War Torn

by McNab, Andy

  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.

  Jenny, accompanied by the children, Trish and Dave’s parents had arrived early in two cars.

  ‘Christ, Mum, don’t do the banner thing,’ said Jenny.

  ‘Vicky wants to, don’t you, love?’ said Trish firmly and Vicky nodded. Jenny and Dave’s mum exchanged agonized glances.

  ‘Dave hates that kind of fuss,’ muttered Jenny.

  ‘He’s been off doing what he likes for six months, he can just put up with it,’ said Trish, as though Dave had been away on holiday. ‘Anyway, he won’t hate it if Vicks is waving her banner, will he, darling?’

  Vicky grinned. She knew her daddy was coming home. She knew her daddy was a man. She just wasn’t sure which man he was. But she was prepared to get caught up in the excitement anyway.

  ‘I’ll hang around for him while he does all his unloading,’ Jenny said. ‘It’ll take an hour or so and you lot won’t want to wait that long.’

  ‘All right, love,’ said Dave’s mother, ‘don’t you worry about the baby, just stay with Dave.’

  ‘We’ll have the food on the table when you two get back,’ his stepfather said.

  It seemed the b
us would never appear, but the carnival atmosphere persisted. Some people passed around union jacks. Children ran in small circles and then larger ones, in and out of the waiting adults. Some mothers, wives, but especially girlfriends, wore new clothes and carefully applied makeup. As they waited longer and longer their feet began to ache in the unaccustomed heels, their makeup ran or smudged or wore off and their hair required re-brushing and rearranging.