Battle Lines
Page 17
The ANA is driving us crazy. Some of them can’t shoot straight, or they can’t be bothered to try. I caught a guy leaning his rifle against a rock and firing it one-handed. I mean, just pointing it in the general direction of the enemy and spraying. After all the training, they do that. They love firing on automatic. Saves your finger so much effort. And the other night they were on stag and something spooked them, God knows what, and they all jumped up and started firing. Like mad things. Just firing into the dark. We got out the night sights and there was nothing to see and no one fired back and nothing happened but we only got them to stop by taking away their ammo. Reminds me of that dog your mum had which wouldn’t stop barking for no reason.
Jenn, answer the phone.
All my love,
Dave
Dearest Jenny,
Had a call booked for you but we were on minimize because of an incident. You probably heard that a bloke was killed and two were injured. IED very near Bastion. Not sure if you know that Steve Buckle was on board the vehicle and he was only going to the ranges to zero his rifle and have his picture taken. The thing is that he got away with cuts and scratches and a bit of shrapnel but the explosion must have brought back his memory of the last IED because apparently he’s going a bit crazy at Bastion. Does Leanne know about it? He’s not in a good place. They may have to send him home. Poor bastard. Every time he drives through the gates at Bastion, someone blows him up. Anyway, just to warn you that if he comes back he won’t be easy to deal with.
Love D xxx
Darling,
I can’t believe you wasted a whole letter asking me where I am in a pissed-off tone instead of telling me what’s going on out there. By the time I get your letters, I can’t remember where I was. At the playground, driving to nursery, picking up the kids from Adi’s, shopping at the supermarket, maybe even at work, I do all those things … not that I’m getting out much at the moment. Vicks is better (except for hacking cough and runny red nose) but Jaime’s got the bug now. Vicks keeps asking when she can go back to nursery. She loves it there.
Eugene brought some more work over today. He stayed for a coffee and, guess what, he fixed that drawer in the living room which keeps on sort of dropping every time you open it and then won’t go back in. Took the whole thing apart, which meant taking out ALL the drawers and seeing the mess inside. I’m OK with him as long as I forget he’s a general. Having a general fix your drawer feels peculiar. He loves kids and stayed a while having a laugh with Vicks (Post Office ha ha ha).
BTW, I love you lots and lots and lots. I’m always in a hurry when I write to you and I probably forget to say that sometimes. But it’s true. I love you and miss you, all of you including your body. Not long till Easter and then you’ll be home and I’ll feel your arms around me again. You. Chocolate eggs. Mmmmm.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxJ
PS Eugene’s middle name is Howard. He was never Brigadier Howard-Hardy, so that stuff about dropping the Howard because people called him Coward is a load of rubbish, and anyway, they would never have made him a major general if he’d run away.
Dear Jenny,
At last a few letters have arrived from you. Sorry to disappoint everyone but no, I can’t draw an Afghan Post Office. I asked the interpreter what they look like and he said there aren’t any here. Not sure if he really understood. He’s a bit shifty, to be honest.
How are the kids? Did you catch whatever Vicks had? When she can’t go to that expensive nursery, do they still charge you?
We are still snuggled up in our caves with our friends, the Afghan National Army. All mod cons, especially hot and cold running Afghans. I’d like to shoot some of them. Then I get talking to a few and I like them. Then more iPods get nicked, and other stuff too. It may be something to do with this interpreter who I don’t trust. I’m sure he’s thieving and he might be telling his mates everything we do and think as well.
The ANA’ve been firing all over the place and the other day Iain Kila got out some targets and said we’ll do a bit of practice. At other PBs there have been a few green on blue incidents, when ANA soldiers go crazy and start shooting us, so we were a bit wary at first. They were a bit wary too, mostly because they couldn’t hit the targets. I mean, they were terrible. So much for the legend of the deadly Afghan fighter who’s genetically programmed to hit a blade of grass half a mile away. A few of them are pretty good, though; they’re the local lads who started handling weapons when they were about twelve.
