War Torn

Chapter Seventy-one

THE TIME TO LEAVE THE FOB DREW NEAR. TAREGUE MASUD MADE lemon meringue pie by popular request. People cemented friendships and gave each other addresses and phone numbers. Men who had argued or fought with each other suddenly became mates. Posters were swapped, photos traded, and Masud did a roaring trade in Sin City T-shirts. The OC announced that Martyn was inviting the whole company to dinner at a London hotel soon after their return.They were scheduled to depart in the afternoon. The men piled their stuff on their cots ready to grab it when the helicopter landed. Some were taking a last look around FOB Sin City. They saw the advance party of the company who were replacing them huddled by the wagons looking miserable, pale and lost.‘We were like that six months ago,’ said Angus. ‘I reckon I was a different person back then.’Finn said: ‘I think I’m going to miss this place.’‘I know I will,’ said Angus. ‘I don’t want to go. It’s like leaving home. ’Specially because it won’t be the same now.’Sin City was to remain an FOB but there would be no more civilians. The oil project was abandoned, Taregue Masud was leaving with R Company and the number of troops here were to be doubled.‘What you going to say to your old man when you get back, then?’ Finn asked Angus. ‘Going to tell him that his boss from the Jedi still cooks a fucking good lemon meringue pie?’‘Nah. I’m keeping my mouth shut. He wants to be a war hero, so let him be. It costs me nothing.’Finn nodded. ‘Big of you, Angry. I think you got bigger since you came here. Come on, let’s have one last sniff of the Cowshed so we’ll remember the whiff for ever.’They passed Mal.‘Feeling nostalgic, mate?’‘I’m thinking about women. Women with curves who don’t walk around wearing sheets wrapped all over their bodies. And I’m just wondering how quickly I can pull.’‘Tell the birds you’re a war hero. That should do it.’‘You going straight up to Manchester?’ asked Angus.Mal shook his head. ‘Nah. My family reckons it’s better for me to stay in barracks and they’ll come down and see me.’Angus brightened. ‘You hanging around in barracks, too? I was thinking of doing that.’They looked at each other and grinned.‘We can go out on the pull together then,’ said Mal. ‘What you doing, Finny?’‘I’ll go and see which of my babymothers has got room for me. That’s probably the bed where I’ll start. After that, who knows?’They got to the Cowshed and found Streaky and Binns there.‘Come to inhale the last whiff?’ asked Mal.‘Mmm,’ said Streaky, breathing deeply. ‘If they could only bottle it.’‘Think we’ll come back here? On our next tour?’ asked Binns.They looked at each other. No matter how much they wanted to go home, a part of them didn’t want to leave this strange place. Although no one would admit it.‘Yeah, maybe,’ said Angus. ‘Maybe we will come back here.’They heard the throb of rotor blades.‘Come on, come on, come on,’ roared Sol’s voice at the door. ‘What are you all doing here? Get your kit and get out to that Chinook!’‘Here we go!’ said Mal, taking a last look around. ‘This is it.’When the Chinook finally took off, the men were silent. Dave felt as though he was leaving Jamie behind in this desolate place. Or maybe its desolation had crept inside him and he was taking it with him. He looked down at the base’s right angles, etched in the desert landscape in hesco. He saw the shining gym equipment, the thick mud walls, the tents, the isoboxes, the hardware and all the men of the incoming company racing to grab the best cots.

