by Andy McNab
Dave was busy checking in at RAF Brize Norton when Jenny rang. Processing had taken a long time at South Cerney and they had arrived at Brize Norton an hour late. He did not pick up his phone until they were waiting to board and saw that he had missed a call from her.
The other lads were all making their final calls home and Dave dialled the house first. No reply. Where was Jenny on this gloomy Monday, and why wasn’t she waiting for his call? Maybe at the playground. He dialled her mobile. It was switched off because it went straight to her voicemail.
‘Where are you? I’m at Brize Norton and we’re about to board. We’re running a bit late. I love you, Jenn. I won’t be gone long. Give the girls a massive cuddle each from me tonight. And every night. I’m thinking of you. ’Bye.’
His knew his words weren’t enough to express the emptiness inside him. Yes, he wanted to go back into theatre because he was a soldier, and when he arrived at Bastion he would be happy enough. But that other Dave, the Dave who was a husband and father, was experiencing a loss so great that it felt like grief.
On board, counting heads, watching his men, he could tell they were all feeling the same thing. The flight was a quiet one. Men played games and read or talked in low voices. No one slept. After about five hours, when they reached Afghan airspace, they stowed the games and put on helmets and body armour. The talking stopped. It was too dark to see anything but Dave knew what lay below them: wave after wave of snow-capped mountains sweeping so evenly across the landscape that they might have been made by some massive mountain machine. Then the mountains would give way to desert, occasionally painted green by rivers. This was Afghanistan.
The Tristar began its descent into Kandahar, a massive complex of lights and airstrips. They were told to remain on the aircraft until their Hercules was ready. In total silence the men transferred to the big, old flying bus, a pigeon of a plane.
The ride to Bastion was bumpy and noisy. No one could communicate over the sound of that engine but no one had anything to say anyway. Suddenly they descended in total darkness, swooping down through the night like an owl. Men who had never experienced the night landing into Bastion looked around, wide-eyed and alarmed. Even those who were used to it had forgotten the intensity of the drop into this other world. Then they were on the ground. The rear hatch of the Hercules opened and they tumbled out into the mysterious pitch-black night of Helmand Province.
Chapter Sixteen
Dearest Dave,
Well, you’ve gone and you don’t need me to tell you how empty the house feels without you and how cold the bed is. I’ve found the present already. That’s because the clue was crap. The answer couldn’t have been anything but a nappy. I’m just glad you chose a clean one. Anyway, thanks, darling, they are gorgeous and I love you for always knowing which jewellery to choose.
How’s Steve managing at Bastion? Leanne says he’s getting really pissed off because they aren’t letting him out of the gates. He’s only been there one minute. He seems to think you’ll sort it because apparently you sort everything. But you never said he could do anything but Stores, did you?
Jaime has another tooth, she looks like a hyena and laughs like one whenever Vicky shouts ‘Washing Line’ at her. Their little private joke. I miss you so much. I wish you were here laughing away with the girls about washing lines. Phone me from Bastion before they send you out to the back of beyond.
From your loving, lonely wife,
xxxxxxJ
PS I had a job interview. If you ring me, I’ll tell you all about it.
Darling Dave,
You are such a fucking bastard, why don’t you ever phone? Sol called Adi the moment you all got to Bastion so I know you’re OK. Steve rang Leanne. Rose McKinley got TWO calls. Stop being nice and letting everyone else in your platoon use the phone before you. Not telling you about my job interview until you phone me. I love you and miss you. Vicky has a message for you. It’s: ‘WASHING LINE!’ You know what you’re supposed to do next. Go on. Ha ha ha ha ha ha.
Lol xxxxxxxxxJ
Dear Dave,
Got some kind of a phone phobia? Thought of discussing it with a doctor? But until the pills start working, you could always SEND A LETTER!!! I really like writing you e-blueys, they’re so easy. Or maybe you’re not actually getting them, even though the tracking system says you are. So maybe you think I haven’t written. Maybe that’s why you don’t write back. Would you please just ring and tell me if you’re getting the letters? A yes or no will do, then you can slam the phone down before your phobia gets the better of you.
