The New Recruit

by Andy McNab

  Liam checked Mike’s pistol and handed him two full magazines so he had them close at hand just in case. ‘You’re going to cover me,’ he said. ‘When I move, you keep their heads down, you hear? And only stop firing when you hear the signal.’

  ‘Signal?’ asked Mike. ‘What signal?’

  ‘A loud bang and lots of screaming,’ said Liam, and without another word, he jumped to his feet and started to run.

  Gunfire chased him as he raced across the compound, away from Mike and at an angle to the bullets coming in. Then Mike was returning fire through the gap in the wall to his left and Liam knew he had to keep moving. The wall in front of him was probably two and a half metres high. Back home, free running, he’d have been up it without thinking, springing off the ground, getting a foot on the wall to help him on his way to grab the top. He hadn’t made a move like that in such a long time now. It didn’t matter, though; he had to make it. No choice.

  Still sprinting, Liam landed a left foot on a large, flat rock and powered himself forward and into the air. He caught the top of the wall, his hands slipping a little, but he was up and over it so quickly it didn’t matter.

  Landing on the other side, he found himself in a small courtyard. To his right was a door leading out of the compound. The sound of machine-gun fire was coming from his right and behind him. The clatter of the AK47s was very distinct against the clean report of the SA80. He focused in on it, got a bearing on where it was coming from and decided on his route to get round behind the shooters.

  Liam jumped up and sprinted again. The wall in front this time was shoulder-height and he leaped up with cat-like agility, grabbed it and swung his legs up and over to the left, landing on the other side ready to set off again, jumping across piles of rubble like they were little more than stepping stones. Despite the situation he was in, Liam could feel the smile on his face, not just from the exertion and thrill of leaping and running and jumping but from the fact that he was free running for his life, in a tumbledown compound in Afghanistan. It was insane!

  More gunfire, and Liam raced over another wall, this one at hip height, to bring himself behind the sound of the AK47s, dropping down behind a low wall, but not before he’d seen what he was up against. There were three of them, all armed and all completely oblivious to his presence.

  Maximum aggression, that’s what he needed right now; just as Corporal Burns had hammered into them back at Catterick.

  Liam slipped two grenades out of his pockets, pulled the pins, swung round and lobbed them over hard, dropping immediately to the ground.

  The shooting stopped abruptly, replaced by frantic, terrified shouts, which were then cut short by two explosions that chased each other up and out into the air.

  Liam waited, but no sound came from where the grenades had gone off. He rolled over, then slowly stood, the SA80 at the ready. But there was no need. The three men were dead. The grenades had landed right in the middle of them and the effect had been dramatic. Unable to get away, the explosion had ripped the men apart. It was an awful, bloody sight and Liam, now that the adrenaline was spent, hurled. Wiping his mouth, he made his way back the way he’d come, only more slowly now, his head spinning from what had just taken place.

  Mike was sitting up, pistol in his hand, but he saw Liam coming and lowered the weapon.

  ‘What the hell happened?’

  ‘There were three of them,’ Liam answered. ‘I managed to get round the back of them. Chucked in two grenades.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘Very,’ said Liam, and slumped down next to Mike.

  For a moment, neither soldier said a word. It had been a fast and furious firefight and they were both stunned by their own survival.

  ‘You all right?’ Mike asked, at last breaking the silence.

  ‘I’m not sure I’ll ever be all right,’ Liam answered. ‘But I’m alive, which is saying something, all things considered.’

  Mike reached into a pocket and pulled out a bar of chocolate. He tore the top off and handed it to Liam. ‘Easier to drink it in this heat,’ he said, then nodded to where the Taliban had been firing from. ‘You saved my life. Again.’

  ‘I saved my own life,’ said Liam, pouring the gooey chocolate into his mouth. ‘That you’re still here is just an unhappy fucking coincidence.’

  Mike attempted a smile but Liam saw a stab of pain snap it in two.

  ‘So what now?’

  Mike glanced up. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You tried to kill me,’ said Liam, standing up now to look down on the injured Mike. ‘That’s something that sticks with you.’

