Desert OverWatch

  Desert OverWatch

  Thomas J. Eyre

  Hello and thanks for downloading Desert OverWatch.

  I hope you enjoy reading this novella and feel sufficiently motivated to read my debut novel, when you're done.

  You can read either as a standalone story however, they are linked, but to find out how you'll have to read them both.

  I do have a Facebook page and you're welcome to join me to hear about upcoming releases and other stuff the we do on social media. Oh yeah, and don't forget the website

  Website: Thomas J Eyre

  Facebook: Thomas J Eyre

  Now a few people I have to thank

  Firstly you, my readers

  Then my family for putting up with me being a diva :-)

  Sam Kruit my friend and editor

  Willsin Rowe my friend and cover designer

  Polgarus Studio for file conversions

  Thank you one and all, I couldn't have done it without you.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 1

  4th August 1990

  Carla fluffed up her pillows again and pulled the duvet tight up under her chin, determined to sleep. It eluded her for another hour, but when it came, it claimed her quickly.

  The dreamscape was familiar: She was trying to find James. All around her was a cacophony of male groaning and screaming; so much of it that she couldn’t pick out his voice. In the far distance, she could see geysers of fire jetting upwards, topped by boiling clouds of thick black smoke. On the ground, clusters of men darted amid the blackened silhouettes of bombed-out buildings, the glow from the fires giving the scene an eerie opaque red hue. Stretching out between her and the men, for perhaps the length of three football pitches, were undulating sand dunes.

  She hurried towards the nearest group but the shifting sands slowed her progress. It felt as if she were wading through molasses. Boulders the size of small cars landed in front of her each time she got within shouting distance of the soldiers, who began dropping one by one as if being picked off by a sniper. Wraiths, ghoulish and malevolent, would grab at her wrists and ankles as she fought her way around the obstacles. She screamed at them to leave her alone, but her fists just went through them as she flailed her arms. An overwhelming sense of being trapped in this hellish landscape enveloped her and it seemed that the more she struggled to get to the buildings, to the soldiers, the tighter she was being held. All around her, demons streaked through the air like ethereal rockets: bright and translucent jet streams with evil eyes and twisted faces.

  The demons flew lower. She tried running, but they caught up with her, forming a tornado-like mass, whipping around her body until her outstretched hand—

  ‘Carla!’

  She winced into the glare of the bedroom light. The room was a yellow haze, against which a black silhouette loomed above her. James straddled her hips, holding her wrists flat to the mattress. He was frowning, but certainly not screaming, and there were no flying ghouls in the bedroom.

  James released the pressure on her wrists and rolled off, pulling her close. She buried her face against his chest.

  ‘Bloody hell, Caz. You were giving me a right hiding. You’re alright now. I’ve got you.’

  Carla couldn’t speak, her terror still too raw. Sobs rippled out of her and she tried muffling them in the little dip of his shoulder.

  ‘Christ,’ James muttered. ‘You’re proper scared, Babe. What is it?’

  The feel of his palm lightly stroking the back of her head helped her to slow her breathing down and get a grip. Since she wouldn’t be seeing him for a while, she gripped his head and mashed her lips against his. He gave a mild grunt of surprise and returned the kiss. Eventually, he gently pried himself free.

  ‘You going to tell me what that King-sized nightmare was about?’

  Settled by the warmth of strong arms looping around her, she described her recurring dream. She usually felt stupid talking about dreams with him; James was one of those blokes who thought of dreams as ‘those mental, inner movies that don’t let you sleep properly’. He certainly didn’t read anything into them, even when he admitted to remembering them. He stayed quiet once she’d finished telling him about the ethereal streaks homing in on her, and she decided that she’d clip him around the ear if he mentioned Raiders of the Lost Ark.

  She sighed. ‘Are you wondering how quickly you can get me committed?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. I was just thinking… I had a dream a bit like that once, minus the spooky swoopy things.’

  In spite of her frayed nerves—or perhaps because of them—she found herself giggling. ‘Okay, what happened?’

  ‘It was when you were giving birth to Johnny and it was all going wrong. Patrick was with me, but he was four all over again, not twelve, and he was having a tantrum in the hallway in maternity because he was so scared. I was trying to pick him up and get to you, but I couldn’t lift him. It was like he’d been glued to the deck. Anyway, the one thing I really remember about that dream was all the midwives and doctors sprinting to your room in a horde and me not being able to follow. I had that one a few times. Woke in a cold sweat every time.’

  Carla felt him shudder and stroked her fingers between his shoulders. They lay quietly for a few minutes until James propped himself up on one elbow. He brushed a little hair off her face.

  ‘You’ve been jumpy since the MOD plod came round with orders for the troops to get back to base the other day.’

  ‘Are you surprised? I’ve seen the TV. I know what’s going on in Kuwait. That’s where you’re going, isn’t it?’

  He’s going to lie to me now. He’ll come out with some bullshit about being stuck at base arranging logistics.

  'Look Caz, I told you—the CO wanted us back on the base because our unit’s on standby as part of an international rapid reaction force. Yeah we’re being deployed, but I can't—’

  ‘Tell me where you’re going. I won’t tell anyone, I swear, but I won’t be able to stand it not knowing where you are.’

