by Andy McNab
Chapter Forty-one
DAVE STROLLED AROUND THE PERIMETER OF SIN CITY. DARK HAD already fallen. In fifteen minutes he was due to go to the OC’s tent to be interviewed about an insurgent who had died in a ditch months ago. The event seemed distant now, like something in his childhood.He breathed deeply, tilted his head and stared above him. He was in the habit of looking at the dazzling Afghan skies whenever he could. The same stars must be hanging over Wiltshire but here the air was so clear that there was real depth of vision and you could see thousands, millions more stars.He thought about the Taliban fighters, sitting in their compounds, smoking and talking and looking up at the same night sky. They had been staring at this incredible overhead display all their lives. It was, for them, a part of being at home, like the intense summer heat, the poppies, the mountains and the dust storms.He passed the boss with the woman from Intelligence. The woman was smoking, Gordon Weeks was talking. Dave could understand how, after such a day, the boss would want to spend some time with this woman if he liked her. Weeks was so intent on what he was saying that he didn’t even see Dave.‘Want one, Sarge?’ asked some lads from 2 Section who were also walking the perimeter in a small group, unusually silent. Their faces shone out of the dark when they lit their cigarettes.‘All right,’ said Dave.‘But, Sarge,’ came McKinley’s voice. ‘You don’t smoke.’‘I do tonight,’ Dave told him, inhaling deeply.‘Any news on Ben or Ryan, Sarge?’‘Ben’s doing better than Ryan. Although Ben took more shrapnel than we realized.’‘What about Ryan’s arm, Sarge?’‘Unfortunately they’ve had to take it off below the elbow.’The lads looked as though he had punched them.‘Is he going to make it?’ asked McKinley quietly. ‘He lost a lot of blood.’‘I don’t know. He might not.’‘How about the others?’‘They took a lump of shrapnel out of Angus McCall’s arm. Kev Swift from 3 Section had shrapnel too. But they’ll be back in a couple of days.’Dave strolled on. He was aware that his hand was shaking slightly as he smoked. He moved the cigarette into the other hand. That shook, too. He hated this involuntary movement and tried to still it but the tremor would not go away. He yawned. He wished he could just go to sleep. The stress of the day had left his body wrung out.
Sol, going back from the cookhouse after dinner with the lads, saw Dave smoking. He had never seen that before. Should he go and speak to him, or would Dave rather be alone before his difficult interview? He decided the sergeant looked as though he wanted to be alone.Sol followed the boys back to the tent. They were hovering in the entrance. Finn put his finger to his lips as Sol approached.Inside, someone was sitting alone on his cot talking to himself. Jamie Dermott.‘Hop, Frog, hop! Your mummy’s waiting and your daddy’s looking for you! Hop across the big, wide pond!’‘They put him on pain relief for the bullet bruise,’ muttered Streaky. ‘Maybe the medic gave him too much.’‘How can I cross a pond as big and wide as that, Frog asked Snail?’Finn’s eyes were glittering.‘But Snail didn’t know. He asked Fish. But Fish didn’t know. Finally Frog asked the Great Crested Newt. And the Great Crested Newt said: hop, Frog, hop, that’s what frogs do!’Finn, with a delighted smile, balanced on one foot, arms out, and began to hop over to Jamie’s cot. Mal followed him.‘Hop! Hop!’Bacon wasn’t far behind, yelling: ‘Hip-hop!’‘Because,’ added Binns, hopping after them badly with his bandaged hands waving, ‘that’s what frogs do!’Sol stood still, his arms crossed, watching and shaking his head. They had spent the morning in a minefield. Two men in their platoon had been very seriously wounded. And now they were jumping around like kids.Jamie scowled as the ragged line of men hopped towards him. Mal squeaked: ‘Great Crested Newt, how can I cross the pond?’Finn replied, in a deep voice: ‘I am the wise Great Crested Newt and I say: Hop, hop, you little green bastard, that’s what fucking frogs do!’Mal squeaked: ‘Oh, Snail, how can I cross the great wide pond?’Finn was breathless now.