Sniper Elite (16 page)

It took two days to get to Saraw in the blazing sun and dust because the patrolling program was quite slow and focused in the surrounding area. To get into the valley where Saraw is located you first have to move through a mountain pass we called IED Alley. It is quite steep and very narrow towards the top. All the way up the pass there are burnt-out shipping containers and truck bodies.

This was very nerve-racking and everyone anticipated an ambush as it was a perfect area for it, so we cleared it by foot. This took a long time and NC, the troop boss, decided that we would harbour up for the night at the top of the pass. He also wanted an OP on the high ground to act as overwatch using the TI. I was part of this patrol and streamlined my pack by just taking my sleeping bag, warm kit and a thermos of coffee. I also carried my SR25. The going was steep and treacherous underfoot due to the loose rocks. The ridgeline at the top was narrow and comfortable sleeping spots were nowhere to be found. The wind was also bitterly cold. No-one got much sleep that night.

On return to the troop harbour position we had a quick feed and a brew then continued on task.

We had ‘eyes on' Saraw for a few days and were now awaiting the arrival of the Afghan National Army (ANA) for the second phase of the operation. The night they came we could see their headlights as they were driving down the mountain passes, ‘Oh shit, here we go,' we thought. The lights were a clear indication to the Taliban that someone was coming; the locals rarely travel at night or in convoy. So we had to race out and get them to turn them off. We taped their headlights and all the other lights on the outside of their cars with black masking tape. But since they couldn't see where they were going, we drove their cars for them wearing our night vision goggles. They loved it. They thought it was magic.

They were a pretty ragtag bunch. Their vehicles were bursting at the seams with all the guys inside; their utes on average had eight blokes on lookout duty with RPGs, and there was an AK47 protruding from every window.

That morning the 4RAR guys were dropped off by Chinook, and a Canadian Special Forces (CANSOF) unit also joined the convoy. When the combined units started to conduct their sweep, we went through Saraw and moved north up the valley. We could hear a bit of small arms fire but figured that it was the ANA shooting at shadows. Pretty soon we had the area consolidated and waited on the ANA to interview the locals and detain suspected Taliban.

We all ended up spending the night to the north of the village and just before it got dark we saw a Taliban ‘retrans' (remote signals) location on the top of a very high ridgeline to the east, and called in a Spectre gunship to destroy it. The following morning we departed that location leaving the attachments behind and driving through some very dodgy areas where everyone was on edge. We could see the enemy's spotter network operating on the high ground. They had their radio systems going and we knew we were being watched. We were tuned into a captured enemy radio and could hear their chatter. The spotter network would hide themselves on a high feature that provided great fields of view and could see up to 20  kilometres with the aid of binoculars. They might not be able to see anything in great detail, but would easily spot the huge clouds of dust our vehicle would create, allowing the Taliban plenty of warning of our arrival.

As we came into the Khod Valley it was late in the afternoon and we were entering the area where 2 Squadron had been involved in quite a big contact. There was a lot of intelligence coming in. Our Afghan interpreter was updating us via a captured radio, saying, ‘Right, they're forming up, they're going to attack.' There was clearly a certain Taliban leader trying to organise his fighters, but the chatter was all over the place; they couldn't seem to get  themselves together properly and we actually drove through their proposed ambush site before they could form up.

It wasn't until a few days later that we actually had rockets fired at us. We had gone north to what we thought was a secure area. One of our tasks was to suss out the allegiance of certain villages in that location. In one village we had extremely good OBs, and after checking it out thoroughly we drove in and spoke with their leaders. When we got there we could see a big Dushka–a 14.7 mm heavy machine gun–lightly concealed and pointing towards the troop harbour. That would have caused us an absolute headache if it had opened up. We got talking to them and they seemed to be on side. Apparently the reason why most men were armed was because of tribal tensions–and not our presence in the area.

There were four villages in the immediate vicinity, anywhere from 2.5 to 10 kilometres apart, and we visited each one. Each had a different feel about it, some more unsettling than others. When speaking to the locals the standard response was ‘Taliban, there hasn't been Taliban here for 12 months.' And the other was ‘Yes, that village down the road is full of Taliban.' So we treated every village with care.

