War Torn (70 page)

‘It’s nice you’re home for the lads getting back,’ she said.

‘Well, with any luck I’ll be fit enough to run with them.’

‘That’s why I’m out today, too. I’m trying to get my figure back before Dave comes home.’

‘You never lost it, Jen. Unlike some people who never had it.’

She knew who he meant. For a moment she wanted to ignore this but she could not leave her friend undefended.

‘Leanne put on a lot of weight after your accident, Steve. Eating was her way of coping.’

His face changed. She watched the muscles in it rearrange themselves. Usually so big and open, he was darkening suddenly. He looked angry. He gritted his teeth and his jaw sharpened. He was even a bit scary, she thought. He had never looked that way before.

‘Yeah, well, it was a while ago now and she’s had plenty of chance to lose that weight again. But she won’t lose it sitting in front of the TV.’

‘It’s been hard for her . . .’

‘You think it hasn’t been hard for me? The easiest thing in the world is to sit around and be a couch potato but there’s no way I’m giving in to it. She shouldn’t either.’

‘I know you’ve been to hell and back, Steve. I really admire you for having the grit to start running. And because you’re determined to fight again. But Leanne’s been in bits. You’ve got some goals: get walking, get running, get back out with the other lads. Her life fell apart and it hasn’t been so straightforward putting it back together.’

He looked thoughtful.

‘Goals is a good word, Jen. If we give Leanne some goals that might help her . . .’

She decided to steer the conversation away from Leanne.

‘Steve, how are you going to feel when the others get back?’

His face changed again. Suddenly all the tight, angry lines loosened and he looked less sure of himself.

‘I’d sort of like to be there when the bus gets into the square. So would Ben Broom. Ryan Connor’s not ready for that yet.’

‘Oh, Steve, that’s a fantastic idea. They’ll be so pleased to see you. I know it would mean a lot to Dave.’

‘But he’ll be looking for you. Everyone will be with their family. The lads’ stuff is over for a while when we first come home.’

‘You don’t think Dave’s going to walk straight past you!’

‘Maybe it’s not the right time.’

‘But . . . how will you feel? Seeing them all get off the bus?’

Steve swallowed. Jenny watched him again. She did not remember that his face had ever had this mobility before. She had no recollection of the way emotions passed across it like clouds. Perhaps he’d just been better at hiding them. Now he looked vulnerable. His eyes were crinkling and his mouth was twisting unhappily. He looked as though he might cry.

‘Steve?’

‘I’m not sure I can handle it. Because I missed the whole fucking tour. And they’ve had all these experiences. They’ll have been changed by what happened. Even if they tell me everything, I didn’t go through it with them. I wasn’t there. So I don’t feel as though I know them like before.’

Jenny’s eyes dropped from Steve’s anguished face to the pram where the baby slept peacefully under her white blanket.

‘Steve . . . I know what you mean. Because I feel exactly the same way.’

They walked back to the camp together. When they passed the rec, they paused for a parking car.

‘Mazda MR2, very nice,’ said Steve. ‘I’ve always fancied one of them myself.’

A man got out of it and walked up the road.

‘Who’s he?’ asked Steve.

‘I don’t know,’ said Jenny. But she was sure she recognized him.

Agnieszka had seen Jenny walking and noted the way she stepped out cheerfully in the autumn sunshine. She had decided to do the same. But just putting on Luke’s coat had resulted in such howling protests that she almost gave up. He was still protesting now while she put on her own. Next there was the tedious ritual of pushing and pulling a large buggy through a small hallway. Was it worth it? Was it worth even trying to leave the house?

The bell rang. Probably Jenny, already coming back from her walk. Agnieszka didn’t want to speak to Jenny or anyone else but she opened the door, sighing and pulling the buggy out of the way.

‘Hi, Aggie.’

Her heart leaped. It soared. It was suddenly attached to a balloon, which was gaining altitude at an absurd rate. Her heart
was light as a feather because it was shedding weight as it flew. The atmosphere up here was thin, her head was dizzy.

‘Ags?’

When she still could not speak he stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her and she felt herself, without hesitation, return the kiss.

‘Have you missed me?’ he asked.

She closed her eyes. She couldn’t explain to him that it had been snowing since he left, a cold, frozen winter world.

‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I’m back now, Ags.’

THE
LADS
WERE
QUIET
WHEN
THE
CONVOY
LEFT
THE
NEXT
DAY.
Nobody wanted to screw up in front of the SAS men and the wagons were peppered with them.

Dave, in the front, expected them to go into the Green Zone. He had thought it very likely Martyn was held in one of the maze of compounds near the river. But instead they swung towards the desert. His heart sank as he realized they were heading back towards Jackpot. So they were returning to the camp. He’d hoped it would be dismantled by now. They were in the dusty bowl of the desert that led to Jackpot when the convoy suddenly swung left.

‘Christ!’ said Dave. ‘We’re not going to a compound. Or the camp. We’re going to the Early Rocks.’

