Mercenary Mum: My Journey from Young Mother to Baghdad Bodyguard

by Neryl Joyce

  In the early hours, I heard Jeep come into the room, staggering about and cursing under his breath. He managed to get himself into bed. It wasn’t long before I heard strange noises coming from his side of the room. They were steady, sort of squishy noises, and gradually they got louder and faster. Oh my God, he’s having a wank! He had drunkenly got into bed and started tossing himself off.

  Perhaps he was too wasted to remember that he shared the room with two women. Perhaps he remembered but didn’t care. He groaned. Soon he was snoring away.

  It was bloody disgusting, but not that surprising. It’s who he was: loud, crass and tactless. Recently, I had heard him on the phone, talking to his girlfriend back in the US. As he was coming home on leave, he demanded that she do all sorts of things for him prior to his return. She had to make sure her nails were done, her hair had to be well groomed, and their house had to be immaculate.

  He also told her to make sure she removed her entire ‘muff’; he didn’t want any pubic hair annoying him when he went down on her. Romantic stuff. She was obviously used to his ways because they’d stayed together for many years. Jeep made no secret of the fact that he hated her children from a previous relationship and often spoke about them as though they were devil spawn.

  How could someone put up with a lover who treated them as a possession and not a person? I thought of Joe. Maybe I wasn’t one to talk. Joe stole from me and lied to me, and I took him back. It took a lot for me to finally break away. I hoped Jeep’s girlfriend gained that same strength one day.

  At another point during the night – I don’t know what time it was – I heard more rustling coming from the other side of the room. I could hear Ghost and Merlin still outside partying, so it couldn’t have been anyone else but Jeep. I heard him open up his cupboard. What could he possibly be looking for at this time of night? Well, a toilet, of course! He opened up the cupboard and began to piss into it. It went on for a good minute. At first it was a long, steady stream. Then it began to die down a bit, before starting up again at full power. Would this night ever end?

  My car bomb alarm had welcomed me to a new day. I was up, dressed, packed and fed by 7 a.m. I was ready to go. It was a shame no one else was. Ghost, Merlin and Jeep struggled about, swearing and looking for the cleanest clothes they had. Bee was cranky, and I couldn’t blame her. She already had difficulties sleeping and the loud partying and noisy boys were taking their toll on her night’s rest. I hoped she’d be all right once I’d left. At least only Merlin and Ghost would be left in the room. Perhaps with Jeep gone, things would settle down.

  We headed out on the road and, thankfully, the trip was uneventful. Our tactic of keeping a low profile was working for the moment. We had managed to avoid being detected and, hence, attacked while travelling along Route Irish.

  We arrived at the airport and it was bedlam. There was no method for collecting tickets, the security was lax, and people were crowding around everywhere. Jeep, Ronin and I already had our tickets, but Silver had yet to purchase his. To buy a ticket, Silver would have to wait in a long line to see a woman sitting at a desk, who had a hardcopy version of the passenger manifold – it was all done manually. The prices of tickets varied depending on whether you were a ‘rich’ Westerner or a local.

  We were well aware of the unspoken ‘no seat, no flight’ clause that the Iraqi airlines had, but there was no way any of us would be missing this flight out. We were determined to stick together and push our way onto the plane, if it came to it.

  After Silver got his ticket, we grabbed our luggage and waited at the boarding gate. When it was time, a bus transported us out onto the tarmac. We loaded our luggage onto the back of the plane ourselves and quickly took our seats. I watched the bus that had transported us to the plane return to the terminal with ten people on board. They missed out today. Perhaps the following day they would be luckier. We then waited a further hour and a half before the finally the plane took off.

  As we flew out of Iraq everything felt different. I didn’t have to watch my back anymore. Gone were the guns, the armoured vehicles and the tang of testosterone in the air. Out came the fresh, immaculately groomed flight attendants, offering food and refreshments. Sweet perfume infused the air, replacing the smell of sewerage and running generators.

