Last Night-Another Soldier…

by Andy McNab

  Si nodded and pointed his fork in my direction. 'Mate, you were lucky.'

  I probably was, but it didn't mean I wanted to keep on going over and over it. 'Yeah, anyway.' I changed the subject. 'Anyone know why Toki joined up? If it really was to make his fortune, I reckon he messed up big time.'

  Flash was now having trouble with the custard. It had missed his mouth by miles and was beginning to trickle down his chin in big yellow gobs. A little pool of it had even dripped down onto the table. 'Nah, probably just wants to fight, like all the Fijians. For him, it's recreation. He'll be in the army for the full whack. All the Fijians say they're staying in for life.'

  Fortunately, someone shouted out that the welfare phones were back on, which meant I could get away from Flash and the yellow stuff. He'd somehow got it up his nose, so it looked like he had a big yellow bogey hanging out of one nostril.

  'Got to go.' I scraped back my chair and stood up to leave.

  'Going to phone that bird of yours again?' Si grinned and cupped his hands in front of his chest as if weighing two melons.

  'Yeah, good one, Si. See ya!'

  Chapter Ten

  After queuing for about fifteen minutes, it was my turn to push aside the canvas curtain and enter the wooden stall. I picked up the receiver and dialled. Mum picked up the phone so quickly it was like she was hovering over it. She sounded relieved. 'Thank God you're OK. I've been watching the news all day, and when you didn't call I got so worried. You know what I'm like, thinking the worst and-'

  'Mum, I keep telling you, I can't call when something happens. They cut the phones off until the family of the dead guy knows he's dead. Someone might phone the papers or whatever to try and make a few bob. The family needs to know first, don't they? But soon as they're working again, I call, don't I? Make sure you know I'm OK.'

  She sighed so loudly I could hear it over the noise of some lads arguing about the football match as they stood in the queue.

  'Yeah, you're a good boy. You're all right, and that's all that matters. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you. I sit and watch the news every day, smoking myself to death, just praying that-'

  'Mum, I'm fine. Don't worry. I'm the new boy, they won't even let me out of the camp yet. Listen, I've been thinking about Dad and-'

  I heard the sharp intake of breath and the change in her voice – a hint of anger mixed in with panic. 'What? He been writing to you? What does he want? Money? You tell him to keep away from us.'

  I tried to sound calm, like it was nothing. 'No, he hasn't written, but…'

  Her voice went up even higher. 'I ain't having him nowhere near us. He never lifted a finger to help us, why should we get involved with him now? What has he done to-'

  I tried to talk over her. I just needed to get it out. 'But, Mum, I think he needs help. I think you should-'

  It was hopeless. She was off again. 'Don't think, don't think anything about him. He's a drunk who never cared about us. Why should I worry about him? I have you to worry about.'

  'Mum, I've been learning about PTSD. You know, combat stress. I think he might have it because of the Falklands stuff.'

  It was no good. I had picked open an old wound and nothing could stop her now. 'Listen to me. I don't want to talk about him any more, and I don't want you even thinking about that man.'

  'But Mum, just call him. Tell him to go see a doctor.'

  'Why are you dragging all this up? What have I done to deserve this? Haven't you given me enough to worry about? You calling just to get me even more upset? It's no fun back here you know. You think it's all…'

  Then, as always, her anger quickly turned to guilt. 'I tried my best to bring you up good. I know I wasn't there all the time, but that's because that bastard didn't lift a finger to help us. I know I should have done more…'

  I could hear the tears were about to come. Anything but that. I couldn't hack it when Mum cried. 'Mum, it's all right, you done good. I like the army. I'm sorry, forget it. Listen, I'll call in a couple of days because I've only got a couple of minutes left for this week on my phone card so-'

  I cut myself off mid-sentence and put the receiver down gently. Stupid, stupid idea!

  Chapter Eleven

  I walked back to my tent and saw all John's stuff in bags and bin liners in one neat row on his bed. There was no sign of Flash and Si, but Toki was sitting on one of the plastic fold-up chairs with John's laptop resting on his knees. He must have carried on sorting through John's stuff during scoff. His fingers tapped and paused, tapped and paused on the laptop keys.

