Dirty Deeds Done Cheap Read Online Free PDF Page B

travelling with were good, very good – I could tell these were hardened veterans.
    Although I was nervous and my adrenalin was sky high, everyone was so professional and focused, and I had a feeling I was going to like this job. As we travelled along, you could see holes in the road and scorch marks on walls and bridges where IEDs had gone off. There were bullet holes everywhere. This looked like a very fucking dangerous place.
    I was in the rear vehicle. There was a gunner on the back with an M240 7.62mm machine gun facing backwards, ready to deal with any threat from the rear. Every now and again you could hear gunshots and the odd bang, and it was pretty unnerving for me at first, but these guys didn’t even flinch. They’d obviously gone through this a thousand times before, but I hadn’t.
    We drove for around thirty minutes until we reached the American camp, which was going to be my new home. As we approached, I noticed that the gates had big chains and wires across, obviously to stop suicide bombers from piling on through them and accessing the camp. Big concrete bollards zigzagged up towards the entrance – this was to ensure that no suicide bombers in a car or truck had a straight run at the camp (as they did at the US Marines barracks in Beirut in 1982). Either side of the chains there were machine-gun posts, heavily armed with .50-cal weapons, which were capable of taking most things out.
    The camp was totally encased by thick concrete walls with concrete shelters dotted around the place, in which you could take cover in case of mortar strikes. In Baghdad, inside the airport, it was always deadly quiet, but now, up here, it was totally different. Every now and then you could hear automatic gunfire in the distance. This was part of what was called Operation Iraqi Freedom.
    After settling into camp life, I prepared for my first mission. The boss made me feel welcome and I finally started my new job – fuel convoys from Turkey. It was certainly an eye opener but I soon got into it.

Chapter 2
Convoy Missions
    T he following morning, I rolled out of bed and got dressed. It looked to be a great day: the sun was shining and we had a nice warm temperature with that lovely fresh morning smell you get. We had got up at 06.00 because we had a big convoy to escort down from Turkey. The convoy comprised fuel tankers headed for the US military.
    Breakfast time was the normal shite: big queues with loads of hungry Yank soldiers. I had beans on toast with a mug of coffee and then got my gear ready. I was carrying an M16 assault rifle, an AK-47 Russian automatic rifle, plus a rucksack full of spare ammo. We always carried spare ammo – and lots of it – because we didn’t know what we would encounter. It could be just one contact or even three or four on one trip, so we tried to prepare for every eventuality. I also loaded up with eighteen rounds of high-explosive 40mm grenades for my M203 grenade launcher, mounted under my M16. The reason for the AK-47, which I carried in the footwell of the truck, was that, because our contacts with the enemy happened so fast and were so intense, if you had a stoppage (basically if your main weapon jammed) you could just pick up your AK-47 and open up with that instead. Taking the time to try to clear your stoppage could cost you vital seconds during which you would be exposed and vulnerable. So it was a case of ditch the M16 and grab the AK-47.
    At around 06.30 we went up to the ops room for a quick brief. This particular job today was fairly typical and was one we’d done loads of times before, so it was all pretty routine for most of the lads. However, because you learn on the job, nothing is ever routine in northern Iraq. That day, as it turned out, was going to be anything but routine. It was such a lovely morning that you could almost be mistaken for thinking you were somewhere else until the unmistakable sound of gunfire or bombs would jerk you back to reality. All the teams on