Heroes of the South Atlantic

Heroes of the South Atlantic
Shaun Clarke

Ultimate soldier. Ultimate mission. But can the SAS prevent British Task Force being destroyed by exocet missiles?It is 1982, and a brutal, bloody war is being waged as British forces try to battle the Argentinians into surrendering the Falkland Islands.As the fighting continues, it becomes clear to British Task Force commanders that they will need to call upon the help of the legendary Special Air Service – the SAS! Their mission, which must be shrouded in a veil of secrecy, is to infiltrate enemy territory by land and sea and from the air, performing tasks too dangerous for the average soldier.Surviving hunger, freezing cold and constant danger, they must gather vital intelligence, engage in espionage, disrupt enemy communications and, when necessary, engage and kill the enemy. A tall enough order for an army; when it’s just a small unit of men, this may prove to be a one-way mission…

Heroes of the South Atlantic

SHAUN CLARKE

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

First published in Great Britain by 22 Books/Bloomsbury Publishing plc 1993

Copyright © Bloomsbury Publishing plc 1993

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016

Cover photographs © Jim Gibson/Alamy (helicopter); Shutterstock.com (textures)

Shaun Clarke asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008154851

Ebook Edition © November 2015 ISBN: 9780008154868

Version: 2015-10-15

Contents

Cover (#u390c3258-18f2-5488-a23c-d2b1daf3a8e0)

Title Page (#u311b4070-e793-5970-8542-be87f4ee7f47)

Copyright (#ubdc7274f-f752-574e-9fa9-c77dc436e057)

Prelude (#u891132df-c823-5f5e-924f-cf9cde0c6f82)

Chapter 1 (#u22aafaad-2679-585c-9fa5-2c58367ca926)

Chapter 2 (#u54aa455b-0913-561e-a2f0-68b60861f999)

Chapter 3 (#u2ebfaff6-ceea-54fb-918c-3bfab9375326)

Chapter 4 (#uff131080-532b-5f5c-b0fb-64d708aa675d)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

OTHER TITLES IN THE SAS OPERATION SERIES (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Prelude (#u4452d75c-d35a-5ab1-89f7-c200dc642bfa)

Phil Ricketts was having another nightmare based on fact. He was reliving with dreadful clarity that moment the previous year when, in a shit-hole of a housing estate in Andersonstown, West Belfast, Lampton had made his mistake and copped it.

They had moved out at dawn for a carefully planned house assault after being informed by the ‘green slime’, the Intelligence Corps, that a couple of IRA men were being hidden in the estate and preparing to snipe at a British Army foot patrol. As Ricketts sat between his mates in the cramped rear of the armoured ‘pig’ taking them along the Falls Road, secure in his assault waistcoat, checking his Heckler & Koch MP5 and adjusting his gas mask, he glanced out the back and was reminded again of just how much he detested being in Northern Ireland. This wasn’t a real war with an enemy to respect, but rather, a dirty game of hide and seek, a demeaning police action, a bloody skirmish against faceless killers, mean-faced adolescents, hate-filled children and contemptuous housewives. Christ, Ricketts loathed it.

He was filled with this loathing as the pig took him through the mean streets of Belfast in dawn’s grey light – past terraced houses with doors and windows bricked up, pubs barricaded with concrete blocks, even off-licences and other shops protected by coils of barbed wire – but he managed to swallow his bile when the pig neared the estate and Sergeant Lampton, Ricketts’s best friend, started counting off the distance to the leap: ‘Two hundred metres…one hundred…fifty metres…Go! Go! Go!’

The armoured vehicle screeched to a halt, its rear doors burst open, and the men leapt out one by one, carrying their weapons in the ‘Belfast cradle’, then raced across the debris-strewn lawns in front of the bleak rows of flats, still wreathed in the early-morning mist.

Such actions were so fast, they were over before you knew it. Ricketts raced ahead with Lampton, across the grass, into the block and along the litter-strewn walkway as someone shouted a warning – a child’s voice, loud and high-pitched – and a door slammed shut just above. Up a spiral of steps, along a covered balcony, boots clattering on the concrete, making a hell of a racket, then Lampton was at the door in front of Ricketts, taking aim with the Remington 870 pump-action shotgun. The noise was ear-splitting, echoing under the walkway’s low roof, as the wood around the Yale lock exploded and the door was kicked open. Lampton dropped to his knees, lowering the shotgun, taking aim with his 9 mm Browning handgun as Ricketts rushed into the room, his Heckler at the ready, bawling for the bastards to surrender even as he hurled in a stun grenade.

The grenade exploded, cracking the walls and ceiling, but when its flash had faded away an empty room was revealed. Cursing, Ricketts and the others explored the whole flat, tearing down the curtains, kicking over tables and chairs, ensuring that no one was hiding anywhere, then covering each other as they backed out again, swearing in frustration.