O'Brien Climate For Change

A Novel of Australia
1. Auflage 2011
ISBN: 978-1-922022-37-0
Verlag: Vivid Publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 216 Seiten

As Opposition Leader, Mike Townsend was instrumental in establishing the Australian Republic. A visionary man he had ambitious plans to transform Australia. Now Prime Minister, he finds that his ambitions are threatened by an enemy within his own ranks, and by the President whom he helped install.

Autoren/Hrsg.

O'Brien, Peter

Leseproben

TWO
“Good morning and welcome to ABC news. Australian scientists have warned half of the planet could simply become too hot for human habitation in less than 300 years. The warning comes after a research by the University of New South Wales, which has been forecasting the effect of climate change over a longer time horizon than that considered in many similar studies. It suggests without action to cut greenhouse gas emissions, mankind's activities could prompt average temperatures to rise as much as 10% to 12% by 2300.” Al Buk appeared no different to the many isolated villages that dotted this part of the Hindu Kush. At a distance of five kilometres and through the lenses of the high-powered binoculars it had the air of desolation and abandonment that typified the region after so many years of conflict. This one did appear larger than normal and, although situated on the plain, its proximity to a craggy outcrop that led directly into the main range suggested it could have been sited for tactical, rather than agricultural, considerations. Not surprising, given the warlike history of this land – reflected the man behind the binoculars. Warrant Officer Phil Vereker scanned the village one more time, seeing what he expected to see – nothing. Clearly the village was unoccupied but if the intelligence report from Force Command were correct it would soon be home, if only temporarily, for two groups of Taliban militia that had troubled coalition forces for the last six months. Intelligence sources believed the meeting between the two independent groups was intended to coordinate hostilities that had hitherto been random in nature, and therefore less effective than they might otherwise have been. In fact it was just such an escalation of coordinated action that the coalition command feared most and was determined to prevent at all costs. It was Vereker’s intention that, not only would the terrorist’s occupation of Al Buk be short, but also their remaining tenure on earth. As he baked under the Afghan sun he remembered, with bitterness, his close friend Sgt Dan Baker and two others, who had died over a month ago when their convoy had been ambushed. The convoy had been en route to a local orphanage that his unit had sponsored. These visits were regarded by the diggers as a form of R&R but nonetheless were undertaken with full tactical security. They were not pre-announced and were conducted at random. The unit was convinced that the ambush was not a spontaneous event but had been meticulously planned based on a breach of security from within the coalition compound. The force that had conducted the ambush was believed to be a hardline, professional unit known as the “Cleansers” commanded by Benbrika. It was this group that was reported to have initiated the meeting at Al Buk. Vereker, and his superiors, wanted dearly to eliminate Benbrika and his command structure. As the sun dropped below the skyline, leaving only the last vestige of what had been a scorching day, Vereker’s company commander, Major Mark Pound, joined him below the crest of the low rise. At this time of year the cold came down quickly at night and both men were starting to shiver. They had been in position, observing the village for two days now. It was judged too risky to conduct a close ground reconnaissance of the village. Most probably the enemy had lookouts posted in the foothills, so the planning was done using satellite imagery and whatever they had been able to glean from their observation. Pound, an experienced Special Forces officer, believed he was ready and able to execute his commander’s plan. The mission was to kill or capture all enemy personnel in the village. Ideally, enough prisoners would be captured for interrogation, but this was complicated by the fact that it was impossible to put cut-off parties on the most likely lines of retreat, without a high risk of revealing their own presence. Therefore the plan was skewed towards ‘kill’ rather than ‘capture’, and involved a massive artillery barrage to allow the assault team to approach the target as quickly as possible in their Bushmaster armoured vehicles. Three heliborne cut-off teams were assigned to cover the most likely escape routes and these teams would deploy as soon as the artillery barrage commenced. Each cut-off team comprised an Apache gunship and three Blackhawk troop ships. The gunships were armed with two Hydra rocket launchers, each carrying nineteen 2.75 inch high explosive rockets