Bravo Two Zero, again.
(an un-edited field note written on an iPhone deep inside North Korea)

Target 0528 a nuke facility north east of North Korea. Silly to do an infantry job on a target few klicks long, more so with no mortal, no air support talk less artillery back up. The altitude here is to the NK pilots advantage, I’ve been told. Even drones have there own weakness – could only look down and take pictures but blind to everything else around it. So, once in, ready to fight your way out Lads.
But the lads – sworn volcanoids all of them, eager to start shooting, looting and blowing nukes like we did once in western Pakistan, cared less. Why not break a neck when you get the chance? You never get enough to practice on anyway. Too bad we are not in this game for medals or citations.

Soon the wind will be away from us, then, we get our wet ass in gear, create carnage, commotion, fuck up the nukes as we go, then let them do the chasing. But for now, head down, everybody.

Shielded by a hoof shaped hill, this odd looking site had a solid core, a set of islands set in a marshy periphery – flooded in some areas, marshy in others. One track in, none out. It should simply be called hell. Period.

The stream, like many in NK. probably led to a spa Anyway we secure it and started crossing in twos. First batch just started off when Florida (the only man I’ve ever known to mow a lawn with helicopter rotor blades) stepped on something. It surfaced, then disappeared. Shit Croc. Tennessee hissed, rushed forward, Emerson to hand. Both lads half submerged and doubled as they work furiously. One mumbled “here, got the head, keep stabbing, keep stabbing.” Then after several hits, they both stood up, look at each other as the item of interest re-surfaced and flow away from them.
“You fucking kidding me? You stepped on a log”
“Thought it was a croc. mate”
“Yeah! million years from now”
“good team work lads, now stop bickering and get on with it, will ya!” I said into the headset.

See, that’s what you get from techs on a light infantry duty. One thing you need to know about techies in the army is, they are only good for lighting fuses on a rocket when you need it most, but on a belly-aching infantry duty like this, naah.

Sent from my iPhone
Herb. S. Within (Maj.) The Royal Highland Fusiliers
Her Majesty’s 2nd Battalion (52 Infantry Brigade) UK

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Job done. Five minutes to cross the dry riverbed into mother Russia. Then my dearest techie-bloke already caused the drone to drop Tettley tea bags, biscuits and mars bars on our position deep inside North Korea. The dropping was perfect, flaming tea bags and biscuits okay, but the price!… gave us away, revealed out position, north of Sobon-p’o lake in the process.
And the rest of the lads – all fucking hungry, lot of them, behaved as if manna from heaven – went berserk at the site of muchkings… They fucking lost it, broke cover, and went scampering for fucking fuuud.
Guess what! It was the NK and the Chinese playing cat and mouse with us. Mekoning technicque, persistence and last minute attempt to pin-point our position paid off for them. And as you now know… somebody on our side played into their hands, and they got us good.
Five minutes away from the border. You follow? Fucking five minutes to freedom in vodka land, that is.

The action: Suddenly the night opened up on us. And like a piece of broken chinaware, the erie silence around us burst into pieces. Muzzle flashes spewing projectiles. Crackling sounds coming at us from anywhere and everywhere. Shit! Finally I led the boys straight into hell – each of us with a gallon’o’gas to hand.
No time to look around. Head down or not, we’re certainly overwhelmed by the sounds of a million Kalashnikov’s. Imagine, fifteen bullet trains coming at you full blast with horns, well, that’s the experience for you.
It wasn’t the shots that got us rattled the most, it was the impact of a hundred or more bullets – colliding with others in their path to point of aim that scared the fucking shit out of our loafs… All those hot catridges, spent, yes, but burning through our adopted NK battledress.

Sent from my iPhone
Herb. S. Within (Maj.) The Royal Highland Fusiliers
Her Majesty’s 2nd Battalion (52 Infantry Brigade) UK

This is that type of moment when you’ll think, God! Would have been happier joining the volcanoid team, if i had known i’ll be drawing this kind of fire. But then, I volunteered for this and so were the rest of my company and no one is whining or ween-geing, so, fuck it. Without thinking too much we started Ostriching, otherwise what do you do to an empty space? The only problem is, in North Korea, you can only dig so far before you hit the rocks.

“Fuck it, let’s take the fuckers on.”
“With guile, someone shouted.”
“Yeah came a chorus of voices.”

Now tell me, if this is not a good company to be in?

Minutes later the play got more complicated. It was as if the SOK commander read our mind. We’re expecting the typical Chinese infantry wave, flank, defense fire and maneuver team – at least the NK could very well afford it. But the kimchi snorting dude surprised us with a killer/hunter team of three. And each team led by two eager dogs. Good. Very very good indeed. Fucking excellent use of manpower for anyone ready to finish off rather than wear out the enemy.

Whoever taught them to fight must have done a good job indeed. I crapped in my pants, but guess what! Bring it on. We have an answer for this kind of team. It is called precision fire with stealth and with guile. The fight might take a while. But we’ll give them a bloody good nose to snuff kimchi and fish balls with.

“Peel your targets off with stealth and don’t forget, sausages for the dogs.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”

The only problem is the mortal crew. They are way out of our reach but, good Lord! Do they not provide a menacing cover for these guys to advance on our position? Yes, they fucking well did.

“Raise Mo on the secure. I need Alice…”
“Alice?”
“Yeah! Alice – the weather bird.”
“What’s the order sir.”
“Seed weather. I need some peppered snow, a battalion of airborne ghosts and lots of sausages for the dogs.”
“Fucking hell.
“At last, someone next door to Alice.”
“Glad it wasn’t me sir.”

Sent from my iPhone
Herb. S. Within (Maj.) The Royal Highland Fusiliers
Her Majesty’s 2nd Battalion (52 Infantry Brigade) UK

By fraud or by chance, turns out Mr. Billings is somewhere around the waters of Sapporo, Japan. He’s aware of troop movement by the North Koreans around the Chinese border. Ready and waiting for “Ghosting” orders otherwise, we’ll either be chopped up or pushed to the sea.
But he’ll drop the ghosts to our left, seed snow on the attackers, delay and disrupt their thrust so we could punch a hole through their evolving flank and dash for the Russian border via the river bed. Then re-org in Khasan.
“Our loot?”
“Positive. One still with us, alive and kicking.”
The other, choose to the ultimate – stood up to impacting bulets. He got so chewed up by a million cooper, his upper body dissolved. Funny thing is, both legs are still standing – rooted like tree stumps placed in a set of field boots.

The live package: is…. A North Korean scientist we picked up from one of their nuclear facilities in… He’s defecting.
Hardy, ruddy and tough. He could have been an infantry nugget rather than crunching numbers. But, not my job to be sceptic – any one from this part of the world is a useful asset. Why you may ask? Well, Lee Chun Sul, I was told, a top nuclear scientist and a programmer turned into a cyber gecko by the NK establishment.

But from what I have seen of this simple looking bloke, when not busy hacking through clouds in cyberspace, or guiding and assisting us as a lead infantry man, he occupies himself with a repulsive hobby – coin filing like in the Victorian age. Yes, coin filing! And I am concerned about our weapons or any weapon in his vicinity at all. Can’t afford to fall prey to any type of sabotage at this stage…

Sent from my iPhone
Herb. S. Within (Maj.) The Royal Highland Fusiliers
Her Majesty’s 2nd Battalion (52 Infantry Brigade) UK

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