War Torn

by Andy McNab

  Chapter Sixty-nine

  DAVE WENT TO 1 SECTION’S TENT TO CLEAR JAMIE’S THINGS AND found Binns and Bacon already hunched over them. Anger rose up inside him as if it had just been waiting for an excuse.‘What the fuck do you two think you’re doing!’They looked up guiltily.‘We’re just sorting something out, Sarge,’ said Binman.‘Sorting what out, exactly?’Streaky was embarrassed: ‘Something we were doing with Jamie, Sarge . . .’Dave could hardly contain his anger. ‘You don’t go through his things! I do that! You’ve got no right to sift through a dead man’s stuff!’Binman looked too shocked to speak. Bacon said: ‘Sarge, we were making a story with Jamie for his kid, see, so his baby wouldn’t forget his voice. And it was almost, almost done. And we wanted his babymother to have it all finished off so . . .’‘See,’ said Binns, ‘we didn’t want it to end suddenly. If it ends nicely his kid can listen to it over and over . . .’‘That’s right, Binman’s right,’ said Streaky. ‘If it’s finished they’ll be able to listen to it and he’ll always have his daddy speaking to him . . .’Dave felt his angry heartbeat slow.‘So, what is this story?’Bacon produced a small digital recorder. He flicked a switch. Suddenly the tent was filled with Jamie’s voice.‘And so the little frog hopped towards the place where he knew his mum and dad were waiting for him and would wait for ever if they had to. Just one more mountain to cross and he would be there.’Dave sat down on the nearest bed and put his head in his hands. Binns did not move. Streaky turned away, his arm across his face as though shielding himself from a blow. There was a long silence.At last Binman said, his voice hoarse: ‘See, we do the sound effects and we thought we could finish it by . . .’‘All right, all right, lads,’ said Dave, getting up. He had to cough to clear his voice and then cough again. ‘You do that. You finish it. I won’t interrupt you. I’ll just take the rest of Jamie’s stuff.’He left the tent as quickly as he could.He wanted somewhere private to open Jamie’s personal things. It was an unpleasant but necessary job to remove any letters from girlfriends or pornography or anything else a bereaved widow might not want to see. Not that there would be anything like that here. Jamie had loved Agnieszka and only Agnieszka.There were letters and photos and a notebook. Dave felt intrusive looking through the notebook. It contained lists and a few sketches: of Luke, of some trees by a river and one of a GPMG. And there was a bit of poetry, love poetry, which he had written or copied from a book.He delved a bit further in the bag and found some more pictures of Agnieszka. And then something small and hard. Another iPod? It felt like a phone but it couldn’t be. He pulled it out. It was. It was a cellphone.Dave was shocked. Someone else must have put it there! Jamie, of all people, would never sneak in something that threatened everyone’s safety. Except here it was.He switched it on.There were messages to Agnieszka and from Agnieszka. The last one had been sent a few days ago.He read: I love another man now.