  'He got any porn, Toki?'

  Toki tapped again. 'Video of some contacts, a couple of pics of dead Taliban and some of Julie, just in stockings, that sort of stuff. Nothing terrible.'

  The screen went black and he carefully closed the laptop. He pulled out the plug and started to coil the lead. 'I still hate doing this job, though.'

  I nodded, though I wasn't really concentrating on what he was saying. I kept staring at the bed. All John's kit was in black plastic bags, while he lay in a big black rubber one. That was it when you died. That was all there was.

  'I can't stay behind, Toki. I want to be out with you lot tonight.' The words came out thick and fast. 'Can't you talk with Sergeant MacKenzie… please?'

  Toki looked up, his brown eyes showed concern. 'You OK?'

  I tried to pull myself together. 'Yeah, I'm all right. Just don't want to be left behind when you lot go back out. The last thing I want is time on my own to think.'

  Toki nodded at the plastic chair opposite him and I took a seat. 'You mean about last night, Briggsy?'

  I took a deep breath. 'Yeah. Know what, the more I think about it, the more I think I just got lucky last night. I mean, what if I had got taken, or got a round in my spine. You know, the rest of my life in a wheelchair, like Si said. Feels worse than getting chopped up… I'm worried I might get out there next time and think too much about it and start flapping. Know what I mean?'

  Toki looked down at my shirt and pointed at the brown stain. His voice was firm. 'Right, first thing, get that kit off and get washed and scrubbed. You don't need the smell of blood on you for a start.'

  'It's not that, mate. It's, well… I'm more scared I'll let everyone down. I just want to get out there and not think too much about it.'

  Toki sighed and nodded slowly, more to himself than to me. 'Sounds normal to me. All you have is self-doubt because it's all new and different, that's all.'

  I suddenly felt pathetic, like a school kid again. 'I don't see any of you Fijian lads being scared of anything.' It came out more like a whine.

  Toki paused for thought and then smiled. 'Everyone is, at some time or other. Anyone who says they have never been scared is either a liar, or has a screw loose in the head.'

  I laughed at that, and Toki laughed with me. I was glad I'd come out with it. But Toki was lost in some memory of his own. He spoke slowly as if he was choosing his words very carefully. 'My first kill was in Basra. I was eighteen, too. We were on a strike op, hitting some houses right in the city centre. I got upstairs when a guy came out of nowhere with a knife – a big butcher's one. He jumped me before I could get my '80 up. We fell down the stairs fighting, I could smell his breath.'

  Toki pulled his chair closer to mine and lowered his voice. 'I can remember his spit spraying in my face. He kept screaming as he tried to stab me with his knife. His eyes were really wide, like a mad man's. I had one hand trying to stop the knife going into my face, while I tried to get my bayonet out with the other.'

  So Toki did know what it felt like. A thought crossed my mind. 'Why didn't you give him the good news with your pistol?'

  Toki half closed his eyes and dropped his chin onto his chest, trying to get the bits of memory back in the correct order. 'We didn't all have pistols then. All I could do was keep head-butting him, but he wouldn't give up. I got my bayonet out and managed to stab him about four or five times in the neck. He died on top of me. I was
soaked in his blood. Like you said, it was mostly down to luck. I started to worry that maybe I wouldn't be quite so lucky next time around, and that does your head in after a while. I kept worrying that I might let everyone down, or worse, end up getting one of my mates killed. You know, I still think of that Iraqi now and again, usually when I smell blood or cigarette breath. But you know how I get over that fear?' He leant his giant head forward so he was just an inch away from my face and looked me directly in the eye, waiting for me to ask.

  'How?'

  Toki's stare remained constant. Only his lips moved as he spoke, stressing every word as if each one was gold dust. 'I say to myself…' He leant into the back of his chair and raised himself to his full height for greater effect. 'I say to myself… Bollocks!'

  I leaned back too, confused and disappointed. 'What? That it?'

