Bravo Two Zero

[A poetic verion of the stunning true account of an SAS patrol operating behind-enemy-lines during the Gulf War, 1991. For the book please read BRAVO TWO ZERO by Andy McNab, DCM MM.]

We were sent in from East to West
To spill our blood over unknown lands
We had little choice; what use was it?
This is our job and we're paid to do it.
Now hear my tales of deadly violence
And remember what I say then
For since the time man was made
and to the time his bones decay
the war will never really end
cause that's what we always do, friend.

My names McNab, Andy McNab
Am a full sergeant, an old war veteran.
I have fought the IRA, served in the gulf
Have challenged death; Wars are tough.
And it is not as easy as movies show
but those aren't really your own nice boat.
I have seen my friends die right on my arms
and my old mates blown by  mines and bombs.
Good men die, their bloods are of glory
while nerve-shot soldiers dash to be free.
Yet I have managed to keep up my wits
because I believe I'd live, and I really did!

Now I am serving the 22nd Tactical Division
Code-named SAS, known to many.
And on the spring of '91, we were sent in
to save Kuwait from the ambitious Hussain.
And on the 13th of Jan, I was briefed
to mobilize my men of eight, and go in for a kill.
Our mission to listen was all nice and short
Yet we knew to complete it was just another pot.

Our primary goal was to sever the communication line
along the MSR with mobile-scuds next to be dined.
And we were due in twelve days
to gather our wits, not to plan holidays.
We prepared ourselves, planned and plotted
Thought and thought till all seemed well.
We chose to heli-drop at around 2300
Near Yasdim, and to march on foot then
for another twenty miles till we reached
the base of a sand hill to sort our shit.
This was to be our LUP where we'd stack
supplies and ammo if shit hit the fan.
Then we'd wait, till the next night
in which we'd tab another fifty miles.
We'd have to find ourselves another LUP
To spend the fiery days, out of enemy sight.
Then the next night we'd resume our march
for yet another twenty miles, north of Baghdad.
Then we'd try and secure the primary objective
and head for the secondary target if situation permits.
We plotted DZ, Escape routes and the cover story
and ensured that our steps were safe, really carefully.
We planned the whole plan to the last detail
for the mission was of a top priority.

The next few days were spent in training
yet we had fun at every possible breaks.
We carried M4 carbines along with grenades
and zeroed our big bad Minimi LMG's.
We carried enough food and rounds that was needed
to save our hide in the event of a contact.
We carried Elsie mines and plastic explosives
to take out the Scuds with deadly accuracy.
We studied and analyzed our tactical plans
memorized them all to last for a month.
We studied the TEL of the Mobile Scuds,
and knew how to turn the entry door knobs.
For we could not waste much time trying to find
the entrance which could cost all our lives.

A few days later we were ordered to standby
for active tour of duty the next couple of nights.
Our call-sign was called as Bravo Two Zero
and given the green signal to get set and go.
The Chinooks where briefed to drop us by
and the big black birds came dead on time.
And in 2245, eight of us set out
with no thoughts of turning back around.
I was in command, 'Legs' Lane my second
Alan and Dinger right next in line.
Vince and Bob are serious cool boys
Mark and Stan are known outright.

We were to be in for exactly thirty minutes
but warning blasted out around the seveenth minute.
We braced ourselves for a hit by SAM
thanks to our pilot, danger passed  on time.
The copilot signaled ten, we passed it on
Rechecked our weapons, ensured all was done.
We checked for any defects, loading and cocking
sorting ourselves out, ready to be striking.
The radar had compromised us, it would now be tough
to cope with the Jundies in their search for us.
The copilot signaled 5,  we passed it on
check our side-arm, ensured catch was on.
The copilot signaled 2, we passed it on
stood on our toes, in the standard jumping position.
Finally the copilot signaled us to go!
Swung the gates open as we ran to the door.
I stood to the left with Legs on the right
counted 6 men, who jumped out of sight
ten feet to the dark, dangerous sand
with Philips next and I last to land.
The heli banked left and whirred out of sight
I couldn't be sure whether the crew would survive.
We stood quietly, straining for any sound
and waited for eyes to adjust to the dark night.
Ten minutes later I signaled my men
to group together and start the long tab.

