by Geoff Wolak
A face moved into view, a pleasant nurse with a puzzled expression. ‘Oh, you’re awake.’ She turned. ‘Doctor?’
A man appeared, and he looked vaguely familiar as I studied his nasal hair. ‘Don’t try and move, you have a number of injuries - including a spinal injury, and they operated on your head. Do you know where you are?’
‘In ... hospital,’ I said, as if a ten year child worried about getting an answer incorrect.
He smiled. ‘Yes, but which one? What’s your name?’
I had to stop and think. ‘Michael .... something.’
‘Michael Milton, but they call you Wilco.’
My memory started to return, the anaesthetic wearing off moment by moment. ‘Where ... am I?’
‘The NATO field hospital in Zagreb, Croatia.’
I winched. ‘Fuck ... it hurts.’
‘Where does it hurt?’
‘In my body.’
Smiling, he asked, ‘Need more morphine?’
‘No,’ I said, deciding I wanted to be lucid. ‘Can I lift up?’
‘You can, but don’t try and move.’ He lifted the bed to thirty degrees. ‘That better?’
I could see the room now, and I felt a little better. There was a drip in my right arm, monitors to my left. ‘Can I have some water, sir?’
‘A sip, not much, because they will operate again later today.’ He gave me a squirt from a plastic bottle with a spout. ‘They operated for ten hours yesterday, rotating the teams, think we got the infection under control, had to remove a small piece of intestine - that took a while. And we finally got your headgear off, that was tricky – as you warned us.’
With the doctor gone, I stared at the ceiling for ten minutes, and my memories came back, and I could picture my bolt hole in the ground, the cold and the wet, and I could smell the forest.
The doctor stepped back in. ‘Are you up for a visitor?’
‘Eh ... yeah, I think so. How do I look?’
‘Covered in bandages head to toe,’ he joked.
Rizzo appeared with Smurf. ‘You still alive?’ Rizzo cheerfully asked.
‘My first visitors ... are you two fuckers. Jesus.’
They laughed.
‘You look like a mummy,’ Smurf said. He pointed. ‘And you got a colostomy thing. More fucking tubes going into you and out of you than a washing machine.’
I puzzled the reference. ‘What’s been happening?’
‘You made the news, a shit storm going on,’ Rizzo began. ‘But the good news is that the Serbs are denying it was you, and they claim to have recovered the bodies of fifty Muslim fighters and their kit – all sorts of bollocks.’
‘Good, tell them it wasn’t me. In fact, tell them it was you, Rizzo.’
‘Don’t start that again, I have enough of your kills on my slate as it is.’
‘Take a few more.’
‘Fucking three hundred,’ Smurf said.
‘What happened?’ Rizzo asked.
‘What do you already know?’ I asked.
‘Patrol went in, stayed the night, intel fucked up -’
‘Intel?’
‘They had those Serb battalions moving at 2am, but it got to us at 7am,’ Rizzo explained. ‘You could have got out.’
I looked away, momentarily angered. ‘Go on.’
‘You were surrounded, Tyler spoke to Bradley, then the artillery came in and just you were left, four days of fighting before you walked out and met some resistance people.’
I focused on the cracked paint of the ceiling as the unpleasant memories re-surfaced. ‘Tyler had a leg and an arm blown off, big hole in his gut, died in front of me. The lads - I found bits, small bits; artillery shell landed where they were sat, just bad luck. Still, it was quick for them.’
‘Tyler told the C.O. that you would not surrender, whiff of a problem there,’ Smurf put in.
‘They don’t treat the prisoners well. I saw a few being executed when I walked out.’
Rizzo nodded. ‘Politicians are all pissed off with what you did.’
‘Me? Why?’
‘We’re supposed to be neutral, kinda, not taking sides and stuff, and you killed a shit load of them. But the Serbs are saying it wasn’t you, so ... what can they do. Russians don’t believe it was just you, and the Serbs have no bodies to display, no kit. So fuck ‘em, they can’t court martial you for not surrendering, and they can’t court martial you when the Serbs deny you wuz there.’
‘Colonel Bennet is here,’ Smurf said. ‘Major called him in when people got shitty.’
‘Fuck’s sake,’ I let out. ‘I can’t get anything right.’
‘Bollocks to them,’ Rizzo said. ‘I spoke to that colonel and he said you’re fine, they can’t touch you for anything.’
Smurf said, ‘He’s banned anyone from questioning you till 48hrs after the anaesthetic wears off, and only with him present, and that pissed off a few people.’
‘They rang your parents, told them you were OK now,’ Rizzo said. ‘And your bird, that lady doctor.’
I nodded. ‘Tell the Major I’d like to see him -’
‘He’s outside, flapping with the doctors,’ Rizzo said.
‘Right, well you two – go do some work for a change.’
Rizzo appeared saddened. ‘You won’t be coming back, will you.’
‘Not like this. Be lucky if I’m not in a wheelchair.’
‘They said it all went well,’ Smurf protested.
‘Long way to go yet, lads. Go get the Major, will you.’
Major Bradley stepped in a few minutes later, and stood staring down at me. ‘How are you feeling?’ he finally asked.
‘OK, but I’m not out of the woods yet.’
He laughed. ‘Good one.’
‘My luck ran out, sir, all busted up. Won’t be walking away from this one.’
‘They say it went well...’ I could see the sadness in his eyes.
‘Not to worry, sir, should have died a few times over. And that forest, I should have died twenty times over. I’ll be getting a job behind some desk.’
He nodded, putting on a brave face.
‘Captain Tyler was my responsibility, sir.’
‘You had no idea, and they fucked up the intel. Don’t blame yourself. You’re good, but not up against falling artillery.’
‘If we had surrendered, sir, he might have been handed back after a while.’