It was raining when their plane touched down in the UK. As the men disembarked they felt its soft patter on their faces and the coolness of the breeze in their hair. The weather here was kind and forgiving. It didn’t want to pin you to the ground or whip you into exhaustion or scrape at the inside of your throat or fry you all day and then freeze you all night. The damp air of Brize Norton was the climate of home and it welcomed them.It took a long time for their baggage to come through. Dave watched his men’s faces as they waited and waited by the circling carousels. They hardly moved. They were expressionless. He’d personally switched himself off, like a TV, to make the journey bearable. He wanted to be at the FOB. And then he wanted to be home. He didn’t want the bits in between. He hadn’t even wanted a few days in Cyprus.The carousels sprang into life and so did the men. There were a few goodbyes. CSM Kila was saying a fond farewell to the monkey woman. And the boss was all over the other one, the Intelligence Corps girl.Kila caught up with Dave when they were loading the last bags onto the bus and a few lads were having a quick cigarette before boarding.‘Think you’ll see her again?’ asked Dave.‘She’s gone up to Edinburgh. And guess what, I’ve got family in Glasgow. So we’ll be meeting next weekend!’Kila raised his eyebrows suggestively. Dave laughed at him.‘Good luck, mate.’They boarded. Everyone was given a can of beer. They drank it in silence. The bus started to go and Dave sensed how restless and worried the men were. People had been phoning and writing to their loved ones for six months, yearning for their families and the luxuries of home and now, thought Dave, after all that longing, it was about to happen. And it was terrifying.‘I told Shaz not to meet me at the camp,’ said Dean Somers, the sergeant of 2 Platoon, who was sitting next to him. ‘I’ll get a lift and hook up with her and the kids at home.’Dave turned to him.‘Can’t handle it, eh?’Somers reddened. He dropped his voice: ‘I’m not fucking crying in front of my men, mate.’‘They’ll be too busy trying not to cry to notice you.’‘All right, I’ll put it another way. I’m not fucking crying in front of the missus.’Dave said: ‘I’m allowed to cry. I’ve got a baby I haven’t even met yet.’‘Who you going to kiss first, then?’ asked Somers. ‘That’s the other fucking problem, innit? They’re all standing there, you can’t hug them all at once.’‘Jenny,’ said Dave decisively. ‘Jenny is definitely first. And she’ll probably be holding the baby so that’s two birds with one stone. Then I reckon I’d better make a big fuss of Vicky before I take the baby . . .’‘You’ve got it all worked out, then?’ said Somers. ‘See what I mean? It’s better to go home and ring the doorbell and walk into your own hall and do the shit there.’‘I haven’t got it worked out really. Because my mum and stepdad might be there too. And maybe my mother-in-law.’‘Well, the mother-in-law goes right to the end of the line!’ said Somers. ‘Mine would.’‘Yeah. But we’ve leaned on her a lot lately, and she’s been there for us.’‘If she’s anything like mine, she’ll make sure you know it. Is it true you’re leaving?’‘No,’ said Dave. ‘I just have to pretend I’m thinking about it.’As the bus neared the camp the atmosphere was as tense as before any fire fight. Everyone stopped talking. There was complete silence. They turned into camp and then it seemed like a long time before they finally arrived in the square. It was crowded with people in bright colours, holding banners and placards, smiling and waving. Everyone strained to pick out their own family group. On the bus, men’s faces broke into smiles. Dave felt a thousand tiny strings from all over his body pulling at some knot behind his eyes. Oh, shit. Get a grip on yourself.

Jenny, accompanied by the children, Trish and Dave’s parents had arrived early in two cars.‘Christ, Mum, don’t do the banner thing,’ said Jenny.‘Vicky wants to, don’t you, love?’ said Trish firmly and Vicky nodded. Jenny and Dave’s mum exchanged agonized glances.‘Dave hates that kind of fuss,’ muttered Jenny.‘He’s been off doing what he likes for six months, he can just put up with it,’ said Trish, as though Dave had been away on holiday. ‘Anyway, he won’t hate it if Vicks is waving her banner, will he, darling?’Vicky grinned. She knew her daddy was coming home. She knew her daddy was a man. She just wasn’t sure which man he was. But she was prepared to get caught up in the excitement anyway.‘I’ll hang around for him while he does all his unloading,’ Jenny said. ‘It’ll take an hour or so and you lot won’t want to wait that long.’‘All right, love,’ said Dave’s mother, ‘don’t you worry about the baby, just stay with Dave.’‘We’ll have the food on the table when you two get back,’ his stepfather said.It seemed the bus would never appear, but the carnival atmosphere persisted. Some people passed around union jacks. Children ran in small circles and then larger ones, in and out of the waiting adults. Some mothers, wives, but especially girlfriends, wore new clothes and carefully applied makeup. As they waited longer and longer their feet began to ache in the unaccustomed heels, their makeup ran or smudged or wore off and their hair required re-brushing and rearranging.Jenny fed the baby and watched as the tiny eyes closed and she fell asleep. Jenny just hoped that she didn’t need another feed or a nappy change or a little shout at exactly the moment the bus came in. She laid her in her pram without waking her. Then it was back to waiting and looking and waiting and wanting.She caught sight of Steve Buckle in uniform, standing with the rear party.