The Forgotten Land by Keith McArdle Page A

were screaming at one another now, in panic or confusion. They began
firing from the hip blindly. It was clear they did not know where their enemy
lay. A thundering BOOM resounded and a 66 rocket tore through the air, slamming
into the engine block of the immobile truck. The explosion that followed sent a
shock wave through the five hidden soldiers. For the Kurdish militiamen
standing closer to the truck, it must have been much worse. As the smoke
settled, it became obvious just how much worse. Several were down. The ones who
had been closer to the explosion were dead. One was decapitated, another was
missing a leg as well as half his face and another had a large hole where his
chest had been.
    A
number of other Kurds were on the ground writhing, screaming or moaning. The
dull, metallic thunk of a 40mm grenade launcher added to the chaos. The grenade
sailed through the shattered windscreen of the truck and exploded violently
inside the cabin. The dead driver’s passengers, who had been badly wounded by
the rocket, but who were still mobile, had been halfway out of the vehicle
before the grenade exploded in the confined space of the cabin. Life was torn
from them in a murderous roar of fire and shrapnel.
    Some
of the militiamen were now running away from the Australians, sometimes turning
to fire. Others were running forward and being dropped systematically by the
murderous Minimi and M4 fire coming at them. Meanwhile the eight disguised
Iraqi soldiers had gone straight into an ambush drill and were fire-and-moving
off to the right.
    It
was a textbook manoeuvre and they knew what they were doing. They knew they had
been ambushed by an enemy in front of them somewhere on higher ground and they
were attempting to outflank the Australians.
    Dave
saw the threat. “Get those bastards!” he screamed, firing the Minimi from his
shoulder in long bursts. Two Iraqis went down. The remainder, seeing Dave’s
position, returned fire but continued their rapid movement off to the right.
Dave threw himself to the ground as bullets zipped, whizzed and cracked over
and around him. His face was cut as small splinters of wood exploded from a
round slamming into a tree nearby.
    Some
of the militiamen had also seen Dave kneel up and aimed their fire directly
towards the position.
    “I
see ’em,” yelled Will. He brought his rifle to bear and fired off a 40mm
grenade. It travelled towards the Iraqi soldiers at 90 metres per second,
impacting with a deep boom.
    Another
of the soldiers was down before the remaining men disappeared into dead ground
off to the right.
    “Withdraw!”
roared Steve. “I’m moving, cover me!”
    The
firing from the Australian position intensified as Steve got to his feet,
sprinted back and threw himself to the ground. The air around him came to life
as hot lead shrieked past, thudding into tree trunks or earth.
    “Two
and three, go!” yelled Steve.
    Will
and Dave sprang up, sprinted back and dived down. The Kurds were running up the
slope towards them now, firing from the hip and shouting. Some were kneeling to
take aim, but few took the time. Most of the bullets zipping past the
withdrawing Australians were inaccurate, fired in haste and without care.
    The
fire coming down at the Kurds from the Australian patrol above, however, was
creating devastation. Half the men who had dispersed from the truck were down
and several had fled towards Barzan, their rifles dropped and forgotten.
    The
Australian soldiers continued to conduct a fighting withdrawal. One or two of
them at a time moving back while the remainder gave covering fire.
    Steve
lined an advancing Kurd up through the holographic sight and fired two rounds.
One round ripped through the Kurd’s chest, the second went through his throat,
spattering the foliage behind him with blood. The man dropped to the ground
motionless.
    Hollywood
would have it that when someone was shot, they were thrown back and even flew
through the air. The reality was that a bullet