The Easy Day Was Yesterday
Page 35
The next day we wandered through the streets of Kathmandu and bought some gifts for Sallie’s parents who had been looking after her girls while she was away. I also went to a drug store and bought antibiotics for an ear infection I could feel getting worse and some painkillers for my back. The Australian Consulate guys arrived and drove us to the airport with Ujwal following with all the training gear. The Consul General agreed to remain at a discreet distance as we passed through immigration and would only approach if there was a problem. Fortunately, all went well, although the airline initially had a problem with Sallie’s passport. This was cleared up, we were away and waiting for our plane home. Following a brief stop in Bangkok, where I was left to rest in the business class lounge while Sallie did some more shopping, we arrived in Sydney just in time for Sallie’s daughter’s birthday. It was Thursday already. I’d been out of gaol for two days and still wondered what the old man was doing. Was Satya still taking his evening walk? Who was the loud-talking guard yelling at? I had my watch set on prison time, so I always knew what the prisoners were doing.
I was exhausted, but we had so much to do. I really needed to get these medical problems sorted and Sallie had made an appointment for me to see her doctor. She was excellent and gave me a complete once-over. She also prescribed different antibiotics for my ear and something for my skin infections. She asked me if I had been interfered with.
‘Pardon?’
‘Were you interfered with?’ she said, continuing to look down at her pad. ‘You know, sexually interfered with,’ she said, after realising I either had no idea what she was talking about or was stunned.
‘Ah, no; nothing like that!’
She gave me a handful of antibiotics for the ear infection and to fix up any issues that hadn’t appeared at that time.
On Friday afternoon I had an appointment with a psychiatrist. Again, Sallie organised this and I was grateful. I’m not the sort of bloke to pour out my feelings to a shrink, but Colin was a mate whom I’d known for a few years and an exceptional counsellor. I was glad to have the opportunity to vent and clear some of my thoughts. Colin had been great during my short stay in gaol, passing on frequent tips through Sallie to help me cope. He suggested going away for a holiday for a while and doing nothing but relaxing. I told him of my need to use sleeping pills to sleep. Colin thought that was okay and that sleeping was good recovery time, so I continued with the pills at night. He also suggested that I stop wearing a watch so I could stop myself looking at Indian time. Colin told me not to drive as some people have flashbacks and, if you happen to be driving at the time, you could get in trouble. It was all good advice except the last point, as I wouldn’t have any choice but to drive.
That night, we all went over to a friend’s house for a welcome-back party. Dierdre was also our company accountant and had organised catering and plenty to drink. It was a nice gesture by Dierdre and Andrew to open up their house like that. I was absolutely knackered, but really wanted to say thanks to everyone. It was a great night and I met people I didn’t previously know who had gone out of their way to help. I am extraordinarily lucky to have such great friends and family, and to be born an Aussie with a government that cares. But again, I was well and truly fucked and just needed to lie down and do, and think about nothing for a long time.
The next day, I said goodbye to Sallie and the girls and flew back to Brisbane. My car was still parked in the long-term car park at the international terminal and I was surprised that it still started — I thought the battery would be flat — and it cost me $350 in parking fees. I drove straight to Trevor’s house where Sam was staying and together we went home. He had been great during this whole drama and had always kept things in perspective. When I got home I gave Zac a big hug, but Sayge was a little remote, so I let her be. Then it was back to my normal life. I planned to take some time off and go skiing with the boys for a week but, after three days, I had a crisis with a client in Baghdad and spent too much time on the phone trying to sort that out. Normality, with all its pitfalls, had returned.
PLATES
That bloody rickshaw ride.
Saying thanks to the Nepali Police after my release. Ujwal, me, Nepali Police.
Dragged to the hospital.
Hallway to my cell at the hospital. My cell is on the immediate right.
The veiw from my hospital cell.
Bala and Sallie in discussions with the Deputy Superintendant of Police.
Prison water pump.
The kids at the hospital.
Rwanda – Carol, me, Rob Lucas wearing the baseball cap and Terry Pickard in the background preparing a victim for evacuation. Photo: George Gittoes.
Rwanda – waiting for the medical evacuation helicopter. Left to right: Signaller Quinn, Trooper Jon Church, Private Paul Price and me. Photo: George Gittoes.
Rwanda – me carrying a victim away from the line of fire of a recoilless weapon. Photo: George Gittoes.
Rwanda – uncovering a victim, unfortunately he was dead. Photo: George Gittoes.
Rwanda – pretending to be a doctor, but really not having a clue. This is Maria who was shot through the hand and into her chest. She had a classic sucking chest wound. Photo: George Gittoes.
Old Betsy with Walter, Charlie and me at the wheel. Iraq war, 2003. Photo: Jeff Barwise.
Looking through the windscreen as we approach Baghdad on the final push north. Iraq war, 2003. Photo: Jeff Barwise.
Me in 2003 during the Iraq war.
An Iraqi Republican Guard Major we found and assumed to be dead. This photo was taken moments before he sat up. Iraq war, 2003. Photo: Jeff Barwise.
Aceh – a boat in the main street.
Aceh.
Negotiations with local police to get to a polling booth – Baghdad 2005.
Sallie’s daughters, Poppy and Lucy. They both wrote me a beautiful card which Sallie delivered to me in gaol.
Dad and Trevor.
Zac, Sayge and Sam.
Colin and mum in New York.
Steven – my brother a few months before he was killed.
My dad, Warrant Officer Class 1 William Jordan (left) on the day he retired after 25 years in the Army.
COPYRIGHT
First published 2012 by Big Sky Publishing Ltd
This edition first published in 2013 by by Spellmount Publishing, an imprint of The History Press
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