  James flopped onto his back, dragging his hands down his face. ‘I can’t, sweetheart.’

  ‘You know I can keep a secret.’

  ‘Yeah, and I also know that your heart is eighty times wider than most people’s. The minute one of the other wives starts pulling on your heartstrings, you’ll feel pressured into sharing what you know.’ He gave her a long look of raw appeal. ‘Don’t try to tell me that couldn’t happen. And if your friends’ lips are looser than yours, I’ll get court-martialled.’

  She nodded, hating herself for putting him under the pressure.

  ‘If it helps, all I know is that we’re out there to help with logistics.’

  There it is. I knew it! Just like the last time he went off to shuffle papers and came home with a bullet wound.

  The bedside light showed the tension in his face and she decided to let it drop. The last thing she wanted was to argue with him over something neither of them had any control over just before he was sent off to some hellish battlefield. And she needed him on top form, out there. If he was preoccupied worrying about her and the kids, he might make mistakes. Terminal mistakes. She shook the thought away and was given a handy alibi for leaping out of bed—Johnny started crying.

  ‘I’ll go,’ James murmured. ‘I want to see him before I leave anyway.’

  ‘When are you off?’

  ‘Our transport up to RAF Lyneham leaves in less than an hour.’

  James swung his legs out of the bed and went to Johnny’s r
oom, bare save for his boxers. Carla clambered out of bed with a little less grace, snatched his shirt from the floor and slipped it on. The hem floated down to her thighs, giving her a degree of modesty. She followed James into Johnny’s room and saw him leaning over the cot, stroking the little face with the back of his fingers.

  ‘Bye, Squirt. Be good for mummy while I’m away.’ He kissed his fingertips and touched them to John’s forehead. Johnny gave him a gummy grin of total adoration and tried to grab at the gentle hand looming over his face. James quirked a smile and moved briskly away to Patrick’s room, opposite. Patrick stirred in his sleep as James sat down on the edge of his bed.

  Carla drifted towards the bathroom to give them some space. She saw James’ Bergen packed up and waiting by the door. Needing to be compos mentis when he left, she hit the shower and freshened up. She didn’t want him to leave with a mental picture of her all dishevelled, snivelling and blotchy. Besides which, she needed to be strong for Paddy. By the time she’d dressed and combed her wet hair, James was fully kitted up. She followed him into the hallway.

  ‘Don’t worry about me, love. The only thing I’m liable to get is Montezuma’s revenge.’ He chuckled. ‘It’s probably best if I take some Imodium tablets with me just in case I get a dose of the squits.’

  She nodded, unable to speak for a moment. She saw his furtive glance to Johnny’s room and his eyes glistening in the gloom. She reached up and wiped beneath his lashes with her thumbs. He didn’t want to go any more than she wanted him to. She managed to hitch up a smile.

  ‘I might call Kelly in the morning. See if she wants to stay for a bit.’

  James grimaced. ‘You can if you think it’ll help, but… won’t she drive you screaming up the walls?’

  ‘Probably.’ Carla rolled her eyes, fully aware that coping on her own might actually be the lesser of two evils. At James’ expression of concern, she squeezed his arm. ‘At least it’ll work as a distraction. It’s quite hard feeling murderous and anxious at the same time.’

  James laughed. ‘Well, if I come back and find you’ve been driven to drink, I’ll know who to blame.’ He folded her into one last embrace. ‘I’ll send you as many blueys as I can, and if there’s a phone at the base, I’ll call. No promises, but I’ll do my best.’ He eased himself away and bent to lift his Bergen. ‘Remember—no news means good news, yeah?’

  She nodded stiffly. That advice hadn’t helped last time he’d gone off-grid for a few days and she knew she’d be tearing her hair out this time, too. ‘Get out of here then, you bum, but make sure you come back to me. And be quick about it.’

  Please James, just go before I burst into tears again.

  She kept the smile frozen in place until the door had closed behind him.

  Chapter 2

  ‘Jim… Jim? Wake up. We’re about to land.’

  James rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. ‘Fuck me, are we here already, Trev? I only just got me head down.’

  Irvine chuckled. ‘Just got yer head down… Whatever! You’ve been snoring your head off for the past four hours. I don’t know how you can put in so many zeds and still complain about getting no kip.’

  James stretched, easing the kinks out of his shoulders. The C-130 wasn’t exactly like a flying bed. Up the whole length of the aircraft, the other lads were jiggling legs and rolling necks, trying to banish their collections of cramps. He spotted Roger Morgan at the far end, sitting with the rest of his squad. He found himself peering at Rodge’s face for the tell-tale sweats that gave away his body’s need for a drink. James pushed his feet far out, wincing as his hamstrings complained. He clutched his hips, suppressing a grunt as a sciatic twinge hit him. It’d been a long time since he’d been shot, but his left leg still hadn’t quite forgiven him.

  He glanced up to see Trev Irvine wearing his trademark grin. James sighed. ‘What?’

