Sabre Six : File 51

by Jamie Fineran

  The next morning I was awoken by Stan charging into my room.

  “Alright boy! Wake up, darling!”

  “What the fuck do you want? What time is it?”

  “Late enough. I got some last night, son. I was a fucking legend! That tart had no boundaries, if you know what I mean! Ha-ha!” Stan was proud of himself as usual.

  It was six thirty: time for breakfast.

  “Get the brews in then, mate.”

  “Bugger off!”

  “You’re an arsehole, Stan, you really are.”

  “Shut up, Lover Boy.”

  We headed over to the Cook House.

  I walked over to the grill with my red hot plate from the counter. I picked up my prongs and bunged on a couple of bangers, followed closely by three rashers of bacon. I had scrambled egg, two tomatoes, and a spoonful of mushrooms followed by a big spoonful of beans.

  I sat next to Stan and a few of the other guys.

  “Are you coming for a run in a bit?” I needed to get rid of this darn hangover.

  “Yeah, I may well do. Where are you thinking of going?”

  “Maybe around Shooters Hill; it’s a nice easy stroll. What do you reckon?”

  “Yes, ok then.”

  “I got my language course Stan. It starts next month.” It is one of the things the Regiment encourages you to do, you get a load of ‘Linguaphone’ tapes to work through, and the best part is they get a civvy instructor in once a week to teach and normally she’s a sort!

  “How are you going to talk another language? You can’t even talk English ‘propa’ yet.”

  “Oh shut up, bollock brain, I’m studying Arabic! I’ve even got some tapes to help me.”

  “You sado!”

  “Right, I’ve finished; I’ll catch you later for that run. I’m off back to the block to get changed. I’ve got to go and see Knob Head in a bit.” I finished off my sausages by putting them between two pieces of bread, filling them with red sauce and stuffing them into my mouth.

  “Hello, bud! How’s it going?” My mate Jack came and sat next to me.

  “So how are you then, Jack? I hear your missus dropped last week. Congratulations mate!”

  “Cheers, Michael. I hear you’re up for a promotion soon.”

  “Yeah, something like that. God knows how, though. So, what gossip you got then, Jack?”

  “You know I don’t gossip, Michael.”

  I looked at him straight.

  “Bugger off!”

  “Well, I do know something but it isn’t certain yet, so you can’t say a thing, brother?”

  “Oh, come on! Spill the beans. I give you my word; Scouts Honour!”

  “Ok. Well, we’ve started buying in loads of extra kit, which means…”

  “Which means what, Jack? Come on! I’m trying to eat my breakfast, mate.”

  “Well, if we’re buying in more kit, then that says to me like we’re going on a little adventure sometime soon, don’t you think?”

  “Nah! You’re having a laugh, Jack!”

  “Nah mate! I’m one hundred percent honest, Scout’s Honour.” He stood up from my table. “Don’t say a word, smart arse, or my head will roll.”

  “Scout’s Honour, brother!” Jack was my top man for gossip and regimental talk. He was a top geezer.

  That following afternoon I made my way down to London to meet my new girlfriend, Hannah. I had been seeing Hannah for nearly four weeks, after meeting her through a friend. She was a class girl. Her mum and dad took a liking to me the first time they met me, which was a bonus in Hannah’s books.

  I got to Enfield at half five, just in time for my tea, and Hannah greeted me at her mum’s front door. I’d pulled into a garage on the way home and grabbed Hannah a sexy bunch of flowers, and she held them in her hand at the doorway and hugged me tightly. I had a hard on straight away. Ten minutes later I was upstairs giving her the rod. I’d not had it in a while, and thirty seconds later I was finished. I apologised and was ready to go again, but Hannah stopped me and asked me to get cleaned up and join the family down stairs for tea.

  I walked downstairs and her father greeted me. He was sitting up at the table finishing off his dinner.

  “Look out, here he is! Fancy some dinner?” I felt rather nervous. I had just fucked his daughter upstairs. What if he heard us? Probably not with 30 secs in. It reminded me of two stroke back in Ireland, but that’s another story.

  “Come on – sit down, lad!”