We trudged along, poised to attack
ready for the slightest of contacts.
And almost three hours later we reached our point
And unfolded the radio and the sat-comm stand.
"Black bear, this is Bravo Two Zero. Come in. Over."
No response, silence was all we could hear.
We tried it again, each time in vain
and decided it was useless to try time and again
We had carry on minus all radio contacts
which made the task a lot more difficult.
We prepared ourselves, made hexy bloc fire
brew a pot of coffee, we were damned tired.
Bob and Vince would stag the next three hours
while rest of us had a nice little peaceful doze.
The dawn came up, and soon it was hot
yet we could not move because it'd be worse.
Whole day we rested, sorted and shared
our coffee and whispers, nothing aloud said.
Then as the last light approached, we readied ourselves
for another tabbing of 50 miles long ahead.
We were to do it in less than six hours
if we were to hide from the Iraqi patrol.
We started off silently with GPS aid
and Stan took a fix every time I said.
Two hours later I heard a peculiar sound
signaled my men to cover and crouch.
I crawled for a recon, wore my night vision
and scanned the desert with a slight tension.
I was shocked to see a truck dead ahead
we were on a highway, I figured out then.
I took as much data as was possible
for to recon again later is quite dangerous.
I could see the dark tarmac of the road
a lot of APC's and long black  trucks.
There were soldiers with turbans on their heads
carry AK-47's, fagging here and there.
Crawling back, I signaled my men to back off
to risk our live would be downright suicidal.
We skirted the road and tabbed on carefully
and heaved a sigh of relief once we reached hilly.
We camouflaged ourselves then set-up tents
brewed more mugs of coffee once again.
Six slept with a tense yet confident sigh
while two  stood to stag in the dark, eerie night.
I was woken to stag around four o'clock
and I watched the yellow hot sun come up.
'twas a pretty sight, the desert shone like ember
studded masterfully with pure gold and silver.

The boys were up around seven, alive and kickin'
while I brewed my chocolate hiding my yawning.
Suddenly around nine, tinkling bells sound
we scrambled frantically for cover. Damn! Confound!
I signaled my men to ready their weapons
while hiding mine in the bushes, crawled for a recon.
My Mark .45 at my side gave me much hope
to eliminate any peering heads above the desert 'snow'.
As I climbed up the dune I nearly laughed
to see a hairy face of a skinny little calf.
A few other goats came to smile at me
and then a wrinkled black face of an old Arab.
I had to think fast, to shoot or bluff
I chose to bluff, hid my gun, ran off
to meet him and I offered him a fag
he took it up and lit it, his lips were very fat.
I told him I was a tourist and that war was very grave
Thankfully saying "Allah", he went on his way.

I returned to the pit and signaled my men
to wait a little more and then to stand.
We rested for few more hours and heard the bells again
we returned to our hidey-hole, I crawled to recon then.
I heard a loud snort and saw a black goat
and a shiny black face of a boy, too bad it wasn't just a toad!
Soon as he saw me he stood still
kept staring at my face while I decided his fate.
Before I could decide, he spun to run around
and was off in a flash before I could utter a sound.
I shouted "Wait", my efforts were in vain
I returned to the pit to signal my men
to get up and run, to rest would be shit.
I threw my Bergen into my back and started to count
as each men started to sprint bending low to the ground.
At last I followed, my gun in my hand
and soon was wet with sweat, thanks to the hot desert sand.
After half an hour I heard a faint engine roar
and turning around saw a couple of trucks approach.
Shouting to take cover, I threw my bergen down
cocked my carbine and heard 'click' sound.
"Hold fire", I shouted. My head behind my bergen
waited till they were on range for our guns to open.
and as they neared I ordered to open fire
as bullets home in, taking out their tyres.
I fired at the first truck and it stopped short
the driver must have died, the others jumped off.
There was a vicious clatter of bullets streaking around
and a deafening roar as grenades sprung on the ground.
We kept firing, covering, reloading, running and firing
at last they decided to retreat, thanks to the first fleeing men.

We were now compromised and in shit state,
we tried to radio again yet still contact was in vain.
We had lost our bergens and now a lot lighter
quickened our pace to increase distance from the nazi-fighters.
Three of us had split and we had to wait
gasping for breath till we were all well.
And finally we heard a gentle trampling sound
and poised our guns as the three figures approached.
I signaled a challenge and they returned it
and a smile finally flickered across my sweating face.
And when we had regrouped, I called an urgent meeting-
We were compromised; to proceed would be a sin!
We had to abort, escape and evade
to the Syrian borders, a hundred miles west.

We started to tab, across the cold desert
winds howling and screeching; our clothes were tattered.
Shivering with the wind, trying to escape
from being a POW and tortured as in hell.
We had to cross the desert if we were to tell
other mortal minds of our lethal trade.
We were beginning to show signs of fatigue
of the cold hypothermia and other ills.
We knew there would be more Jundies on tails
but we had to escape from their inhumane clutches.
For the next five hours we marched on and on
silently and sullenly or else we'd be done!