‘Just a minute,’ she said.She went over to Steve.‘Leanne here?’‘Not sure.’‘Come and stand with us then. Because Dave might not see you over there and he’ll be pissed off if he misses you.’Steve looked around at the other men.‘I’m not sure . . .’‘Oh, come on,’ she said.Steve touched a red-haired lad on the arm. ‘Jen, this is Ben Broom . . . he’s still on crutches.’Jenny gave Ben a broad smile.‘I’ve heard all about you, Ben. Can you hobble over here to my family? I know Dave’s going to want to see you when he gets off the bus.’Steve and Ben didn’t look too confident walking through the crowd. Jenny moved ahead of them, clearing as much of a path as she could.As they arrived back with the family, Leanne appeared, a twin hanging on each leg. They saw their father and ran to him.Steve’s face lit up. ‘Batman! Robin!’Jenny looked at Leanne. She grinned back. ‘He’s doing okay with the boys, anyway.’‘How about you?’Leanne bit her lip.‘We’re managing. Most of the time. Today’s hard for us, of course, because Steve should have been one of the lads getting off the bus.’‘It was big of you to come,’ said Jenny. ‘Big and brave.’The crowd was getting impatient.‘How much longer?’ children asked.‘Soon, soon,’ their mothers said.And then, there it was.This moment, when the first bus pulled into the square, had been anticipated, imagined and longed for so many times that, when it happened, Jenny felt it was the rerun of an old movie instead of something that was really taking place.She saw Dave disembark and she waited for him to find her in the maelstrom. She saw him walking through the crowds. And she knew that there was only one face in that crowd for him and it was hers.She waited as he threaded his way through the people, waited for him to see her. More waiting. It had been six months of waiting, she was good at it now. And she was not going to cry. She was going to smile. It was very important to smile and not cry.Their eyes met and she never did know if she smiled or cried or did both at once. She felt his arms around her and his lips on hers. Completely enveloped by him she felt something deep inside her weaken. The weighty animal of anxiety she had been carrying around every day for six months, invisible but ever present, loosened its hold on her and slunk quietly, rapidly away. Dave was here, they were both safe, they were a unit standing together again, instead of two people fighting different battles far apart.When they drew back and each examined the face they had thought about but not seen or touched for six months, they saw how much change there had been and they both knew how hard they would have to work to understand the changes and adapt to them.Dave smiled. He was thinking that he had missed the joy at his baby’s birth. But now he had it tenfold.‘Stop crying,’ he told Jenny.‘I can’t.’‘You are so beautiful. I forgot how beautiful.’Then there was Vicky, smilingly held aloft by a man she didn’t recognize but who her mum seemed to like a lot. He held her while he gazed at the sleeping baby. Next came Trish. Dave knew his mum and stepfather would understand why they had to be last. They were crying when he got to them. He held them both close to him in a double embrace.Jenny pulled his arm and he turned and saw Steve. This was so unexpected that Dave stared for a moment without comprehension.‘Christ! Steve!’He gave his mate a bear hug and then feared that he had literally knocked Steve off his foot. He drew back.‘It’s OK! I can stand. I can run. I can probably run as far as you!’ said Steve.‘Shit! You’re looking so good! Put on a few pounds . . .’‘That’s the fine food at Headley Court.’‘You can run, you can really run?’‘I’ll race you. Now don’t throw your arms around Ben because he’ll fall over.’Dave hugged Ben gently.‘The last time I saw you . . . well, you were a lot of spectacular shades of red, Broom. Now you’re just the one . . .’ He tousled Broom’s hair.‘I’m getting my new leg soon, Sarge,’ Broom said proudly.‘Shit!’ said Dave. ‘This is a fantastic surprise.’‘So did you put my leg in your Bergen, mate?’ asked Steve.‘Er . . . what?’‘My leg. From the cookhouse freezer. You did bring it?’For a moment the smile faded from Dave’s face.‘Oh . . . so you heard about that . . .’Steve started to laugh, then. So did Dave, partly with relief. He was still laughing when he put an arm around Leanne and planted a huge kiss on her cheek.‘You’re looking good, Leanne!’But by now Jenny had picked up the baby and handed her to Dave. He stared into her eyes and simply loved her. It wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t maybe. It was love.‘Yeah,’ said Dave to the baby. ‘Yeah. I’d like you to be called after Jamie.’Jenny was watching him. She said: ‘How you’ve changed, Dave.’He smiled. He looked around the field of men and their families, at the banners and the tears, the wounded and the whole, the joy and the relief. He thought he heard the same phrase on every pair of lips. The men were saying it about their wives, about their children. The families were saying it about their men. Everyone, in Wiltshire and Helmand, had faced experiences that only those who were with them could understand. The words echoed around the people, the buses, the buildings, the barracks, the banners and the monument to the men who hadn’t come home, until it seemed to Dave, his new baby named after his dead friend in his arms, that these were the only words he could hear. You’ve changed, you’ve changed, you’ve changed.