  “How are you, Steve? Have you been busy lately?” Her dad Steve looked up at me whilst eating a mouthful of peas.

  “No, not busy at all, Michael. Work is shit now. How’s life in the army then?”

  “Ah, you know! It’s not bad, thanks.”

  “I remember when I was in, mate. Bloody regret leaving.” He shouted to his wife, “Love?”

  “What, darling?”

  “Bring in some more mash, love.”

  “Get it yourself, you lazy sod! I’m sorting the washing out before I sit in front of the TV for the night.” He looked over to me.

  “Lazy cow, isn’t she!” He smiled.

  “What regiment are you in then, Michael?”

  I had to think carefully. “Second Battalion Princess of Wales Royal Regiment, Steve. What were you in?”

  “Same. I was in the Queens Regiment. I served ten years in B Company.”

  “You weren’t allowed long hair in my day, Michael.” I looked at him.

  “Will you two just finish your dinners, please? And stop it with all the army talk will ya now, love.” We bowed our heads to the master of the house: Mum.

  “Would you like some pudding, Michael? We have ice cream if you fancy it, or apple pie and custard.”

  “Apple pie sounds good to me, thank you, with ice cream and custard!” She smiled and walked back into the kitchen.

  After dinner we sat in the lounge together watching Blockbusters on the box. Mum brought in a few biscuits on a tray with a fresh brew. It was bloody marvellous!

  Hannah and I sat there for the rest of night holding hands and watching TV. Dad seemed friendly and made me feel very welcome. Mum was as happy as Punch. Dad got up and put another log on the fire. I watched him strain as he placed the log into the flames, and offered to help, but he told me to sit down, so I did! That following morning I was woken up to tea in bed. I was just about to jump in the shower when my bloody mobile rang, so I put on my pants and a jumper and closed the bathroom door behind me.

  “Hello, Michael speaking.”

  “Hello, it’s Lance Corporal Harrington.” The company clerk. A right little fat bastard.

  “Hello, mate. You alright?”

  “Hello, Michael. Where the hell are you?”

  “I’m In London, Enfield, visiting my better half. Why, what’s up?”

  “I’m sorry, buddy, but we need you back here, mate. Something’s come up.”

  “You’re joking? For fuck sake!”

  “Nah, mate. I wish I was but I’m not, buddy. Sorry! The OC wants us parading tonight at 19:30hrs.”

  “Ok. Cheers mate! See you up there. I’d better tell the missus then – she’s going to love this.”

  I hung up the phone and threw it to one side. Clenching my fists, I prayed that Hannah would understand and not think anything bad of me. I heard her outside the bathroom door.

  “Can we have a word in a minute, babe?”

  “Yes, of course. What’s up, sweetheart?”

  “Something’s come up at work, babe; I’ve got to go back ASAP.”

  “What do they want? You’ve only just got here.”

  “I know, my angel, but I think it’s something big, love.”

  “Oh, I suppose you better go then.”

  “Please don’t be mad at me, my lovely, please! I can’t help it, Hannah.”

  “Oh, shut up! I’m not in a mood: I‘ll just miss you that’s all, you silly sod. Now come here and give me a cuddle, you sod.” I got a big kiss and a slap across the arse. Ne
xt thing I knew, she was on top of me, riding me like a wild horse.

  I packed up the car, dumping my kit in the back. It had started raining a little but was not that heavy- still, enough to drench you. I gave my dearest Hannah a good squeeze and a big kiss, said goodbye to her folks and drove towards Hereford. Putting on a CD, I thought of Hannah. I knew full well that we were deploying to Iraq soon, it was just a matter of when. All I could wish for was that I return to Hereford and get one last chance to meet up with Hannah before we shipped out to Iraq. It never happened.

  When I drove up to the main gate the usual security team was on. They checked my ID and opened the barrier. I drove over to the car park and walked to my bunk; I then quickly rang up my Hannah to let her know that I had arrived safe and sound. She was happy I’d rung, telling me that she and her mum were planning a shopping trip tomorrow morning in town, and that her cousin was coming down on Friday. At least I felt secure that she was going to keep busy whilst all this was happening. I dumped my kit in my room and met up with Keith and Stan for the briefing. We took a slow stroll down in to the Ops room, where we met up with the others.

