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1st instalment of my novel, Pictures of Life, is now posted
We knew it was going to get hectic as soon as the message came in. It was a normal RAF Land Rover that pulled up at the checkpoint at the far side of the airfield. But as it stopped, the top came off and machine gun fire wiped out the guards.
Over a mile away, I was defending the fighter dispersal. Seemingly in the middle of nowhere, the few low, dark green buildings were surrounded by the dispersed Phantom fighters. The call came in. Stand To.
We saw the Land Rover come racing down the airfield.
The Army loved fancy dress when they attacked the RAF bases. Usually, they pretended to be guerillas, complete with bandanas, and I could have sworn one had a huge cigar in his mouth.
I saw the first post fall. They fought back with rifles and GPMG (bloody big machine gun), but were overwhelmed amid the sounds of gunfire and thunderflashes. And it went on and on as that damned Land Rover approached the dispersal.
I was taken out close to the entry point.
I put up a good fight but was outflanked and caught in the crossfire. As I laid there ‘dying’, I saw them gain entry, the last pathetic defence being when a dozen fighter pilots rushed out waving their little pistols in the air.
This part of the exercise was, of course, to check out our firing positions, and the reality was, that Land Rover wouldn’t have got past the first checkpoint. Indeed, we could realistically say it was wiped out at least 20 times. Which meant, of course, that our defence had taken out half a company.
That felt good. But you always had the mouth of inexperience amongst you. ‘It’s not fair,’ he protested, wiping dirt from his combats. ‘They wouldn’t play dead.’
© Anthony North, November 2007
THE FOOTBALL DISASTER