As they drew closer he began to understand how massive the rocks were. They had looked like stark, strange shapes jutting from the desert sands in the distance but close-up they were more complex. There must be water, because bushes and small trees sprouted all around. And running around the base of the rocks was a ring of earthworks at least two metres high. So the mysterious shrine was a natural fortress.

The massive rocks towered over them as they reached the entrance to the shrine. Built around one rock as though it had grown out of the sand was a tiny gatehouse. The wagons slowed as they reached it and threw out some of the SAS men. The wagons speeded up again and the boss passed on the orders: ‘In sixty seconds we will have the rock circle very loosely surrounded. You
will dismount and close in on the circle, scrambling over the bank at the base of the rocks. We don’t know exactly what we’ll find inside except probably underground tunnels and, we hope, Topaz Zero. Your job is to suppress the enemy so that our colleagues can locate him. The enemy will be positioning now. So take advantage of their confusion to debus fast and close in rapidly on the rocks.’

Dave said at once: ‘Fix bayonets, lads.’

The drivers were told to stop one hundred metres from the rocks.

‘Go closer!’ Dave ordered his driver.

‘But the boss said—’

‘Closer! You can move back when we’re all out.’

The driver screamed towards the rocks and stopped about sixty metres away.

‘Everybody out, go, go, go!’ Sol yelled at 1 Section.

The men began to rush towards the rock circle. The weight of their kit was oppressive. It bounced on their backs and their pouches rattled on their bodies. Binns, the lightweight, had been fast as a school kid. Now he was a lumbering animal, staggering and doubled over as he ran.

‘I wish I could take this fucking shit off and really run!’ he shouted to Streaky. But Streaky could not hear him over his own heaving breath.

Angus was still back at the wagon. In addition to his normal rifle, pistol, kit and ammo he had mortars and the sniper rifle too. By the time he had staggered down from the bus the others were halfway across the open ground. He knew he was carrying too much weight but wasn’t sure what to leave. He paused and, before he could decide, the wagon moved off. Shit! Now he would have to take it all. And the others had nearly reached the rocks.

Fire erupted from all around the massive circle simultaneously, in a blaze of light, noise and smoke. The men who were still in exposed positions threw themselves onto their belt buckles on the desert sand, easy targets for the enemy.

All of 1 Section had reached the shelter of one of the massive stone pillars except Angus. They looked back now and saw him.

He lay still, head down, as though he’d already been shot, thinking, Shit, shit, shit. He could feel something like rain, and knew it was rounds. The rough sand bit into his cheeks. He dared to half
look up once. All round him the desert danced with bouncing rounds. He put his head back down and knew that one of the rounds must hit him. They could not all miss him. His body was rigid with expectation. He wanted to yell and shout against his helplessness.

He heard helicopters overhead.

‘Thank Christ! Where have they been?’ roared Angus on PRR.

Dave responded.

‘Don’t get excited, McCall. There’s nothing much they can do to help us, not with a hostage trapped inside.’

‘Move forward, Angry,’ shouted Sol’s voice into his ear. ‘It’s just as safe as lying there.’

‘I shouldn’t have carried so much weight,’ he moaned. He heard his own voice, whimpering a bit. He was going to die. So he might as well die courageously. The Families Officer might as well stand in his dad’s hallway and say that Angus had died a heroic death. He began to stagger to his feet but the mortars he was carrying pulled his left side down and the rest of his body with it. Ping. A round whistled just over his shoulder. Good thing he hadn’t stood up, then, or that one certainly would have got him. Except that now he was stuck here, giving the ragheads some easy target practice.

A few moments later he felt someone tugging on his arm.

‘Get up, you lazy bastard, stop sleeping on the job.’

Jamie Dermott. Pulling him to his feet, grabbing some of the weight off him and firing the gimpy while the pair of them staggered across the desert together.

Angus didn’t have time to think, feel surprise or be grateful. His whole body and mind were focused on running in Olympic time to the rest of the lads by the rock. It wasn’t until they arrived safely and he slumped down, his mouth open, the breath never enough to fill his empty lungs, sweat pouring down his body, that relief began to seep from every pore. And then he understood that Jamie had saved his life.

He said: ‘Fuck, Jamie. I mean, fuck.’

Jamie was red-faced and gasping too.

‘Don’t mention it,’ he breathed.

‘I could feel the fucking rounds scrape against my helmet! One missed my shoulder by that much . . .’

‘You must have been just outside the flipflops’ arcs of fire,’ said Mal. ‘I didn’t think you could get here alive.’

Angus stood up, still red and panting, and reached for his water tube. He let out a roar.

‘What’s the matter, Angry?’ asked Sol. ‘Are you all right?’

‘My fucking Camelbak’s empty!’

Sol took a look.

‘A round went through it,’ he reported.

‘Fucking,
fucking
hell! I’m thirsty!’

Sol handed him a bottle of water.

‘There isn’t anyone else in this whole platoon, Angry, who would moan about a round hitting their Camelbak instead of their vital organs.’

The heavy machine guns on the WMIKs were pounding at the other side of the shrine and the mortar men were busy. Sol’s section put down fire where they saw muzzle flashes. But most of their rounds were bouncing off rock or getting lodged in the bank.