  I was heading back to civilisation and a little boy who I loved and missed so much. Soon I would be home, holding Kane in my arms. Soon I would be showering him with kisses and cuddles. We would be talking, playing and laughing. It felt like I had lived a lifetime away from him. Now, I was returning to my son, and to being a mother.

  ARRIVING AT THE AIRPORT in Canberra was unsettling. I’d lived and breathed war for the last three months. This was a place so far removed from what I had experienced that I felt like an alien. All around me people were going about their business: they talked on mobile phones, chatted over cappuccinos and discussed the latest world events.

  There I stood, a foreigner in my own country. I was a mother who had wanted to hold her son close but who had grown used to holding the cold, hard barrel of a weapon. I was torn between two worlds and two lives. I was a mother and a nurturer; I was a fighter and protector. How could I be two such different people?

  Going down the escalator to the arrivals area, I was anxious. Would my son be frightened by what he saw in my eyes? I could only hope that he would see nothing but the love and adoration of a mother who would do anything for him. And he did. Bruce had brought him to the airport. Kane was there, waiting for me. He rushed up and hugged me with all his might. I rained kisses down on him and pulled him close, then lifted him up and hugged him some more. My boy had not forgotten me, and he still loved me.

  Tears filled my eyes as I kissed him all over his face. I thanked Bruce sincerely for bringing Kane to meet me at the airport, nodded and then left. I was back for four weeks. During that time, custody of Kane would revert back to me, with Bruce having Kane once a fortnight at the weekend. After collecting my bags, Kane and I looked for a cab to take us to my aunt’s house. She was looking after my car, all my clothes and my personal possessions while I was away. The rest of my stuff was still in storage at my mum’s house in Cairns. My mum had broken her leg a few years earlier, so she found the cold Newcastle weather used to make her leg throb incessantly. Shortly before I left for Iraq, she decided to move back to the tropical climate of Cairns in an attempt to escape the pain. We caught a taxi to the other side of Canberra and met up with Aunty Chris.

  Kane and I spent a couple of days there, unwinding and playing together. It was as if I had never left. We picked up right where we’d left off and Kane dominated my time, my affections and my attention. We then flew up to Cairns to stay with my mum for two weeks. She was dying to make sure that I was okay and wanted very much to see Kane.

  I gave Mum the precious rosary beads Tomahawk’s son had made. She put them in her display cabinet for safekeeping. I explained to her that they had been a special gift; they were my protection charm. I wanted her to look after them for me, to ensure that they were not lost or broken. Mum is deeply religious, so I knew she would take good care of the rosary beads for me.

  Kane and I spent long, lazy days by the pool and soaked up the sun. I went shopping for gifts and went crazy buying clothes. I bought tops, skirts, dresses and shoes. I snapped up anything that was pink, had sparkles or was ultra-girly. I had been enmeshed in a testosterone-charged environment for so long, I wanted to completely immerse myself in being a girl again. I wore high heels every day, had my nails done and got my hair styled. I lavished gifts on Kane and spoilt him rotten. I took him out to eat at expensive restaurants. I bought into a holiday club, spending thousands of dollars I would not have otherwise spent. I had no regrets. I’d worked hard for my money, and it was time to let loose.

  Kane’s holidays were coming to an end, and we had to return to Canberra. It was February 2005 and my little boy would soon have his first day of school. I had to be back in time to get him organised. We w
ere staying in a comfortable hotel with a kitchenette, laundry and TV room. I remembered that the Iraqi elections were going ahead. My clients’ faces were all over the news, and I proudly rang my mum to tell her I’d been responsible for their safety. The elections seemed to go without too much of a hitch, but they were far from being my top concern. Kane’s first day at school was the most important thing as far as I was concerned.

  The night before Kane’s first day, Bruce rang me to see if his wife, Pamela, could come to watch him go into his new classroom. It was too much. It was like he was pushing me to face her again. I told him no, that I wanted this to be Kane’s day. I thought only Bruce and I should be there. Strangely, Bruce accepted what I said. He didn’t pressure me or get angry with me. For once, he just listened and left it at that.

