by Andy McNab
He saw a grin crack Miller’s face. ‘You sound pissed off,’ the sergeant said.
‘He nearly broke my sodding nose,’ said Liam. ‘So yeah, I’m pissed off.’
‘Then how’s about you run him?’ said Miller. ‘Keep him busy, occupied, and out of the way of everyone else, while we do our best to get him out of our hair.’
‘No problem,’ said Liam, looking at his blood-soaked tissues. ‘No problem at all.’
With his nose finally no longer bleeding, Liam had Tim working right away. His temper had calmed, but it didn’t change the fact that Tim was a part of a team and, regardless of his views, had a role to play. So he set him up with a duty rota and got him working. That done, he gathered the rest of the lads together and explained what was going on.
‘So he’s fully weapons down?’ said Ade. ‘What an absolute twat.’
Liam nodded. ‘So it’s like I said, we have a choice: force him to come out on patrol with us, or have him be useful here.’
‘It’s a no-brainer,’ said James. ‘He’s flipped. I wouldn’t trust him with a fucking water pistol, never mind an assault rifle.’ He tapped his head and everyone agreed.
‘But what I don’t want,’ said Liam, ‘is any of us making the situation worse, OK? That’s not going to help anyone. Yeah, we’re all pissed at him, but this is the best way to manage it.’
‘Don’t know what you mean,’ said Rob.
‘Yes, you fucking well do, Hammond,’ said Liam. ‘No winding him up. No pranks. No taking the piss. If Harding’s got issues, then that’s his business. Out here, what we do can take its toll. If we leave him be, and he’s kept busy, everything will run smoothly. None of us want morale to take a kick in the balls too. Right?’
Everyone nodded an agreement.
‘You know what, Scott?’ said Clint. ‘You’re sounding like a proper NCO. You’ll be on the NCO course when we get back, I’d put money on it.’
‘Ha-bloody-ha,’ said Liam.
‘It’s a compliment,’ said Clint. ‘You’re doing a good job.’
Two days later, Liam was again called over to a meeting with Cowell and Miller. Lieutenant Steers was busy meeting with the ANA and everyone was impressed not only with his leadership, but with how he’d developed their working relationships with the ANA. It was in no small part down to his own belief in what they were doing, and his drive to ensure it was done properly, that everything was going as well as it was. Liam found Cowell and Miller leaning over a makeshift table that was covered in maps. Empty mugs were scattered around, one of which was stuffed with wrappers from the chocolate bars they got sent through from home.
‘How’s Harding doing?’ Miller asked without looking up, his eyes following a line traced by the index finger of his left hand across one of the maps.
‘Fine,’ said Liam. ‘Busy. The lads are keeping cool too, even telling him he’s doing a top job when they see him.’
‘Great,’ said Miller. ‘Job done.’
‘So what’s this about then?’ Liam asked. ‘Because I’m guessing it’s not about Harding.’
‘We’ve had some intelligence from the ANA,’ said Cowell. ‘Possible weapons cache. Sounds like it could be a major kick in the teeth for the Taliban if we find it.’
‘You’re assuming the intelligence is sound,’ said Liam. ‘We found nothing at that village back at PB One.’
‘That was more a case of keeping your eyes open just in case,’ said Cowell. ‘This is something else entirely.’
‘We’ve had your mate Shah confirm the source,’ said Miller, finally looking up at Liam, his expression all frown and little else, ‘So we think it’s good. We have no cause to think any different, do we, Scott?’
Liam was pleased to hear confidence in Zaman, but he still wasn’t sure. ‘I know it’s been quiet this past couple of days, but that patrol when we got seriously screwed over still bothers me.’
‘How so?’ asked Cowell. ‘You’ve found no evidence of anyone acting for the Taliban and neither have we, right? Looks like they were just there at the right or wrong time, depending on how you see it.’
Liam shook his head. ‘They knew we were there,’ he said. ‘Must’ve been watching us to sort IEDs for when we headed back over the same ground. That’s not happened before.’
‘The Taliban are a capable force,’ said Cowell. ‘We can’t ever underestimate them.’