The mist shrouded us, hid us from view
from the enemies behind but our friends too.
I signaled to wait for a little break
my men passed on, tapping to check.
I started to count the boys, there were only five!
The others had probably kept walking, sadly out of sight.
Howling winds & strickening cold
made it impossible for us to search.
Praying for their good health we carried on
with heavy hearts and guns on our arms.
Expecting to meet them at the next rendezvous
but little sure we were they'd make it by two.
We marched on with heavy, painful hearts
with cold tears and bloody face yet we'd laugh.
We had to make it to the border; we kept that in mind.
And struggled further to reach by little time.

Suddenly without warning, slugs burst behind
and the silence was ripped by automatic's whine.
I dived in the sand, crouching as I ran
firing at the muzzle flashes, little across the sand.
There was a white flash, right of me
and knew Bob was dead, so sad of it.
Firing and running, I threw myself
and finally made distance from the contact.
I could hear faint shouts of anguish and pain
and threw my jacket off; it was blood-stained.
I changed my mag; cocked and readied
to fire at anything that moved threateningly.
Then I saw two figures crouchingly approach
I signaled a challenge for them, ready to reproach
It was Dinger and Mark, I sighed with relief
We resumed our march very quickly indeed
forgot our fears and mugs of hot coffee
cause lag behind would be panning a suicide seed.
Reaching the highway, we hid behind few leaves
and decided to hijack a car then dash to be free.

We waited and waited, saw headlights come
realized it was an army trucks. Son of a gun!
We waited again then saw twin headlights
and body of a car painted yellow stripes.
Scanning everywhere, ensuring no one was around
stood in the middle and slowed the car down.
We jumped from our cover, threatening to shoot
if they did not give us their car and their loot.
The driver soon cried, ran, was tossed and tied
and realized it'd be foolish to put up a fight.
He handed us the keys and his fat wallet
and urged the others to repeat the same ballet.
We quickly ignited the engine, zoomed with a roar
and with a tense sigh, we thought we were finally ashore.

We neared Basra then saw a checkpoint ahead
To turn around and run was fatal and we'd all be dead.
I lined up behind an old gray sedan
and told my boys to shoot if shit hit the fan.
We waited as the front car slowly rolled out of sight
and tightened our grip as the guard came from right.
We waited and waited till his eyed peered
and shot him through the window before he jeered.
We dashed out instantly, making us of the confusion
for to be lazy is fatal while on a deadly ground.
I jumped over the hoods firing any one
who tried to stop me when I could run.
A dazzling fire-fight soon ensued
and I jumped for cover between trees and bush.
I could see more of the Jundies approaching
Jumping off the trucks, it was a bad sighting.
I soon saw a fresh pair of truck lights
and crawled under the sewer, too outnumbered to fight.
I shut my eyes as the trucks rumbled above
and prayed to dear God to ferry me back home.

Then suddenly I winced and plugged my ears
as deafening rounds bursts near and around.
I saw one Jundie laugh as he shot
inches from my head; at length he stopped.
I knew there was no need of any sort of stunts
they'd shoot me like a dog if I were to run.
They shouted obscene words and grabbed at my wrists
dragged me out while others aimed; ready for a kill.
They grabbed at my neck; damned nearly choked me to death
while kicking and butting their rifles on my head.
They disarmed and filled me till a man approached
signaled to halt while others reproached.
"Whaz yer name Amrikan?", he asked. His voice was bit gruff
"McNab..Andy McNab I said", with a little cough.
"Whas yer unit and whassre you doing here", he asked dutifully
"Cannot answer that, sir", I said. Looking pityfully.

The Forgotten Heroes

Winds cut through the silent trees like a double-edged dagger
Torrents of rain poured its fury at the forest all night
The moon hid her face behind a cloud in probable anger
while men plodded on camouflaged out of sight.
It wasn't because they had no particular ambition
nor was it because of some ironical desperation
these were hand-picked soldiers; men of tough nature
who would stick together through thick and thin forever and ever.

They struggled for survival and victory of their country
if people wondered what made them brave so simply
it wasn't because they were soldiers out of frustration
but it was only because they had a reason and ambition.
They were fiercely independent and dignified men
proud of their status wherever they would stand.
They were known by the whole world, far and wide
as GORKHAS— the nemesis of the enemy side.

For decades and centuries they had lived up to their name
those were the times when nuclear made no sense.
They charged through the line, facing the enemy right in the face
with their war cry and naked khukuri dancing with grace.
The Indian, Chinese and English all had reasons to fear
the Gorkhas and their legendary khukuri for quite a few years.
Then came the age of the advanced modern warfare
The age where the legendary Gorkhas lost their hard earned fame.

But Gorkha lives! Yes, even until today.
Recruited in different places—fighting everyday.
The story I had begun with, I shall certainly proceed
It was on the fateful night of 1944, 3rd of July,
The 10th Princess Mary's Own Royal Gorkha Rifles
Was assigned to secure a hill on Shenam Pass
and to complete the job on a dead quiet night
Plodded the Gorkhas, their reasons quite right.