Our job soon will be to guard Afghanistan’s most unpopular guys – the tractor drivers who’ve been hired to spray weedkiller over the poppy crop. So we can expect a lot of trouble. If we all get slotted it will give Poppy Day a whole new meaning.
We’ll be here a while on poppy duty until the tractors move further up the province. Then we have to hang around a bit to keep the Taliban out of the area until Helmand’s covered in withered yellow stalks and dead Taliban. Then we extract out. I mean, home. Thank God. I want to be with you and the kids again. This is a boring tour and it’s not the same sharing your rations with the ANA. Now I know what they teach them at school here. Scowling.
Love,
Dave
PS Have you seen Steve yet? Is he at home with Leanne?
Dear Jenn,
Another letter arrived. Yep, I remember the drawer which keeps on sticking, it’s the one I keep meaning to fix. So a general dropped round and did it for me. I’ve told you what people say about him. And apparently there isn’t a Mrs General any more; they’re divorced. Right? So he lives all by himself, right? With you visiting him for twelve hours a week? Right? Did it ever occur to you that you got the job out of all those applications because you’re the prettiest? Be careful, Jenn.
I love you.
Dave
Dear Jenny,
I’m really sorry about Easter. I would rather be with you and the kids at home than anywhere. I don’t want to be in this rat hole.
I’m sorry. Try to save me an egg.
Love and sadness,
Dave
Dear Dave,
I’m going to be very pissed off if you die for a handful of poppies. And make sure you don’t get any weedkiller on you, that’s not good either. We’re all better now, not even runny noses. Seems a long time since we all had those colds.
Lol xxxxx J
Dear Dave,
Maybe the guys in the ANA who can’t shoot straight need glasses? Do they get any medical attention? I thought of that because Leanne told me about how everyone thought she was thick when she was a kid but it turned out she couldn’t see properly. Well, it’s just a thought. The girls send their love too. Vicky says Post Office.
Love, J
xxxxxxx
Dearest Dave,
Steve came back but he only stayed a day. It was awful. I didn’t see him arrive so I didn’t know he was there. He wouldn’t go out at all and when I tried to drop something off for Leanne he didn’t come to the door. Leanne says he’s totally withdrawn and doesn’t even notice the boys, but that could be the drugs they’ve given him. And he’s miserable. He cries a lot. I can’t imagine Steve crying. He won’t talk about anything, though. Leanne couldn’t go into work that day because she couldn’t leave him alone. Then a psychiatrist arrived, then a car came and took him to Headley Court. I hope they make him better. He got a bit larger than life before he went to Bastion and he’s come back small as a mouse. It’s horrible. It’s horrible for Leanne and the kids.
xxxxxxJ
Dearest Jenny,
Well, by the time you read this you’ll have got my message. It rang a few times and then went to voicemail as if you grabbed it and switched it off. What the fuck is going on? It was night time, you should have been in bed.
Same thing as usual here. We go out on patrol. We get shot at sometimes. If we get intelligence that there’s a nest of Taliban we go to the compounds and start by sending in the Afghan face so it can get blown up first, I mean so they can chat to the loca
ls. The locals don’t feel chatty. They open fire. The ANA gets into a firefight and half the time we’re not allowed to join in. Sometimes we watch the insurgents escaping through the back of the compound and we’re not allowed to stop them. It’s fucking ridiculous. What are we here for? Then, after not fighting, we come back to our cave. No sign of the poppy sprayers yet.
Chalfont-Prick is still a prick but there aren’t so many officers for him to cosy up to here, so he’s having to mix with his men a bit more. Not that he likes it. Whenever he talks to them he screws his face up. Maybe he has a pain in his bum. I’m prepared to bet that the man doesn’t know a single name. Except Aaron. He likes Aaron Baker.