‘My gut still tells me something’s up,’ said Liam. ‘We were hammered as soon as we arrived out of Bastion, like they knew we were coming. This is a major step-up in their aggression towards our presence here. We need to be cautious.’
Cowell’s reply was sharp. ‘Well, we can’t exactly rely on your gut, can we, Scott?’ he said. ‘Remember, this is down to Miller, me and Steers. Not people going on their feelings, or the rub of a lucky rabbit’s foot.’
‘But what if it’s a trap?’ said Liam, thinking out loud now. ‘What if this is all just a way to get us out to somewhere the Taliban are waiting for us?’
‘It isn’t,’ said Cowell, certainty in his voice. ‘The ANA have already done a recce of the area. It’s clean. There’s no sign of the Taliban being active. All we need to do is go in, check, and if the weapons are there, bring them back. If not, we’re still win-win, because we’ve acted accordingly and in the process ensured another area is being patrolled, shown face to the Taliban to let them know they don’t run this, not any more.’
Liam knew he was getting nowhere. Cowell wanted the weapons cache and that was clearly what they were going to be doing, no matter what the possible risk.
‘Could we not send a small team out first?’ he asked. ‘A four-man recce?’
‘Like I said,’ Cowell said, ‘the ANA have already been up there. It’s unnecessary.’
What Liam wanted to say then was: what if someone in the ANA wasn’t playing by the rules? But he knew Cowell wouldn’t listen. His mind was made up.
‘When are we going?’ he asked.
‘Tomorrow, first thing,’ said Miller. ‘Get your fire team ready. Briefing at 1700. Make sure everyone has at least a good attempt at some kip tonight so we’re fit to go in the morning.’
Later, with his fire team giving the weapons a thorough service, cleaning everything to a shine, oiling where necessary and checking and rechecking every working part their lives depended on, Liam grabbed a moment with a brew. He still wasn’t happy about what they were doing, but he knew Cowell wasn’t going to listen. The best he could do was have his fire team prepped and working well. He knew he could depend on them, but he didn’t want them sent on a wild-goose chase. Worse, he didn’t want them walking into an ambush.
Sipping his tea, Liam sensed someone was close by.
‘Fire team sorted?’
It was Cowell. When wasn’t it? thought Liam. The man seemed to be almost omnipresent.
He nodded, said nothing.
Cowell sat down. ‘What you need to realize, Scott,’ he said, ‘is that if we do find a serious weapons cache, we’ll be saving lives. Not just one or two, but potentially hundreds.’
‘I know that,’ said Liam, aware now that his voice wasn’t exactly calm. ‘I’m just not convinced. What if there’s more to this than we know? What if the only thing waiting for us is loaded weapons in the hands of a bunch of Tally waiting for us to walk right up to them like we actually want to be shot?’
‘It’s not your decision.’
‘Never said it was.’
Cowell stood. ‘Not everything we do out here has to be guts and glory,’ he said.
‘I’m not saying that either,’ said Liam, annoyed that Cowell would even suggest such a thing. ‘In fact, I never have.’
Cowell leaned in. ‘You’ve had your moment, kid,’ he said, a sneer licking the edges of his words. ‘We all know it. But don’t let that go to your head. Know what I mean?’
‘I didn’t ask for the medal, if that’s what you’re getting at,’ said Liam, angered now and confused by the sudden at
tack.
‘Just remember your place, Scott. You’re a soldier, and soldiers take orders.’
‘You talk about medals,’ said Liam, struggling to keep his voice down, ‘and it sounds to me like you want one yourself, only you want it for not even pulling the bloody trigger!’
‘Well, I’d rather have one for that than for getting my mate’s foot blown off!’
Liam’s blood boiled over. Corporal or not, Cowell was bang out of line now and was in line for a swift kick in the teeth.
‘You absolute fucking bastard! That’s not what happened and you know it!’
Liam had never spoken to Cowell about what happened during his last tour, but he knew that most of the lads around him had heard what had happened. It was all part of being awarded a medal. He’d never bragged about it, but people had asked and he’d told them, simple as that. Word got around, as it always did. And the memory of being chased by the Taliban, fearing for his life like never before, was still raw and haunting.