  Mike said nothing.

  ‘Just because I’m saving your life doesn’t mean I trust you,’ said Liam. ‘When we get back, I could have you court-martialled for what you did.’

  ‘I know,’ said Mike. He tried to say something more, but his voice simply dried up.

  Liam chucked the chocolate wrapper on the ground. ‘Fuck it,’ he said. ‘I’m still not going to let you die.’

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ said Mike.

  ‘Don’t be. When we get back, who’s to say I’m not going to be a complete bastard?’

  ‘Let’s just get a move on,’ said Mike. ‘Someone will have heard this. Either that, or they’ll notice that the five we’ve just killed are missing and send a party out to investigate.’

  ‘Then we’d best get out of here,’ said Liam. ‘I’m not in the partying mood at the minute. You?’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Mike. ‘And I’m not overly impressed with the venue. It’s like they’ve not even made an effort.’ He grimaced with pain as Liam helped him to his feet. ‘You really think they’re out looking for us?’ he added.

  ‘I have to,’ Liam replied. ‘It’s the only thing keeping me going. We’ve probably got enough food to see us through another twenty-four hours, and that’s only if we share it out. Water, if we find any, we can purify, but it still tastes like puke and will probably give us the shits no matter what we do. As for protection, we’ve got two pistols and a rifle and barely three mags between us. And you’re a cripple.’

  ‘It’s not looking good, is it?’ said Mike.

  To that, Liam had no reply.

  26

  IT WAS CLOSING in on midday and Liam, for the first time since Mike had been injured, slipped and fell. He landed hard, his left knee smacking down badly onto a stone that stabbed into him and made him yelp like a kicked puppy. Somehow, he managed to keep hold of Mike, but only enough to lower him to the ground behind him.

  ‘You OK, Liam?’

  Liam gritted his teeth, then checked his knee. The rock had punched a hole through his combats and into his flesh, drawing a stream of dark blood. It looked like a small wound, but it was weeping like something much bigger.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ he said, but when he got up, his leg was numb like he’d been sitting on it badly for a few hours and all feeling had gone out of it. The leg buckled beneath him and he dropped to the ground.

  Mike reached over and shook Liam’s right shoulder. ‘You’ve got a dead leg,’ he said. ‘You need to give it a few minutes, then it’ll be fine.’

  ‘We haven’t got a few minutes,’ said Liam, rubbing his leg. ‘We’re out in the open, Mike. We have to get under cover.’

  He looked ahead. The only reason they were out in the open at all was because the gully they’d been using had come to an abrupt end. With no other choice, they’d come out and made a run for it across a field to another ditch. They’d only got halfway when he had slipped and fallen.

  ‘It’s only another fifty metres and we’ll be there,’ he said, pointing ahead to where they had been heading.

  Mike held him back. ‘You can’t stand on it yet,’ he said, ‘never mind lift me.’

  Liam was angry. They’d got too far for it all to go wrong now. And then a sound clattered into the moment. Liam and Mike both fell dead silent, focusing on what they’d heard, trying to get a bearing on it as best they could.

&
nbsp; ‘Helicopter,’ said Mike. ‘Search party?’

  ‘Has to be,’ said Liam. ‘It’s not going to be the Taliban, is it?’

  The sound was drawing closer.

  ‘Where the hell is it?’ said Mike, shielding his eyes against the bright sky.

  Then he saw it.

  ‘It’s a bloody Chinook,’ he said. ‘Look, Liam! Over there!’

  Liam turned to look where Mike was pointing and saw the huge aircraft creeping through the sky like a fat beetle.

  ‘It’s coming this way,’ said Liam. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got a flare?’

  Mike didn’t get a chance to answer as the rattle of gunfire barged into the conversation.

  ‘Where the hell’s that coming from?’ he asked, darting his head left and right. ‘They’re shooting at the helicopter!’

  They both saw muzzle flash at the same time. It was coming from directly behind them. And whoever was firing was little more than a hundred metres away.

  ‘They must’ve caught our scent,’ said Mike.

