The Killing Beach

 

 

Tunisia June 2015

 

The sun shone fiercely in Port El Kontaoui. The resort was somnolent in the heat of the afternoon sun. More, the sun was intense, people lazed on the beach under coloured umbrellas, the smell of sun lotion filled the air. Bodies, better suited to the English sun, were turning red, in the hope of a brown body to go home with to show they had been on holiday somewhere special, to be the envy of their friends.

 

Many families were together; grandparents, who should have known better; ‘Oh we come here every year, everybody is so friendly’, with their sons and daughters. Plump English girls who are the targets of the Tunisian waiters. Lithe, seemingly super models in the making, lay in a pose fashion, summoning up the waiters for a yet another cocktail.

 

Fat men with braces sitting uncomfortably in the shade keeping and eye on the ’models’. Stout chested men, who had seen better days but still fancied their chances, made their way to the sea, striding out and plunging in as if to show their manliness. Their wives smiled indulgently, ’If that keeps him happy’.

 

More sensible ladies of a certain age, coolly but sensibly dressed, sat in the shade by the pool. The man, who always swam 20 lengths in the afternoon, pulled himself up from the pool showing of his youthful ability, and his pecs, stood to be admired as he reached for his towel. They smiled to one another and thought a good old English cup of tea wouldn’t come amiss.

 

The waiters just lounged about. They spoke to one another in their native tongues, not Tunisian but a mixture of eastern sounds more suited to Poland and the Ukraine. This was their relaxing time before being called to prepare for afternoon teas in the dining area. The beach security guards idled their time away, attention waining.

 

A man in a high room sat on his balcony nursing a bad stomach from the night before. One has to take care for spirits made in the distilleries of the eastern countries, no matter what it says on the label, certainly have not come from anywhere near Scotland. His wife had gone down to the beach to get some sun. He thought how silly that was, both in their seventies, she was beginning to look like a piece of burnt brown toast.

 

He sighed to himself and reached over for his binos to see if he could see her on the beach. He hovered over the beauties on their sun lounges when his eye caught an odd figure dressed in black making his way through sun lounges carrying what looked like sun shade under his arm. He seemed oddly out of place, and there was something in the way he walked, as if he was filled with nervous energy.

 

The man swept the beach looking through his binos when he heard a bang. He registered a firework in his brain, but that was ridiculous. When more fireworks went off he recognised it immediately as gunfire. He stood up from his seat, his unsettled stomach forgotten. And looked along the beach. He was struck dumb, the impossible was happening.

 

The sunshade was now a weapon, the man in black was deliberately firing at the people on the beach. The horror of it struck him, he shouted out a warning. But he was not heard. Where was his wife? He searched for her through his binos.

‘What are you doing?’

His wife came out onto the balcony.

‘Look, look’, he shouted, ’there’s a gunman down there. Killing people!’.

 

*

 

John Smith, from Wolverhampton, was reading a book when the sand beside him jumped up as if alive. He heard the gunshot, and naturally turned over to see what was happening. He did not hear the next gun shot as the bullet entered his jaw. His wife lay beside him already dead. The man in black continued on his deadly assassination. He fired deliberately into any European body he could see.

 

The family with grandparents saw what was happening and were in a state of panic. The grandmother looked on, struck rigid. The grandfather was made of sterner stuff. As an old soldier he knew action was required.

‘Quick get your mother up and make for that wall.’

 

His son pulled her up of the sun-lounger, and fired by adrenalin, disregarded her weight and half dragged and carried her to the low wall at the back of the beach.

 

‘Stay down low and don’t move.’ the grandfather shouted as he stood up.

 

‘Bugger,’ he cried as he felt the nick of a bullet cut his arm, the next one hit him full in the back, an old soldier was down!

 

People were standing up, looking around searching for the cause of commotion. They saw the unbelievable, on a beach in Tunisia a man, no, a youth, was shooting people at random with a wicked looking gun. The bullets were now coming thick and fast.

 

*

 

The heavy chested man came out of the sea, wading ashore, when the gunman turned towards him, Without a thought the man turned and ran diving back into the sea. It saved his life, but not his wife, who was waiting for him.

 

The young, potential models, thought themselves above such things, stood up watching the carnage. There was a lull, as he changed magazines, and they thought it was over. The gun swung their way and bullets cut them down as corn in a field. Could this never end?

