“Come, Kevin, tell me – what you are doing here?”
“I have already said. I was in a helicopter which crashed. I must have been thrown from it because I don’t remember landing anywhere, and I woke up in this village.”
“What was your mission here, Kevin?”
“Mission?” I played dumb. He sparked up a cigarette.
“Yes, the mission. What are you here for Kevin? What unit are you from?”
“I don’t understand, Sir. I am from no unit. I am not a soldier Sir; I’m just a medic, here to help you kind people. We help give jabs to children and young mothers to stop infection, Sir, that is all. I am no soldier Sir.”
“Show me on this map where you crashed Kevin, I need to know.”
I had to think quickly. “I don’t know where we crashed Sir; I only know the village on the map where we were off to, to help the people.” I was very weepish in my actions, I was shitting myself.
“Good. Show me!”
“It was around here, Sir. That’s it, just about there.”
“That is good Kevin. You may rest now.”
“Take him away!”
I was dragged back outside, and then thrown back into the pit. It was getting cold out, and my legs were shaking like mad. I had no teeth left to chatter. I needed to escape, and I spent hours cursing this fucking chain. Why a metal chain, the bastards!
I remember falling asleep, and I definitely remember the damn rats eating me alive: I woke up to find one of them munching on my leg, the cunt!
“Pick him up!” The big boss man got his gophers to lift me up, and they threw me in the back of his van. By the time I hit the deck I was gagged and hooded, completely blind to the outside world.
I could feel the van struggling in the mud as we pottered down a track, evidently sliding from one side to the other. It must have taken us at least ten minutes before the driver got out of first gear. I could smell the rotten stench of cigar smoke; it was disgusting and made me gag.
Just for moving I got a belt across the face, I kept quiet after that. The wagon stopped. I could hear someone close their door, someone was walking alongside the van, and I couldn’t help but wonder why and where they were going. I kept still, trying not to attract any adverse attention. The door opened, people were chatting away, but I couldn’t understand a darn word. Someone grabbed hold of my legs, and I was dragged out the back of the vehicle like a piece of meat.
“You bastards, untie me! I’ll ‘ave ya, you rotten stinky rag-heads!” I wasn’t best pleased with my new friends.
As I hit the deck, I smashed my head on a small shitty rock – the only rock in the whole shitty area, no doubt, and I head butted it. Just my luck! I was left on the floor with a hole in my head, with blood pissing out. To them I was dead already, just another Western bastard.
They continued chatting away to one another for a further fifteen minutes or more; don’t worry about me, lads, down here bleeding to death!
The relief I felt as the hood was taken off my head! My eyes needed to adjust; I was squinting like a possessed child. To my relief they continued their generosity by untying me. I tried to stand up, but my legs gave way and I fell back to the floor.
“Pick that thing up now!” He ordered his men to grab me off the ground.
I had a bad feeling that I was going to die here and now. One of the guards smelt it and pushed me back down onto the floor; he was kicking me for being so filthy. One of the other guards walked over with a large rock that he’d found on the side of the track and threw it at me. He wasn’t happy that he missed, but I made him aware that I was frightened of him, which gave him a sense of power. He left me alone then.
Once they’d picked me up, we began walking further up the track. My legs were starting to function as they were meant to now. I tripped over once or twice, but nothing major. Most of the armed guards just beat me as we went along, so I was constantly on edge.
At one point, I was so exhausted that I fell to the ground. The guards beat me even harder. I felt the boot go in when one of them kicked me in the ribs: it bloody killed! I was soon short of breath, and another one was just about to stamp on my head. If it had not been for the boss, who came back along the track, I would have probably been in serious trouble. These fuckers wanted my head!
He gave his guards a right bollocking in front of me. It didn’t go down too well, and I was punished even harder now for making them look foolish. We stopped; I was given a little rice served to me on the mud on the floor. Perfect, I thought! The water I was given was a mixture of piss and spit: very nice! I drank it with pride, licked my lips and asked for more. Fluid is fluid, and without it, I’d die very quickly. Just by looking at the ground ahead, I knew we were heading back over into Afghanistan. I was afraid my body wouldn’t withstand much more of this punishment, and I knew I would definitely be auctioned off to the highest bidder if I did make it.