  Toki simply shrugged, raising his hands towards the roof of the tent before letting them fall down at his sides again. 'That's all you need. Look, I'm a soldier, right? And as the saying goes, "You choose your branch, you take your chance." It's not for everyone, but everyone doesn't have to be here, do they?'

  I shook my head, but I wasn't really sure I was getting any of this. 'No, suppose not. So?'

  'And so, bollocks to it.' Toki looked triumphant, as though he had discovered the mystery of the universe. Then he spoke almost in a whisper, as though he was sharing the biggest secret of them all.

  'When I'm out there and it's all kicking off, I reckon I'm probably dead anyway. So anything I do to stop that from happening to me or my mates is a bonus. Do you get it?' He looked towards me eagerly, with a big smile on his face.

  It felt like I was talking to some Jedi master out of Star Wars, but I still didn't get it. 'S'pose so,' I said, more to please him than anything else.

  He looked a bit disappointed by his Jedi trainee's lack of enthusiasm, so he added a final explanation. 'Listen, I know you won't lose your nerve because you want to stay alive. You've proved that. Plus, you know you've got an even bigger responsibility to keep your mates alive, and I know you would never let them down, would you?'

  I hung on to every word, hoping that in the end it would all make sense to me. 'Hope not.' I know I still sounded a bit reluctant, but it was the best I could manage. I gave him a weak smile to show that I really appreciated the effort he was making.

  'Listen, you'll be all right.' He smiled back, like he knew it was time to lighten the mood. 'You haven't sent a bluey to your mum this week, so let's see how your writing's improved. Then we'll do a bit of that coursework. Maybe then I'll think about talking to Sergeant MacKenzie for you.'

  That was the best news I'd had since our chat began. The rest I needed to think about. Now that we were back on safer territory, I had a sudden brainwave. 'You know what? I think I'll write to my dad instead. It'll be the first time. There's something important he needs to know about. There are gonna be a few words I learnt about today that I can't spell…'

  I reached for a bluey from the neat stash of them under Si's bed, and fumbled for the pen in the bottom of my pocket. I began to write, stopping every so often for Toki to check and help me with my spelling. Dear Dad, Hope you are OK. I don't know your postcode but reckon this should get to you OK. Because me and Mum haven't seen you for years, you probably don't know that I'm in the Army now. Well, the bluey gives it away I suppose!

  I'm in Afghanistan and I've got about three months left. I'm in the Rifles as it happens, not the Guards. Mum's OK. She just worries a lot. Anyway, Mum told me that when you were in the Falklands, you were on a ship attacked by Argie planes. She said the ship got blown up and lots of your mates got burnt really bad, and some of them died. Maybe why everything went pear-shaped between you and Mum afterwards is because you have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

  Dad, PTSD is something that loads of soldiers get, but the doctors can help you. Just go and see one. Please…

  The FOB's loud speaker system sparked up again. 'Standby. Standby. Showers are on, but today, only for an hour. The pumps need a service. End of message.'

  Toki picked up John's laptop. 'Leave the letter, Briggsy. We'll finish it off later. Go clean yourself up.'

  Chapter Twelve

  After showering and changing my shirt as Toki had instructed, I wandered back over to the Medic Centre. Emma still had the Chili Peppers banging out of her speakers when I finally got called in. It was a wonder she was able to concentrate on any kind of medical emergency with those twats warbling in the background. I was more of a Jay-Z man myself.

  'Emma! I'm back.'

  I was still pissed off with her for telling the lads about my war wound. She might be pretty, but she was definitely a pain in the arse. And I had one of them already!

  I decided to go straight into attack mode. 'I can't believe you told 'em.'

  She looked puzzled for a moment, as though she wasn't quite sure what I was talking about.

  'Hmmm… Did I?… I can't remember…'

  She squirted her hands with disinfectant from a bottle and burst into fits of laughter. 'That's what you get for having a go at my music.'

  I smiled like I thought it was all a fantastic joke, but I wasn't letting her get away with it that easily. 'That was bad. What about your Hippy oath thing?'

  She laughed again. 'I haven't taken an oath, you dickhead. I'm a medic, not a doctor. Besides, you can't blame me. It was just too good to keep to myself.'