 

People were running in panic. But where? There was no where on the beach, the hotels were some distance away. There was nothing for it but to run for their lives.

 

The man on the balcony was screaming down to the people round the pool to get inside, ther's a gunman on the loose! The swimmer took no notice, what could that idiot mean, this was class hotel, they would not allow a gunman to come in. He paid such innocuousness with his life.

 

The two ladies, who it seems had seen such happenings on the TV. lay down on the floor pretending death. Would such a subterfuge work? Their hearts were in their mouths, could they hold their breath for long enough? Fear saved them.

 

The gunman ejected a magazine close to them. It fell on the floor by their heads . He stepped over them and continued out onto the road where people were fleeing. It seemed they stood no chance when a group of men claiming to be Muslims stopped the gunman from pursuing them.

 

*

 

A hotel receptionist who knew nothing that was happening was astonished when holiday makers came screaming into the hotel. A man leapt over the counter dragging his wife with him and lay down on the floor. He had the presence of mind to tell the receptionist to call the police, ‘there is a gunman killing people.’ By now the shots could be heard in the hotel. She seemed to be struck dumb.

‘The phone, the phone,’ the man shouted at her, ’call the police.

 

She did not know what to do, call the police and say what? She could not articulate it, but she hit the panic button that would alert the hotel security, and also the manager. 

This way the police were alerted to the murdress events going on the beach.

 

*

 

The police receiver could not take in what the message implied. A murder? In the afternoon on a popular beach? She was not trained to respond to such an unknown thing. Her neighbour, operating another switchboard had just received the same message. She was an old hand from a main town where such things were not unknown. Her response, was, if in any doubt, send everything!

 

*

 

The man on the balcony was hoarse with shouting, notwithstanding no one could hear him, anger now consumed him. How could this happen on a beach in Tunisia, and in his hotel, which seemed to be the focus of those running from the beach? Suddenly there flashed into his mind the film showing Omaha beach where the American troops, so young, were cut down as they ran forward. 

 

An odd thing was happening in the terror of those caught up in the massacre, people at the side of what was happening had their phones recording what was happening, and appearing on their Face Book sites almost immediately. Those of their friends who picked it up could not believe it, they thought they were watching a film being made.

 

The man on the balcony turned to his wife to get their phone, but to his astonishment she was already filming, and ringing home to their daughter.

 

A group had rushed into the hotel and fled down to the wine cellar where they thought they might be safe. It occurred to them that this might be a full terrorist attack that they had seen so many times on the TV. Were their days numbers? Real fear enveloped them.

 

Few people experience real fear in their lives, suddenly their limbs shook uncontrollably, their mouths were dry, and there was the danger that they would soil themselves. They clung together in desperation, would they ever see their homes again? 

 

*

 

Wassim was the first policeman to arrive, with his female partner Yasime. They knew nothing, there was nothing to warn them of the horror going on, but they had heard gunshots.

 

In a lifetime in the police it was very rare to hear actual gunfire, but due to the problems in the Arab states, the awareness of the previous terrorist attack twelve months previously, they were trained as to an appropriate response. Don’t rush, hold your horses, wait, assess, call for backup if in any doubt. Inform base continuously as to your movements. Kill your siren, you must now move as inconspicuously as possible. Move in tandem, move in the cover of walls.

 

Yassim was out of the car with gun drawn, a drawn look on her face. She was young, this was her first encounter with the real world. Wassim took his time. ‘CR 14 to base we hear gunshots. Code Red One, Send security police, medics and ambulances to the hotel Rio El Marade. Caution.’

 

He told Yamine, as calm as you like. 

‘Check your weapon, load on my command, stay two meters back behind and cover me, high front and back!’

 

*

 

The receiver took the call. Red One! That was the highest level of alert from police on the ground. This was a 'go' situation! In a state of excitement and disbelief she pressed the red button on her desk that would alert all the States response structure. Almost within seconds her supervisor was at her station. Was this the real thing or had the receiver acted in haste? The Station head was there almost at the same time. They listened to the message together. The Station head turned to the nearest unoccupied computer and typed in Code Red Confirmed and sent it out to all quick response units.

*

Confusion and terror on the beach was dying down as the sunbathers ran for cover, not knowing where they ran, except for the cover of a hotel. The man on the balcony trained his binos’ on an empty beach, and mistook bodies still lying on their sun-lounges as unconcerned sunbathers, until the truth dawned on him. 

