War Torn

by Andy McNab

  Chapter Fifty

  BEN BROOM HALF OPENED HIS EYES. THERE WAS A STRONG POSSIBILITY that he was dead. He did not try to remember the event that had led to his death but images floated through his mind. A blue, blue sky, the colour burned away to one side by the white heat of a massive sun. His mates shouting to him but never coming near him.There were other, darker images, of people standing over him and talking to him. But he didn’t know any of these people. They weren’t in his platoon or in his family. No one he loved was there. So death was full of strangers.A stranger was standing over him now.Broom thought that probably the dead didn’t speak to each other but he decided to try anyway. He was surprised by the sound that emerged, of a wheezing, clanking old motor.‘Come again?’ said the man.‘Am I dead?’ repeated Broom.‘Nah. You’re not dead. This isn’t heaven. And I’m no angel.’Broom stared at the man and gradually he felt his life and his past taking shape inside him. He had been blown up in a minefield and taken here to Bastion where the surgeon had told him he’d lost the lower part of his leg. He felt sad as the weightlessness of not-knowing left him and was replaced by the burden of this knowledge.‘Funny, you look like a bloke I used to know.’‘Who would that be then, Ben?’‘He was in our platoon. But he got casevaced back to England.’The man grinned. ‘You don’t say.’‘His name was Steve.’‘That’s a coincidence, then,’ said the man. ‘My name’s Steve.’‘Steve . . . Buckle.’‘Fucking incredible! The same! That’s my name too!’Broom blinked. He raised his eyebrows so they disappeared somewhere under the cover of his bright red hair.‘Hello, Steve.’‘Hello, mate.’‘So . . . did they fly you back out? To pick up your leg from the cookhouse?’‘My leg! In the cookhouse! Now you’re really talking crap, mate. They’ve had you drugged up to the eyeballs. They didn’t fly me back to Afghanistan, they flew you back to England.’Broom looked at him trustingly.‘Where am I then, Steve?’‘Selly Oak. Just look at the telly and you’ll know you’re in England.’Broom did not move but his eyes swivelled to the screen. Two glittering bodies, strangely linked, cavorted in unison across a lit stage.‘I was watching it while I waited for you to wake up,’ said Steve. ‘And know what I was thinking? Could I be the first amputee on Strictly?’Broom’s eyes moved from the TV, with its swirling, complete human beings, to Steve Buckle.‘Must be Saturday then.’‘You’ve got it, Ben! I’m at Headley Court now but they brought me up here for a long weekend to see the docs and to see you and a bloke called Ryan Connor who took over a gimpy after I got blown out of the platoon.’‘Ryan’s really been poorly,’ said Broom.‘Yeah, right. Not like you, Ben, you picture of good health, you.’‘The bottom half of my leg got blown off by a landmine. Fuck me, Steve, am I going to be explaining that to people for the rest of my life?’‘Yeah. See, it’s not, like, a temporary thing.’Broom felt his eyes go wet. He had lost a leg. He had lost it for ever.Steve Buckle sat down.‘Go on then, cry. I fucking cried, mate.’Broom’s arm was bandaged and so was part of his face. He was lying flat and had no idea how to move. He lay crying quietly until Steve placed a tissue in his good hand. This was a revelation. Broom had forgotten he had a good arm. Very slowly he closed his fingers on the tissue, bent his elbow and aimed the tissue at his nose.‘Well done, mate,’ said Steve.‘Oh, fuck it,’ said Broom. ‘What’s going to happen now? What’s happening with my bird?’‘Your mum’s outside with the bloke from BLESMA. He’s getting her prepared to see you without your leg.’‘What about Kylie?’‘Dunno,’ said Steve dully. He had heard about Kylie from Leanne.‘Is she out there?’‘Dunno, mate.’‘Shit, what will I do now? What can I do without my leg?’‘Well, it took me a long time to understand this, or maybe a long time to believe it. But you can do pretty much everything. And it’ll be easier for you than me because I’ve got a short stump and it’s a fucker for fitting a socket. Yours came off below the knee. That’s much easier.’‘I won’t be good enough for the Paralympics. I won’t be good enough for anything. I won’t be good enough for my bird. Buckle, why did I have to be in that minefield? There are a hundred and twenty men in R Company, I don’t see why it had to be me.’Steve switched off the TV.‘At least you admit it. I spent more than a month telling everyone my leg was still there. I could feel it, see. Can you feel yours?’Broom looked thoughtful.‘I can’t feel anything at all. I’m sort of numb. I hope I don’t pee in the bed.’