Major COSMO The real SAS.

Following on from an earlier attempt by another OP I thought I might have a go at writing the ultimate Speshial Forces book, the flak will fly of course, I will have a go any way.

Present day:

Concerned that far too much information about members of the special forces was being put into the public domain by journalists and whistle blowers the Director had ordered a clamp down on the leaks, classified as black op’s, the missions would be carried out by a highly trained team led by Major Duncan Lovat known as COSMO by his men.

Their first task was to cover the funeral of a former member of the regiment Warrant Officer Paddy Padwick, who had been killed in a bar fight in Nepal while working as a contractor for the Sultan of Brunei. It was suspected that muslim extremists would target the service in a revenge attack for Paddys men planting pork in the halal butchers in Hereford the previous year, as well as this they had instructions to send a message to the journo’s to keep away from SF activities from now on.

It had been a dark stormy night to be sure, now as the dark rain filled clouds raced across the Devizes church yard, "Cosmo" the boss gave the order for the 6 heavily armoured Range Rovers to form up as pre arranged around the grave, heavily tinted (illegally) windows prevented any of the mourners from Paddys local the Nags head pub, and the Devizes boathouse club from identifying any of the occupants, none of the local mourners had been vetted to the very high level required to even speak to one of "THEM"

Off to the other side of the grave there were gathered 30 hard looking men, serving and former members of the SF community. The younger ones in smart Hugo Boss suits and shoes, shaven skulls and designer stubbled.

The older among them universally dressed in faded blue jeans, leather jackets and shod in well worn desert boots, all sporting side boards below the ears and thick moustaches now flecked with grey.

Clouds of thick cigar smoke billowed from "Cosmos" partially open drivers window, in the background could be heard the regular radio check reports over the highly classified digital encrypted walkie talkies( Argos item no: YU66993) the 12 snipers strategically placed in and around the churchyard had been freezing their bollocks off for 4 weeks in their hides, buried around the area were the corpses of 44 local dogs who had been unfortunate enough to stumble upon these hidden lairs, manned by some of the most ruthless killers in the world.( Only to be continued if the publishers cough up)

Cosmo spoke rapidly into his handset "Stand bye, Stand bye, Stand bye" (no one knew why this had to be said three times, it was a pain in the arse but had become embedded in regimental folklore)
At a snails pace the hearse came up the long curving driveway to stop only a few metres from the grave, the funeral director dressed in ragged camo' and wearing a distinctive No2 dress hat with the badge of the 49th Parachute battalion beckoned for the pall bearers to approach the rear of the hearse, four heavily built shaven headed females dressed in the green of the former WRAC slowly slid the casket out of the back of the humber pig.

The vicar a former member of the Intelligence Corps and the secretive Det' began to say the lords prayer as the pallbearers struggled across the muddy grass in their regulation issue shoes (WRAC for the use of) tough as nails they dug deep into their boots to cover the ground without any cock ups, none of them of course had ever been inclined towards a cockup, veterans of the Det’ they worked together and arrived at the grave.

“ Heads up all stations, this is where it could all turn pear shaped, Sierras 1-8 you are green for any mavericks in your sector" Cosmo took another long drag on the cigar, his driver Mac was a light shade of Malayan green from inhaling the pungent fumes of the hand made tube rolled on the thighs of an Algerian camel.
The vicar began the service with a rendition of that most holy of verses "We are the pilgrims father" a lone harmonica played the regimental lament written by the revered David Magnum, slowly the bearers released the casket into the looming pit, a regulation 20' deep to prevent anyone digging and taking the corpses beret, treasured among the Walters who lurk around the graves of those entitled to wear it.

Taff " The itch " Evans was situated in hide 16 100m uphill from the grave, " ferking QM's" he muttered the sweat rolling from his forehead, "This ferking suit is shite boyo, cannot move, can't have a shite or piss, bolloxs I am gonna slot some barstard for this cockup"
He thought back to the briefing for this mission, a distribution mix up meant that they, they being THEM of course, had received a consignment of kit destined for their bretheren in the SBS, hence the snipers were all kitted up in one piece divers suits, skin tight figure hugging Spandex and Lycra, unable to do the usual drills into a bin bag they had no choice but to shite in situ, the appalling stench around the cemetery had been the cause of the mass influx of local dogs ranging from an Irish wolfhound to a pair of Daschhunds, all 44 of which had been despatched with the silenced SLR's and other weapons used by the team.

Suddenly there was a flash of movement through the trees down hill from the grave, a figure in a bright red/yellow shirt appeared at the edge of the treeline, a long black barrel protruded in front of him, suddenly as if punched by a heavy weight boxer he flew backwards into the undergrowth.
" Head shed this is Sierra 5 had to take out another Maverick, send clean team over" the voice over the radio remained perfectly calm.
" Roger that 5, a bit busy at the moment, wait out" Cosmo sighed, these bloody journalists are a pain in the butt, he thought, that was another one to go with the 4 already slotted by the boys earlier in the day, no choice but to dig another hole to take them and the mound of cameras, stepladders and other junk they carried around.

Finally the reverend finished the Eulogy, the harmonica broke into the last post as the 30 or so mourners began to drift towards the waiting bus with the blacked out windows, an elderly but still quite eye catching blonde in the uniform of a Major in the QARANC gently helped them on board,
" I am sure I know you from the Rinteln hop darling" said one of the grey pancho villa moustachioed figures," or was it Wegburg"
As the bus drove off the sniper teams began sweeping the area for spent cases as well as hurriedly helping each other out of the by now stinking "hide" suits, these were thrown into the still open grave, attracting a huge swarm of blue bottles as well as a pack of some 20 dogs which had now gathered up wind.

"Lets get the ferck out of here" Said the itch hurrying towards one of the Range Rovers now ticking over ready to leave the scene, a mini JCB trundled down towards the grave ready to begin the infill.


You are bored aren't you, really, REALLY bored.......
You are bored aren't you, really, REALLY bored.......

..............and, sniffing NOBO whiteboard pens whilst on sanger duty.

That said though given the treatment it could set the opener for a 4 part mini series on Channel 5.


Book Reviewer
Thats two minutes out of my life I wont get back...............
Riveting, absolutely, I knew there as something about the the vicar, but what happened to mad old Aunt Baxter(GM to be confirmed)?
Oh come on, your description of Devizes makes it sound attractive, 6 heavily armed or is it armoured Range Rovers in convoy around Devizes you are having a laugh, that's normal all the locals drive around with 'blacked out windows' to hide their dogs.

I just do not believe that there would be only 44 odd dogs sniffing around "them" in their hides it would be the whole of the female population of Devizes not just a few of the dogs.

That is just a few of the errors in your first couple of paragraphs, if you are going to use Devizes as a location at least do some research, visit the place, don't just make it up, not all of the females are dogs but quite a few do have more than one head, or is that can give head.

Being a resident near Devizes, written using the extra finger on my three hands.
When I was in Devils land,er, Devizes, it was a picture of gentility, no alchies or ladies who frequented certain dens of devilry, it was the ideal posting for the young nieve infanteer, I loved the place, couldn't bear to leave it, the local were sooo friendly!:boogie:but really now what about mad old aunt B (GM to be confirmed), and I take it the Rev just shrugged off his arm wound, what a guy!:excited:
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I like it- I'm doing a bit of writing myself, unfortunately not being a critic I can't find any high falutin words or comparisons. Argos must be doing a roaring trade.

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I can't wait for the Balcony scene. Well i can really but surprised no one else has mentioned it yet.

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