He started to count, difficult when moving the sighting from one position to another, but he guessed twenty or more. His hands trembled as he turned to his wife and held her tight. There was nothing to be said!

 

*

 

Wassam heard shouting in a street running alongside the hotel. He turned the corner and was taken aback at a group of men holding their hands up as if to stop the gunman shooting a group of fleeing people.

‘We are Muslim, stop, do not shoot at us, we are your brothers.’

 

There was confusion, could they be holiday makers caught in this carnage running for their lives. How could he stop this? This was not apprehending a criminal, this was a war zone, was he equipped to handle this? There was no time for debate, he must act quickly. He motioned Yasmine to retreat behind the corner for safety. He shouted over his shoulder.

‘Call in location, and we are faced with an armed terrorist. There may be more. We hold, wait your instruction.’

 

Wassem set his H&K to automatic, dropped low into a crouch position.

 

The killer had a heavy duty short machine gun in his hand; surely Wassem’s handgun would be no match for that! He held it in front of himself, double handed in the approved manner. He looked down at his hands that were shaking uncontrollably. Suddenly he felt fear, it was as if he was paralysed, would he be able to get up? Sudden events seemed to move slowly. 

 

The fleeing holiday makers were gone, the crowd of Muslim men, were falling back as the terrorist threatened them with his murderess weapon. And then he was on him. They faced one another at short range. Wassem stepped up and fired a full magazine at the man in black. Wassem stood stock still, his heart seemed to stop. The time resumed as normal. The terrorist lay dead in a pool of his own blood. 

 

After the Killings

 

As the killer lay dead, after his massacre on the beach, confusion reigned. Individual acts of slaughter and bravery and shear instinctive protection, were lost in the maelstrom of the occasion. No one knew what or why it had happened. There was clearing up of all sorts needed. Wassem’s code Red had brought the full availability of resources into action.

 

All police stations were alerted, those within the district were put on full alert. This meant calling all police officers back to their bases, issue them with arms to patrol industrial and social places. Beaches in their area were given priority. Road police cars were stationed at main road connection within the area.

 

The Ben Ali international airport was brought on full alert. Armed response police patrolled the perimeter, and all departure an arrival gates were controlled by specialist inspectors backed up by armed police. Air flights were temporarily put on holding patterns. Hospital were put on full alerts to take the injured, and ambulances on full standby. No one had a clear idea of the scale of the events.

 

Special forces arrived at the location given by Wassem and confirmed the dead suspect. This was immediately cordoned off as a crime scene and Wassem and Yasime were taken into a control centre van for them to be debriefed. Was there only one killer/terrorist or more? How many people had been killed and how many escaped?

 

*

 

Commander Assef el Kandre pondered this as to what action to take? There was only one, move his special forces forward onto the beach and surrounding hotels immediately at risk, there was no time for delay. He had 100 officers under his command but only 25 were available at this moment. He considered his tactics, he needed an overview. He dispatched two men to get as high as they could in a hotel to report back. He then accepted the risk, he deployed ten men to secure the hotel reception and pool area, and ten to take the beach. He realised he was sweating, not from the 30 degree C temperature but from tension.

 

*

 

The man on the balcony was shocked when his room door burst open and two men with hand machine guns took up station on his balcony without so much as by-your-leave. They spoke briefly in Arabic, and taking powerful binoculars and scanned the beach. Their radios crackled with static and short indecipherable commands.

‘They’ve all gone,’ he exclaimed.

The two men took no notice.

‘You are too late, they’ve all gone.’

In a sad voice tinged with anxiety he added.

‘There are only bodies.’

 

There was a crying back in the room, the two men turned. It was the balconies man’s wife.

‘Look,’ she said. ‘Its on this phone.’

She held it so they could see.

There was a quick exchange of words, they swung their binoculars back to the beach.

 

There was silence as they counted. They put down their binoculars and made the sign of the cross, they shouted into their radios, there was a quick exchange of words then they turned and left the room. As they did one of them turned, and in perfect English said, ‘God have mercy on their souls.’

 

*

 

In the command post there was silence at this unbelievable news. Code Red had now turned into an international crisis. The Commander realised he was at the centre of a security and political storm. He must play it by the book to prevent any recriminations against his country and indeed himself. He took control as only a man of experience and seniorority was expected. He issued his commands with authority.