‘You’re nothing but a little green slimeball so go drown yourself.’‘Oh, Fish, how can I . . .’Sol shook his head again. Jamie stood up without smiling.‘Fuck off, shitheads. I was recording a story for my kid so he won’t forget my voice. And you’ve ruined it.’They stopped hopping.‘Now I’ll have to record the whole thing again and it’s about the fifth time of trying because there’s never any peace around here.’Sol walked into the tent.‘Lads, leave him alone. He’s been crawling around mines and he’s cut and bruised from a round. Give him some space.’‘Oh, shit, man, we could help you,’ said Bacon.‘The only way you can help me is by letting me get on with it.’‘No, man,’ insisted Streaky. ‘We can do the sounds. Just you have a listen to Binman . . .’Binns did a frog noise.‘That’s quite good,’ Jamie conceded.‘Here’s a great crested newt . . .’Jamie laughed. So did the others.‘See, your kid will really enjoy it with us in the background. Where’s the story book?’ asked Bacon.‘There isn’t one.’ Jamie showed them some scrunched pieces of paper. ‘I’m writing it myself.’‘Ooooh, yeah!’ said Bacon enthusiastically. ‘This is going to be a 1 Section production. Tell me what happens to that frog!’Jamie tried to smooth out the scrunched-up paper. He looked embarrassed. ‘Well, I haven’t worked it all out yet. But basically a bird carries him in its beak all the way across the world and he has to get back to his mum and dad.’‘Aaaaaaaaah,’ said Mal and Angus, who were cleaning their weapons now.‘And he has to keep asking the way. He crosses the desert and a big pond and he has to climb a mountain . . .’‘I can do the wind on the mountain. Whhhhhhhhhh. How’s that?’ asked Bacon.‘Here’s the frog crossing the pond,’ said Binman. ‘Plop. Plop. Plop.’Finn said: ‘It’s from you to your kid, right? So the frog comes under enemy fire. And a round hits him but he’s wearing his frog armour and it bounces off . . .’Binns did the rounds bouncing off.‘Ker-ping!’ said Bacon.Then they did machine guns and a bit of mortar.‘OK, OK, I get it,’ said Jamie before they could get carried away. ‘I’ll write it and you can help me record it.’‘You been doing this ever since we got to Sin City?’ asked Sol.‘No. I thought of it when I got hit by that round. And then after the minefield today I knew I had to do it for Luke. In case . . .’ His voice trailed away.‘In case anything happens to you,’ said Streaky.Jamie nodded.‘You’ll soon have time to record all the stories you want,’ said Finn casually. ‘We’re going on a little holiday.’‘Oh, yeah?’ said Sol.‘I reckon we could do with a break. After what happened today. Look at Binman, all pale and thin because he’s spent the day nipping in and out of unexploded mines.’‘I’m always pale and thin,’ said Binns miserably.Sol said: ‘I don’t know about any breaks.’‘Ah. But you don’t play blackjack with my mate Marty.’Finn and Martyn Robertson had become friends over a pack of cards.‘The OC is pissed off with the civvies for always going to the same place every day . . .’‘Where we went with Emily?’ asked Mal.‘Jackpot, Marty calls it. Well the Engineers are going to build a whole new camp there. A temporary one. We’re going for a week while the civvies measure up their oil field.’Sol looked suspicious.‘First I’ve heard of it.’‘Just you wait, the boss will be announcing it soon. We’re going to Jackpot where there’s nothing to do all day but tell frog stories and get our heads down while the civvies mess about with their black boxes.’Sol still looked sceptical.Finn grinned at him. ‘We need some R&R. So I’m looking forward to it, lads.’Sol decided to catch Dave and ask if he knew anything about a temporary camp at Jackpot. He thought Finn might be right but he didn’t think his 2 i/c should be first with the news. He got as far as the entrance to the tent when he looked at his watch and realized that Dave would be going into his interview with the OC now.