Vicky is pretending to write things. It’s all just scribble but don’t tell her that. She sits there reading this scribble out loud to me. Of course, she’s making it all up as she goes along. I know that for a fact because today she picked up her scribble and said: ‘Oh look, Mummy, it’s a letter from Daddy!’ Then she read it to me. Fascinating. Apparently you have been washing your socks. And hanging them out on the WASHING LINE! Ha ha ha.
xxxxxJ
PS Did I mention that I got the job? I start next week. And you don’t even know what the fucking job is!!!
Darling,
It was so good to talk to you and hear your voice again. I can tell a lot from your voice. I can tell it’s already getting hot out there. I can hear dust in your throat. I can tell that you’ve been shouting at your men a lot. I can tell that you’re really, really fed up with Steve. A pissed-off Steve is not a nice Steve; ask Leanne.
I wish you sounded more pleased about my job. General Hardy’s very nice and quite old and I think he’s got some wound which is why he left the army. I’ll just be typing out his memoirs and letters and reports for him and sorting through receipts and bits of paper and stuff and making the odd cup of tea. I won’t be changing his catheter or anything; he’s not ill. So I don’t know why you’re making a big fuss. And stop thinking the kids will suffer, it’s for twelve hours a week and Vicky will be at nursery most of the time and Jaime’s asleep for two hours in the morning and anyway they’ll be fine with Adi. I hope there’s not some stupid law which says she has to register somewhere before she can take care of the kids. It’s just a friends’ thing. Now Leanne’s at the bakery she’s leaving the boys with Adi too and sometimes they overlap and it’s bedlam. But happy bedlam, you know Adi.
xxxxxxJ
Hi Jenny,
I’m sorry I don’t ring you more often. I know I’m really bad about ringing. It’s because it doesn’t help to think about all I’ve left behind. Better just to get on with it. But I do think about you a lot, whether I want to or not, and I’ve taken a lot of pictures with the camera.
I’ve been asking around about General Hardy and someone said he was a right bastard. Can’t you find a job in a café where you can talk to a lot of people and dazzle them with your looks and charm? Why dazzle just one nasty old man in the privacy of his own home? I know you’re trying to make your life more interesting but what’s interesting about him and his bits of paper? Why does he need someone to help? And by the way, he’s not that old.
Also, where have you taken the deposit for the nursery from? Tell me you haven’t cashed in our meagre ISA account.
We’re supposed to be moving off to the FOB soon. Not a lot has been happening at Bastion. We’ve been involved in two operations but we were a long way from where it was all happening. The Americans are busy eradicating the poppies and we fill the spaces they’ve left.
When I get to the FOB it’s going to be even harder to phone and you’re going to be even angrier with me when I finally get through. After that it’s a patrol base and there’s no phone and you’ll be REALLY angry. Deliveries irregular, and that includes e-blueys.
I love you. I will do anything you ask except leave the army. But if the sergeant major keeps borrowing I mean nicking my shower gel that day could come soon. You can buy everything at Bastion but he prefers nicking mine.
All my love to you and the girls. I mean that. All of it.
; Dave
PS Glad you like the earrings. They reminded me of tears. Wear them instead of crying.
PPS The drawing is for Vicky and in case there’s any confusion, it’s supposed to be a WASHING LINE. Ha ha ha.
Dear Dave,
I don’t understand why you didn’t write before you left for the FOB. I understand about the queues for the phone but is there just the one writing pad at Bastion? And you have to take it in turns?
General Hardy likes to write letters to people. He writes loads and loads of letters BY HAND. Then I have to decode them. Then I have to type them. Then I start on his memoirs. They’re really interesting. When I get to know him better I might offer to teach him to type. Except then he won’t need me any more, and I’m enjoying the job. I’m going three times a week for four hours, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, in the mornings. On Monday and Wednesday, Vicky goes to nursery. She is really happy there. Everyone is kind and she has made a little friend. Unfortunately the friend is also called Victoria.
