The New Recruit

by Andy McNab

  ‘Where the hell did you find that?’

  ‘Taliban must’ve been using this place after all,’ said Mike. ‘Those RPGs uncovered a stash of weapons.’

  More gunfire echoed all around, but Mike, Liam noticed, was unconcerned. Then he levelled the weapon.

  ‘What are you doing, Mike?’

  Mike didn’t respond, just came a little closer, the barrel of the AK47 pointing straight at Liam’s chest.

  ‘Mike . . .’

  Mike readied the weapon in his hands, no emotion in his face, his eyes dead and staring.

  ‘Soldiers die, Liam,’ he said, and it didn’t pass Liam by that Mike had used his first name. It sounded even more ominous out here where they were. ‘Out here, it’s like you said, remember? Risk is part of the job?’

  Liam started to back away, but he was already at a disadvantage. Mike had his weapon trained on him and Liam knew he wouldn’t have a chance even to get a shot off.

  ‘Stop pissing around, Mike!’ he shouted. ‘You’ve made your point, OK? I’m sorry about Dan. We shouldn’t have been up there. What more do you want?’

  Mike raised the weapon. ‘Take a guess . . .’

  Then, just as Liam was sure Mike was about to empty the weapon into his chest, the familiar and deadly sound of an RPG cut into the moment and the world between Liam and Mike shattered completely.

  18

  AT FIRST, ALL Liam was aware of was that he was moving and that he wasn’t doing it himself. His ears were ringing, he could hardly see, the world around him blurry and clouded like it was shrouded in thick fog. He could taste blood and dust and grit in his mouth, and something was pulling him across rough ground. He looked left, right, tried to force his eyes to focus as he rapidly blinked away the muck that was choking his vision. A field? What the hell was he doing being dragged across a field? Where was he?

  Voices. No, it was one voice. And it was talking to him. The others were more distant and they were shouting. And there was another sound too. A sort of percussive sound, like peas being dropped onto a snare drum.

  ‘Liam? Liam! Thank God you’re all right! We’re getting you out of here. Don’t worry, mate! Just stay with us . . .’

  Something had happened to him, but what? He remembered explosions, Mike – but there was something else too; he just couldn’t trace it in his mind. Then his eyes opened, pulled everything into focus, saw it was Paul who was talking to him, and he remembered exactly where he was.

  ‘Gandalf! What the fuck happened? Where’s Mike? He—’

  Liam’s voice got snagged in his throat, choked to silence. He couldn’t speak. The dragging sensation stopped. He sat up, coughing a thick black slew of grime and grit and blood out of his mouth. What had happened was still foggy, unclear. But Mike was a part of it. Something weird had happened, something wrong. Very wrong indeed.

  ‘It was Mike,’ he said again, trying to sort through his muddled memories, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

  ‘Take it easy,’ said Paul. ‘We’re nearly back at the compound. Reynolds has called in air support.’

  ‘No, I mean, it was Mike!’ replied Liam, his voice sharp and scared this time, his gut telling him that it wasn’t right, but he didn’t get to finish as they all saw a huge section of countryside burst upwards like a volcano erupting. The shockwave tore through the air, slamming into Liam and sucking the breath from his lungs. He gasped, found air again.

  ‘That should give them a headache,’ said Paul, standing up and heaving Liam to his feet. ‘Lean on me, Scott. It’s not far. And I know I’m old, but I’m still fitter than most of you young fuckers.’

  Then they were moving, Paul setting the pace, Liam trying to get some life back into his legs.

  The compound came into view. Liam saw Cameron in the sangar manning the GPMG and sending out repeated bursts of fire back from where they’d come. He looked every inch the soldier he’d been trained to be. Focused and professional, fierce.

  Ahead, the gate swung open and Sergeant Reynolds yelled out, ‘Move it, Gandalf! Get Scott inside now!’

  With the sound of the gate slamming shut behind them, Liam was for a moment overwhelmed with relief. Whatever had just happened, he’d somehow survived it. And being alive had never felt so good.

  Paul laid Liam down on the nearest bed.

  ‘I still don’t know what happened,’ said Liam, his head woozy and spinning like he’d been out on the piss. ‘Mike—’

  ‘Don’t move,’ ordered Paul. ‘You were knocked out by an RPG explosion. And you were bloody lucky it didn’t take your head off, so I don’t want you messing up by falling over and cracking your skull open, understand?’

