A Servant of the Company (5 page)

His acquaintances thought he was mad to consider joining the Army and mocked him for being stupid. It was the last time he saw them as friends. The entrance exam was relatively easy and he passed the medical without any problem. His second interview with the Major was a little more daunting. It was now the military man talking to him, not a friend of his old Headmaster. No punches were pulled. Bullying, drug taking and letting down the British Army were points hammered home. They were not lost on Steven. Three weeks later he had passed a medical examination and received a letter telling him that he had been accepted.

The training was hard but he tackled every aspect with determination and soon found himself helping other recruits who were having difficulty in adapting to military life. Like them, he had arrived in a very unfit state, after three weeks the changes started to show and the following weeks his posture and fitness improved dramatically. This was his last chance, he had to succeed. He moaned with the rest of the recruits but secretly enjoyed most of the training. Each day brought him nearer to achieving something in his life. He wanted his mother to be proud of him and also looked forward to revisiting the school to see the Headmaster. Six months later he had passed out as the best recruit of his intake. His mother had been invited to the Passing-out Parade and Steven spotted her seated near the dais where the inspecting officer would take the salute. She no longer looked haggard, her hair was carefully styled and makeup tastefully applied. Once the parade was over, the recruits joined their families where some of Steven’s friends thought she was his sister not his mother, and asked for an introduction.

She felt so proud of him. Gone was the slouch, he had pride in himself and in the Army. He could hardly wait to tell her about his new life and also that he had also given up smoking. She enjoyed listening to him, his excitement giving her peace of mind. Peace she had not had for years. It had made her laugh to hear that some people thought she was his sister, she was also secretly pleased.

In a year he had taken the two exams recommended by the Headmaster. Both he had passed with grade ‘A’ results, and had immediately arranged to study for a further three to be taken six months later. He wrote to the Headmaster giving him the news of his progress and thanking him for his advice. He applied himself enthusiastically when military duties allowed, taking only one night each week away from his studies. He had also started to save money. Making friends had been easy, most coming from similar backgrounds to his own, but some of the young soldiers were too much like his old self where drink was concerned. He was determined not to return to that path. At the end of the year he had been given a stripe.

The following year he had been given another stripe, and had received excellent reports from his Company Commander. He loved Army life and often wondered where he would have been if it had not been for Darren’s death and the Bob Geldof programme. Each month part of his savings was sent to the ‘Save the Children’ fund, but his aim eventually was to do more. But for this he needed qualifications, and so far he was on target. Three more subjects and he would start on ‘A’s. After that he would start an Open University degree course, but before he chose subjects, he would speak to the Headmaster when he was home on leave. It was something to look forward to, and he knew the Head would be pleased to help him.

The Army Education Staff were encouraging, and the following year he enrolled on an Open University course.

When his first package arrived from the Open University, he could not wait to begin. Although it was a Foundation Course to build up basic knowledge, there did seem a tremendous amount to learn. Information about Course Tutors in the locality and a list with their addresses and telephone numbers was enclosed. Contact with a tutor was advised to see if there were any self help groups available. He progressed well with his assignments and soon made friends with other students on the course. One in particular caught his eye. She was an attractive brunette who worked for her father’s car dealership company in the town and was doing the degree as a way of forgetting the boyfriend who had let her down. Her name was Anthea, and like him was an only child. A friendship soon developed between them although they were from totally different backgrounds, when they left the weekly student meetings, they were completely happy in each other’s company. Each being fascinated by the life story of the other, they often sat in the local pub for two hours with only one or at the most, two drinks. Whenever they realised it was late, they could not believe how quickly the time had passed.

During this time he was not only developing academically, but was also a very professional soldier. His review with the Company Commander boosted his confidence further when he was advised to maintain his standards and there might be a possibility of a recommendation for Officer Selection in the future.