Mid-afternoon we positioned ourselves about 4 kilometres way from the second village we looked at. The area between was quite open so that if they wanted to take us on by foot we'd have prior warning and see villagers coming. At this stage we were about 8 kilometres away from Khod in a very large and open area we called the oyster shell because of its shape on the map.

We were back far enough to be out of the way of small arms fire and maybe even heavy machine-gun fire. But we were wary of Taliban 107 mm rockets that have a range of about 7.5 kilometres. We hadn't seen any in the villages but they are easily hidden and when they want to fire them they throw together a wooden firing platform in the shape of a V. They have a very crude aiming device–they get down behind it, add or remove rocks for elevation and aim it in your direction.

They have explosive charges or detonating cord that runs from the base of each 107 mm rocket that will set the  charge off to fire it. A timer initiates an electrical charge that sets off the detonating cord. They can set it up so that each individual rocket is on a different timer. Half the time these rockets are okay for line on target, which means it will land in a straight line anywhere between them and the target. But range is generally off. It's rough and ready but they pack a hell of a punch.

The Taliban know from years of experience that if they hit you late in the afternoon they stand a good chance of getting away with it because it will soon be dark. So by 4 p.m. everyone was on edge and waiting for something to happen. Suddenly they opened up. The 107s make a huge noise as the rockets are coming in that is chilling. This particular time they fired four that landed close enough to cause concern. One rocket went directly overhead and dropped off into dead ground and exploded right next to a kuchie (Bedouin nomads) camp. This didn't worry the occupants in the slightest; they live with it all the time and just shrug their shoulders and say ‘Inshallah' (‘if Allah wills') and go back to their business.

By the time we reacted and reached the village it was getting close to dark and of course no-one knew a thing. Next day we headed for the village of Manare to see what we could find, as at least one rocket had been fired from a knoll on the side of a hill close by. As we entered the outskirts of the village the enemy chatter started; our awareness was heightened–there was a good possibility of contact with the enemy. I was still a passenger in the back of RH's car but I had also become the troop mechanic, not by choice. Babbs, the driver of our car, was also mechanically sound and at times both of us worked long hours replacing CV joints and diffs and repairing other mechanical failures. We had just got word that one of the other patrols had noticed a few ‘squirters'–Taliban shooters who head for the hills to evade capture. So we decided to hunt them down.

Bang!
Our car had just broken a left front CV joint. I started ratting around in the back of the car to locate the replacement while Babbs began to jack the vehicle up and remove the wheel. We felt quite vulnerable as we were well within range of small arms fire and caught between two high features. It took about 45 minutes to replace the broken CV joint, then we got moving again.

A patrol was despatched on foot to follow up the squirters but it didn't get far due to the severity of the terrain. One of the lads shot at these guys with the .50-calibre sniper rifle and the .50-calibre machine guns but because they know their backyard they got away.

We spoke to the locals to try to develop some intelligence, but got the same answer every time: ‘No, there's no Taliban here, we haven't had Taliban in the village for years. The rockets must have been from Taliban passing through the area.' The fact was that the Taliban had a very firm hold over them, and most were very sympathetic. The Taliban pay their fighters–not very much but they do pay them–which is a rare source of income for these locals. It saves them having to scrimp and scrape from the land trying to sell dry roots for firewood.

But that's only part of the story. Their way of life is very different. Afghans live by vendettas but they are the most patient people you'll ever come across. If one of them commits a bad act against a family, the victim will seek revenge. It may not happen overnight but the culprit will eventually get his comeuppance. That's something you learn on the ground. The Sydney taxi driver left that bit out of his cultural awareness lecture.

After fruitlessly chasing the squirters up in the hills we decided a patrol should stick around and monitor the village. So we gave the impression we were moving away, which we did, but we dropped off Stodds and his patrol at the base of one of the hills that provided good OBs into the village. But as far as the villagers were concerned the Australians had cleared out.

