Bravo Two Zero

Epilogue.

Our heating bills have been horrendous since I got back. It’s nice to be warm. When it rains now and I’m indoors, I get a big brew of tea and sit by the window, and I think about all the poor blokes stuck on tops of hills.

As my stress-test score showed, I’m not emotionally affected by what happened. I certainly don’t have nightmares. We are big boys and we know the rules that we play by. We’ve all been close to death before. You accept it. You don’t want it to happen, of course, but sometimes, there you go-occupational hazard.

In a strange way I’m almost glad I had my Iraqi experience. I wouldn’t like to repeat it, but I’m glad that it happened.

Some things, however, will live with me for ever.

The jangle of keys.

The crash of a bolt.

The rattle of metal sheeting.

A hatred of zoos.

The smell of pork.

I joined the army to get out of the shit I was in with the law, but there was never any intention to stay in for the full twenty-two years. I’ve been very fortunate. I’ve been all around the world, doing things that were outrageous but great fun. Now it’s time to get on and do something else. I’m 33 going on 17, because I’ve always been too busy playing the soldier. I want to do the things I’ve always wanted to do.

Our big joke in prison used to be, “Well, at least it can’t make us pregnant,” and I have learnt that nothing is ever as bad as it seems. Things that might have bothered me in the past are less likely to now-the car not working, red wine being spilt on our light-colored carpet, the washing machine flooding, something valuable getting lost. I know my limitations better now, yet I feel more positive and self-assured. I no longer take anything for granted. I appreciate simple, everyday things much more; instead of going downtown in the car, I’ll make an effort to walk through the park.

The Regiment used to have priority; the job always came first. Now, if it’s Katie’s school sports day, I’ll make the effort to be there and cheer her on.

During my time in Baghdad, and when I got back, I kept going over the decisions I had made, trying to work out if they had been right or wrong. The conclusion I came to was that I made some good ones, some bad ones, and some indifferent ones. But at the end of the day they had to be made. You’re presented with a problem, you make your appreciation, and you make your decision. But make no decision at all and you’re dead. Should I have gone for the border instead of hiding up? The answer undoubtedly is yes. Should I have appeared to give in to the Iraqis when I did? Again, yes-I know I did the right thing. Tactically, and morally.

As to the rights and wrongs of the war-well, that’s never been a worry to me. I was a soldier; that’s what I was paid for. It was very exciting; I got high doing it.

And as for the people who interrogated me, if I met any of them in the street tomorrow and thought I could get away with it, I’d slot them.