Mercenary Mum: My Journey from Young Mother to Baghdad Bodyguard

by Neryl Joyce

  Kane would live with both of us. He’d spend a week at his dad’s, and then a week with me. He would alternate between our two homes. This routine worked well. My relationship with Bruce and Pamela was going on strong, so Kane’s welfare was not disrupted. I’d invite Bruce and Pamela over for dinner parties, and I would go over to their house for coffee, a chat, or just to say hello. Things were brilliant between us all.

  I told Bruce that I would probably do one more rotation in Iraq, to acquire a good sum to have as savings in the bank, before finally settling down into a normal job. I was keen to meet up with Paul as well. I wanted to see where things were headed with him. I was excited yet nervous about returning. What would this rotation hold for me?

  It turned out to be the ‘love rotation’. I returned to Iraq’s Green Zone. This time I was responsible for looking after two female clients from the former Yugoslavia, and they were great. They always gave me notice if they needed to go somewhere. They often went the gym so I was able to go with them and get regular exercise myself. They hardly ever went out partying, which meant I didn’t have to stay up late, waiting to pick them up.

  They were courteous and pleasant and loved to chat to me about the ‘hot security guys’ they were interested in. I couldn’t have asked for better clients! My love-life took a radical step. Paul swept me off my feet and they still haven’t touched the ground. Every night we’d stay up talking about anything and everything. With no TV or other distractions, the time we spent together was filled with getting to know each other and talking about our dreams for the future.

  We spoke about the heartache, the pain and all the crap we’d endured during lives, and we laughed about the funny, happy and joyous moments. I felt like I had met a male version of myself. He understood everything I said, and I understood him too. We were different, yet we were connected. Then one night, Paul told me loved me and said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. I was over the moon. I was determined not to say the L-word before he did. I melted as soon as he said it. I knew I was in love with him as well, and, two nights later, I also professed my love to him.

  Our first intimate night together felt like heaven. It was how I’d dreamed my wedding night would be. I was shy and nervous, but I was also filled with excitement. When we came together at night, we were like one body fused together. The passion and the love flowed through our veins. We were completely and utterly in love. My life had new meaning because I knew I was going to spend the rest of it with him.

  By day, we were high-speed, high-powered security contractors, and by night we were lovers and friends. Even now I smile as I remember the times we furiously threw our webbing, body armour, rifles and pistols into a heap on the floor in a pique of mad passion. It was like a scene out of a movie. We just wanted to be intimate and close with each other. We were crazy for each other, like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

  For the first couple of weeks I was back in the country, there was a problem with my ID card. It had expired. Unfortunately, it took time to get a new one issued, and that meant I couldn’t do my job or get paid. There I was, technically having a holiday in Iraq. I couldn’t eat in any of the food halls or go anywhere in the Green Zone. I was on lockdown. Paul brought me food every day and made sure I had everything I could possibly need.

  Was it wise to make plans to spend the rest of my life with Paul while living in the boiling cauldron of war and insurgency? Maybe. Maybe not. But doubt and indecision weren’t going to stop me from trying. Paul was from Perth and I was from Canberra. All of Paul’s family, friends and his children were in Perth. My family were scattered all around Australia, as were my friends. After I’d thought about it for a long time, it seemed to make more sense for Kane and I to move to Perth than the other way around.

  I left Iraq for the final time and tentatively broached the subject with Bruce about moving to Perth. As I expected, Bruce wasn’t happy. He didn’t want Kane to leave with me. I tried to negotiate every possible option for sharing Kane’s care, but Bruce wasn’t interested in making any deals. I suggested every option from Kane’s spending two years with Bruce and two years with me, to letting Kane decide for himself. It was like talking to a wall: Bruce wasn’t interested in talking about it at all.

  I guess that is what hurt the most. That we’d worked hard to build up a friendship, and, in the end, it counted for nothing. There was to be no discussion. It was either his way or we’d go to court. Bruce wrote an affidavit against me. Everything I’d ever said and done was turned and used against me. I understood why he was doing it – he didn’t want to lose his little boy – but it didn’t make the situation any better.

  I couldn’t bring myself to write an affidavit against him. I had experienced far too much in life to sink to that sort of tit-for-tat level. I couldn’t let things continue the way they were, either. With his parents’ relationship at a new low point, Kane was beginning to feel the effects. I hated seeing Kane having to deal with an ongoing war between Bruce and me; I knew I had to end his pain. I told Bruce that I would go to Perth, and Kane could stay in Canberra with him. The current family laws would not have allowed me to remove Kane from the state without Bruce’s consent. He was never going to give it.

  I couldn’t stay in Canberra and contribute to Kane’s pain. I couldn’t let him continue to go through that hell. I loved him too much. It killed me inside, but I had to leave in order for him to heal. If I had stayed, his behaviour probably would have worsened. I felt utterly betrayed by Bruce. First he broke my heart, and then he took my son from me.