In the morning we heard from Stodds, his voice crackling over the radio: ‘There's a Taliban fighter coming towards us with a .303. We're going to have a crack as he's going to compromise us anyway.' As it happened, this bloke stopped just over 300 metres out and squatted for a dump. Two of the patrol's snipers were tracking this guy through their scopes. As the target became static they took aim and fired, but they missed. This bloke instantly leapt off the small cliff face with his trousers around his ankles leaving his rifle behind. I don't know what happened, but at that range it should have been a gimmie. They reckoned the wind was very strong and pushed their rounds off target. Stodds was not impressed and recovered the .303.

After that we moved back into the bowl and talked about the combat indicators–such as movement in the hills and in the green, radio traffic and the actions of villagers. You piece them together to give you a picture of what is going to happen or can happen. You learn with experience to read the signs but some soldiers seem to have a better developed instinct than others. Sometimes you just
know
when the shit's about to hit the proverbial.

The next day we took a break for a game of cricket and to do some repairs on our ageing LRPVs in the middle of the dasht (the bare, strong Afghan landscape desert). We were halfway through the game when we got engaged by several 107s, which we aggressively followed up. NC, the troop commander, had had enough and we advanced to contact, pepper-potting forward. Half the troop's vehicles would move, while the other half provided cover for them in case we were engaged again. Upon reaching the edge of the Khod Valley where this set of rockets came from we positioned the cars to give us all-round security and the other half of the troop drove down towards the green belt. There they were contacted by small arms and RPGs; we provided fire support. A couple of enemy RPGs exploded quite close to our vehicles and we engaged their main firing position, which was in a dry creek line behind a cemetery. We could see the enemy moving around inside this creek line, which gave them some good cover from fire. The boys on the flanks adjusted their .50-calibre machine guns onto the creek line catching some Taliban in the crossfire.

The Canadians were quite close to our location and joined in, providing 60 mm mortar fire onto these positions. Our MK19–40 mm grenade launchers, .50-calibre sniper rifles and machine guns also joined in. I arced up the Javelin rocket launcher in order to take out any other 107 mm rocket firing positions. The Javelin rocket locks onto heat, but due to the temperature trapped in the rocky landscape I couldn't make out any distinct targets. So I ended up holding the bloody thing on my shoulder for four to five hours hoping that the landscape would cool down enough for me to get a lock on a target.

As I sat there scanning for a target I could hear the chatter from the Taliban coming through a captured radio in the background. I realised that the voice was getting rather excited. Suddenly from the radio, ‘Allahu akbar! Allahu akbar!' Then two more rockets were fired at us. Both went over our heads. One screamed just metres above our car. I had seen the dust cloud created from the back blast of the rocket and knew instantly what it was. I dropped the Javelin and lay flat on the stony ground. As I hit the deck the rockets passed overhead. I couldn't get the Javelin back on my shoulder quick enough to look for the firing pad. Two of the cars engaged with their .50-calibre machine guns to try to provoke another reaction or some movement. Once again I couldn't make anything out due to the warm lunar-type landscape.

The light was fading by this stage and the other half of the troop had moved a little further north of our location. We called in US air cover to help destroy the enemy positions. They sent an A10, a fighter bomber known as a Warthog, which has two engines at the very back of the aircraft. It is a very agile piece of machinery. At that time their call-sign was ‘tombstone'. Our joint terminal attack controller (JTAC), HM, got on the radio to get in touch with tombstone and gave them the grids of the main locations where the rockets were coming from. He also organised for them to conduct a couple of gun runs using their 30 mm canons to suppress the enemy fire.

However, that night intelligence suggested that the bad guys were still in the hills, so HM got the aircraft to drop a 500-pound bomb on the main location. As the US aircraft came in, our boys put a laser spot on the target. Then the aircraft lit up the whole area with infra-red. HM gave him ‘Clear hot!'–the signal to drop his ordinance. He came in and dropped the 500-pounder right on target. There was a huge flash that lit up the whole valley and we could see through our NVGs extremely hot shrapnel being thrown all over the hillside, then a second later,
Bang!