and were equipped with the latest night vision sensors. However, these were just insurance. Ideally, the job would be completed by Major Pound’s troops on the ground in the village of Al Buk – the way it had always been for the infantry. “All quiet, Phil?” queried Pound. “Haven’t seen a bloody thing. Christ, I could do with a beer,” replied Vereker. “Can’t offer you a beer but why don’t you get back down below. Get yourself rested and then start getting the blokes ready. Run them through the drill one more time. I’ll stay up here for now. And, send up my signaller, would you please.” Meanwhile, twenty kilometres away, at Support Base Barton, the Coalition command compound on the outskirts of the provincial capital Nuristan, which was home to the 1st Australian Special Forces Brigade, Brigadier Jim Laidley wearily entered his tent and sank gratefully onto his bed. It had been a particularly gruelling day in the command post, putting the final touches to Operation Flytrap, and he welcomed the chance for a few minutes to unwind before the attack commenced. He was confident that this was a well-planned operation with a very good chance of success – success that would not only provide a major setback to the Taliban but also boost the morale and add fresh laurels to the troops of whom he was so proud. Jim Laidley was a career officer who was headed for the top. When the Australian Government had agreed to a U.S. request to increase its commitment in Afghanistan, it was agreed that a Special Forces formation would be deployed, under Australian command, to the province of Nuristan. Jim Laidley had been chosen as its commander. The 1st Australian Special Forces Brigade comprised two infantry battalions, one parachute and one mechanised, an SAS squadron for long-range reconnaissance and interdiction and two companies from the 2nd Commando Regiment. A U.S. medium artillery regiment and an air cavalry helicopter squadron, as well as a number of ancillary units, were allocated to Laidley’s command. Laidley, at forty-four, was still a very fit man. He was not particularly tall but his forceful presence made him appear so, particularly to the men he commanded and for whom he had great respect and affection. The men recognised, and appreciated, not only his innate leadership qualities but also his fierce loyalty to those he commanded or called friends. In truth, Laidley valued loyalty almost greater than any other military virtue. It had been one of the earliest lessons he had learned as a young officer from his first commanding officer. He was about to lie back and relax when he noticed his personal mail, which had been placed in the tent by his orderly, and was delighted to see that it included a letter from Jill. Despite the advance of modern technology and the utility of email, he and Jill had always preferred the intimacy of the handwritten word, when, as so frequently happened, they were separated by the demands of his profession. Eagerly he tore open the envelope and took in the expected salutation, ‘My darling Jim’. Then his heart froze as his eye caught the word “cancer”. He forced his attention back to the start of the letter, determined to read her news as Jill intended he should. Already knowing the worst, he read: My Darling Jim, I know you will understand why I have to give you my news in this way. I have been diagnosed with stomach cancer and the prognosis is bad. Dr Flood tells me I only have months to live………………… The despair seemed to start in the pit of his stomach and spread outwards until his whole body felt numb. The last time he had seen Jill, six months ago at Sydney airport as he prepared to fly out, there was no inkling of anything like this. She was her usual vivacious self – sad to be farewelling him yet again but fatalistic about the process after twenty years of marriage. Jim regarded Jill as the bedrock of his life and his devotion to her was absolute. He realised that he could not have achieved the professional success that had come his way without her support and, right now, in the midst of the foulness that surrounded him, he wondered how he could continue. The thoughts and images that flooded into his mind cascaded chaotically off each other as he sat, almost catatonically, in the folding camp chair that adorned his spartan quarters. The children, and how they would handle this, came immediately to mind but the thought that dominated was, of course, that he had to get to Jill as soon as he possibly could. All of a sudden the war seemed vastly unimportant. At about 10.00 pm, from his vantage point overlooking Al Buk, Major Mark Pound was suddenly startled to see lights approaching the village from the rocky outcrop beyond. He had discovered in almost twelve months in Afghanistan, that his enemy were, in the main, well trained and highly disciplined. The last thing he expected from either of the enemy forces they were stalking was that they would advertise their presence so clumsily. Something was not right....