 

'To command centre: Suspected terrorist dead. No others identified at this moment. Up to thirty bodies identified on beach. All appear European. The beach is now clear. Unknown number escaped to hotels. They are not accounted for. Unknown number of casualties. Unconfirmed report suggests thirty or more. Urgent medical assistance required. Security officers required to identify victims. End.'

 

Was that enough, he thought. Well I’ve covered my own back, and of my men, he cynically concluded. Now for action. Thankfully as he pondered this more of his men arrived. He gathered his senses and moved into unruffled command mode.

 

‘Thirty men cordon off the beach. Each body is to be covered and treated respectfully. Do not move them. Identify all injured on the beach and where possible move them, but be advised medical teams will be attending immediate. There maybe couples of injured together. Treat them as if they were your own family.’

 

Commander Assel el Kandre slumped back in his chair mentally exhausted. He thought of his family, and felt at a loss, could he protect his own family from such random killing. He knew the answer to that. What was the world coming to? He waited, he knew that soon his action sanitare would soon be taken over by the security forces and higher command. Perhaps he should retire, at sixty this was becoming too much, let someone else take the responsibility.

 

*

 

The interior Minister was having a post numbral nap when there was an urgent knocking on his door and his assistant burst in.

‘Minister, minister, there has been another terrorist attack.’

‘Whaaat?’

‘Sun bathers have been gunned down on a beach.’

‘What?’ the minister exclaimed, coming awake.

‘Code Red has been activated’ ‘Code Red?’

This brought him fully awake.

‘In Souse, security forces have already been despatched to the scene’

He opened his bleary eyes wider.

‘How many?’

‘Unknown, but they all European, mostly British.’

 

The full realisation now began to sink in. Only twelve months ago there was a terrorist attack at a museum in Tunis. Tourism was just recovering from this, God, now what?

 

‘I need some numbers,’ he exclaimed, realising this would involve the British government. Code Red alarm had been initiated and the response system. He hoped fervently it was working correctly.

 

*

 

The Security Force commander was quicker off the mark. Code Red had a paramilitary feel to, it was well chosen, anybody could understand it. It came up on Central Command’s computer system instantly. A red light flashes and a siren sounds. He was particularly pleased with that since it was his own idea. Everybody in the command centre stops what they are doing and pay's attention to the response required.

 

The police control computer showed Code Red coming from a patrol car called to a possible terrorist incident, calling for back up. The Security Force computer showed immediate response, but reports situation as yet unknown. The ambulance computer shows one dispatched, others standing by. Hospitals have been warned, and even the airport has been warned of possible close down. Code Red will also have gone to the Interior Minister. He expects the red telephone to ring any minute.

 

The Commander considered it for a minute - a single patrol car has triggered all this response, was it over kill.

‘Is local security commander on scene?’ he asks

‘Yes.’

‘Who is it?’ ‘Assel el Kandre,’ comes the response. ‘Good,’ he says with some disquiet.

 

A solid man he thinks, he will play it by the book, its in good hands, but he will need mental support if this gets out of hand.

 

‘Establish video link,’ he demands.

 

The video picture comes on showing Assel doing up his tunic.

‘Hello, old friend, what is going on. Is Code Red justified?’

‘Justified!’ he looks nonplussed.

‘Yes, it activates a lot of resources.’

Assel looked straight at the camera with a glint in his eye.

 

‘You have seen my command assessment. Already my officers have identified more than one body lying on sun-beds on the beach. Witnesses report many shots. As far as we can tell there was panic and a scramble to get off the beach to some sort of cover. Security officers are already here and have taken over. One attacker has been put down by first officers on the scene.’

 

‘Get me direct link to officer on the field - video if possible’ The Commander ordered. The audio link computer crackled and came to life. A voice came on, breathing heavily, sounding in distress.

 

’Miguel Andreaus! There is disaster here. It is carnage. Lone gunman killed sunbathers on beach at random - mother of God! Many dead and injured. Require medical assistance immediately.’

 

The room was deathly quiet - their remoteness made the message surreal. Could this be true? What they heard did not make sense - a beach - sunbathers? There was shock, they looked to the Commander.

 

He came alive.