  Liam nodded weakly. He was feeling dazed now and glad to be off his feet. His stomach was close to turning itself inside out and he was focusing hard on not chucking up all over his boots.

  Paul returned with a grab bag stuffed full of medical kit. He dropped down in front of Liam and shone a small Maglite in his eyes.

  ‘Name, rank, number,’ he said, switching off the torch.

  Liam responded accordingly.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Listen, Gandalf—’ began Liam, but Paul cut him off.

  ‘Answer the fucking question, Scott.’

  ‘Afghanistan,’ said Liam. ‘Room 101, I mean CP3.’

  Paul nodded. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘How do you feel? Dizzy? Headache?’

  Liam nodded. ‘Like I’ve been head-butted by a rhino.’

  ‘You’ve got concussion,’ said Paul. ‘You’ll be out of action for a couple of days, just so we can keep an eye on you.’

  Liam made to protest, but Paul held up a hand to shut him down.

  ‘We can’t afford to have you dropping on us during a patrol,’ he said, ‘or getting dizzy in a firefight. You’d be as much a danger to us like that as any incoming fire. It’s precautionary. So why don’t you be a good little soldier, shut the hell up and take these.’ He handed Liam two large tablets and a bottle of water. Liam necked them, squeezed his eyes shut, then flicked them open again. His memory was still refusing to clear, but his gut was still twisting itself up about something.

  ‘So, Gandalf, what actually happened?’

  ‘It was a trap,’ said Paul. ‘We were pinned down. They were throwing everything they could at us. You escaped two RPGs but the third knocked you flat. We found you covered in rubble. The compound’s still standing, though it’s got a few big holes in it now. You’re one lucky bastard, you know that?’

  ‘I was with Mike – I mean Hacker,’ said Liam.

  ‘He’s fine,’ said Paul. ‘You were the one who was knocked unconscious.’

  Liam screwed his eyes shut again to force his brain to give up the information he so desperately wanted: an accurate memory of what had really happened rather than just what Paul and the others had found.

  ‘You sure you’re all right?’ asked Paul.

  Then, at last, his mind cleared and Liam remembered, and the memory of it came crashing down on him like a smashed window.

  ‘There was a weapons stash,’ he said. ‘It was hidden in the wall.’

  ‘We found it,’ said Paul.

  ‘No, that’s not what I meant!’ said Liam, his voice rising now, images downloading into his mind at light speed. ‘Hacker found them. He had an AK47.’

  ‘We found half a dozen AKs,’ said Paul. ‘And some other stuff. Been right under our noses ever since we got here. Sneaky little sods.’

  Liam spotted Mike. He was sitting on his own bed, turned away from them. Before Paul could react, Liam was up and charging across the compound. He grabbed Mike and threw him across the ground.

  ‘What the hell were you going to do with that AK47, Mike? What? You wanted to kill me? Is that it?’

  Mike held up his hands to fend Liam off. ‘What the hell are you talking about? Have you gone nuts? The RPG knock your brain out of your skull?’

  Liam wasn’t listening. ‘You switched weapons so no on
e would know,’ he said, going in again for Mike, who was now pushing himself backwards across the ground with his heels. ‘You could just say I was hit by some stray Taliban rounds. An unfortunate accident. I’m right, aren’t I? Just bloody well admit it!’

  ‘I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Mike replied, as Paul jumped in between them. ‘White, get this little nutter off me!’

  ‘Stand down, Scott!’ shouted Paul. ‘Just back off!’

  Liam was having none of it. ‘He was going to shoot me, Gandalf!’ he shouted and tried to push past, but Paul stood fast and immovable.

  Sergeant Reynolds raced over. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

  ‘That fucker tried to kill me!’ snarled Liam, jabbing a finger at Mike, who was now off the ground and standing just far enough away to be out of reach. ‘He found the AK47s. He levelled one at me, then the RPG round came in and—’

  The sergeant silenced Liam with a raised hand and a hard look. It was a look no one ever argued with.

  ‘That’s a serious allegation so you’d better think carefully about what you’re saying, Scott.’