  “Bloody Hell, look lads, he finally showed his face!” They all cracked up at my expense.

  “I got laid, though, so bugger ya!” We continued laughing for several minutes until the boss strolled in.

  “Good evening lads got some heavy shit I’m afraid so pin those ears back. Is everyone here, Simon?” He pointed to his second in command Simon, who was a bit of a jerk, if I do say so.

  “Listen in, guys please and that includes you, Bob.” He was another good lad.

  “Right, guys, the situation is as follows. Three months ago we had some intelligence that Al-Qaida was running guns in the mountains, from cave to cave. The Americans have confirmed this. So far the yanks have failed to take these positions, so it is now our job to lead the way, men.” This sounded interesting.

  “We will be deploying in six days’ time gents – to Iraq. Please, no gobbing off in the outside world. I hope I have to say no more on that subject?”

  “Yes, Boss,” we all shout out.

  “What’s the job, Boss?”

  “Good question, Stan! However, I will be clarifying everything when we land in Iraq. When I get the bigger picture, I will pass that on straight away. Ok, thank you, men. I will let you know more when I know more. Good evening, chaps.”

  I glanced over at Stan and the boys. They looked as concerned as I was, so as the boss I had better start preparing my men.

  “Gents, tomorrow at 06:00am outside for morning fitness! See you all there.”

  They flung their arms in the air. I stayed awake all night thinking about Hannah and Iraq; I had to tell her in my own way. I sat and wrote a letter, so I could hand it to her before I left.

  Dearest Hannah,

  You are more beautiful each time I see you. I am so proud knowing that you stand by my side. I feel warmth deep inside my soul wanting to hold you for each breath I take.

  I so love you, my dear; I love you so much.

  Hannah, I need you to be strong for me, and for all of us. I need you to hold me in your heart, for I will return one day. I may not be in reach of your arms, but I will be forever in your heart.

  I will contact you as much as I can, my dear. You cannot write nor call, but I will be in contact, my angel, I give you my word.

  I love you with all my heart, my princess.

  Yours forever,

  Michael x

  We trained harder and harder each day. Our weapons techniques were superb: we were the best fighting unit in the world! We practiced until we knew one another’s jobs. Each man needed to know how to send a report via the communication kit/radio. Each man on my team needed to be medically trained, and more importantly, each man needed to be able to pull the trigger and take out his target with no remorse. At last, our six days were up, and we all jumped on the bus and headed down to Brize Norton Air Force Base, near Oxford. The men seemed jolly, but I was just missing my dear Hannah.

  The crossing over seemed relatively calm. The flight attendant, a beautiful gay-looking male passed me a bottle of water. I thanked him and took a big gulp.

  “Not one bit of decent grub, Michael! It’s a liberty mate, a bloody liberty!”

  Nig was on one! The pilot told us to fasten our seatbelts for landing. When I looked out my window all I could see was orange desert; it looked fucking horrendous. The wheels touched down and we got off the plane via the rear entrance. I could smell the fumes from the engine, mingling with the warm, musky smell of Iraq; it tasted and smelt awful.

  We had landed at Al Asad Airbase, the second largest US air base in the country. It was huge, the biggest I’ve ever seen. Black Hawk helicopters on one side, fighter jets on the opposite side. There were more buildings over here in this one camp, than in the whole RAF put together. Later on that day, a 4x4 black pick-up drove us to the western edge of the runway.

  “Throw your kit over there, lads, and get some scoff down your necks.”

  “What we got?” asked Stan.

  “Range stew. You should think yourselves lucky! You were getting bugger all until I dug my claw in with HQ.”

  “The tight bastards!”

  Now Stan had started moaning! I sat down, eating my stew. It was not bad actually. I plunked my arse against a few sand bags, rested my cup on the side and sat back listening to everyone talk of how they were going to be the first on the block to kill someone. It was almost comical, and then suddenly the guns started. Each man fell silent and the realism kicked in. Thirty minutes later we were called into a briefing.

