Leon Spain
Lat = 38 degrees, 44.8 minutes North
Long = 0 degrees, 30.8 minutes West
Sunday 6th March 1988
The OSC’s First mission
Hurtling along at one hundred and seventy miles per hour and skimming the trees at an altitude of fifty feet, was a Sikorsky S-60 Blackhawk helicopter bearing British roundel markings call sign Cobra one; traversing along a valley fifty miles north of Leon in Spain.
Ninety-six hours earlier a splinter group from the Basque separatists had abducted a top British diplomat, whilst he was attending a peace conference in Barcelona.
They had threatened to execute him, unless a ransom of Five million pounds sterling was paid.
The deadline for this was in exactly three and half hours, 09:00 hrs. Local time.
Thirty hours ago, an informant had given a tip off as to the location of the hostage and terrorists that had him. Strayker had been kept in the loop and Everest had given the go ahead for their first mission.
On board the Blackhawk helicopter were two teams of six dressed in their unique charcoal grey disruptive pattern attire from the OSC.
Max Storm code name Eagle three was leading the mission he was also accompanied by John Martin code name Eagle six
The pilot flicked his comm.’s switch.
Max’s headphone crackled. “Five minutes to touch down.” Came the voice of the pilot.
Max stood up; he extended his right arm upwards and rotated his arm with his right finger pointing up.
“Lock and load,” Max said.
The team’s stood up and carried out a final weapons check on their Heckler and Koch silenced submachine guns.
The helicopter landed three miles from the farmhouse where the Diplomat was being held.
It was half an hour before sunrise as Max led his men down the valley in a standard offensive patrol pattern.
Forty minutes later, the teams had arrived with a view of the isolated farmhouse a quarter of a mile away.
They fanned out using the numerous trees for cover, Max scoped the farmhouse with his binoculars, and there was no sign of life outside the farmhouse.
“Eagle three to eagle six over.”
John Martin replied, “receiving you three.”
“Take your team to the rear of the building, I will take the front.”
“Copy that three, six to the back, three to the front.”
The terrain around the farmhouse was perfectly suited for an unobserved approach.
“This is six we are at the back, over.”
“Standby six; masks on.”
Twelve men surrounding the farmhouse put on their respirators.
Max Storm pulled a flash stun grenade from his webbing belt, the pin fell to the ground and with a powerful swing of the right arm it was propelled into a downstairs window smashing it on its way through.
At the same time, one of the team fired two rapid shots from a Remington 870 pump action shotgun at the front door hinges.
At the rear of the cottage, tear-gas grenades were fired into the upper and lower floor windows.
Max yelled into his mouthpiece, “front team go, go, go.”
Inside the farmhouse, the flash stun grenade wakened the Basque terrorists as it detonated.
Confusion and disorientation took over them as the effects of the stun and tear-gas grenades began to take effect, some scrambled for their weapons.
Max and his team entered the farmhouse through the front door that had been blasted by the shotgun.
Max was first in as a terrorist picked up his gun; Max levelled his weapon and pulled the trigger and a short controlled burst of fire took out the terrorist.
“One x-ray KIA.” Max reported over the comm.’s system.
The team fanned out through the downstairs, clearing the two downstairs rooms, as terrorists were killed each team member responsible reported their killed in actions.
Team two were waiting out the back as terrorists came out the back door and from the upstairs windows
The distinctive muffled sounds from the silenced HK MP-5’s firing short controlled bursts claimed their targets, only two of the terrorists managed to return fire however; these were but fruitless efforts?
Max climbed the staircase and began the search for the hostage his team followed; closed doors were quickly kicked in but there were no terrorists.
Max kicked down the door to the bathroom and observed a hooded figure huddled down and shaking on the floor with his hands and feet bound with cord; there was a damp patch on the floor near to the figures groin area.
“Three to six I have located package appears to be unharmed.”
“Roger three we have seven x-rays confirmed KIA.”
Another voice came on the Comm.’s system. “Farmhouse clear, repeat farmhouse clear and secured.”
Max removed the hood and checked the face with a photograph of the kidnapped diplomat; they matched.
He cut the restraints on the diplomat and pulled him to his feet. “It’s okay sir we are the good guys.”
Half a mile down the valley and on top of the hill in a wooded copse, a figure had been disturbed by the commotion from the farmhouse.
This figure looked through the powerful rifles telescope; he was dismayed at what he saw and was also angry with himself for falling asleep.
He observed the bodies of his fallen comrades as well as the persons responsible for their deaths.
There was nothing he could do; or was there?
Max and the teams had pulled out retracing their steps down the valley back to the helicopter; when a single shot rang out, John Martin the point man seemed to standstill for a split second a cloud of red spray emanated from his head before falling to the ground like a marionette that had, had its strings cut.
The teams instinctively took cover as more single shots rained down on them; Max spotted the location of the sniper. “He’s up on our right at one o’clock,” he yelled into his mouthpiece.
The teams returned fire but were kept pinned down.
Max switched channels on his radio. “Cobra one, Cobra one urgent come in.”
“This is Cobra one over.”
“We have a man down and are pinned down south of your location by a sniper; request you take him out.”
“Roger that were on our way.”
“Cobra one follow my tracer fire for location of sniper.”
A minute later, the Blackhawk came down the valley and the two pilots looked up to their left at a wooded copse of trees where Max’s tracer bullets were entering.
The Blackhawk ascended to the crest of the hill and the piloted flicked the safety switch on the trigger.
As he depressed the trigger the two door mounted 12.7 mm door guns came to life, the pilot kept the trigger down for a full twenty seconds whilst he traversed the Helicopter around strafing the snipers position.
The sniper was killed as the first two hundred rounds entered the copse with the trees and branches exploding around his now still body.
The pilot released the trigger, and moved closer to the wooded copse where he was able to observe through the dust the lifeless bloody body of the sniper. “I think we can say that’s a kill.”
“Cobra one to Eagle three, sniper eliminated, out.”
Cobra one descended down and landed near to Max and his team.
The team were bagging up the body of John Martin.
Max looked up the hill and then looked across at the body bag being loaded onto the helicopter. First casualty and a damn good soldier and operative he muttered. “Okay let’s get out of here.”