‘Just do your job, Scott, understand?’
Words failed Liam, and he had a job holding back the urge to slam into Cowell and kick the living shit out of him.
The corporal said nothing more and walked off, leaving Liam alone wrestling with his barely suppressed rage. When he eventually calmed down, and headed back to check on his fire team, he made a mental note to keep an eye on X-Factor. He’d done a great impression so far of being a good corporal, but Liam knew deep down that something wasn’t right, not least because of Cowell’s lack of combat experience.
But then again, he wasn’t the only one Liam was wary of. Something was up – he just wasn’t sure what.
18
‘Is it me, or is it seriously quiet?’
Clint’s question caught Liam off guard. The previous night had been a restless one. He’d woken numerous times, his brain refusing to stop chewing over what Cowell had said. His gut was twisting itself into knots a sailor would be proud of.
‘Early morning,’ said Liam. ‘It’s always quiet.’
‘I guess,’ said Clint.
Liam attempted a relaxed smile. Around him, the rest of the patrol was doing a final weapons check. The day itself looked like it was setting itself up to be a good one. It was bright, golden almost, and a light breeze was doing just enough to take the edge off the oven-like heat. A part of Liam wondered what Afghanistan would be like without all the conflict it had suffered, still was suffering. But it was going to be a long, long time before it ended up as a holiday destination.
‘How’s the pipe and slippers?’
‘Magic!’ said Clint. ‘Soon as we get home, I’m getting myself down to this little tobacconist’s I know of. I tell you, pipes is where it’s at!’
‘Bit too Bilbo Baggins for me,’ said Liam.
A few minutes later Cowell ordered the patrol out of the compound. Despite the usual army practice of rotating the lead scout, James had insisted on being on point, with the combat metal detector already sweeping left and right, and his matt-black shotgun slung by his side.
Clint, Rob and Ade – Liam’s fire team – walked ahead of him, and he couldn’t help but feel proud to be not only fighting alongside them, but leading them too. However, he was still unable to shift the niggling sense that none of this was right. What Clint had said about the morning being more quiet than usual now seemed more ominous. Perhaps he was making it up, but as they walked further away from the relative safety of the compound, it really did seem quiet. Not that the area around them was always abuzz with noise, but there was a definite eeriness that Liam couldn’t explain, almost as though every bush and scrub was waiting for something to happen, the very ground – if it could do such a thing – holding its breath.
Half an hour into the patrol, with everyone stopped for a water break as Cowell checked their route, Liam noted something else and mentioned it to Clint.
‘Never been this long without Stirling finding or spotting something,’ he said.
They were stopped on a slight rise, a large rock- and boulder-strewn valley spreading beneath them. It was a barren place, with faint patches of scrub dotted here and there like the first signs of measles on skin, a rash that grew more obvious the closer to the valley floor you looked.
‘Must be a good sign,’ said Clint. ‘Perhaps the Taliban have finally realized they’ve lost and bugged out.’
Liam wasn’t so sure, but neither was he happy to say any more. He didn’t want to get the folk around him spooked. However, he also had a job to do and that meant ensuring everyone was on their toes.
‘Make sure you all keep an eye out for anything that doesn’t look right,’ he said as they made to move out again, a wind picking up for the first time since they’d set off. ‘This may be going nice and smoothly, but I don’t want us getting complacent. Right?’
It was a further thirty minutes before they arrived at their destination, about halfway down the valley, the ground flat and wide and unwelcoming, Cowell bringing the patrol to a stop.
With each footstep Liam’s sense of foreboding had grown. He’d done his best to ignore it, tell himself it was just his mind paying too much attention to things that probably weren’t important, but he still couldn’t shake it. And worst of all, he couldn’t shake the ominous sense that they were being watched. Not that he’d seen or noticed any evidence to suggest it; in fact quite the opposite: the patrol had been running smooth and un hindered. It didn’t matter, though; he was sure something was up. He was also sure that mentioning it to Cowell was pointless – unless he wanted his ears chewed off again, that was.