Chapter Forty-two
JENNY PADDED OVER TO AGNIESZKA’S HOUSE THREE TIMES BUT DID NOT find her at home. She decided to try again in the evening when Vicky was in bed. Trish was irritated.‘What do you have to tell her that’s so important?’‘Just something a bit awkward.’‘What’s wrong with the phone, then?’‘Her English goes to pieces on the phone.’Trish shook her head.‘You be careful,’ she said. ‘Take your mobile so you can call me if anything happens.’‘For h
eaven’s sake, Mum. If anything happens you’ll hear me yelling I’ll be so close.’It had rained earlier and the warm evening air felt refreshing. Jenny breathed deeply. In another month her life would be changed again. There would be a tiny new demanding person in the centre of her world alongside Vicky.She felt relaxed. Now that Trish was here, her hands and ankles weren’t so swollen and she felt well again. She strolled around the corner. Some older children were still playing at the rec. The grass had been mown and she inhaled its sweet smell. A man with a big grey dog passed her and smiled. She could hear the soothing summer coo of a wood pigeon.Ever since she’d known she was pregnant she had been sure of one thing: Dave wouldn’t be in Wiltshire for the birth. They’d both thought deployment was inevitable. She’d braced herself for the date and when they were given it she was prepared for the knowledge that she would give birth alone. So she’d shrugged.‘Oh, well, there’s no way round it.’He’d been miserable: ‘Shouldn’t have married a soldier, Jen. An accountant would have been a nice, safe option.’She’d kissed his unhappy face to say it was all right and that she could cope without him.But now the baby wasn’t far away. The days would still be fine but there would be a nip in the air every morning and spiders’ webs in the garden. And she could no longer pretend it didn’t matter that Dave wasn’t here for her. Because it did.She rang Agnieszka’s bell. After a long time the door opened cautiously and a section of Agnieszka’s face appeared through the crack.‘Hi, it’s only me!’ The door was on a chain. ‘It’s me! Jenny!’At this point the chain should have clinked off the hook and the door should have swung open. But it didn’t.‘Agnieszka, is this a bad time?’‘Is very difficult because I busy with Luke.’‘There’s something I have to say to you,’ Jenny said. ‘It will only take a minute. It’s important.’‘Yes?’Agnieszka still did not open the door.‘It’s a bit difficult to say it on the step . . .’‘What? I don’t understand, Jenny.’Jenny shifted her weight from one foot to the other impatiently. She felt dizzy suddenly.‘Can’t I come in for a minute?’Agnieszka took the chain off and opened the door only far enough for Jenny to step onto the mat. But she did not move aside to allow her visitor in further.‘Jenny, house is big, big mess, I am very embarrassed,’ she said. And she did look embarrassed. Her eyes were big and her face was red. She was holding a toy, a set of big plastic keys, the sort that lit up and played music if the child pressed them.‘I’m not staying,’ said Jenny, her eyes flicking past Agnieszka to the living room. She could see no sign of the mess. Not that she cared.‘Listen, I’ve been thinking about that text message. There’s a good reason the lads can’t use their phones in Afghanistan. It’s because the signals get intercepted and used by the Taliban. And I think that’s what happened to you, Agnieszka. That shitty message came from the Taliban. To upset you and frighten you.’Agnieszka looked shocked.‘From Taliban?’ she echoed. ‘No, it just silly joke.’‘I think it came from the enemy. They have the technology to read all Jamie’s messages to you, it’s not hard. That’s why our boys can’t use their mobiles out there.’Agnieszka bit her lip.‘I don’t like to think Taliban send me a message.’‘Me neither. And I’m feeling really bad now. Because you’ve asked me to keep it a secret from Dave and I don’t like keeping secrets from him.’Agnieszka looked terrified.‘It’s OK. I gave you my word I won’t tell him. And I won’t. But for everyone’s sake, I want you to promise that you’ll ask Jamie to stop using it.’‘Stop using mobile?’‘Yes. It’s too dangerous for everyone.’‘But how he text me?’‘On the army satellite phone, like everyone else.’‘Huh, he used to buy lot of minutes but these other men also buy them so Jamie don’t get so many.’Jenny began to feel angry. She had a prickling sensation under her skin. She knew her face was reddening.‘We all have to manage on thirty minutes a week! How do you think the rest of us feel?’Agnieszka’s even face assumed that dissatisfied, sulky expression Jenny had seen before.‘You must stop using the mobile,’ Jenny repeated. ‘Or I’ll have to tell him.’‘So you tell Dave after all!’Jenny’s head was spinning.