Steve could hardly believe his ears, he knew he was good at his job as a leader but had not thought beyond his present rank. Without realising it, he had adopted some of the mannerisms of his Company Commander and also a selection from his fellow students. They came from all walks of life and had a multitude of life experiences. Steve was fascinated by all of them. Listening to and taking such interest in them had brought him a host of new friends with ages spanning every decade twenty to eighty. The Regiments Officer’s recognized the changes and could see a good future for him. He told no-one about the interview although he would have loved to let his mother know. The risk was too great, just in case it never happened. Unfortunately an orderly room clerk saw the comments written by the Captain, and he soon passed it on to a Corporal in Steve’s rival platoon.

Steve had not made friends with Corporal Scouser Jennings who was a tough, hard drinking Liverpudlian. Steve’s method of leadership was by example, and this together with his academic endeavours had not enamoured him to Corporal Jennings. Steve had recognised Jennings’ type immediately, many of his old friends back home were of the same breed, and he had been heading the same way. Whenever he could, Jennings would make disparaging remarks about Steve but he never rose to take the bait. This antagonised Jennings further and put Steve in the frame as the number one target for his spite.

He was also a ruthless leader within his platoon, when he said jump, they jumped. There had been many a black eye turn up on parade whose recipient had ‘walked into a door’.

Disregarding Jennings was easy. He used as much spare time as he could on his studies preparing for the end of year exams. They were held in a local college, and the Army had given him permission to attend. It had gone well, he was sure he would gain a pass. Anthea too had been pleased with her efforts and also thought a pass would be a strong possibility. To celebrate they had arranged to meet at 7.30 p.m. that evening in the Crown, a pub in the town centre.

He was at the Crown just before 7.30 p.m. as agreed. By 8.00 p.m. she had not arrived and he began to think she might have stood him up. Ten minutes later she had called the pub, given Steve’s description, and asked the barmaid to let him know that she would not be able to make it. She had left a telephone number for him to call the following day.

Buying himself a second pint of beer, he returned to the corner table. When this was finished he intended to return to the barracks and have an early night.

‘Hello soldier.’ Two girls were standing next to him, both very young, perhaps not even eighteen. ‘I can tell soldiers a mile away can’t you Marie?’

‘Yeah, only they’re not all as good looking as this one are they?’ They both sat down clutching their half finished drinks. ‘Now I know this is going to sound corny, but we’d like to buy you a drink. I know it should be the other way around but Denise here has had a bit of luck today and we’re celebrating. Don’t say no, because we would be very hurt.’ She pulled a little girl face, and smiled coyly. ‘Come on, help us celebrate, it might cheer you up a bit. You don’t look very happy.’

‘As long as I can get you one when your glasses are empty. Is that a deal?’ In ten minutes he would have finished the drink and be on his way.

‘O.K. soldier, what’s your name anyway? If I’m buying I think I should know it don’t you?’ She stood up and turned towards the bar. ‘Tell me your life story when I get back.’ Denise weaved her way through the gathering crowd of drinkers to order his lager, leaving Marie talking to him twenty to the dozen.

They were a strange pair he thought, too young to be in here and from their excited chatter, and had been celebrating for some time already. He didn’t want to be rude. Steve smiled, they were quite harmless he thought. ‘I will have a half of lager with you.’ ‘What would the Captain do?’ he asked himself. ‘Just what I’m doing,’ he thought.

The drink arrived and he thanked Denise. ‘Well here’s to your good luck, long may it continue,’ he said raising his glass. As he drank, the girls had stopped talking and just watched him as the glass quickly emptied.

He had to buy the girls a drink before he left. That was all that was on his mind as he got up. Turning as if in a daze, he took three faltering steps then staggered towards the bar. He never reached it. Collapsing, he fell against a number of people, knocking drinks everywhere. A woman screamed as a glass of beer soaked her blouse, while her partner swore at the falling figure. To them he was someone who had too much to drink and was making a nuisance of himself. Two males lifted him up and half carried him to the door where they tried to prop him up against the wall outside. His legs collapsed under him and he slid to the ground unconscious.