General Hardy’s very nice. He lives in a big house with ivy all over it in Tinnington village. Actually, today he wrote a letter to someone about getting the ivy off. I told him it was a shame because it looks really nice. He said it damages the brickwork. So I typed out the letter but then he ripped it up because he said he’d been thinking and I was right, the ivy does look nice, so it could stay a bit longer. He says my spelling and punctuation are very good, much better than his. I didn’t tell him about Spellcheck, ha. He said there were forty applications for this job. FORTY!!! He interviewed five people. And he chose me out of all of them. Are you impressed? Maybe you’ll be impressed enough to write? xxxxxxxxxxJ
Dearest darling Dave,
So you did write before you left Bastion. As usual, our letters crossed. Who told you that General Hardy’s nasty? They’re wrong; he’s really kind. Whatever you heard about him it’s not true. Apparently there was a General Hardacre who no one liked and people always get them confused.
He has a granddaughter who lives in town and there are lots of toys here and he’s loaned some to Vicks and Jamie. One of them is educational, little coloured rod things which all add up to ten.
He told me to call him Eugene (weird name, sounds like You Jean. Leanne calls him General YouTube) but I don’t call him anything at all. There’s an old picture of him on the noticeboard with Tony Blair and other famous people. And he’s on some sort of committee and today I had to type a letter from the committee to the Secretary of State for Defence. Kept Spellcheck busy. And don’t tell me the job isn’t interesting, because it is. I really screwed up the other day – sent something confidential to the wrong person. I thought he’d sack me but he was very nice about it.
Adi says the kids are fine all the time I’m out – though as I said mostly Vicks is at the nursery. Yesterday Adi had the two of them and they started grizzling, so Adi got out your washing-line picture, which Vicks carries around in a little bag, and Vicks couldn’t stop giggling and that set Jaime off. No one could have that many pairs of big, baggy pants, not even the British Army. Adi is helping Vicky do a washing line for you. With more, bigger, baggier pants.
xxxxxxxxxxJ
PS Are you getting on better with the platoon commander?
PPS Leanne says that Steve’s persuaded them to let him out of Bastion in a few weeks! Only for a photocall, though. There’s going to be a picture of him in a magazine. Not sure which one.
Jenny,
I got my hands on a phone and rang you twice and there was no reply. So I suppose you were at work. Take care of yourself around General Hardy; he is a useless git. Iain Kila has remembered all about him. His name used to be General Howard-Hardy but he dropped the Howard because people were calling him Coward-Hardy after what happened. It was here in Afghanistan in about 2003 when he was still a brigadier. He had enough troops and weapons to take Chalee, a Taliban town at the centre of the opium-growing area, and at the last minute he backed down. Apparently he got some intelligence that the Taliban were going to put up one hell of a fight. He just lost his bottle – he could never produce any reason. The soldiers were really frustrated because they were out of Bastion and ready to go. We didn’t take Chalee for a few years after that, and then it took a long time and cost lives. So he may be nice but he’s not popular.
By the way, I notice that you don’t mention Mrs Hardy in this ivy-covered house of his. What are you actually doing, apart from discussing horticulture?
We are at the FOB with our friends, the Afghan National Army, and it is the shittiest FOB ever, just a lot of Hesco and a bunch of holes in a rock face. The Americans called it FOB Carlsbad after some famous American caves but only a few of the holes are big enough to call themselves a cave. I wouldn’t put it past the Taliban to tunnel their way through from the other side. Should take them a while, so hopefully I won’t be here for Groundhog Day when their smiling turbaned faces poke up through the floor. The word is that we should be back in Wiltshire soon after Easter. So you can save me an egg, thank you very much. A big one will do.
All my love,
Dave
Darling Dave,
I just got back and I did 1471 because I had this feeling you’d rung and you had. I just want to cry when I miss your calls. Why don’t you call my mobile? Why don’t you leave a message at least? I was at work and then I went to pick up the kids and Leanne was at Adi’s picking up the twins too, so we all had a cup of tea. Kids everywhere. Leanne likes her new job at the bakery. She’s losing weight. She’s already lost a stone but don’t tell Steve, it’s going to be a surprise. For God’s sake phone again before you leave the FOB.
xxxxxxxxxJ
Hi,
We are still stuck in our cave FOB with the Afghan National Army and two blokes have had iPods nicked and we all know who’s doing it. I am getting seriously pissed off with them. Some of the Afghans just don’t care. They don’t follow orders and they bunk off whenever they can. And one of them was chasing after Jack Binns, that little blond bloke from Dorset. He was shit scared to come out of his cave. Iain Kila’s put up some wire and banned the ANA from our side of it. Some of them are all right. But not all of them. The storesman was convinced the ANA was nicking kit. He stayed up all night trying to catch them but they’re too crafty for that.