‘Only if you don’t stop. And now you know the Taliban can intercept signals, surely you want to stop! It’s dangerous, Agnieszka, it could be dangerous to you, too.’Agnieszka’s face drooped into a dissatisfied pout. ‘I don’t see how it dangerous for Jamie to text me from base. He don’t send text about operations.’‘They’ve got your number, Agnieszka. They know you’re a British Army wife. They could even locate you in the UK. Isn’t that a bit scary?’Agnieszka did not look scared. She looked sulky. Jenny had promised Dave that she would try to like this woman. She was certainly trying. But it was hard. Her head began to ache.‘And how I tell him? Because army monitor talk on satellite phone, they hear if I ask him to stop with mobile.’‘You’ll have to find a way to do it. With hints and things.’Agnieszka looked annoyed.‘Please, Agnieszka, don’t ask me to have secrets from Dave.’‘OK. OK. I tell Jamie not to use it.’‘Thanks very much. I know it’s hard for you. But it’s hard for all of us.’Agnieszka opened the door a little wider to indicate that Jenny should go now. She looked, thought Jenny as she stepped outside and the door shut swiftly behind her, as though she had agreed to do an enormous favour.Jenny did not notice the smell of the newly mown grass any more. She felt angry. If anyone was entitled to texts and extra minutes with her husband it should surely be a woman about to have a baby in his absence. She decided to walk around the block. Because despite everyone’s insistence that she sit around resting to keep her blood pressure down, she had found that walking was more relaxing than watching TV and drinking endless cups of tea with Trish.And why had Agnieszka been so determined to leave her standing on the doorstep? She had clearly not wanted her there at all. Jenny walked faster, her belly preceding her like a big, round wheelbarrow. Her head was spinning and throbbing now. She walked in time with the pain.It was only when she passed an old red Volvo parked at the end of a quiet side street that she realized. First she recognized the Volvo, then she remembered whose car it was. So that was why Agnieszka had not wanted her to come inside the house. That was why she was so impatient to get Jenny out of the door. Because that man was there.
Chapter Forty-three
‘COME ON IN, SERGEANT HENLEY.’ MAJOR WILLINGHAM’S TONE WAS friendly. He was with the 2 i/c, CSM Kila and Gordon Weeks. The 2 i/c was making mugs of tea as usual. Iain Kila called him, in private, the Brew Bitch.‘Before we get down to business, I’d like to congratulate you both, Gordon and Dave, on the way you and your men dealt with that horrific incident today. You must be very proud of everyone, not least the four men who risked their lives saving the casualties.’‘If there’d only been helicopters with winches available no one would have had to risk their life,’ said the boss firmly. Dave was pleased. The boss was beginning to grasp the fact that the best way of fighting against the enemy was fighting for your men against the big machine of the British Army.‘I agree with that and the point has been very strongly made,’ said the OC.‘Any update on the condition of Connor or Broom, sir?’ asked Dave.‘I spoke to Bastion an hour ago. They just say they’re stable. Which could mean anything.’CSM Kila added: ‘But we’ve had three calls from Angus McCall to ask what’s going on here.’Dave smiled.‘Scared he’ll miss some action.’Iain Kila said: ‘His dad has good cause to be proud of what that lad did today.’‘His dad?’ asked the OC.‘His father was in the Regiment,’ the boss explained.Iain Kila raised his eyebrows. ‘Says Angus.’The major smiled. ‘If everyone who claims to have been in the Regiment was telling the truth then Hereford would be the size of Canada.’He sprawled back in his chair, legs stretched out. On his desk was an open cake tin, its contents half eaten, probably sent by a relative or big-hearted member of the public.‘Now then, I’m sorry to question you about an old incident, Sergeant Henley, when you’ve had such a shit day. But I promised to get a report in about it and now they say they need it by first thing tomorrow. As you know, we’ve got this Royal Military Policewoman here at the base. As well as the woman from the Intelligence Corps. It’s all a bit of bad l