  Chapter Seventy

  ‘WE’VE BEEN THROUGH A LOT TOGETHER, ASMA,’ SAID GORDON WEEKS.They were alone in the ops room. The Foreign and Commonwealth Office men had flown out into media frenzy at the hostage rescue, congratulating themselves on a successful mission. The colonel and his staff had gone. Kila and Jean were walking the perimeter together. The OC and the 2 i/c were in the cookhouse and the boss was manning the radio. He hoped there would be no calls.‘Yeah,’ she agreed. ‘I didn’t like you at first.’‘Really? How could you not like Gordon Weeks?’‘Because you were such a prick when we were interviewing those two detainees and I pulled out my pistol. Did you stand there wittering on about the International Convention on Human Rights or did I imagine that?’He gave her a withering look.‘You imagined it.’‘Bet you wanted to, though.’He could not suppress a smile.‘I did disapprove.’She rolled her eyes.‘Sometimes you have to do the wrong thing to get to the right place. A bit like your blokes shooting a wounded insurgent in a ditch?’He decided not to reply. Something was coming through on the OC’s printer and he busied himself retrieving it.‘Another press cutting from London. SAS SHOOTS ITS WAY OUT OF HOSTAGE CRISIS.’ He put it on top of UK SPECIAL FORCES RETRIEVE HOSTAGE IN BLAZE OF GUNFIRE.‘I did tell you that it was a man in my platoon who actually found Martyn?’She threw back her head and laughed. He watched her happily.‘You’ve told me at least three times, Gordon. But did I tell you that it was thanks to me we worked out Martyn was at the Early Rocks?’‘You! No, you didn’t tell me that!’He was ridiculously pleased and proud, as though he had worked it out himself.‘It was really exciting but I wasn’t allowed to talk about it at all.’‘Not even to me?’‘Not even to you. Remember I said that I kept picking up talk about a holy place and that’s when your blokes went and searched all the mosques?’‘And then you worked out that the holy place was the Early Rocks!’‘Yes. Because they said something about a pregnant woman there. That’s how I knew. The last time we saw Asad’ – her voice faltered; Asad had not been mentioned by either of them since their argument after his death – ‘he said the shrine was special for women who wanted a boy child. To Asad it was all unIslamic traditional nonsense, of course. Anyway, we put the place under aerial surveillance and . . .’The boss beamed.‘Well done, Asma! Well done!’‘. . . and the SAS rescued the hostage!’‘Oh no they didn’t.’She smiled again. He looked at her face, allowed his eyes to linger on its gaunt beauty, and felt that not seeing her every day was going to be hard.‘Asma, I hope we’ll meet when we’re back in England.’She sat very still.‘If you want to.’‘Do you want to?’‘I think you’ll change your mind when you’re back with your friends again,’ she said softly. ‘In fact, I know you will.’‘No!’ He didn’t want to change his mind. He’d rather change his friends. It was true that Asma wouldn’t fit easily into his circle. But here at the FOB he’d stepped outside that circle for the first time in his life. Now he saw no reason to step back into it.‘Asma, you live close to London so maybe we could . . . well, perhaps go to the theatre and have a nice meal . . .’‘I’d like that. I’ve never been to the theatre.’She watched him try unsuccessfully to hide his surprise. She laughed again and his face lit up with pleasure, even though he suspected the laughter was at his own expense.She leaned across the desk and, to his amazement and delight, took his hand.‘Gordon, it won’t be the same in England. Here we’ve been through a lot together and we can see all the things we’ve got in common. Soon as we’re back there, all we’ll see are the differences.’‘What differences?’‘C’mon, Gordon.’‘Before you decide you hate people because they live in a farmhouse, you should come and see it.’She sniffed. ‘I bet it smells of furniture polish.’He smiled. ‘Only on Wednesdays when Mrs B from the village has been in to clean.’‘Are you kidding?’‘Yes. Come and see my home. I think you’ll like it. I could teach you to ride . . .’‘No thanks. And I can guarantee you wouldn’t like my home. Luckily my parents haven’t spoken to me for three years so there’s not much chance you’ll ever see it.’Her touch was very light and her hand so small he could scrunch it up in his fingers if he wanted to. He held it carefully.‘I thought you lived in a flat in Luton now.’‘Yeah.’‘I might like that.’‘Well . . . yeah . . .’‘And I live in the officers’ mess, not my parents’ house.’‘What are you saying, Gordon?’‘Can’t we start from here? From who we are now?’‘Not sure who I am. If I’ve learned one thing from this tour, it’s that. I was born here in this country. I’m Pashtun. I can leave my family and change my surname but that’s still who I am underneath.’Weeks said softly: ‘That’s one reason Asad meant a lot to you.’‘When I met Asad and his family, I realized I sort of knew them even though I’d never met them. At first it was scary. Now I have to live with it.’She let go of his hand and got up. So he must have blown it. Because she was walking out.But no, she was walking around the desk to where he was sitting, bending down and kissing him on the lips. It wasn’t a very long kiss. When it was over he wanted more. His lips looked for hers but she pulled back and wagged a finger at him.‘You’ve had plenty of chances to engage the enemy, Gordon.’‘But now I’m returning fire.
’Laughing, she turned to go. ‘Got to initiate those contacts sometimes! Let’s see if you do any better in England.’

