Over The Hills And Faraway Book 4: Soldiering OnChapter 4: The Shiftas free porn video
There was a heightened sense of urgency when we reassembled at Camp Kenyatta. Harry re-joined us a day later, having spent the week in Nairobi, and I would bet money that he had been poodle faking in earnest, as he had a partly concealed love bite on his neck, and a look of sated sexual satisfaction on his face.
The information coming out of Somalia indicated that a large number of Shifta bands would be crossing the border at the beginning of December. There was the possibility that armoured vehicles, anti-tank guns, and even field artillery pieces might be deployed, once the Shiftas had made inroads into the NFD. A Kenyan army infantry brigade was being moved into the threatened area and should be in a defensive posture by the time of the expected incursion.
Training was stepped up, and we dealt with twice as many trainees per course.
It was non-stop until the end of November, when Training Team Kilo 92 finished its task. Initially Colonel Jones was tasked to be an observer at the HQ of an infantry battalion, to assess how efficiently their logistics staff coped in the field, while Harry and I were to observe and assess the effectiveness of the mortar platoon of the battalion. However Colonel Jones' wife had been taken ill, and he was given compassionate leave to return to the UK with Team Kilo. This meant that Harry would now be the observer at the battalion's HQ, and I the lone watcher of the mortars.
There was a low key ceremony, held at Camp Kenyatta, when Colonel Jones and Training Team Kilo 92 team left for the UK. It was at this ceremony that I first saw Captain Saritta N'Kombu, or She Who Must Be Obeyed, as I named her.
She had the look of that Ancient Egyptian Queen, Nefertiti; a small head on a swan like neck with a perfectly sculptured face, cheek bones like blades, a thin nose, full lips, large almond shaped eyes that you could float a battleship in they were so fathomless, and a look of such autocratic disdain that had she walked into Buck House even Mrs Queen would have dropped her a curtsy.
She was wearing a khaki drill uniform, rather than the ubiquitous combat gear, which emphasised her shapely body and long legs. She stood, erect and proud, at just under six foot tall, and moved with the sinuous grace of a man eating feline. A grizzled old Staff Sergeant saw me lusting after her and said. "She would devour you like a new born goat daktari; stick to the uasherati in Mombasa."
Captain N'Kombu was the liaison between the brigade tasked with hunting down the Shiftas and Kenyan army military intelligence, and Harry knew her from Sandhurst.
"She's probably the cleverest woman in Kenya you'll be likely to meet. Educated at Durham University, with a BSc in Applied Mathematics. In a Western country she would either be in politics, or running a computer science research company. Her family are traditional chiefs of the Luo tribe, and she is a princess. She spent a year at Sandhurst, and she went through the cadets there like a scythe through long grass; a real ball breaker – treats men like shit – just takes her pleasure and then dumps them." He laughed. "Exactly like a man in fact."
I asked him if he had tried his luck with her.
"I'm not that stupid, and anyway I was too deeply involved with Cynthia, et al, for any spare." He gave me an anxious look. "For Pete's sake don't get involved with her, Dave."
He looked so worried I had to put him at his ease. "No danger of that." I said, meaning every word. "I've learnt my lesson, and anyway that sweet little piece I had in Mombasa has spoilt me for domineering women like She Who Must Be Obeyed."
In any case there was little time for any dalliances as Harry and I were flown by helicopter the day after the ceremony to the HQ of one of the infantry battalions of the brigade confronting the Shiftas in the NFD.
Fort Uhuru (Swalhili for freedom) had been built during the Shifta Wars of 1963-67, and had been garrisoned by the Kenyan army ever since. It was an area of about five hectares, – which is around 12 acres for the non-metric among you – surrounded by a 5 metre ( 16+ feet, likewise) high wall, made from sun baked mud bricks, reinforced by cinder blocks, and with a heavy wooden, iron-banded, gate. The HQ buildings were built up against a rocky eminence that rose about 100 feet above the surrounding, undulating ground. It was probably the core of an ancient volcano; something like the rock that Edinburgh Castle is built on, but much smaller in area and height. It made the fort practically impregnable, dominating the area out to about 4000 metres. Several heavy machine guns (HMGs), M2 Browning, calibre 0.5 inch, in heavily sandbagged sangars, were sited to sweep all avenues of attack. The Mortar Fire Controller's (MFC) observation post (OP) was also sited on this prominent position, which was just as well as I would be close to both the mortars and the OP. Had the OP been in a concealed position out in the field, I would have had my work cut out to observe both the MFC and the mortars in action.