uck really: the pair of them are only here because they’re fluent in Pashtu—’‘But, sir, they’re good value,’ Iain Kila said. ‘They were good news with the detainees.’‘And their monitoring of the Taliban radios has been fantastic when we’re operational,’ added the boss.‘Oh, they do a fine job both interpreting and diplomatically: we were even invited to the tribesmen’s wedding, as you know, and I’m sure that was something to do with the charm of our interpreters. But the fact is, the RMP won’t stick to her interpreter role, she insists on doing monkey work even when we really don’t want her to.’Dave glanced at the boss. He looked tense.‘She’s got a bee in her bonnet about the Green Zone patrol when you dropped five Talis. I can stave off a full investigation if I say the right things in my report now. You know which incident I’m talking about?’‘Yes, sir. After the goat set off the IED for us.’‘Which makes me wonder if we shouldn’t have goats trotting in front of our patrols all the time. Like miners had canaries. Anyway, can I ask you to think back and take me through exactly what happened after the goat was blown up? And please understand that this is a relaxed and informal discussion.’Suddenly it didn’t feel relaxed or informal. The OC sat up straight to take notes. The tent was silent.Dave told how, after the IED had detonated, he and 1 Section had walked up the track looking for the old man who had been herding the goat. He described the appearance of the four Taliban fighters, apparently going home and unaware of their presence. He said that both he and Jamie had fired at them and all four had dropped.‘Now let’s get this straight. You were searching the dead men, all of whom were in a ditch, when McCall shouted out that one of the bodies was still alive. And you said . . .?’‘I think I said: get on with it.’‘Get on with it,’ echoed the major, giving the words great significance. ‘Can you remember what exactly you meant by that?’‘Well, I knew that our fire would certainly draw enemy fire. It was just a question of when they could locate us. And we were a small, vulnerable group out there in the field. So we needed to move quickly.’The major scribbled on his pad, nodding.‘But what did you want him to get on with?’Dave paused and glanced at Boss Weeks.‘Isn’t the interpretation of his words by his men more important than what he actually meant?’ suggested the boss.‘Fair point, Gordon. Get on with it. The men could have understood that to mean: remove his weapon and examine his injuries so that we can casevac him if necessary. Do you think they understood you to mean that, Sergeant Henley?’Dave looked thoughtful. He glanced at the CSM who nodded slightly.‘Maybe,’ he said cautiously.‘I think the RMP here at the base suspects you might have meant: get on and shoot him,’ said the OC nonchalantly.Iain Kila said: ‘Well, that’s not how the rifleman searching the body understood it, because he didn’t shoot.’‘Rifleman Bilaal shot him,’ said Dave. ‘But I think he was already dead.’‘How do you know? Did you see the wound or the blood?’‘I saw blood. But I knew it mostly because I’d shot him myself.’The major smiled.‘You know you’re a good shot?’‘Good enough to hit a lad when he’s that close. I’d seen him fall into the ditch. He had no body armour – it would be amazing if he could survive, and survive well enough to act dead. So when McCall said he was moving, I thought that it could be a death twitch. I’ve seen that before.’‘There was absolutely no doubt in your mind that the man was dead or very close to dead?’‘I thought this was a dead body twitching. If there had been any movement at all. But the rifleman who was searching him had been in his first real contact. He was showing signs of shock. In that state he could have imagined the body was moving. So I was more worried about him than the insurgent. What I wanted was for the rifleman to stop imagining things, pull himself together and get on with the body search.’‘This was McCall?’‘He froze when we shot the insurgents, although he was at the front and the first to see them. He had another chance a few minutes later and he blew that too. He’s OK now, fighting very well, and he distinguished himself on the minefield today. But like a lot of lads, he fell apart the first time he was asked to face the enemy.’CSM Kila nodded. So did Gordon Weeks. The major sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile and the 2 i/c approached with the teapot and his Brew Bitch smile: ‘Would anyone like a top-up?’‘But, Dave,’ Weeks said, ‘the OC might have to explain why Rifleman Bilaal then shot this dead body.’‘Mal thought the bloke was dead too,’ said Dave. ‘I’ve talked to him about it. But he’s McCall’s best mate and he could see him falling apart. He threw down a few rounds just to reassure Angus.’The OC sipped cheerfully at his tea.‘Good! I think I have enough there to keep the monkeys off our backs. The Rules of Engagement are misty in places and it’s too easy for people sitting in offices to tell men in the heat of battle how they should have behaved. I hope you’ll hear no more about it now, Dave.’Dave had been worried about this interview and he knew that the outcome should have been a relief. But after today’s bloodbath on the minefield, this investigation into a dead insurgent, although correct and required by law, seemed absurd.
