very quickly. That’s a really important part of the job, perhaps even as important as screaming down the radio in panic so the air guys remember they’re not just up there to admire the scenery.
Not that I’d panic. Corporals aren’t allowed to panic. Or scream. We can only speak loudly and with concern.
Not that I had radio contact with that aircraft either mind, so I was talking to the Captain purely via the medium of coloured smoke grenades.
It felt like hours, but eventually, after several more waves of Chelt attacks, the engineers announced they were done and we called in for extraction. Leading to the interesting, and slightly awkward conversation with the Colonel I mentioned earlier, but they sent a Sikorski for us, we just had to get through the jungle to it. The Chelt pursued us north, and even sent some armoured vehicles to try and stop us, one of which I think I blew up with a non-smoke grenade. I say I think, cos I didn’t keep my head up long enough to actually watch, so I only heard the explosions. Halfway through the runout Mr Scatter had to return to base so we were on our own again, but we eventually spotted the helicopter and piled aboard.
I’m told we lost a few of the engineers, but all of my squad made it out more or less intact.
I’ll write more next time, but Mr Kent, one of the parajumpers, has secured a crate of beer for us from somewhere, so I have to go.
Stay safe, and give my love to Dad
Morse