  “Listen in, guys! Firstly, Welcome to Iraq: it’s lovely to see you all arriving in one piece. I hope you all got some scoff down you? As you can hear, men, this is a live operation and there will be casualties if we do not pull our finger out and get the job done professionally. Do you understand me, men?” We all nodded.

  “We will spend the first week acclimatizing. This means drills, drills, and more drills, chaps. Hydration is important. Take your salt tablets, and if any of you twats get sunburn you will be charged for self-inflicted injury, and once you’re on a charge you will have my size 9’s up your arses.”

  “Does this mean no shagging down the local boozer, boss?”

  “That is a negative, Stan! There are women on the base, Stan, but leave them alone!” We all laughed.

  “No, gentleman, we’ll be running training programmes for the rest of the week, such as ‘weapon drills, radio training, physical fitness, and first aid! Do you have any questions men?”

  We were happy enough.

  “There will be a briefing at 18:00hrs so get sorted: grab what crap you need, and be there on time. Especially you, Stan, you dirty bastard!”

  We all cracked up, apart from Stan. He was left bewildered.

  When the boss left we got on with our admin. I got my kit sorted out and we paraded at 16:00hrs so we could pick up our weapons from the armourer. I was handed an M16, with a 203 grenade launcher. The magazine took a 5.56mm bullet and carried a maximum of thirty rounds per mag. I was also equipped with four grenades, two flares, and two smoke grenades. I got into my combats, my spare boots looking like they had been crushed from the journey over. The wind was picking up outside and a gust of sand and wind blew past my head. It stung like hell when it hit my face and I cursed it like hell. My admin was all complete.

  Keith sparked up a fag and sat down next to me in the hangar for the boss’s 18:00hrs briefing. Stan let out a massive fart: it fucking stank!

  “Hi, men! Are you all ok? Got any problems so far, guys?”

  Pete put his hand up. “Where is the nearest bar, Sir?” The guys cracked up, including the boss.

  “I’m sure we will find one soon, Pete.” He smiled.

  “Please, Gentleman, on a more serious note. We have been in country now for several hours and it looks like we will be here for a while. I will confirm dates tomorrow morning, gents.” He looked in h
is notebook for questions.

  “Tomorrow I will find out what the big boss wants with us. I already know that we’ll be shipping out by helicopter in six days after acclimatization training to an outstation about eighty kilometres from here.”

  “What kind of jobs, Boss?” Stan shouted out.

  “I will let you know when I know Stan. I am sorry but this is a cluster fuck and it is out of my hands for now until the big-wigs pull their fingers out of each other’s arses.”

  “Good answer, Boss; I am well impressed!” The lads laughed.

  “As of 06:00hrs tomorrow, lads, there will be lots of weapon training, ok! I don’t want any bickering, just get on with it and get the job done.” We all nodded in agreement.

  I made my way to my pit and got my head down. It was very fortunate that we were close to a satellite phone. That night I rang Hannah, telling her that I was all safe and well. I was not to mention about where I was, or what I was doing. She was a good girl. I rested my eyes and I was gone: out for the count within minutes. I had the best night’s sleep in ages, and I felt great when I woke up. It was freezing in the night, though, but I slept through the worst of it with my weapon in my sleeping bag and my helmet within arm’s reach.

  Breakfast was amazing: a complete full English! The RAF always knew how to treat its men and women. The army had a lot of improvements to make to catch up with this standard. Lunch was even better, cod and chips – real chips and a real piece of delicate fish! I had definitely fucked up joining the army.

  Now I had to put my Sergeant’s head on and lead my men. We had to get serious.

  “Right, men, let’s head off to the range and shoot up some shit.” My guys moved without any moaning.

  I had a good team with Stan as my Corporal, and Keith and Nig. I could not have asked for better really. They sat down in front of me as I briefed them about the range and the daily tasks for the next day or so. Everyone seemed happy enough. These men were professional. They were the best of the best; all I had to do was guide them in the right direction. “It was simple really!”

  “Make it quick, Michael, you twat.” We all laughed at my expense.