‘You’re on a catheter, probably. And you can’t feel anything because of the pain relief. But you will.’Broom stared at him.‘Does yours still hurt?’‘Yeah. And I mean it’s sometimes excruciating. That’s where there’s no leg any more. Explain that if you can. The doc can’t.’‘Can you walk yet, Buckle?’‘Just wedge yourself up on your good elbow and watch me. I’m not very good yet because we’re having trouble with my socket.’Broom, with a supreme effort, raised himself a couple of inches from the bed and leaned on his elbow. Steve Buckle, a big, tall man and one of the platoon’s dominant personalities, shuffled, very slowly, with intense concentration, along the side of the bed. He did not speak until he had sat down breathlessly on the chair.‘See? I mostly use a crutch but I’ll be throwing it away soon. I’m getting a leg for running, maybe a couple of them. And there’ll be a leg for walking. Then I could have a very smart leg which looks like the other one. A leg for the shower . . . probably even more legs than that. But I’ve got to learn to walk first.’‘You’d turn into a fucking spider if you tried to use them all at once.’‘You’ll have that too, Broom. You’ll have a leg for every occasion. We’ll start feeling sorry for those poor buggers with only the two.’Broom remained propped on his elbow but closed his eyes.‘Buckle, you didn’t look ready for Strictly just then.’‘Listen, mate. I don’t know about dancing but I do know about fighting. And Afghanistan is the best fucking fight for years. I’m getting used to the idea that I’m missing this tour but I’ll tell you something: I’m not going to miss the next one.’Broom kept his eyes shut.‘Get real.’‘You feel that way now because you’re still at the beginning. You’re at the bit where you think your life’s over. But it’s not. It’s all a big challenge but challenges are what we joined up for, mate. And I’m going to get back to the frontline. That’s my biggest challenge yet.’‘You’re married,’ said Broom. ‘Got kids?’‘Twins. Boys. They’re not two years old yet. I’m going to be outrunning them until they’re at least twenty-one.’‘What about your wife then?’‘What about her?’‘Does she fancy you any more?’‘Dunno.’‘Haven’t you seen her then?’‘She visits me in Headley Court. Just a few hours at a time.’His tone was indifferent. Broom looked at his big face and saw he was angry.‘So, how is she with it?’ he persisted.‘With what?’‘You having one leg.’Steve shrugged.‘She pisses me off, to tell you the truth. It’s the way she looks at me. All sympathy. Sit there. Let me do that. How are you feeling? Dabbing her eyes when she thinks I won’t see. I want to clock her one. I went home for the weekend between Selly Oak and Headley Court. Big mistake. I ended up chucking my crutch at her.’Broom was silent, thinking that Steve Buckle could be a scary sort of bloke.‘It’s not her fault, mate. Why are you so pissed off with her?’‘Dunno. She’s overweight. Doesn’t take care of herself. Sits around doing nothing in front of the telly. Then she comes in looking all sorry for me and I think: I could live without you easier than I can live without my leg. And other times I think: why’ve you got two legs? You hardly use them.’Broom eased himself off his elbow and lay back down.‘I do get really angry,’ Steve said. ‘You will too.’Ben Broom was assaulted by fear after fear. They came sneaking up on him like a series of ambushes.‘Will I have to leave the army?’‘Shouldn’t think so.’‘What will I do?’‘What do you want to do?’‘Same as before.’Steve got up.‘Then do it.’‘My bird might not fancy me any more.’‘So find one who does.’Steve started to leave the room. He used a crutch this time, moving forward with comparative ease.Broom felt desperate. He didn’t want to be left alone.‘When will they make me look at it?’ he called.Steve was near the door now.‘What? Your stump?’Stump. The word was horrible. Broom nodd
ed and swallowed.‘Not until you’re ready. They know what they’re doing.’‘When are you coming back?’‘When I’ve seen Ryan Connor and after your mum’s been and your bird if she’s here. And if either of them starts crying all over you, just tell them to fuck off. I mean it. Don’t put up with their shit. You’re soon going to be skiing better than they ever could.’Ben Broom started reorganizing his face. It took a bit of effort. The muscles felt tired before he’d even started to practise a smile. But by the time his mother walked in with the welfare officer, red-haired, freckled and too tearful to speak, he was ready for her.‘Hi, Mum! Great to see you. For Chrissake, there’s no need to cry because I’ll be learning to ski soon . . .’