Love,
Dave
Dear Dave,
No, there isn’t a Mrs General, she pissed off with some bloke who was giving her tennis lessons. Eugene has taken a couple of years to get over it. His friends ask him out to their dinner parties and introduce him to women but he isn’t interested, still mopes for Mrs General. So much for being a womanizer. There are pictures of her all over the house. Very slim and pretty in a posh sort of way.
And I got the job because I’m clever, actually. Nothing to do with my looks.
Eugene is an unhappy man, very complicated – maybe that’s how generals are, in which case I don’t think you’re going to be one after all ha ha. The other day he took his shoes off and there were holes in his socks. It’s sort of sad. I like doing his letters and sorting his receipts into piles and I’ve learned to use Excel and you probably don’t even know what that is. Well, you can’t load it into a gimpy so I don’t expect you’d be interested anyway. Oh shit, let’s stop having a go at each other. Anyway, Eugene’s memoirs are very interesting. I’m looking forward to typing the bit about retreating from that town. Except I bet he didn’t. I’m absolutely sure that he’s no coward.
Why haven’t you rung me? Vicky says there must be post offices in Afghanistan or they couldn’t send their letters, could they, duh? How is Chalfont-Prick?
Leanne went to Headley Court to see Steve and she says he’s no different. Hardly said a word to her.
Love from your loving wife who loves you a lot,
xxxxxxxxJ
Dear Dave,
Just got your letter. I did not hang up on you. Why would I do that? I wait for your calls every fucking day and all fucking night. I answered and there was no one there, you’d already hung up. Please ring again, please, please, please.
xxxxJ
Dear Jenny,
Adi told Sol that the other day General Coward-Hardy came to pick up our kids from Adi’s to take them to his house because you were working overtime there. Is it true? I don’t like him being alone with the girls. I don’t know him and I don’t like it. I rang you again and there was no reply and I am getting so fucking pissed off that everyone’s remarking on it. What’s going on? Why aren’t you telling me things?
Love from Dave
Dear Dave,
I’m putting the phone down on you if you try speaking to me like that again. You do not have the right to shout at me from thousands of miles away when we can’t even see each other and put our arms around each other afterwards and say we’re sorry. Anyway I’m not sorry. I haven’t done anything wrong. You should say sorry for speaking to me that way. Since you weren’t listening to a word I said, I’ll write it all down so you can read it when you’re not shouting.
I was typing out a really long, important document which HAD to be sent that afternoon. And Adi couldn’t take the girls any longer because one of her kids had a doctor’s appointment. And Leanne had already gone out. So Eugene said he would pick up Vicky and Jaime and bring them to me at his house, even though it took about an hour to sort out the car seats. Surprise, surprise, he did not take them to Tinnington Woods and murder them. He brought them straight home and they watched TV and played Post Offices and stuff while I finished the document. Now just stop it, for Christ’s sake. I know you imagine all sorts of weird things when you’re far away but you’ll just have to trust me. I know Eugene and you don’t. It was a one-off event and he’s safe with the kids and I didn’t leave him for long, anyway. And I was in the house the whole time.
As for the theme park, I wasn’t going to tell you because I knew you’d get hold of the wrong end of the stick. If Si and Tiff Curtis saw me there, why didn’t they come over and say hello? I certainly didn’t see them. Anyway, the theme park sometimes invites army families to come for free and I got an invite and so did Eugene. Unfortunately the main man in my family wasn’t available to join me, he was thousands of miles away, as usual. It’s hard to do those theme park things by yourself and Eugene’s got a little granddaughter and so we agreed it was easier for both of us to do it together with the three kids. It was a day of simple, innocent fun and you can just take back all those disgusting things you said.
Let’s face it: you don’t like me having a job. But I enjoy it. I enjoy getting out of the house and seeing into someone else’s life for a while instead of looking at our magnolia walls all day long. Eugene’s nice. The memoirs are interesting, so are the letters and I’m learning things. And the most important thing of all is that Vicky loves the new nursery and can’t wait to get there in the morning and my job’s paying for it.