Jas Bahadur Gurung was a short, robust and witty man
A captain of the group comprising of a thousand able men.
Most of the soldiers had complexion of either dark or tan
Yet it was the best even out of ten thousand Englishmen.
They had their precious symbol khukuri fastened behind
And yes of course, their guns—thanks to modern times.
Because one cannot deny the truth of the hopelessness
to face an enemy with a gun with only a khukuri in hand.

Like when an eagle swoops down to claim
the unfortunate victim of desperation & disdain.
Like when a hunter sights his favorite prey
and after killing it you hear him rightly say—
"Eat or be eaten, kill or be killed;
for 'tis is the law of the jungle and everything in it".
The Gorkhas are ruled by their true jungle instinct
the best of best the out of all the sacred gifts.

They needed no stopwatch neither advanced instrumentation
As nature had blessed them all with accuracy to a deadly precision
Their instincts works better than any American Radar.
They can see at night, to distances so very far.
They need no persistent urging and temptation to go on
A simple word of encouragement will put them into motion.
For they are the offspring of natures careful engineering
which can never be compared with mortal human intelligence.

On exactly midnight, the order got around
for the soldiers to secure and surround the town.
They were told it wasn't quite as easy as it may seem
but they would certainly complete the impossible with their brave team.
And after careful planning, briefing and understanding
the men moved out; not bothered with returning
As Lord Tennyson said, "There's but to do and die"
so if you want to smile, you can only sigh!

Final check to ensure their weapons and well stocked ammunition
But they knew the khukuri better than any guns or cannon.
The iron blade at their side gave them relief
whenever they were forced to overcome some tragic grief.
Two at a time they moved in different directions
their guns cocked assuring them deadly precision.
Their tense gripped mind were on full alert
Even through fog, mist, rain and dirt.

Slowly & stealthily they surrounded as they were instructed
the town of the enemy who were all quite unaware.
Then unfortunately a soldier on vigil saw them approach
Sounded his whistle before running like a cockroach!
Then almost instantly, bullets streaked across
like meteors forming a deadly mortal criss-cross.
Every minute was punctuated by a cry of anguish and pain
The soldiers still marched, their body full of blood stains.

"Aayo Gorkhali" were the words and prayers they uttered
Brandishing khukuris and guns, the enemy defense shattered.
Some were hit and would never walk again
others killed with khukuri—their only strength.
Friends began falling right, left and everywhere
but their eyes spelled death to every enemy face.
And it was actually a matter of fifteen minutes
which seemed like a year or two in hell!

"Gorkhali ho! Agadi Badh", Jas Bahadur cried.
Although it grew tough each time they tried.
And so saying for his companions to understand
he left his shelter and jumped to defend the land.
A bullet struck him on the chest tearing it apart
yet he killed the enemy with khukuri hurling like a dart.
And seeing what a brave man their captain had really been
they were inspired to fight—to abandon was a sin!

With a gun in one hand, a khukuri in the other
they made a wild rush to the enemies shelter.
Bullets tore into the Gorkhalis right into the chest
but they died with their khukuri never disgraced.
A few seconds which seemed like a few years later
they were upon the enemy whom they viciously slaughtered.
Dumbfounded and awestruck put the enemy out of sense
but helped to ease the Gorkhas mind which was rather tense.

And then the enemy knew they were beaten
made a dash to live—their fortress abandoned.
The enemies whose nerves were so badly wrecked
ran helter-skelter before they too were checked
by a hundred and twenty men who had waited behind
happily agreed to avenge them behind their boundary line.
They pleaded and cried, ran, tossed and tried
but they realized that their luck had finally lied.

A thousand great men had marched through the twilight zone
while only a few hundred men made it out of the death throne.
Blood streamed down their faces; their khukuri held nigh
marched back through the bodies; their spirits held high.
All the world wondered what a charge they had made
but forgot to ponder that it was not yet late
to bless the Gorkhas for their duty they had done
so bravely to die beneath the glowing sun!

Prime Minister, Emperors, Presidents and King
have ye all forgotten that war song they would sing?
Did all the brave Gorkhas die to be forgotten?
like a stone thrown carelessly or an egg rotten.
Verily I say unto you, my honored ones
that one Gorkha soldier is worth more than you all.
Cause they lived up with pride, loyalty and ambition

but sadly we have forgotten to praise their determination.

Gorkha Memorial, Winchester Cathedral, Hampshire UK 

Battlefield on Scraggy Hill at Shenam

Further reading :
Battle of Imphal, WW2, Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Imphal