  ‘And it’s total bollocks,’ said Mike with a sneer of utter disgust. ‘He’s remembering it wrong.’

  The sergeant looked at Mike. ‘Well, Hacker?’

  ‘I found the weapons, that much is right,’ said Mike. ‘Liam must’ve seen me grabbing them, that’s all I can think of. He’s confused. Maybe his injury’s worse than White thinks.’

  ‘Liar!’ shouted Liam, and again made to close the gap with Mike.

  Sergeant Reynolds got in Liam’s way and faced him down. ‘Calm down, soldier! And I mean it! Get a grip!’

  Liam snapped his mouth shut, but kept his eyes on Mike. If he could’ve turned the stare into bullets, he would’ve done.

  For a moment, no one said a word.

  ‘Here’s what we’re going to do,’ said the sergeant, now that he had everyone’s attention. ‘Hacker, Scott, you’re going to stay away from each other until you, Scott, calm the fuck down. Understand?’

  Liam said nothing, didn’t move his eyes from Mike.

  ‘I want to talk to both of you so I can work out exactly what happened. Any questions?’

  Liam shook his head.

  ‘Good. Now get back to your own bed, Scott. Immediately. I’ll be over soon enough.’

  Following the sergeant’s orders, Liam left Mike and lay down, shielding his eyes from the sun with his arms. He replayed over and over what had happened, tried to see if he had been mistaken, but no matter which way he looked at it, all he could see was Mike, the AK47 in his hands and the barrel pointing directly at his chest. Even if his intent had been only to scare him, Liam was still unnerved. If Mike was willing to go this far, then what would he try next?

  A voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Sergeant Reynolds.

  ‘Any clearer?’

  Liam shrugged. ‘I’m only saying what happened,’ he said. ‘I’m not lying.’

  ‘I trust you realize that what you’re suggesting, if it proved to be true, would have Hacker in prison?’

  ‘But I can’t prove it, can I?’ said Liam. ‘It’s his word against mine.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said the sergeant. ‘Which means all I’ve got in front of me is you kicking off and threatening to beat the crap out of Hacker. It’s not much, Scott, and it looks seriously bloody crazy from where I’m standing. Care to explain any further? Is there a problem here between you and Hacker?’

  Liam stared into the middle distance. He was cornered. What Mike had done, he couldn’t prove. There was nothing he could do about it. And there was no point explaining the shit between them. The sergeant wouldn’t be interested. And who could blame him? It was history. All that mattered was looking after each other’s back and getting the hell out of Afghanistan alive and in one piece, or as close to as possible.

  ‘If we were back in barracks, I’d take this further,’ said Sergeant Reynolds. ‘And by further, I mean have you marched out of the barracks for the rest of your career, understand?’

  Liam nodded. And he believed the sergeant utterly.

  ‘But out here, I’ve not got that luxury, have I? I’m supposed to have twelve men, but instead I’ve got nine under my command. Good ones, Scott, and that goes for you too. I cannot afford to lose any of you. Or have you fighting amongst yourselves. It’s bad enough having the Taliban trying to kill us without you trying it as well.’

  Liam shuffled on his bed. All he really wanted at that moment was to be left alone.

  ‘So for now I’m giving you a verbal warning. Which is worth about as much as the paper it’s not written on. But if you pull a stunt like that again, Scott, you’d better believe I’ll have you not just kicked out of this multiple, but out of Afghanistan. And I’ll do it so bloody hard you won’t need an aircraft to get you home. Are we clear on that?’

  Liam nodded. ‘Yes, boss.’

  Sergeant Reynolds stood up, but his eyes didn’t leave Liam.

  ‘Whatever it is between you two that brought this on, I don’t want to hear of it ever again. So pull your head out of your arse, and get soldiering. That’s all that you should be thinking of right now. You’ve had the training and you’re bloody good at it, so stay focused, Scott. And believe me, doing that is more than enough. Agreed?’

  Then he turned away and walked out into the compound, leaving Liam alone with his thoughts and a worrying sense that Mike wasn’t just out to mess with his mind: he wanted him dead.

  19

  ‘WE’VE GOT NO choice,’ said Sergeant Reynolds to Liam and the others. ‘For whatever reason, we won’t be able to rotate and get back to Patrol Base 4 for another couple of weeks at least.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, boss,’ said Jason, who was scratching dry sweat off his forehead, ‘that’s complete and total bollocks.’