  Dave booked an early slot when the satellite phones were finally reopened after Jamie’s death. He wanted to break the news to Jenny himself. But when she answered he could tell at once that she already knew.‘Who told you?’‘Adi, of course.’ She was sniffing back tears. ‘Plus it was on the TV news when they were going on and on about the SAS rescuing the hostage.’‘What did they say?’‘That a soldier in the regular army had died during the ambush. Then Adi rang to say who. I was shocked, Dave. But the first thing I thought was: thank God it wasn’t you.’‘You liked Jamie,’ he said.‘Yeah. A lot.’‘Who’s with Agnieszka?’‘No one. I tried. But she’s sort of frozen. It must be the shock.’‘No one’s there! Not even her bloke?’‘She said she wanted to be left alone. So Adi’s taken Luke and I think the Families Officer’s going back soon. Dave, listen, I want to call the baby after Jamie. Do you think Jamie’s an OK name for a girl these days?’‘I don’t know. At the moment it just makes me think of Jamie.’‘Some people spell it J-a-i-m-e for a girl.’‘Let me think about it.’‘Dave. Are you all right?’Dave felt a stabbing pain in his chest area. There was a long silence. Jamie’s silence, again.‘Not sure,’ he said at last.‘I always knew he was your favourite.’‘We’re not supposed to have favourites.’‘But sometimes people do. And Jamie was yours.’‘He was badly wounded but he didn’t die at first so I let myself hope for a few minutes. Even though I knew there wasn’t a chance.’‘You were right to hope,’ said Jenny. ‘Miracles can happen.’‘Not this time. He was so badly maimed that it was probably better not to live.’‘He would have wanted to live for Agnieszka.’‘She’s a bitch.’‘Oh, Dave, she’s really suffering. And we don’t know for sure she was messing about.’‘She had another bloke. And Jamie knew about it too. Because she told him.’‘No!’‘Jen, he had a mobile phone here. It’s unbelievable that Jamie would take a risk like that. But he did. I found it. And there was a message on it from her, which he must have got just before he died. Saying she loved someone else.’There was a long silence.‘Jen?’‘He had that mobile phone because she asked him to and because he loved her a lot.’‘Yeah, and she loved him so much she sent him a message like that.’‘No! Agnieszka didn’t send it to him.’Dave suddenly grew suspicious.‘You knew he had that phone?’‘It was the Taliban who sent the message. Agnieszka never would have done it.’‘But the Taliban didn’t know she was messing about!’‘She might not have been! The Taliban didn’t know anything about her, they just wanted to hurt him. And he read it and believed it . . .’‘How the fuck do you know about all this, Jenny?’‘Don’t be angry with me, Dave. I promised not to tell you before. But now Jamie’s dead, I suppose I can.’

  Chapter Seventy-one

  THE TIME TO LEAVE THE FOB DREW NEAR. TAREGUE MASUD MADE lemon meringue pie by popular request. People cemented friendships and gave each other addresses and phone numbers. Men who had argued or fought with each other suddenly became mates. Posters were swapped, photos traded, and Masud did a roaring trade in Sin City T-shirts. The OC announced that Martyn was inviting the whole company to dinner at a London hotel soon after their return.They were scheduled to depart in the afternoon. The men piled their stuff on their cots ready to grab it when the helicopter landed. Some were taking a last look around FOB Sin City. They saw the advance party of the company who were replacing them huddled by the wagons looking miserable, pale and lost.‘We were like that six months ago,’ said Angus. ‘I reckon I was a different person back then.’Finn said: ‘I think I’m going to miss this place.’‘I know I will,’ said Angus. ‘I don’t want to go. It’s like leaving home. ’Specially because it won’t be the same now.’Sin City was to remain an FOB but there would be no more civilians. The oil project was abandoned, Taregue Masud was leaving with R Company and the number of troops here were to be doubled.‘What you going to say to your old man when you get back, then?’ Finn asked Angus. ‘Going to tell him that his boss from the Jedi still cooks a fucking good lemon meringue pie?’‘Nah. I’m keeping my mouth shut. He wants to be a war hero, so let him be. It costs me nothing.’Finn nodded. ‘Big of you, Angry. I think you got bigger since you came here. Come on, let’s have one last sniff of the Cowshed so we’ll remember the whiff for ever.’They passed Mal.‘Feeling nostalgic, mate?’‘I’m thinking about women. Women with curves who don’t walk around wearing sheets wrapped all over their bodies. And I’m just wondering how quickly I can pull.’‘Tell the birds you’re a war hero. That should do it.’‘You going straight up to Manchester?’ asked Angus.Mal shook his head. ‘Nah. My family reckons it’s better for me to stay in barracks and they’ll come down and see me.’Angus brightened. ‘You hanging around in barracks, too? I was thinking of doing that.’They looked at each other and grinned.‘We can go out on the pull together then,’ said Mal. ‘What you doing, Finny?’‘I’ll go and see which of my babymothers has got room for me. That’s probably the bed where I’ll start. After that, who knows?’They got to the Cowshed and found Streaky and Binns there.‘Come to inhale the last whiff?’ asked Mal.‘Mmm,’ said Streaky, breathing deeply. ‘If they could only bottle it.’‘Think we’ll come back here? On our next tour?’ asked Binns.They looked at each other. No matter how much they wanted to go home, a part of them didn’t want to leave this strange place. Although no one would admit it.‘Yeah, maybe,’ said Angus. ‘Maybe we will come back here.’They heard the throb of rotor blades.‘Come on, come on, come on,’ roared Sol’s voice at the door. ‘What are you all doing here? Get your kit and get out to that Chinook!’‘Here we go!’ said Mal, taking a last look around. ‘This is it.’When the Chinook finally took off, the men were silent. Dave felt as though he was leaving Jamie behind in this desolate place. Or maybe its desolation had crept inside him and he was taking it with him. He looked down at the base’s right angles, etched in the desert landscape in hesco. He saw the shining gym equipment, the thick mud walls, the tents, the isoboxes, the hardware and all the men of the incoming company racing to grab the best cots.