Why do you begrudge me a life of my own when you’re away? Do you have any idea how fucking lonely and boring it gets without you?
I love you. Why don’t you trust me?
J
Dear Dave,
Yes, you’re right, it’s true. Eugene loaned me the deposit for the nursery and I’m paying it back each month, bit by bit, from my wages. There’s nothing to read into that. It’s a normal arrangement. I’m sorry I put the phone down instead of telling you. I just don’t know what to do when you start shouting at me and making accusations. And the way you ask me questions. As if you’ve been trying to catch me out and you finally managed to. Dave, stop it. I’m not having an affair with Eugene. I love you. Stop it. Please.
xxxJ
Dear Jenny,
I never thought it would be like this between us. I didn’t think I could be so angry with you. I am fucking livid. Would like to ask for some compassionate leave so I can come home and sort it all out but there’s no way. Things are hotting up here now that the poppy sprayers are arriving. So I’m stuck in a cave, thinking my thoughts. Don’t make me worry like this, Jenn. It’s not fair when there’s such a lot to worry about out here anyway. You know how much I love you and the girls and now it’s all started falling apart. It was OK when I left. And now we’re shouting at each other and I’ve got a horrible feeling people are talking about us. All over the FOB and all over camp.
For God’s sake tell me what’s going on.
D
Dear Dave,
I am not having an affair. There is nothing going on. Why can’t a woman work for a man without people gossiping about them?
Since you ask – NOT, the girls are fine and the nursery school thinks that Vicky is very advanced for her age and she enjoys every minute there. Jaime is so proud of her teeth that she grins a lot. She is adorable. Sometimes she says stuff that sounds like words.
And, by the way, stop complaining about me to your mum. She rang me last night and the reason why was obvious.
Love,
Jenny
Chapter Seventeen
EVERYTHING ABOUT FOB Carlsbad was too small. men tumbled out of their cots when they turned over in their sleep and hit the rock walls. Some preferred to sleep outside, no matter how low the night temperature. Food was served in a space so tiny that only about ten men could eat there at a time and most didn’t bother to try. The washing area was practically inside the Control Post. The Hesco never seemed to be more than an arm’s reach away. And the communal caves where commanders addressed their platoons were barely big enough for two sections, let alone three, so men spilled out into the eating area and had to keep asking other platoons to keep quiet so they could hear.
The night before the spraying operation began, 1 Platoon tried to crush on to the floor of the largest cave, feet digging into each other’s backs, as the boss gave orders. Chalfont-Price, at the front, was the only man with any space around him.
‘It is the Afghan National Police’s job to run the poppy-eradication programme and it is our job to protect them and the tractor drivers who are actually spraying the crop. I repeat: We are not here to engage in prolonged battle, search compounds or open fire on the Taliban. There is no role for the ANA because our mandate is simply to ensure that everyone involved in eradication can do their job, but let me emphasize again that we are not responsible for eradicating the crop. That is not the reason we are in Afghanistan.
‘Now, at 0700 hours we will be joining the convoy of tractors at the point where it turns off Highway One …’
He had asked Aaron Baker, commander of 2 Section, to hold the map and indicate the route. Dave, standing at the side of the cave, his arms crossed, thought that should be his job. But for some reason the boss was still asking the corporal to play the sergeant’s role.
‘It’s fucking insulting,’ Dave had complained last week to the sergeant major.
‘Only if you take it that way,’ Kila had replied. ‘I’m just relieved Chalfont-Price actually likes someone.’
Baker, the man whose map-reading skills were well known to be non-existent, was now showing the company Highway One, the FOB, the poppy fields and the route they would take to the RV.
‘Is that clear?’ Chalfont-Price asked the men when Baker had finished. He did not pause for an answer. ‘And I can assure you that our journey from Highway One to the poppy fields at least will be safe. The area has been thoroughly cleared of personnel and mines.’