  To make things worse, I was informed by the US Justice Department that Wingnut was going to get away with his crime. There wasn’t enough evidence to convict him, and they had to drop the charges. He alleged that I consented to having sex with him that night. “How could I consent?” I told the solicitor. “I was passed out on my bed. What is consensual about that?” She empathised with me, but as no blood alcohol test was conducted on me, it was hard to prove. I told her I didn’t care how much I was grilled on the witness stand, I wanted my day in court. I didn’t want him to go free without a fight.

  The choice was not mine. The Justice Department gets to decide whether you can take a complaint to court. I was not even given the chance to tell the world what he had done to me. He had done it three times before. Unfortunately, none of the other cases made it to court either. The first woman ‘disappeared’, the second one dropped the charges, and the third could not get enough evidence against him. The attacks had taken place under similar circumstances. He was an opportunistic, serial rapist and he was getting away with violating women. Who else would he hurt in the years to come?

  There was nothing I could do about the situation. While my wounds had healed, nothing could ever wipe away the memory he left with me. God help him if I ever saw his face again. The ugly troll was safe to go back to his wife and four children: none of them the wiser, none of them ever knowing the truth.

  Over the next few months, Paul was with me. I spoke to him every night, discussing the good and the bad things going on in our lives. He was still working in Iraq so we communicated via emails and phone calls. He helped me to deal with the pain, and forge a positive future. My experience had taught me that if you were upset or depressed, you had to do whatever it took to get yourself out of that situation. For me, that meant leaving my son with his father. In late January 2007, I organised my move to Perth.

  Then, out of the blue, I received an email from Bruce. I read it. Then I re-read it. My head went all dizzy. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. To cut a long story short, his marriage was over and he was going to let me take Kane to Perth. I couldn’t believe it! He was letting me take Kane. I cried tears of joy.

  Oh my God! Bruce was going to let me take Kane. I had endured a druggie boyfriend, and had made it through the most demanding training institution in Australia. I’d had my heart broken, had it cut to pieces and then found strength in a new career. Little did I know that th
e career would lead to danger and death. My life became tarnished through my association with bad boys and their lust for sex, drugs, alcohol and guns. Then to almost lose my son in a custody battle, it was almost too much to bear.

  Now I was going to move to Perth to live with the man of my dreams. My son was going to be right by my side. No more travel. No more guns. No more fighting. I was going to have a quiet life. I was going to live in a suburb surrounded by golf courses and beaches, with normal, beautiful, friendly people. My dreams were finally coming true.

  EPILOGUE

  I always knew that I would have to hold on and fight for a better future. I knew that I had to hang in there. Bad stuff can’t happen forever. Eventually, I was going to have some good luck come my way.

  I felt so sorry for Bruce when I heard of his marriage break-up. I offered him my home and my help if he needed it. I took back each and every bad thought I’d had about him, and just felt compassion for what he must have been going through. I knew what that heartache was like. It hurt like hell. We agreed that Kane would stay with him during school holidays, and I promised myself I’d let Kane move back there if he wasn’t happy in Perth.

  As for me, I am enjoying a happy life. My son has settled into school, and is enjoying his new friends and his new life.

  Paul has opened my heart and my mind to all of life’s fabulous possibilities. He has made my eyes sparkle again, and has brought me more joy than I ever thought imaginable. While we may have the odd fight, nothing will ever stop me from loving him with all my heart.

  Fate has shown me her cruel, heartbreaking, deadly side, but I could not let it destroy me. Life is full of heartbreak. Life is full of challenges and sadness. It is how we deal with what we are handed that makes us who we are. We can either succumb to the pain of it all, or fight for a better future. I chose to fight. The battle was long and filled with hurt, but the prize was well worth the cost.

  I now have the best life I could have ever possibly hoped for. I have a home. I have a family. I am married to a man I love and we have three beautiful children between us.

  Who knows what the future holds now? With Paul and our children by my side, I know that I can face anything.

  A family photo of Lil, Ced, baby Shannon and me, 1979. Mum was always putting Lil and me in matching dresses when were little.

  Ced and me climbing a tree when we were kids, 1976.

  Completing the Bayonet Assault Course during recruit training, 1993. (Photo by Freeman’s Photographic Services)

  Me after completing a drill (marching) test during recruit training, 1993. (Photo by Freeman’s Photographic Services)

  Me during Close Personal Protection Training, 2003. (Photo by Shannon Joyce)

  Kane and me on my graduation day from the Royal Military College, 2001.

  Kane’s first day at school, 2005.

  Mother’s Day in Iraq, 2006.

  Having delivered our client safely onto the Blackhawk helicopter in the background, we were off to attend another pre-election meeting in the Red Zone, 2005.

  The clothing I wore when travelling along BIAP Road, Iraq, so I would blend in with the locals, 2004.

  About to leave for a Red Zone mission to the Babylon Hotel with my female client, 2005.

  With Mr Happy and Cobra in 2005, waiting for our clients to arrive.