  It was raining when their plane touched down in the UK. As the men disembarked they felt its soft patter on their faces and the coolness of the breeze in their hair. The weather here was kind and forgiving. It didn’t want to pin you to the ground or whip you into exhaustion or scrape at the inside of your throat or fry you all day and then freeze you all night. The damp air of Brize Norton was the climate of home and it welcomed them.It took a long time for their baggage to come through. Dave watched his men’s faces as they waited and waited by the circling carousels. They hardly moved. They were expressionless. He’d personally switched himself off, like a TV, to make the journey bearable. He wanted to be at the FOB. And then he wanted to be home. He didn’t want the bits in between. He hadn’t even wanted a few days in Cyprus.The carousels sprang into life and so did the men. There were a few goodbyes. CSM Kila was saying a fond farewell to the monkey woman. And the boss was all over the other one, the Intelligence Corps girl.Kila caught up with Dave when they were loading the last bags onto the bus and a few lads were having a quick cigarette before boarding.‘Think you’ll see her again?’ asked Dave.‘She’s gone up to Edinburgh. And guess what, I’ve got family in Glasgow. So we’ll be meeting next weekend!’Kila raised his eyebrows suggestively. Dave laughed at him.‘Good luck, mate.’They boarded. Everyone was given a can of beer. They drank it in silence. The bus started to go and Dave sensed how restless and worried the men were. People had been phoning and writing to their loved ones for six months, yearning for their families and the luxuries of home and now, thought Dave, after all that longing, it was about to happen. And it was terrifying.‘I told Shaz not to meet me at the camp,’ said Dean Somers, the sergeant of 2 Platoon, who was sitting next to him. ‘I’ll get a lift and hook up with her and the kids at home.’Dave turned to him.‘Can’t handle it, eh?’Somers reddened. He dropped his voice: ‘I’m not fucking crying in front of my men, mate.’‘They�
�ll be too busy trying not to cry to notice you.’‘All right, I’ll put it another way. I’m not fucking crying in front of the missus.’Dave said: ‘I’m allowed to cry. I’ve got a baby I haven’t even met yet.’‘Who you going to kiss first, then?’ asked Somers. ‘That’s the other fucking problem, innit? They’re all standing there, you can’t hug them all at once.’‘Jenny,’ said Dave decisively. ‘Jenny is definitely first. And she’ll probably be holding the baby so that’s two birds with one stone. Then I reckon I’d better make a big fuss of Vicky before I take the baby . . .’‘You’ve got it all worked out, then?’ said Somers. ‘See what I mean? It’s better to go home and ring the doorbell and walk into your own hall and do the shit there.’‘I haven’t got it worked out really. Because my mum and stepdad might be there too. And maybe my mother-in-law.’‘Well, the mother-in-law goes right to the end of the line!’ said Somers. ‘Mine would.’‘Yeah. But we’ve leaned on her a lot lately, and she’s been there for us.’‘If she’s anything like mine, she’ll make sure you know it. Is it true you’re leaving?’‘No,’ said Dave. ‘I just have to pretend I’m thinking about it.’As the bus neared the camp the atmosphere was as tense as before any fire fight. Everyone stopped talking. There was complete silence. They turned into camp and then it seemed like a long time before they finally arrived in the square. It was crowded with people in bright colours, holding banners and placards, smiling and waving. Everyone strained to pick out their own family group. On the bus, men’s faces broke into smiles. Dave felt a thousand tiny strings from all over his body pulling at some knot behind his eyes. Oh, shit. Get a grip on yourself.