  It was late afternoon, the multiple had just received some bad news, and Liam’s morale, just like everyone else’s, had taken a real kick in the balls. It was one thing trying to keep his mind on the job after what had happened with Mike, but now something else had come along to make everything a whole lot worse.

  Like everyone else, Liam had been looking forward to getting out of Room 101 and heading to Patrol Base 4. There, they would be able to enjoy some decent food, air conditioning, fresh water. Even a shower. Now, though, it looked like that wasn’t going to happen.

  ‘But we’ve already sat out here on our arses longer than we should’ve done,’ said Paul, joining in. ‘Supplies are low. And I don’t mean just the food. Our medical supplies are fuck all use if we get hit hard. We were low on ammo when we arrived and it’s only getting worse. If we get into a serious firefight, the last thing we should be thinking about is if we’ve got enough ammo or not.’

  ‘And Allan for one could do with a proper shower,’ said Cameron. ‘Stinks like he sleeps in a barrel of shit.’

  John didn’t laugh. No one did, because there really wasn’t anything to laugh about. Even Liam, who generally found most of what Cameron said funny, was silent. The ammo situation was on everyone’s mind the most. Crap food they could put up with – even the stench from the wag bags for shitting in – but if their ability to defend themselves was compromised, the consequences were unimaginable. Trouble was, Liam knew that they were all busy imagining it.

  ‘We’ve just got to deal with it,’ said Sergeant Reynolds, his voice firm. ‘And the only difference complaining is going to make is to get in the way of what we’re out here to do. So I want all of you to keep your game up, understand? Keep it together.’

  A muttered ‘Yes, boss,’ was given by Liam and the rest.

  ‘If anything, step it up,’ continued the sergeant. ‘I don’t want any stupid mistakes made just because we’re all pig sick of the hotel. And when you do fire your weapons, make those rounds count. Don’t go just spraying metal all over the countryside like you’re John fucking Rambo blowing the shit out of Russians.’ He took a deep br
eath before going on, ‘Now that’s dealt with, I want some decent supper, and while that’s being cooked, the rest of us need to be busy. And by busy I mean making sure your kit’s sorted, stripping your weapons, readying yourself for whatever – got it? Jackson, you and Scott go in one sangar; Hacker, I want you and Gandalf in the other.’

  Meeting over, the eight soldiers got to task. As Liam made his way after Corporal Jackson, he sent a nod to Cameron, who was back in the cookhouse, not because he was good at cooking, but because he was the least shit at it.

  ‘Yorkshire puds again tonight, is it? Getting a bit samey, if you ask me.’

  ‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ replied Cameron. ‘And I’ve been down to the cellar to find a few decent bottles of red. Eight for eight-thirty OK? I’ll reserve you a table.’

  ‘Perfect,’ said Liam, leaving Cameron to rustle up yet another big bowl of pasta-based slop as he headed up to the lookout.

  Corporal Jackson was already on the binos.

  ‘Anything?’ asked Liam.

  Jackson shook his head. ‘Been quiet this past few days. Nothing happening anywhere.’

  ‘It’s like we’ve been forgotten,’ said Liam. ‘Maybe the Taliban don’t see the point of hitting us again. Bigger stuff elsewhere or something.’

  Jackson didn’t move from the binos. ‘Either that,’ he said, ‘or they’re planning something.’

  Liam went over to the GPMG, readied the weapon, got himself comfortable and stared out across the fields.

  The land around the checkpoint was bathed in an eerie half-light, like the place had become permanently trapped somewhere between day and night, a grey world just this side of hell. It was an odd and gloomy evening, thought Liam, and shadows seemed to droop from the trees like lengths of old rag. There was no movement anywhere, almost as though the local population had taken all the wildlife and just moved out completely. It was silent, like the whole place was waiting expectantly for a funeral procession to drive past. Liam wondered for a moment why, if it was so quiet, supplies couldn’t be flown in, but he knew that it was all down to priorities. They were a little CP out in the badlands with nothing much going on. Time and money and bullets were better spent elsewhere. It didn’t mean that they were for gotten, just further down the list.