  I undid my combats and lay on the bench again, carefully pulling my underpants down along with my trousers, so as not to disturb the wound that was trying hard to scab up. I turned my head to one side to watch her as she came over.

  'I do blame you. I've been ripped apart all day.'

  She showed no pity, though. 'Well, tough. The deed is done. Now, let's have a quick look. How has it been?'

  'Fine now, thanks. I reckon it's better.' Then I ruined it by flinching big time as she ripped off the dressing and started prodding me.

  'Yeah, right.' She wasn't fooled by my speedy recovery act. 'I can tell it's still painful, but at least there's no weeping. Looks like it's healing well. I'll just give it another quick clean.'

  I hoped she was feeling a bit guilty about telling the others, so I made my move. I twisted my head round further to try and make eye contact. 'Can you tell Sergeant MacKenzie I'm good to go, then? It would make up for making me look like a right idiot.'

  'Your trouble is, you have no sense of humour.' So far, so good, at least I'd got a smile out of her.

  'Yeah, that's right. It's a laugh a minute being known as the man who needs two lots of bog paper.' I looked back down at the plastic floorboards again.

  Emma didn't respond. She was too busy doing her cleaning and swabbing stuff. It hurt like hell, but I tried to talk through the pain.

  'Talk to Sergeant MacKenzie for me? Please, Emma.'

  'We'll see… There. You're done.' And with that, she walked back to the desk and started to write up some medical notes. As I got dressed, I couldn't help but stare at the big black body bag again.

  'John.' I hadn't realized I had said his name out loud until she answered.

  'What about him?'

  I didn't even know why I was asking. 'Can I see him? You must have cleaned him up by now.'

  Emma's voice was softer, kinder. 'You sure that's what you want?'

  I gave a nod. 'Yeah. Quick goodbye before he goes.'

  Emma put down her pen and turned off the Chili Peppers. There was a long zip noise as she slowly opened the body bag so just his face was showing. She didn't want me to see the wounds. We both stared at John for a while without speaking. It looked almost like he was sleeping, but his face looked weird. His skin was grey, not sunburnt like it was yesterday. It was Emma who broke the silence. She sounded like she was trying to put a brave face on it.

  'Don't worry, he will look a lot cleaner by the time his family gets to see him. They'll put make-up on him and wash his hair. He should get to Kandahar tonight. He'll be back ho
me soon.'

  I couldn't find any words. 'Uh-huh,' is all that came out. There was another long pause before Emma spoke again. Her voice was small and less sure than usual. 'First body you've seen?'

  'Well, first one of us. Talis don't count, do they?'

  'Not good, is it? You all right?'

  I swallowed hard. 'Yeah. He doesn't really look like John any more with that skin, does he? Know what I mean?'

  She asked me again. 'Sure you're OK?' I could only nod in response.

  'Well, I'm not,' she sounded upset as she zipped up the body bag. 'I don't think I can go on looking at dead soldiers much longer.'

  That surprised me as I would have thought she'd be used to it. Now there was no holding her back.

  'I am TA and this is my third and final tour, Briggsy.' Her voice wavered slightly as she spoke.

  'You getting some of those stress symptoms you told me about, then?'

  'No. Course not. I'm a paramedic back home. I've seen more blood and guts than you ever will. But you know what? This is different.'

  I looked her in the eye and waited to find out why.

  'Because I know John. I've known all of them. I know each and every guy stuffed in one of those body bags, and each and every guy who arrives here with an arm or leg blown off. I live with you, eat scoff with you, have a laugh with you, even use the same drums to dump in as you, but you know what?' A tear started to roll down her face and she brushed it away angrily. 'Bring on Glasgow's house fires, car crashes and Saturday night stabbings. If I can't save them, then at least I don't have to be mates with them.'

  A helicopter flew over our heads and interrupted her outburst. We both looked up towards the sky, as if we could see through the canvas above us. 'That'll be for John.' Emma went back into medical mode again. 'The rest will be here soon to get you lot back out on the ground.'

  The sound of the heli got louder as I opened the tentflap. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I turned just before I made my exit, 'Talk to Sergeant MacKenzie, Emma. Please.'