As they drew closer, he could make out the dark clearing at the foot of the slope where he had killed Hopper. He suddenly had a flashback and could see the man on his knees waiting to die.
Stratton snapped back to the task in hand and took a couple of mortars from each pouch. Then everything seemed to slow down. A beeping sound broke his concentration. It was his GPS warning him they were on target.
A flash of lightning lit up the wood and for a second he could see signs of life: sheets of plastic glistening in the rain, several vehicles. He thought he saw someone running. He identified a hut directly in their flight line and decided that would be the target for his opening salvo. It no longer mattered to him if they were seen or not. In a few seconds he would open up the attack. This was the start of his revenge and he prayed it would be a satisfying night.
He sat back holding a bomb in each hand by its tail fins and dangled them either side of him as he concentrated ahead.
A bearded jihadist commander wearing a hooded raincoat left the cover of his tent and cleared both of his nostrils as he walked the short distance to the edge of the wood. He paused at his favourite pissing tree and hiked up his dishdasha to relieve himself. He looked skywards and a frown creased his brow as he saw a strange thing in the sky. He removed his hood to get a better look. A flash of lightning revealed the broad, dark wings of what appeared to be a giant bird approaching. He saw the two men beneath the single wingspan. He knew nothing about gliders. But he did feel that something very bad was about to happen and he turned and ran as fast as he possibly could.
The fighter charged between the well-spread trees, their lower branches having long since been removed for firewood or construction. He glanced back as he ran to make sure he hadn’t imagined it. Sure enough, just above the trees and not very far behind him was the black beast with its purring growl which he could now hear.
He began to scream as he neared the closest hut. The door opened and a fighter stepped outside. The commander charged inside to grab his gun, yelling at half a dozen men lying around a cast iron stove.
A couple of seconds later the bird passed overhead and the hut exploded in a ball of smoke and flashing flames.
Stratton felt the shockwave pulse skywards. Bits of shrapnel and wood flew past him, a couple of pieces penetrating the glider wing. He looked over his shoulder to see the bright yellow flames light up the wood.
‘A little more height, if you please, Mr Downs!’ he shouted.
Downs laughed hard. It was like a high-pressure gas bottle of tension had been released. All the planning and preparations were behind them. All the worrying that he might have forgotten something had gone. The battle had begun. This is what it had all been about. Why he had joined the Royal Marines at sixteen years old and had trained for two years as a recruit until he had been able to win his green beret and join a commando unit.
Downs pulled back on the stick and turned it to one side to try and climb as well as get into position for another bomb run.
Stratton thought he saw some vehicles directly below as Downs made the turn and released two more bombs. The wood exploded behind them.
Downs continued to roar with joy. ‘Come on you bastards!’
Another explosion came from elsewhere in the wood, followed by several more until there seemed to be one going off every few seconds.
As Downs yelled like a madman, Stratton released a couple more bombs and had to smile at his crazed friend. The glider appeared to be benefiting from the reduced weight as Downs turned and gained height at the same time.
‘Truck!’ Downs cried out.
Stratton looked ahead to see several vehicles parked nose to tail on a track that entered the wood.
‘Let’s go for it!’ Stratton shouted as he removed the pins from several more mortars.
Downs lined up the glider so that it flew directly over the top of them.
Stratton dropped one bomb with a short delay before releasing the next. They slammed into the beds of two trucks, one after the other, and the vehicles exploded.
Downs was clearly loving it. ‘I’d do this bloody job for nothing!’ he shouted.
Stratton’s smile faded into concentration as he saw men running through the wood below him, illuminated by the fires that were cropping up all over the place despite the rain. They had caused total and utter panic. The Somalis had no idea what was going on. Those with any battle experience would know it was a mortar attack and not artillery but the sight of the gliders had frightened and confused them.
Downs took the glider in a gentle curve, his eyes everywhere, conscious that gliders could easily collide right then. The orders had been to keep all turns over the wood to the right only. It wouldn’t prevent a crash but it did reduce the chances of one.
Stratton was hoping to see Sabarak. He knew it would be impossible to recognise the Saudi from the air but he couldn’t help himself. He saw several men running along a track, illuminated by the flames. Stratton reached for the last of his mortars and held one either side of the seat as Downs took them above the men. Stratton staggered his release and the double boom filled the area where it struck with smoke and debris.
Another line of men ran out of the wood and into the black open ground. Stratton pulled up his Colt, shoved the butt into his shoulder and fired a couple of shots. The rear pair went down and the others scattered.
Downs turned in order to close in on another group of running men and lost a bit of height. As he flew alongside them, Stratton let rip with several short bursts. Three of the men went down and the rest scattered.
Downs pulled hard on the stick to gain height and headed away from the wood. Stratton looked back to see several explosions. A dozen or so fires blazed and a line of smoke drifted on the wind towards the coast.
Downs quickly checked his GPS and turned hard up and over a treeless slope. Several other gliders did the same and moved in behind him, all of the craft much more manoeuvrable since ditching their payloads.
‘All stations, this is Downs, check!’ Downs shouted into his radio.
The crews began to answer right away. There was a long pause after the last report. Two gliders were missing. It was an acceptable loss for that stage of the mission but only as a statistic. Downs could only pray that just the gliders were gone and not the men. The trackers would let the ops room know if the missing men were moving or not. But the tracker couldn’t tell them if the men were still alive or that their bodies were being looted.
Downs would have to worry about them later. The teams still had work to do.
As the gliders crested a rise, they saw two straight lines of tiny white lights stretching away either side of them. A red line of lights at the far end indicated the limit of the landing strip. The pathfinders had done their job after being dropped off by the Lynx.
Downs didn’t hang about and immediately lost height. He touched down hard and they bounced back up until he took the power out of the engine and the glider dropped back to the ground with another thump.
‘Sorry about that,’ Downs said as he steered the craft away from the middle of the landing strip to make room for the others.
They quickly climbed out, ditched their life-jackets and prepared their equipment for the next phase.
‘I think I’d like the rain to stop now,’ Downs said.
One of the pathfinders arrived from the darkness. ‘All right, Downsy?’
‘Thanks, Smudge. There’s only nine left in this serial.’
‘I ’eard. Get going. I’ll clean up,’ Smudge said. ‘Got everything?’
‘Yep,’ said Stratton, pulling on his backpack.
‘Go ahead,’ Downs said.
Smudge tossed an incendiary into the glider and as Downs and Stratton walked away it burst into flames. Smudge ran off to help the next crews who had landed.