  Liam dropped to the ground and raised the rifle. ‘Get your binos out and spot for me,’ he said to Mike. ‘If we make enough noise, perhaps the guys in the Chinook will hear us.’

  Mike soon spotted one of the shooters. ‘Left of that tall tree you’ll see him. Drop him, Liam!’

  A quick, three-bullet burst did just that, but at the same moment an RPG was launched into the sky from an area further to their left. The rocket screeched overhead. The Chinook banked and the rocket missed by a mile.

  Liam swung his weapon round to where the RPG had been fired.

  ‘Two figures at nine o’clock,’ said Mike, staring down his binos. ‘They’re readying another rocket.’

  Liam found them, aimed, squeezed the trigger. The first bullets missed, but the second burst hit home at the very moment when the RPG was launched. Instead of blasting off towards the Chinook, it thunked into the ground not two metres from where it had started, then exploded in a deafening fireball.

  Liam was given no time to gloat as more gunfire erupted around them. Following Mike’s directions, he returned fire into a section of bush, emptied one mag, replaced it with a new one and kept on firing.

  Behind them, the sound of the Chinook was growing louder. Then a new sound joined it as the area Liam had been firing into was slammed by such a fierce spray of ammunition that he ducked instinctively. When he looked up, trees and bush and dirt and rock were being shot to hell.

  ‘It’s the Chinook,’ Mike shouted over the sound of the destruction, answering Liam’s unvoiced question. ‘M134 miniguns. Three thousand rounds a minute. Nothing’s getting away from that alive.’

  Liam nodded. When the weapon finally stilled, it was as if the world itself had stuck up its hands and surrendered. The sound of the Chinook’s twin rotors thrummed behind them and Liam turned to see the helicopter dropping in low some one hundred metres away. The tailgate was lowered and in the back was a soldier manning an M60 machine gun, which was bolted to the floor. He waved at them both, urging them to get a move on.

  ‘Looks like our lift’s here,’ Mike said. ‘You ready?’

  Liam stood up. His leg was still a little like jelly, but at least he hadn’t collapsed again. He reached a hand down to Mike, who grabbed it, and he hauled him up again onto his one good foot.

  From the back of the Chinook, a group of soldiers fanned out and started to provide covering fire. Liam didn’t think anyone could have survived what the Chinook had just attacked with, but it was reassuring to know that they weren’t taking any chances. Then he heard someone shout his name.

  ‘Scott! Bloody well get a move on! Shift it!’

  Liam hoisted Mike onto his shoulders, then turned towards the helicopter and pegged it. All he could see was that open tailgate waiting for him, growing larger the nearer he drew to it. Bullets were flying all around, but he was oblivious. All that mattered was reaching that aircraft and getting out of this safe.

  He arrived at the helicopter and nigh on collapsed as he raced up the tailgate. Two soldiers caught him as his legs finally gave way while two others quickly got on with dealing with Mike.

  The last thing Liam saw as the Chinook rose into the air, and before he passed out with tiredness, was the face of Sergeant Reynolds in front of him, grinning.

  ‘You’re a lucky bastard,’ he said.

  Then Liam’s brain shut him down.

  27

  WHEN LIAM WALKED off the plane, it was raining. The sensation was like electricity tingling his skin. It was good to be back home, he thought.

  After he’d gone through all the usual Army stuff, he headed back to barracks. With his first tour of Afghanistan over, he was still trying to deal with what had happened, and the fact that he’d survived. He couldn’t remember the number of soldiers who had actually been killed on the same tour; one of them had been Cameron – that was more than enough for him to get his head round. Now, with a few months between him and what had happened, he’d finally started to move on. But that didn’t mean it was forgotten. Something like that, and everything that had happened with Mike, was sure to stay with him for a long time yet.

  Lying on his bed now, he was woken by a knock rattling at his door. It was a big day, but he was tired. He was also not fully sure that he wanted any part of what was going to happen in London later.

  ‘I’m assuming you’re not going dressed like that.’

  Liam looked up to find Paul White staring at him.