  The next morning I drove Kane to school. I met up with Bruce in the quadrangle and we did our best to get along so that Kane could just enjoy this special day. Our conversation was strained but civil. We were both nervous about how Kane would deal with school, but he was fine. In fact, we were more worried than he was. He settled in quite quickly and began to make friends.

  After waving at Kane as he went into the classroom, Bruce and I parted ways. He took off for work, and I took off for more retail therapy. At three o’clock I returned to Kane’s school to pick him up. As we were driving out of the school gates, I suddenly felt guilty about not including Pamela in Kane’s first day. In fact, I had been stewing about it all day.

  I no longer felt like I hated her and Bruce. I didn’t love Bruce, so there were no more feelings of jealousy and abandonment. I had seen and done so much in the three months I was away that it didn’t feel right to keep holding onto my anger. It was redundant.

  As I approached a roundabout near their house, I suddenly asked Kane whether I should stop by and make peace with them. Kane said, “I don’t know.” How could he know? He was just a kid. Stunned by having even asked the question, I kept driving around and around the roundabout until I made a decision. Finally, I indicated left, and turned towards their house.

  My palms became really sweaty. My breathing rapidly increased. I could feel my heart beating in my throat. I was unbelievably nervous about taking this step. Perhaps it was Bruce backing down on the phone and respecting my wishes. Or perhaps it was because I felt good inside for the first time in a long while. Whatever it was, I knew I was doing the right thing.

  Kane and I got out of the car and walked up to Bruce and Pamela’s door. I rang the doorbell. No answer. For a split second, I hoped that no one was home, and that I could turn and quickly walk away. Just as I turned to leave, the door slowly opened and Pamela peered out. I felt sick with nerves. She looked shocked to see me standing at her doorstep.

  She was dressed in a pair of tracksuit pants I’d bought Bruce years ago, and an old T-shirt. She was six months pregnant and clearly in the middle of cleaning the house. I apologised for arriving unannounced, but told her I’d felt compelled to see her. I confessed I had even driven around the roundabout several times, trying to decide what to do. I said that I was sorry for not including her in Kane’s first day at school, and that I wanted to make peace. She was still a little surprised that I was standing at her front door, but, nevertheless, she invited me inside for a coffee.

  She introduced to me her daughter Sonya (who is the same age as Kane), and asked him to show me his room while she brewed a pot of hot coffee. Then, as Kane and Sonya played outside, Pamela and I sat down on her lounge suite and started to talk. Before we both knew it, we were chatting like old friends. We talked about the past, about what we had said and done to each other, and then we shared our insecurities. I couldn’t believe I was telling her all the things I had kept bottled up inside me for so long. I couldn’t believe she was telling me all the things she had thought and felt over the years as well.

  After two coffees, and lots of tears and laughter, we sorted out our issues and a new friendship was born. As I drove home later that afternoon, I felt good about what I had done. I knew it was right. I had got over what had happened in the past and made an effort so that Kane could have a better future.

  Life is too short to be absorbed by the things that have hurt you. I have learnt that if you experience intense pain in your life, it is up to you to change the way you feel. You will never get over it if you continue to live your life the same way. If finding inner peace involves making drastic changes to your life, then so be it. Whatever you decide to do, it can’t be any worse than the hell you have made for yourself.

  When I got home later that evening, Bruce rang to thank me for reaching out to Pamela. He was surprised but happy. The next week and a half passed by, with my friendship with both Bruce and Pamela growing each day. A few days before I was due to return to Iraq, they said they wanted me to stay at their home. They didn’t want me paying to stay in a hotel anymore, and invited me to stay in their guest room – and not just during this trip, but whenever I was in Canberra.

  I was blown away by their generosity. I didn’t want them to feel obligated to have me stay, and I certainly didn’t want them to feel awkward while I was in their house. After they had repeatedly told me to stop worrying about things like that, I relented.