The mortars and machine guns of the support company were under the titular command of a Captain Oboto, but really it was Colour Sergeant Mboyo, the grizzled old Staff Sergeant who had warned me off Captain N'Kombu, that ran the outfit.
I quickly made myself known to the MFC, and to the men of the mortar platoon. I hadn't trained the MFC, a Kikuyu by the name Jomo Maathat – there are lots of male Kikuyu named Jomo, after their first president — but I knew that Doogie Blantyre had been his instructor the moment Jomo opened his mouth. He spoke, or rather he swore, in a broad Glaswegian accent.
Whatever Doogie's linguistic faults may have been he was a shit hot instructor, so I knew that Jomo was well up to speed with the job of MFC. He had already started making a range card, which gives the bearings and distances from the mortar base line to likely forming up points and channels of approach of any attackers, plus other areas that could be targets. With the ranges to these locations measured on the ground, and then checked by firing ranging shots, it meant that devastating fire could be called down with pinpoint accuracy.
There were some potential target areas that Jomo had missed, but for the most part he had a done a good job, and I only had to add a few more likely locations to the range card. One such location was on a small river about 2000 metres to the left of Fort Uhuru, where it looked as if wheeled traffic might be able to cross. There were at least three areas, of dead ground, i.e. where bodies of troops could concentrate and not be not be visible from the OP, that were also likely targets.
The sergeant in charge of the mortar section had been one of my first trainees, a bloody good bloke and a first class SNCO, by the name of Andrew Aneko, or Andy A as I called him. He was of the Luo tribe and spoke excellent English.
He had laid out the mortars along a base line, approximately ten metres apart. All in all I was confident that the mortar team and the MFC would carry out their duties professionally and efficiently.
I had suggested that the mortars be dug into weapon pits. It was likely that the Shiftas would have mortars, and any assault on the fort, supported by mortar fire could lead to casualties to mortar teams exposed above ground. It took three days to dig down to just over 4 feet, as the ground was rock hard, but it was well worth the effort to have some protection.
I would have liked there to be a communication trench dug as well, connecting the four mortar positions, but I could only make suggestions and Colour Sergeant Mboyo didn't have the men available.
Harry had been ensconced with the battalion headquarters staff for the first few days after our arrival at Fort Uhuru, getting to know the company commanders and the supply SNCOs. He had learned what strategy the Kenyans had devised to defeat the current incursion, and he was not a happy bunny. He thought it a risky plan, which if it failed would put all the defenders of Fort Uhuru in extreme peril.
Historically Shifta bands would burst out from the arid highlands of the Horn of Africa and raid deep into the more fertile regions of the area, carrying off cattle and women. These bands typically numbered around fifty warriors, all mounted on fast moving camels. They could cover a lot of territory, slipping past any force opposing them – think Apaches breaking out from their reservations and the US cavalry trailing after them.
Times have changed and Shiftas now drive Toyotas, and other 4 wheel drive vehicles, but they still move faster than any opposing force, and can run rings around them.
Kenyan Army intelligence had learned that a large group of Shiftas was going to be let loose in the area around Fort Uhuru. The group would then split up into several smaller bands, and then commit as much damage over as large an area as possible. The Kenyan army units in the area knew that they would be pulled all over the region by these fast moving, lightly equipped groups, and eventually the Kenyans' defences would be so stretched that when the heavier armed, better trained groups invaded they would be able to mop up these scattered Kenyan army units, and then use their heavy weapons to blast the walls of Fort Uhuru to rubble. The Somalis would then be free to move in and occupy the small settlements in the area, as a first step to seizing the whole region, and then exporting the militant brand of Islam that was fuelling the catastrophe which was destroying Somalia.
A high-risk strategy had been designed to combat this ploy, which essentially meant stripping Fort Uhuru of all but the support company, making it a tempting target for the Shifta bands, as stocks of fuel, ammunition, and food were stored within the fort. The Shiftas would fancy their chances of seizing the weakened fort, which would be a huge feather in their caps, and the hope was that they would concentrate their whole force to attack the under strength position.
The Kenyan infantry battalion, minus the support company, would move out from the general area in two groups, one to the east and one to the west, and when the fort came under sustained attack the two wings of the battalion would snap down on the trap – assuming the cheese, the defenders of Fort Uhuru, hadn't already been eaten by the Shifta mice.