  ‘You’re getting a medal today, and I’m coming with you, or had you forgotten?’ Paul opened Liam’s ward-robe and pulled out his uniform. ‘Get yourself showered and dressed,’ he ordered. ‘You’ve half an hour and then we’re out of here and on a train. You can change into this when we get there, agreed?’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Liam, and stood up to take his uniform and put it in a suit carrier. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘about Dinsdale . . .’

  Paul held up a hand to stop Liam saying any more. ‘Everyone knows what happened,’ he said. ‘We couldn’t save him. You did everything you could. And so did I. Everything, mate. And that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s not how it feels.’

  ‘No one ever said it would,’ said Paul. ‘But we’re soldiers in the best army in the fucking world – just like Cameron was – and we have to deal with it, just as he would have if it had been the other way round. Now shut the hell up and get dressed.’

  * * *

  By the early afternoon Liam was standing inside Buckingham Palace. At his side were Paul, Mike – who was refusing to sit in his wheelchair and was instead leaning on crutches – and his parents. Whereas his mum just looked pleasantly surprised, his dad, Liam thought, looked awkward, embarrassed almost, like he’d only just realized exactly what his son had achieved and still couldn’t believe it.

  Liam was called forward and a moment later found himself standing in front of the Queen. She leaned forward and pinned to his chest a medal – the Conspicuous Gallantry Cross.

  ‘Well done,’ she said.

  Liam glanced down at the medal. The cross was of silver, mounted on a wreath of laurel leaves, and the ribbon was white, with narrow stripes of dark blue at each edge and a central stripe of crimson.

  ‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ said Liam.

  ‘You are a credit to yourself,’ continued the Queen. ‘And to your family and friends, and to 2 Rifles. You should be very proud.’

  Liam stood back, bowed and then wheeled round and marched back.

  ‘Dan would be proud,’ said Mike, hopping over as Liam stood with his parents and Paul after the ceremony. He balanced himself, then reached out to shake Liam’s hand. ‘As would Cam, and as am I. I owe you, Liam.’

  ‘So you’ve given up on trying to kill me, then?’

  ‘Don’t push your luck,’ Mike replied. ‘Wait till I get my new foot and we’ll see!’

  Liam didn’t know what to say. After all he’d come from and then been throu
gh, to receive a medal – it was all too much.

  At that moment he heard a voice call his name. When he looked up, he saw a man and a woman approaching and he recognized them immediately. Cameron’s parents, there to collect a posthumous medal on behalf of their son.

  ‘Liam,’ said Cameron’s father, reaching out to shake his hand, ‘Cameron would have wanted us to congratulate you. He spoke of you a lot when he was on leave. Well done.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Liam, his voice cracking. ‘I did everything I could, I . . .’

  Cameron’s father squeezed his hand even tighter. Then they were gone.

  For a moment, Liam watched them go. Then he looked down at the medal on his chest and remembered what Jason had said: that what mattered in the end was getting through each day and night, and heading home to a pint of beer, a warm bed and, if you were lucky, a shag. It made more sense now than ever before.

  ‘Well?’ asked Paul as rain started to fall. ‘What now?’

  ‘I guess two out of three isn’t bad, is it?’ Liam said.

  Paul raised an eyebrow. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Liam smiled. ‘Pint?’

  Read on for bonus facts

  and information ...

  These maps show the approximate location of Afghanistan and Helmand Province in relation to the surrounding areas.

  Kit for Patrol

  All soldiers take the same key items with them when they leave the base to go on patrol. This equipment can be stored in their rucksacks, pockets or in a system of pouches worn on a harness called ‘webbing’.

  The items fall into four general categories: clothing, shelter, provisions and tools.

  Clothing consists of items like spare socks, gloves and waterproof or warm-weather clothing, as well as body armour and a helmet.

  Provisions include a twenty-four-hour ration pack, which contains everything from breakfast to an evening meal, as well as chocolate and biscuits. Soldiers also often carry a three-litre pouch with a drinking tube attached to it on their back so they can keep hydrated on the move.