‘Leave him there to sober up, he’s had a real skin full. Check his wallet, the girls will need money for dry cleaning their clothes. A hand thrust into Steve’s inside pocket and a wallet was quickly retrieved. ‘Twenty quid should do it.’ He laughed as the money vanished into his friend’s pocket. He patted Steve on the head, and said, ‘Sleep well, don’t’ do anything I wouldn’t do.’ The pair headed back into the pub laughing loudly as they went.

The girls left the pub and walking past the scene, one said in a loud voice, ‘I told you he was on something Denise. He was behaving very oddly in there, I’m glad we’re leaving.’ With that they left their fallen drinking partner and wandered off.

Before leaving the pub, Denise had picked up the keys Steve had left on the table thinking they could be useful. They didn’t go far. Waiting for them was a small tough looking individual wearing a broad grin on his face. ‘Well done girls,’ he said in a broad Liverpool accent. ‘There’s your reward, and if you come round the back I’ll give you another one.’ As he passed two folded ten pound notes to Marie, they all began laughing and linking arms headed to the deserted area behind the pub.

‘Here’s a reward for you too, he left his keys on the table, are they any good?’ Denise was hoping for some praise, and she got it when she saw Scousers face light up.

‘Priceless Denise, bloody priceless.’ He hugged her as he put the keys into his pocket, his mind working overtime. A new plan was developing, one which would surely fix Henderson for good.

A number of people walked past the recumbent body, either too embarrassed to look, or totally disinterested in the misfortunes of their fellow man. It was a Police patrol car driver who spotted him and decided not to look the other way. He pulled up beside Steve, got out of the car and as he approached, muttered ‘Not another one.’ Drunks seem to follow him on his shifts, never bank robberies or incidents with high profile criminals. His specialty was drunks. Whichever shift he was on, he was a magnet to them. He checked Steve’s breathing, then his pulse and decided he did not have to make a life or death threatening decision. Instead, he opened the pub door and called out in a voice which overrode the sound from within. ‘Does anyone own the drunk laying out here?’ There was no response. ‘Well did anyone see him drinking here?’ He had now adopted his investigating pose, hands on hips, waiting for something positive which he was sure would soon come from one of those blank faces in front of him.

It did when one of Steve’s bearers moved forward. The drinkers parted to let the play continue. It was not everyday this happened to them, they were beginning to see the seamier side of life and had prime spectator views.

‘He was drinking in here, but had too much and collapsed causing mayhem.’ He looked around as his partners chipped in with their comments in agreement. ‘A couple of girls said they thought he was on something as well as drink if that’s any help.’ He moved back a step, now wanting to blend in with the crowd, not getting involved in giving statements or having anything further to do with the drunk.

The Policeman turned to the barmaid. ‘Had he been in here long?’ The evening had started quietly but the last hour had been very busy and she couldn’t remember much about Steve’s behaviour, although she did remember the telephone call.

She too had no wish for further involvement and phrased her reply so that she too would be forgotten by the Policeman. ‘I couldn’t tell you, we’ve been busy tonight and I just don’t have time to think about what time customers come and go.’ To protect herself, she added, ‘I certainly didn’t notice him looking like a drunk until he fell over.’

‘O.K. love, it seems like he has been drinking for some time but behaving himself. Thanks everybody, I’ll leave you to your evening. I should be off duty myself in half an hour. I might pop back and join you.’ He grinned as a chorus of raucous groans echoed around the bar.

Outside, Steve was still in the same position when the Policeman patted his pockets in search of some kind of identification. He found the wallet and when he checked the contents, he smiled. ‘Lovely, not my responsibility, just another bloody squaddie who has been too near the barmaid’s apron.’ He would not have to be faced with form filling back at the station, just a few lines in his notebook. A quick call to the station on his radio, they would be in touch with the M.P.s at the barracks, and chummy here would be carted off his patch. Couldn’t be better.