  ‘You look shagged out.’ Irvine sniggered. ‘What the hell did you and Carla get up to before you left? On second thoughts, I don’t want to know.’

  ‘I was mostly lying.’

  ‘Not much action last night, then?’

  ‘Lying to Carla, not lying still, you knobhead.’

  ‘Oh.’ Irvine bent to adjust his boots. ‘So… what were you telling her porkies about, then?’

  James silently counted to three. ‘Are you completely honest with Katelyn when she asks you where you’re going?’

  ‘Fuck, no!’

  ‘There you go, then. It was difficult, this time. She really wanted to know the details, but I gave her the usual bullshit. We’re just going over for logistical support, blah blah blah.’

  ‘Yeah, I told Katelyn we're doing comms at the back end of things and wouldn’t get close to the action.’ Irvine shrugged mournfully. ‘What the eye don’t see, the heart won’t grieve over.’

  James just nodded. Even if Katelyn had bought Trev’s bullshit, he knew for sure that Carla hadn’t bought his.

  The noise of the C-130 coming into land prevented any further conversation. the wheels touched down on the dusty strip at Saudi Arabia's Riyadh airport and the pilot hit reverse thrust. They taxied from the main runway, getting clear just as another C-130 came in. At the British Force’s main operating base, the RAF ground crew were ready and waiting. A member of the flight crew hit the ramp lower button; the rear of the aircraft split open and the ramp descended. James followed the other lads out of the C-130 and down the ramp, skirting the pallets of stores and ammunition lashed to the aircraft’s deck. While they were being formed up in their platoons, James glanced back up into the sky. The landing lights of another three military transports could be seen in a holding pattern.

  He was relieved, as they arrived at their new billet, to be a decent distance away from Morgan. The more space they gave each other after their last bust-up, the easier it would be to keep things civil. James made himself at home, packing some of his meagre possessions away, and tried to chill out until he and Irvine were hailed over the Tannoy system, ordered to report to the briefing room.

  When they arrived, their commanding officer and four other two-man sniper teams were already seated.

  ‘Ah, there you are, lads.’ Colonel Errington indicated the seats with a wave. ‘Close and lock the door, please.’

  As they sat, the colonel dropped the cover hiding the whiteboard on the wall behind him, which showed a map featuring a blown-up section of Iraq, around the city of Nasiriyah.

  ‘Okay lads, this is it. This is what we’ve been training for. Our mission is to persuade the Iraqis—including elements of Saddam’s Republican guard—to leave Kuwait as quickly as they invaded. Our diplomatic efforts have so far failed to get him to commit to pulling out, but the top brass is ever hopeful.’

  James, like the other lads, snorted at this.

  ‘Meanwhile,’ Errington went on smoothly, ‘we’ve had reports of troop movements down highways one and eight. This in itself indicates that he isn’t about to pull out of Kuwait anytime soon. But more worrying is his posturing towards Israel. He’s threatening to launch Scud missiles if his forces are attacked. I don’t need to tell you that we’ll have a major problem if Israel retaliates.

  ‘Now then, your job is to track the location of the mobile Scud launchers. Without the launchers, he can’t carry out his threats towards Israel.’

  Irvine raised his hand.

  ‘Go ahead,’ Errington prompted.

  ‘Are we looking to take out the launchers, then?’

  ‘No, this is purely an observe-and-report mission. For now.’

  Regan released a long breath. If he were allowed to tell Carla anything, then being stuck on desert overwatch could only class as good news. The feeling seemed to be the same among most of the other marines. Only a couple of them looked disappointed by the watch-and-wait boredom to follow: Morgan included, Regan noted. Regan could take all the boredom the RM threw at him, so long as he got back to Carla, Johnny and Patrick in one piece. Morgan glanced back and they locked
gazes. Regan kept his expression neutral, but was pleased to see Morgan giving him a tiny, civilised nod.

  Well, that’s an improvement on him scowling at me.

  Errington stepped away from the whiteboard. ‘The RAF are taking you in tonight, and dropping you at various points along the highways—we’re particularly interested in an intersection where they meet. If there’s any sighting of a Scud launcher or a missile, we need it tracked. We’ve heard that they’re moving the actual missiles around in camper vans and school buses. In fact, anything big enough to carry one without arousing suspicion. Now, rules of engagement.

  ‘At this time, you’re not to engage any Iraqi forces unless they detect your presence and fire upon you first. If on the other hand an opportunity presents itself, and you can get close enough to fit a launcher with a demolition charge without being seen, well… let’s just say it would be rude not to. You’ll be going in with quad bikes to track launchers and suspect vehicles. Whether or not you get the chance to track or destory potential targets requires you to use your initiative.

  ‘Finally, be aware that the SAS will also be operating around the area. Don’t go shooting at small convoys of Landrovers, or you may get a nasty surprise. The SAS boys have also been alerted to your presence, so in theory there shouldn’t be any problems between you. Right… let’s have your questions.’

  Several of the men present raised their hands and a discussion ensued as questions and answers flowed between the assembled group. Regan kept staring at the map, wondering what was wrong with the picture. It hit him, just as the briefing came to an end and chairs were being scraped back.