The pace was bloody fast to start with. Yep! I got another beating. This time they held me down and one of the guards poked his finger into my head wound. I screamed in agony, lashing out at him, but in return I got a day’s water rations cut. I wept to myself, but then realized I was wasting more fluid, so I stopped and became angry with myself instead: much more useful. My plan was to walk on whilst attempting to plot and map out an escape plan as quickly as possible. The track was muddy, filthy and rocky, and my feet were in a shit state. I was still naked, with bare feet; I had blisters, prickles, cuts, dirt, everything going on down there: it was horrific. My arse was just as filthy. I had black soggy shit all up my back and upper legs; my face was covered in blood, and I looked like I’d just had a makeover for a magazine shoot as a vampire. I was missing most of my teeth too – what a sight!
The track got steeper, and I dug deep to make it to the top. It was a single muddy track, but the steepest part was now over. We bedded down for the night in a small cave about 1300ft up in the mountains. One of the guards set up camp and made a very small fire to keep warm. They had their meals and left me in the corner to rot. I had nothing. It was a long night, and I had been awake for most of it. I felt bitterly humiliated, being very angry and upset for getting into this predicament. How it had happened to me was textbook! The caves had seen a lot of action in their time, probably going as far back as prehistory. I could definitely tell we were in Afghanistan by the shell holes in the rocks from their old Russian comrades some time back. An escape plan was out of the question: it would have been impossible. I literally had to grin and bear it right up to the last minute, and then, just maybe, I would get myself out of this mess. Perhaps Joe would come to my rescue.
In the morning, we continued on our journey, descending the mountain into a small valley with a pond on the right side, a small dwelling on the opposite, and a small herd of cattle. As we passed, the inhabitants seemed shit scared of our presence, continuously waving and greeting us, praying that we would bypass their little home as soon as possible. One of the soldiers walked up to a woman and asked for a glass of water; he wiped away the spillage and we carried on. The ground was hard going as we descended further into the valley; the pass was bloody hard work. If we slipped, to our right side was a bloody big drop, probably around 200ft. When we reached the bottom of the rocky feature we stopped to catch our breath for ten minutes, and the boss man walked over to me.
“Are you thirsty, English?” I nodded calmly and gently, lowering my head as I did so for sympathy.
“You take, drink – drink! Give him a little food! We need him to keep going.”
One of the guards walked over to me and threw me the tiniest piece of pita bread, which I quickly bunged in my mouth. My mouth was foaming with pleasure, as it was the first bit of food in two days. I had been without water for about twenty-five hours.
“We must rest now, sit down for a while. Come Kevin, come and sit here!” He motioned for me to sit next to him.
“Tell me, what are you really doing here? There is no need to lie to me, Kevin, I am
not stupid. We know it was you that killed our friend across the valley, so please do not lie to me.” I swallowed my tongue. Shit!
“Sir, I have no idea what you’re on about, Sir. I am a medic, Sir, that is all. Do I look like a soldier to you? I am nothing more than a harmless medic; I’ll show you what I can do if you untie my hands.” They remained tied.
“Come on, let’s go! We need to be at Camp Three by tomorrow.”
I stood up and off we went. The slope was immense; it took a lot of effort. I could see why the boss gave me water and food; otherwise, I wouldn’t have made it.
We were boxed in by two gigantic cave structures towering over our heads. It was magnificent! Everything seemed orange, a dirty orange colour: it looked like Mars. As we plodded on I could not help but think of Fran and what she would be up to right now. I knew deep inside that if something did happen to me, Nana would look after her.