‘Confirm hospital immediate urgency - send ambulances direct to Hotel Riu Impearial Marhabe. Prepare to take bodies and injured back to hospital - prepare for the worst. Security forces to expect and protect ambulances at location.’

‘Local police to lock down city.’

‘Security forces to identify downed gunman and search for associates’

‘Airport to go on full alert for possible terrorist attacks.’ 

‘Alert Army command to have shock troops on standby.’

‘Alert the Health Ministry they may be dealing with unknown number of bodies.’

 

He stopped, is that everything, he looked at his team for help. What about all hotels on that stretch of beach - there must twenty or thirty. What about the whole of Tunis?’ Unthinkable, was his first thought, but he must act. He sighed. He lifted the red phone. ‘Interior Minister, immediate.’

 

*

 

A rare and disturbing sight greeted the first ambulance to arrive at the hotel. It was eerily quiet. There was no movement on or amongst the sun lounges laid out in rows on the beach. Many of them were covered with a towel, under them were bodies! It was made more surreal by holiday makers in swimming costumes from other hotels gawking at the scene. Hotel staff and security personnel had carried the injured up to the hotel.

 

The immediate reaction was astonishment and what to do? Security personnel were already cordoning off the area where the bodies lay, so it was injured first! And so the exodus began. Ambulance staff carried out routine procedures to care for injured and take them back to the hospital, but these were gunshot wounds which they were not familiar with. However after the initial uncertainty removal of the injured and the bodies proceeded with as much consideration and care as possible.

 

Thirty eight bodies and thirty nine wounded, some with multiple shot wounds, was a lot for medical facilities to handle at short notice, but under the circumstances they met the emergency with steadfastness expected of nurses and doctors.

 

The Fallout

 

The British Prime minister broke off from a meeting at the news. He was at first stunned at the fact a number of British holiday makers had been mercilessly killed as they lay in the sun on a Tunisian beach. He was made aware that this was first estimate, but already the Foreign Office was liasing with the hotel and Tour Operators to find the possible numbers involved.

 

There were 565 people at the hotel, so on paper it was a simple arithmetical problem - determine those OK and the remainder may have been injured or killed. The British Embassy in Tunisia had already been alerted, and a representative was already on site to try and determine the numbers involved, but it was not as easy as it sounded. The body count mounted. The seriousness of the body injuries was extensive. This required an national response.

 

His report was curt. Air transport needed to move the seriously injured to the UK - immediate. Experts needed to identify bodies - immediate. Tour operators must report list of English nationals at Hotel - immediate. He then added, almost as an afterthought. Must assume other terrorist acts must follow. Advise all British holiday makers return to UK - He hesitated, then added - immediate. He then immediately convened a Cobra meeting.

 

Note! COBRA stands for the unlikely title- Cabinet Office briefing room A.

 

There was uncertainty as to numbers and other acts of this nature, but there was no doubt that the UK must act to protect its citizens. The RAF was ordered to prepare to bring the injured home. They were well prepared for this after their experiences in Afghanistan.

 

The Foreign Office were ordered to consider the repatriation of all British nationals. The security services was ordered to send personnel to Tunisia to liase with their security forces to assess the risk. The Prime Minister went to bed that night with a severe migraine.

 

*

 

The public response was immediate. With modern mobile phones pictures and texts were immediately sent to relatives, almost as the slaughter was taking place. The man on the balcony was immediately put in the spotlight since he had unwittingly witnessed the whole event. His wife had sent message to her daughters who had it on Twitter and Facebook immediately. Some guy picked it up and put on You Tube. The airwaves were alive with worried relatives searching for their love ones.

 

The news papers and TV had it and now it became a live event, not just a happening somewhere else.

 

Never the End

 

The injured were flown home on C17 Globemaster planes with onboard medical facilities, and the bodies returned with great solemnity. Finally all British nationals were ordered home by the Foreign Office - there was too much at risk. Tunisia was put on full alert.

 

The old coals were raked over by various experts on TV. It was ISIS, or was it? The family of the attacker was interviewed - he was a good child but had been radicalised! Something had inflamed the Muslim Arab world, and well organised and funded groups of men had turned into maniacal killers. The modern world was now under threat from an old enemy, religious wars! It will take a rare leadership to unravel this. Already military force is being used to counter this threat with no sign of success. Meanwhile ordinary people must go about their business and make the most of it.

 

And Amen to that.