  Bruce was happy as it meant that he would still see Kane every day, even when I was back from Iraq. Kane was happy as it meant he was able to be with both Mum and Dad at the same time. Pamela was happy as she now had another female friend to gossip, shop and talk with. I was happy as long as everyone else was.

  I insisted on paying board, and once again thanked them for their kindness. The three of us talked about what might come after my contract finished up in May. I’d thought about it loads, but I was fairly certain I wanted to return for at least another rotation. My pay packets were hefty: it wouldn’t be long before I’d have enough to put down a deposit on a house in Canberra. Bruce and Pamela were very happy to have as much time with Kane as possible.

  As Bruce and Kane dropped me off at the airport, I was feeling positive. Kane was a happy and good little boy, who was enjoying making friends and learning new things at school. Bruce and Pamela were becoming close friends, and soon I would have enough money to purchase my own home. I felt renewed and happy about where my life was heading. Work didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore. The problems with my team back in Iraq were insignificant, I was certain.

  I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  SOME THINGS HAD changed since I’d been away. Iraq was still in tatters, but a couple of new guys had been hired to join the team. We actually arrived together on the same flight. The first guy was an Aussie bloke named Camel. He was a shortarse but extremely fit, with a shaven head and a goatee. Camel had been an infantry soldier back in the Australian Army. Since leaving several years before, he had dabbled in “a bit of this and a bit of that”, and had been employed as a truckie. He didn’t pretend he was an angel, but he wasn’t a rough or aggressive bastard either. He had a great Aussie sense of humour and played up to every ocker stereotype you could name.

  Cobra, on the other hand, was an ex–British soldier in his early twenties. His mother was Middle Eastern and his father was British. As such, he spoke fluent Arabic and English. Cobra was into everything from buying and selling weapons, to ‘acquiring’ various items through his contacts in nearby countries. On the drive back to the team house he showed me a gold pistol that he had ‘acquired’, saying it was possibly from Saddam’s own collection. I didn’t press him on the details – it seemed better not to know – and just admired the weapon for its beauty.

  As soon as I arrived back at the team house, Bee pulled me aside. She explained that we had a new room, one separate from Ghost and Merlin. She told me that the partying was out of control and she was struggling to sleep at night. The boys were making so much noise and carrying on like such drunken idiots it was affecting her sleep.

  The guys weren’t just partying til 10 or 11 p.m. and then going to sleep; they were carrying on a
ll night, playing loud music and running amok. Bee said she had been half crazed from lack of sleep. So she pushed and pushed until she was finally permitted to relocate to a quieter room. Jeep, Silver and Ronin were due back the following day. If the partying was off the leash now, it would only get worse with Jeep back in town.

  Most of the American guys were on leave. There were fewer ‘good guys’ for Bee and me to talk to. In their absence, the backstabbing went up a notch. Then I heard that 50-51 wouldn’t be returning. Ghost boasted that he had managed to get him fired – not because 50-51 was incompetent or unable to do his job, but because Ghost didn’t like him. I realised then just how arrogant and unprofessional Ghost really was. Clearly, it was dangerous to cross him.

  I was glad Bee and I had switched rooms. Ghost was a jerk, Merlin was becoming a cocky bastard, and Jeep was a total slob. Silver was competent at his job, but more and more he was siding with Jeep and the other leaders, and not the team. He was too close to them. They were influencing his decision-making and the team was suffering as a result. He was a textbook example of why a leader needed to maintain distance from his staff and not become caught up in the power of the ‘boys club’.

  The pattern was well and truly fixed now: each night the leaders would stay up late, drinking and carousing; while they nursed their hangovers the next morning, the rest of us continued with our rotations at the commissioners’ workplace. A week after my return, I’d had it. I refused to be a commander at the commissioners’ workplace unless I was paid the appropriate wage. All I achieved was goading the leaders into turning up to the Convention Center a couple of times, before things reverted to the way they were.