On reaching the Camp, we were welcomed by another Al-Qaeda patrol. There were seven of them, carrying AK47s and RPG rocket launchers – all Russian-made of course. They looked me up and down, laughing as they kicked me to the floor. The boss pointed me out to one of his higher-ranking colleagues, and I felt like a small child that had just been grounded; a puny little nut in the corner, nothing more than a piece of shit for someone to pick up and dump in the trash. I watched everything they did. Most were in their late twenties or early thirties, no-one older than forty. Each one was a rag-head, wrapped up in their fancy working gowns; faces covered, and guns slung across their chests. What a bunch of twats! If only I could get my hands on one of their guns. All I needed was one chance, just one damn chance and this would be all over.
It didn’t happen anyway, as one of the Al-Qaeda brothers walked over to me and put his rifle butt into me: I was out cold. I woke up finding they had run a rope over a tree branch and tied the rope under my arms; I was left hanging over a box with only my feet keeping my body weight from falling. They laughed continually at my expense, but I remained there for six hours without being able to move or get into a position that did not hurt. I was going to shout out something about the Geneva Convention but it would not have worked, so I tried to laugh it off instead. In the morning we moved on further up the track, leaving the patrol to find their own fight. I was a prisoner of war and they felt so proud, showing off to the others that they had a Western soldier in their clutches; I was a big trophy for them. I started shouting out, “I am a medic, I am a medic, I am a medic!” non-stop until I was told to shut up.
Suddenly the leading soldier went down. He got down on one knee, and told the boss to come forwards. I was pushed down onto the ground; face first in the dirt, and at that moment, a helicopter passed overhead. There was nothing I could do but remain calm and continue on my journey. We spent the next couple of hours marching down into the lower part of the valley. The wind had picked up a little, and I could feel a chill starting to hit my lower regions: I was shrivelled up like a prune. For the briefest of moments, I thought I could hear the chopper coming back round, but sadly it was just the breeze. The clouds had turned from blue to grey within a matter of minutes, and I knew a storm was brewing. It was just a matter of when and how hard it would strike. In my situation it wasn’t a very good idea for such a thing to occur, being that I was completely stark bollock naked! The troops weathered the encroaching storm and marched on; I myself thought they were fucking idiots for doing so. The ground was getting rather crunchy underfoot, and we had finally hit the summit. Down below was a sea of rocks, dust and gorse.
The guards let me rest for five minutes. I felt shattered from the climb: my feet were bleeding heavily and I had no choice but to pick my blisters, which burst with white and yellow muck. As I continued applying first aid to myself, a wild dog came out of the blue. He sat calmly by my side, but the guards didn’t flinch, just let it happen. It gave me peace, though, even if only for that split second. I gave him a little tickle under the ear and off he went, staggering along like the little wild animal he was, hunting for his next meal. He reminded me of Griffer.
I was pulled to my feet, given a dusting down, a sip of water, and we set off again.
The ground was a lot harder as we hit the descending track, and my feet bled like bugger. I cried out at one point as I walked over a jagged rock, but the guards laughed and I was pushed even harder along the track. I got angry with myself, yet again. I pleaded to the guards to set me free, I had done nothing wrong. Please, let me be! The guards never even replied. I was fuming.
The following evening we set foot on the bottom of the next valley. My feet were being ground down to the bone, and I was screaming in agony. One guard urinated over my feet, which stung like fuck. We made our way through the fields and into the back end of a large plantation where we met a small, four-man foot patrol. I felt very vulnerable to the mocking crowd in front of me as we walked casually into a dirty-smelling village. A young girl came running up to us, looking no older than twelve. She spat at me as they carted me in. The leader of the patrol came forwards, strutting his stuff like an over-paid general. I was told to sit down in the middle of the yard, where I was kicked and punished for a further ten minutes. The children enjoyed watching me suffer as their elders talked within their groups about what to do with me.
As I sat there being treated no better than a rat, I took time to sort out my bearings, mentally gaining ground in which I could, one day, plan an escape. The general shouted out commands, giving basic orders to his troops, I laughed as they fell over each other trying to impress the Big Cheese. It was like a scene from Monty Python! One of the guards came over, picked me up, and pushed me into a small pen where I spent the rest of the day. It was so small that I couldn’t even stand up. On looking down at my hand I noticed that my right index finger wasn’t moving. Something was wrong with me: the right side of my body was in spasm. I hadn’t noticed any pain until now, but suddenly my body went into shock.