  Standing in front of a Blackwater Mamba vehicle (aptly named ‘Chick Magnet’) in 2005, holding a clip-on koala which I later gave the driver.

  On the Ronin close protection course, 2005, and about to head out on an assessed mission with a teammate. I had been appointed Counter Assault Team Leader for the test.

  Paul and me in Perth in 2006 – our first time together outside a war zone. We ended up buying a house not far from where this photo was taken.

  Paul’s kids, Liam and Georgia, with Kane in 2007.

  ABBREVIATIONS

  4 Fd Regt

  Acting CM

  BIAP

  CPP

  CAT

  CC

  CSH

  EOD

  DOD

  ID

  IED

  IRI

  MP

  PNG

  PT

  PTI

  PSD

  PX

  RAAF

  RAP

  RSO

  RPG

  RMC

  SAT

  URG

  4 Field Regiment

  acting country manager

  Baghdad International Airport

  close personal protection

  counter assault team

  Convention Center

  Combat Support Hospital

  explosive ordnance detection

  US Department of Defense

  identification

  improvised explosive device

  International Republican Institute

  military police

  Papua New Guinea

  physical training

  physical training instructor

  private security detail

  post exchange

  Royal Australian Air Force

  Regimental Aid Post

  regional security officer

  rocket-propelled grenade

  Royal Military College

  security advance team

  Unity Resources Group

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Firstly, I would like to thank my husband, Paul, for all the support and encouragement he has given me over the years. Without his persistence – or obsessive insistence – it might have been another ten years before this book was published.

  I would also like to thank the Silver Fox for messing around with destiny and setting Paul and me up to fall in love on that fateful night in Baghdad. And Skippy, thank you for burning your penis and providing us with the opportunity to be alone. (I do hope everything is okay down there now.)

  Thanks to my friends from Team Apollo, in particular Outpatient, Wolf, Cobra, Horse, Dr Evil, Ali, Buster and Bee. Your ongoing friendship has meant the world to me. Outpatient, you’re a legend. Wolf, I hope this book helps dispel the myths that the haters have believed for so long.

  To my Blackwater crew – Diablo, Church, Scooter, Butters, Cowboy, T Boy, Spoon, 86, Bram and Yogi: thanks for the memories, and for your professionalism when on missions.

  Thanks to the Blackwater Mamba team – roll hard, roll heavy!

  To the ‘black ops’ team: no ice-cream has ever come close to tasting as good as what we had that night.

  Teamwork and leadership have played a major role in my story. As corny as it might sound, thanks to the Australian Army for its quality training, strong ethics and exceptional defence personnel. I was proud to serve my country. Thank you, Major Murray Heron and Leo Legend, for believing in me and inspiring me to be the best that I can be.

  I want to thank my mum and dad for all the experiences I was provided with throughout my childhood (except for the ones where I got in trouble).

  Dad, thanks for brainwashing me with your ‘straight as an arrow’ values system and your incredible work ethic. I am truly grateful that you taught me the importance of being honest and doing a job properly.

  Mum, thanks for giving me the freedom to explore and participate in ‘male’ sports and activities. Thanks for teaching me how to be a mum, and for helping me in the times when I was alone and struggling with Kane.

  Kane, thanks for being the best little kid a mum could want (note ‘little’ kid – this teenage thing is not so fun). I hope you grow up never wanting to work in the private security industry, and instead go on to have a stellar career in the NRL.

  I’d like to thank my siblings, Ced, Lil, Shannon and Naomi. Our relationship has shaped me and influenced my decisions in life, and for that I am indebted to you.

  Thank you to my dear friend Pauline Sanders. Your friendship, support, enthusiasm and zest have been critical to my success. Reaching for the stars is far easier when you have a friend holding you up to the sky.


  I would like to thank authors Robert Schofield and Michael John Barnes for feeding my caffeine addiction at coffee shops and for all the advice they gave about getting my book published. And thank you so much for introducing me to my agent, George Karlov.

  To George: thank you for believing in my story and for fighting tooth and nail to get it published. After eight years of feeling rejected, you brought my story back to life and made my dream a reality. Your professionalism, determination and enthusiasm have been a godsend, and your sharp humour has made the journey enjoyable. You are the best!

  To my publishers at Black Inc. and Nero Books: thanks for publishing a book about an unknown chick doing an unknown job in a world that most people didn’t know existed. It has been a pleasure working with the team, in particular Bridget Maidment, who did an outstanding job editing my work.

  Thanks to the creative team who designed the book cover: photographer Francis Andrijich, make-up artist Gail Wilton, and Black Inc.’s Peter Long. You turned this old soldier into a Battle Barbie – and that’s no easy feat!

  Finally, I want to acknowledge all the private security contractors who are still working in the industry. You will never be thanked, you will never be honoured, you will never be remembered for your achievements. Your military service will be forgotten, you’ll be labelled mercenaries, and your heroism on the battlefield will never be known. But you do an important job bringing stability to war-torn countries.