‘Scott?’ It was Cowell and he was waving for Liam to join him.
He walked up to the front. ‘Is this it?’
Cowell showed Liam the map. ‘We’re here,’ he said, his finger on a section of the map that to someone who couldn’t read the landscape looked no different to any other bit of it. ‘And the weapons are, we hope, over here.’
His finger moved a little, and Liam looked up to where Cowell was indicating. It was about a hundred metres further on, an area of relatively flat ground, its only real defining feature that it seemed strangely bereft of the larger rocks and boulders that were scattered everywhere else.
‘I want Stirling to check the area first,’ said Cowell, ‘then you and I will go back with him for a look-see.’
‘What are we trying to find exactly?’ asked Liam.
‘From what we understand, it’s a covered scrape,’ said Cowell. ‘All we can do is look and keep our fingers crossed.’
Liam nodded and surveyed the area ahead, then scanned the ground immediately surrounding it, his eyes then slipping up the valley sides. Was it an ambush? Was it all a trick? Again, there were no signs of any such thing, and the patrol had so far gone off without a hitch. He still didn’t like it, though, and as James walked off he headed back to check on his fire team.
‘Keep your eyes scanning everywhere,’ he said, now more keen to have everyone alert than to keep his suspicions to himself.
‘Something up?’ asked Clint.
‘It’s like you said before we set off,’ said Liam, ‘it’s quiet. And when Stirling gets back and I’m heading up there with Cowell, just stay alert, right?’
Back with Cowell, Liam watched James come back towards them.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Place looks clean.’
‘Completely?’ asked Liam.
‘A few fresh animal tracks,’ said James, ‘but nothing else.’
‘Come on, then,’ said Cowell, and Liam couldn’t miss the edge of excitement to his voice. ‘Let’s go see what we’ve got . . .’
Liam let Cowell take the lead. Not that he had much choice, as Cowell strode off ahead. However, as they edged closer to where the weapons were supposedly hidden, he let James past again to make sure everything was safe.
Walking away from the patrol, Liam found himself becoming increasingly aware of each footfall, each breath. The smallest of sounds were seemingly growing with the
distance between him and the others. Shadows cast by plant and rock looked oddly darker, and even the sun seemed to burn hotter.
‘I think I’ve found it!’
Cowell’s excited voice pulled Liam out of his thoughts and he was pleased about that. He wanted to find the weapons and get back to the compound. Hanging around where they now were had him spooked and he didn’t like it. His soldier’s sixth sense was off the scale.
He moved forward to stand with James and Cowell. ‘Where? What?’
Cowell pointed. ‘That large boulder to our left? The one that’s triangular in shape?’
Liam spotted it right away.
‘That pyramid one?’ asked James.
‘That’s what I was told to look for,’ explained Cowell. ‘That’s where the weapons are.’
When they reached the rock, Liam couldn’t see anything that suggested anything was hidden anywhere. Then his eye caught an odd line in the ground. It was straight and ran for about a metre. The only reason he spotted it was because it had been hidden in the shadow cast by the pyramid rock.
Liam called James, and pointed at the line in the ground. James stepped carefully towards it. All of a sudden, he yelled as the ground gave way beneath him and he dropped to his knees.
Liam raced over.
‘I’m OK,’ said James. ‘Look – wooden planks. Rotted to fuck.’ He cleared away the dirt in front of him to reveal the old bits of wood.
Cowell came over. ‘This is it!’ he said. ‘We’ve found it!’
James lifted himself out of the hole and they all looked down into it.
It was Liam who spoke first. ‘You see what I see?’ he asked.
‘What’s that?’ asked Cowell.
‘Fuck all,’ said Liam with a sigh. ‘Absolutely fuck all.’
‘So you think they grabbed the stuff before we arrived?’ asked Liam.
They were back with the rest of the patrol and deciding what to do next. The hole under the planks was empty except for a few spent shells. The whole thing had been a ghost chase.
‘That hole was fucking ancient,’ said Cowell, and Liam heard the venom in his voice. ‘Hadn’t been used in months, probably years. Fucking intelligence was bollocks . . .’