"I didn't think much of the plan, and I made my opinions known." Harry said bitterly, "but as a mere observer, and one supposedly only concerned with the logistics, I was not listened to." He bit his lip and frowned in concentration. "There's something not quite right. Why, if the Somalis have heavier armed, and better trained units, do they not put them into the field rather than the bands of Shiftas, who seem to comprise of fanatical young men armed only with AK47s and RPGs?"
"Maybe their trained units are not yet up to the standard of the Kenyan army, and wouldn't be able to take Fort Uhuru, especially with a full battalion supporting the fort?"
Harry nodded. "You could be right, but there's something we are not seeing; the Persians..." he smiled as I gave him a surprised look " ... like Bulby Spaulding I refer to the Iranians as 'Persians'– are no fools, and if they are putting resources into Somalia then they have got something more in mind than a just a chevauchée. Anyway I still think the Kenyan plan puts the fort, and all its defenders, at needless risk."
Several days went by with us working feverishly to get the fort in a condition to hold off a determined and sustained attack. After what Harry had told me I was happy that the mortars were well dug in. A few anti-personnel mines had been buried near the walls, and several Claymore mines were set in a stand of trees near the river. Colour Sergeant Mboyo organized a defence platoon from the odds and sods of the company; clerks, cooks, signallers, and whatever. They would man the walls, with a brace of light machine guns as support, and he had fighting trenches dug as a fall-back position if the walls were breached – God help us if they were.
A week after our arrival at Fort Uhuru the two wings of the battalion moved out, and the trap was set. I estimate there were less than 60 men left in the fort, and I now knew how Beau Geste had felt when he and his bro' Digby were left defending Fort Zinderneuf. But at least we didn't have a mad Sergeant Lejaune in command.
Four days after the battalion had left the Shiftas arrived in the area. I wasn't fully aware of the situation but I had noted that more patrols were being sent out. I assume there were listening posts set up at night, and it was one of these that first reported the Shiftas.
The listening patrols were drawn in closer to the fort, and it was just after sun up that the first attack came in. It was more of a reconnaissance than an attack, to see what shots we had in out locker. The mortars didn't fire, as not a large enough body of men were employed in the probe. The Brownings soon sent the recce' force packing. The next attack, at first light the next day, was a serious coup de main, trying to overcome the defences by sheer speed and weight of numbers.
This time the mortars had plenty of targets, and the team did what they had been trained to do - destroy troops out in the open. The weeks of training paid off and the attack spluttered out in welter of devastation and destruction.
You have to give the Shiftas credit for courage, if nothing else, as another attack was launched only a few hours later. I expect they had been reinforced; as the first lot of attackers had taken a real drubbing, but here they were back to try their luck again. This time they used their RPG-7s; fortunately they were at their extreme range, kept at that distance by our machine gunners.
Up to now it had been more of a turkey shoot than anything else, as the machine guns and the mortars broke up any attack long before the Shiftas were in range to do any damage with their AK47s and RPGs.
The AK47 does what it says on the box; it is an assault rifle. It has a robust construction, and a simple mechanism that it is easily maintained by a man with minimum training, and it can put down a serious amount of lead in short order at close range – and that's the rub. Anything over 300 metres and it is practically worthless, unless the targets are standing about in a bunch. Firing at troops dug in, or in cover, at over 300 metres and it is a waste of ammo'. If the AK47 has been manufactured in China then even 200 metres may be too distant, as they are a load of crap. Close combat fighting in built up areas – house to house, room by room – then the AK47 is supreme.
Should the Shiftas manage to get men into the compound in numbers then we would all be dead meat. What surprised me was there didn't seem to be any snipers operating with the Shiftas, not that they would have been much use if armed with AK 47's, but a team of trained snipers, equipped with any standard sniper rifle, could have kept the MFC, and the HMG crews under constant fire. This would have the effect of disrupting, maybe killing, the machine gun crews, and keep the MFC from observing what was going on, thereby making it easier for the attackers to close up to the fort.
The Shiftas did have some heavy machine guns and mortars of their own, but they too had been forced to operate at maximum range and were not as effective as the guns and mortars of the support company. However, even with their heavy losses the Shiftas were gradually getting closer to the walls, and they had managed to move their heavier weapons closer to the fort. Concealed by a smoke screen, created by their mortars, the Shiftas rushed forward, and our machine gunners on the rocky edifice were unable to depress the barrels of the machine guns low enough to counter the next attack. RPG-7s, fired from just 100 metres away, started taking great chunks out of the walls. AK47 fire swept the parapet, and the defence platoon fell back to the fighting trenches in the compound.
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