The General told his guards to pick me up and bring me inside. Maybe word had got about, and my story now seemed genuine; maybe I was soon to be on my way home. I was placed in a chair, my hands were tied and everything seemed ok: as normal as it could be in the circumstances, anyway. Two soldiers dressed to the hilt walked in and stood by the front door. I must have been sat there for half an hour before the big cheese himself walked on in. He sat down in front of me, a cigarette in hand. Taking his final drag before he extinguished it on the floor with his foot, he blew the smoke into the air. He raised his arm to summon one of the guards to come forward with a pen and paper, and to place it down on his desk. He picked his nose, pulling out a small grey hair, and scratched his grizzly beard. Then he looked into my eyes.
“How are you feeling, English?”
In my current situation I had no choice but to talk. “I am in a shit state, Sir.”
He smiled and picked up his pen. “How are you in shit-state, Kevin?”
I thought he was taking the Mickey.
“My feet, Sir. I have no clothes, and I am worn out, Sir. And I need medical attention, Sir.”
“We will see, Kevin, we will see. We need your help first, do you understand, Kevin?” I nodded.
“We need to know what you were doing in Afghanistan, Kevin, and why you were found just over the border in Pakistan.”
“I was lost, Sir, I was dazed and confused; I didn’t know where I was going, or what for. It was the crash.”
“Tell me about the crash, Kevin, tell me what actually happened!”
“I can’t, Sir! I can’t remember, for God’s sake! I’ve already told you that. Why won’t anyone listen to me?”
He started screaming at me, standing high above me from his chair.
“Do you think I am stupid, Kevin? Do you really think that we are all stupid?” I cowered in my seat.
“Do you take me for a fool, Kevin? You think I am a fool, don’t you?” I kept my head down.
“Sir, I am just a medic! Why won’t anyone listen to me? What am I suppo
sed to have done? I am just a medic.”
“You are a liar, Kevin. You lie to me, you lie to us! You are a fool Kevin, why?”
“Sir, I am not lying, I have done nothing wrong.”
One of the guards hit me across the face, it knocked my head backwards.
He grabbed me around the throat, “Tell me what you were doing in Afghanistan, Kevin!”
“I was lost. When I realized I had gone the wrong way I got scared, and so I turned around and climbed the hills, ending up in that village in Pakistan.”
“What about your friend? Tell me about him!” He smiled.
“What friend, Sir?” Shit! They did have Joe!
“Tell me about your friend, Kevin – he has told us everything, and he is on his way home now. Why are you are doing this to yourself, Kevin? Come on, tell me what you were doing in Afghanistan!”
“I was lost, Sir; I lost my bearings and headed for safety. I was in shock.” He sat down.
“You know there is nothing I can do for you now, don’t you Kevin?” What was he saying!
“Take him away, put him in the cage.” What was going on!
Two guards picked up my broken body and dragged me outside. My nose started to bleed.
Two trucks pulled up with at least twenty men in, and I knew that now I was in the real shit. They dropped me to the ground, hurting my arm on the way down. My muscle mass was wearing out. I could see my ribs and my hipbones; I was still without any clothing. I was dragged down the track towards the river, and then thrown into a wooden cage no bigger than an average dog kennel. I was left alone for the rest of the day with at least half of my body underwater; I had leeches crawling, sticking to my body. It was fucking horrible, like something out of a Vietnam War film. At night the rats came, and I spent hours defending myself against them. I swear, one was as big as a small dog: I smacked him in the face. At night I thought about home, closing my eyes to remember Fran’s face; trying so hard to remember what normality felt like. I had lost my soul, now just a shell of the man I once was, and at that moment I admitted defeat. I wrapped my hands around the wooden beams as best I could, trying to sleep, but it wasn’t happening.
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