by Unknown
Chapter Nine
I scraped my chair in next to Flash, who was using a spoon to get the mouthfuls in quicker. Si couldn’t keep his eyes off the TV screen at the back of the room. Football repeats, of course, but he’d watch anything a hundred times over before even thinking about turning off the telly.
Flash stuffed a giant spoonful of meat into his mouth. ‘Mmmm. Not bad. Not as good as me dad’s mince, though. He makes the best.’
I picked up a fork and got stuck in too. ‘Your dad cook, then?’
‘Yeah. Better than me mum, even me missus. He does roast beef with big fat yorkshires every Sunday.’
Sounded good to me, but I couldn’t really chip in with the Happy Childhood Memories game. ‘Never saw my dad cook. Never saw him do anything really. He legged it before I started school.’
Flash always listened to what I had to say. ‘Yeah? He was in the Falklands, wasn’t he?’ He barely got the words out before the spoon was loaded up and heading for his mouth again.
‘Yeah. In the Guards.’
Si’s eyes flicked away from the screen and he began pumping his arms up and down like he was marching. ‘Oh the Guards … left, right, left, right, left, right …’
Flash lowered his spoon for a second and glared at Si before it was his turn to get a slap around the back of the head. ‘Shut up, Si! Dickhead.’ Si grinned and went back to his TV viewing. ‘Go on, Briggsy, your dad was in the Guards?’
‘Yeah, but I don’t really remember anything about him, except that he was always drunk. Well, that’s what my mum says. He used to come back home from the pub, give her a good slapping, and then disappear for days on end. My mum reckons the day she did a runner with me was the best day of her life. I don’t think so, though, she still gets upset about it.’
Flash finished his meat and turned to his mashed potatoes. ‘Harsh, mate. Harsh.’
Si looked away from the screen towards me. He’d obviously been listening as well as watching and eating. ‘Poor little Briggsy,’ he said in a sing-song voice, but his eyes didn’t turn back to the telly.
I took a forkful of mince. ‘Nah, it was all right. Mum got a job in the biscuit factory and we moved to a different estate. I got my own bedroom and everything, know what I mean?’
Flash was spooning so fast he’d got a big blob of mash stuck on his chin. He rubbed at it with the back of his hand, but the potato only spread out even more. ‘Did your mum help you with your reading then, what with you having dyslexia and all that?’
‘Nah. She didn’t really notice. She was out working too much. She sort of feels guilty now, like it’s her fault I’m in the army. The schools weren’t any help. I didn’t even know I was dyslexic until I joined up. I thought I was just thick! Well, I am …’
Flash started to rub his chin with two fingers in a more determined effort to get the spud off. ‘You’re not, mate.’
‘I know, I know. Just a reading age of ten. Ain’t good, though, is it?’
‘How’s the coursework going? Those educators squaring you away?’
‘Yep. They’ve told me they’re going to sort it. I’ve got loads of homework. Toki’s still giving me a hand.’
‘Good news. Listen, if you need any more help, give us a shout. Whatever you need.’ Flash licked the mash off his fingers and was now moving on to the green stuff. Weird how he ate everything in separate portions, never mixing the different foods together.
‘Thanks, but I’m doing all right. Know what? Joining up was the best thing I’ve ever done. Getting educated, being out here, doing the business.’
Someone scored a goal and the TV crowds roared. Si turned his attention back to the screen. He slapped his palm across his forehead, feeling the pain of the goal all over again, then he switched his focus back to us, his mates.
‘If I hadn’t joined up, I reckon I’d be in prison by now. That’s where most of my old mates are. We were always getting into trouble. Just for stupid stuff, shoplifting, nicking cars, nothing serious. But then I started, like, getting pissed off with lads who had new cars, motorbikes, stuff like that. So I started to kick ‘em in instead of nicking ‘em. Smashed people’s shops up just because they had stuff and I didn’t. So I ended up in a detention centre down near Portsmouth when I was sixteen. Soft in the head, or what? Joining up was a good move, know what I mean?’
I nodded as Si started sipping his brew loudly. That was about the longest speech I’d ever heard Si make.
Flash nodded too. ‘You know, the papers really get me ticking, the way they go on about hoodies and how all you kids are the scum of the earth. But you know what? They never write about teenagers like you two, or me boys. You lot have all bothered to get your finger out your arse and make a go of life.’
Si burst out laughing so much his brew came out of his nose. ‘Briggsy’s got two fingers out of his!’
Even I had to laugh at that one. We carried on eating in silence for a bit, and then Si started up again. ‘You were lucky last night, Briggsy. Just think, what if that bullet had gone just a bit the other way? That would’ve been the end of your wedding tackle. Mate, what if it had gone any higher, it would have zapped your spine and you could be in a wheelchair for life. What if …’
I didn’t really want to think about it, so I cut him off quick. ‘Haven’t really thought about it, mate.’
Flash pushed aside his empty plate and immediately reached for his bowl of spotted dick.
‘Well, we’re all pleased you’re not dead, or being tortured by some drugged-up Tali right now.’
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 v
oice – 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.