Every day we go on foot patrol around here. We have to do it with the Afghan National Army. Every patrol must have an Afghan face; they tell us over and over again. Sometimes, when we patrol through the town, the Afghan face gets overcome by the Afghan Bazaar and they forget all their training and put down their weapons and start buying stuff.
I am trying to get on with that tosser Chalfont-Prick but I don’t like him and he doesn’t like me. Seems to prefer one of the corporals but doesn’t talk to any of his men if he can help it.
We like to pretend that we’re keeping the area clear of Taliban but it’s all shit. They tax the stallholders at the market. They probably run the place, they’re the mafia but they look like everyone else. We only know they’re Taliban when they fire at us. Don’t worry, I won’t let them shoot me.
Remember in Iraq I had a mate called Doc Holliday? He was a doctor who’d been in the Special Forces but he got an injury so he became a medic again. Well, he’s our company medic and it’s good to see him. We have a laugh but he’s always deadpan so it’s funnier.
All my love,
Dave
Hi,
Just picked up your message on voicemail, must have been upstairs and left my mobile in the kitchen. But I still can’t understand how I missed you. Don’t sound so pissed off. I’d give anything to take your call. Vicky has a cold. She’s running a temperature and she’s been sick, so I don’t want to go out and leave her with anyone, not even Adi. I have to ring Eugene and ask if it’s OK for me to come another day. Have to go. They’re both wailing at once.
xxxxxxxxJ
Dear Jenny,
Where are you? I rang again and there was no reply. Then I tried y
our mobile and I got voicemail. Didn’t leave a message, what’s the fucking point? I deliberately booked a slot in the evening when I thought you’d be home. What’s going on?
All my love,
Dave
Dear Dave,
I’m really missing you today. Sometimes it’s worse than others. Vicky’s still not well and I think Jaime’s going down with it and I’ve had the odd sniffle too. Eugene’s being very nice and understanding. He dropped by this morning with a pile of stuff so that I could get on with things at home if there’s a spare moment. Which there isn’t. Not until Calpol time in the evening when I collapse into a heap. But I’ll try to do a bit of work tonight.
Leanne came round on her way home. They’ve asked her to do extra hours at the bakery but she doesn’t want to do early mornings. She wears blue bakery clothes which look like she’s a doctor just off to do an operation. And she smells of bread. She says she doesn’t ever eat it, or the cream cakes, and she’s telling the truth because she’s really losing weight.
That picture you’ve just sent – was it supposed to be a washing line hanging outside a cave? Won’t show it to the girls yet or they’ll puke all over it. But you ought to know that Washing Lines are OUT and Post Offices are IN. Remember Vicky had a thing about them a little while ago? Well, they’re back in fashion. Nothing much makes Vicks laugh at the moment but before she got this bug for some reason the idea of Going to the Post Office was hilarious. Can you draw an Afghan Post Office? Thought not.
xxxxxxJ
PS What exactly are you doing hanging around in a cave like a bunch of bats? Doesn’t sound healthy to me. Glad you’ve got Doc Holliday to take care of you. I remember you talking about him before.
Darling Jenn,
Still haven’t heard from you and that doesn’t feel good. You don’t answer my calls and you don’t write. I suppose about ten e-blueys will all arrive at once. I notice that no one writes to Chalfont-Prick. Maybe even his mum doesn’t like him. There’s no communicating with the twat. He just thinks a sergeant is too far beneath him. The other day I tried to explain something to him about arcs of fire and he wouldn’t listen. He actually said: ‘My parents spent a lot of money on my education, Sergeant, so I don’t need you to educate me too.’ Something like that, anyway. Incredible. He always calls me Sergeant. Not sure if he knows my name. I’m trying to build up a relationship like Major Willingham said but it takes two. Anyway, I’m very polite and try not to argue. Just like I am at home.