‘Don’t second guess yourself, none of the lads wanted to surrender, and last week the Serbs butchered six hundred Muslims – most of the women and kids, so ... we understand why you didn’t want to surrender to those shits.’
‘His girl, Sue the copper?’
‘Notified that first day, got a few weeks off work, her brother as well.’
‘That’s good.’
‘He popped into the base, Constable Moore, couple of times, chatted to the Comms people, he knows you’re safe.’
‘Mickey’s wife?’
‘Heavily pregnant, not taking it all too well, but the other wives are pitching in.’
‘I’ll give her some money.’
‘No need, she’ll be compensated well enough.’
‘Any more patrols hit?’
‘They were banned after the fiasco with intel, just on standby for rescues.’
I stared at the ceiling. ‘The Serbs fucked up big time, sir, their attack was late. That first morning, if they had approached in the dark they would have had us, instead I found them all lined up as if on parade. And after that ... they were firing at each other, and dropping artillery on their own people. Many of the dead and wounded were down to their fuck ups, sir.’
‘We heard about some of it, radio had them threatening to kill their own officers. Oh, the man in charge, you winged him as he was sat having breakfast. Not a happy bunny.’
‘Did I?’ I puzzled. ‘I fired from distance, sir. No shortage of ammo off the dead.’ I turned my head towards him as best I could in the restraints. ‘Did I do anything wrong, sir?’<
br />
‘Wrong? No, and don’t you think like that!’
‘But...?’
‘But ... they would have preferred fewer casualties. Politics, because we’re supposed to be neutral and sitting back whilst they slaughter women and kids in front of us.’
‘I understand, sir. Captain Tyler did nothing wrong, sir, nor Tabby. They were just dealt a bad hand.’
‘I know, and there’s no whiff of blame anywhere, except at Intel.’
‘If I had been on stag at 2am, they’d be alive. I was sleeping till 5am.’
‘Luck of the draw. Don’t worry about it.’
‘Have the quacks said anything about my chances?’
‘So far all the small operations have gone well, two or three bits of shrapnel tucked away in front of the spine, hard to get at here, might try it back in the UK.’
‘Could just leave it there, lots of men had that after the Second World War, and some lived to ninety.’
‘That they did.’
I moved my left toes. ‘Hey, I can move my toes.’
‘A good sign?’
‘Yes, sir, I had lost the feeling, thought I’d lose the foot.’
‘You ... removed a testicle?’
‘Was big like an apple, black and smelling. It would have poisoned me, so it had to come off.’
‘They reckon your DIY first aid saved you, so all those courses were not wasted after all.’
I smiled. ‘Luck, sir, it was just luck.’
‘You get well now.’
‘This goodbye, sir?’
He hesitated. ‘I’d be lying if I said you’d recover fully, so ... start thinking of yourself, and getting well again. We’ve lost six good men, a hard gap to fill.’ He appeared upset, and headed out with a false smile.
They put me under an hour later.
Early the next morning, Kate and escort brazenly stepped into the SAS factory and asked for the C.O. He was just finishing breakfast and escorted her to his office, the lads ogling her.
‘Tea?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine for now.’
‘Seen Wilco?’
‘He’s still under. Anyhow, I thought I’d ask you to release him into my care.’
‘Your care? He’s in the care of the Army, and you’re RAF, so ... what’s the difference.’
‘No, back into the programme.’
The Major stared. ‘He can’t lift a finger, let alone run on a treadmill!’
She composed herself. ‘He’s badly hurt, and as such would make for an excellent test case – a recovering soldier, and how long it took to get back to full fitness.’
‘Full fitness! Are you mad?’
‘Not at all, I’ve scanned his charts, it can all be fixed, even the skull is not too bad.’
‘And if your people get him back to fitness, you get the credit,’ he complained.
‘Precisely,’ she said with a pleasant smile, ignoring the dig. ‘And it’s a challenge, and it helps Wilco as well.’
‘Well ... yes ... I suppose. What, exactly, are you proposing?’
‘You’d need to release him to the programme for three months, and then I’ll get the MOD to release him to us when well enough, and we make a start, you know, bionic man and all – we can rebuild him.’
The Major sat wide-eyed. He blinked. ‘You think you can get him back to where he was?’
‘Yes.’
‘Bloody hell.’ He blew out. ‘Well, best go sell it to Wilco I suppose, your programme is elective.’
I woke to find it dark, a nurse sat with a book, and I asked for water.
In the morning, a large gang of people arrived at the door, chatting away, and I noticed Kate, her uncle, the Major, and a dozen doctors. They soon came in, and Kate approached with a welcoming smile, and – oddly enough - it was good to see her. They surrounded the bed.
‘How you feeling?’ she asked.
‘Sore everywhere, but apart from that ... it’s better than a cold muddy grave in a forest.’
‘Absolutely,’ she agreed. ‘Got to be positive. Anyway, all the operations went well, you’re stable – the infection gone, so they’ll move you soon, back to the UK.’
‘Fine.’ I made eye contact with her uncle, the colonel. ‘Thank the doctors for me, sir, if I don’t see them.’
‘Will do, my boy, you can be sure of that, and they are all very proud to have been a part of it, quite a herculean task – talk of a paper about you and your injuries.’
‘A paper?’
‘Not had someone come in before with such a list of varied injuries, quite the medical conundrum, my boy, of great interest to others.’
‘Oh.’
The Major eased forwards. ‘Flight Lieutenant Haversham ... would like you to ... volunteer to be a guinea pig, a special programme to see if the big brained doctors can get you back to full fitness.’
‘Full ... fitness?’ I repeated with a puzzled frown.
‘I’ve checked your chart, nothing stopping you,’ she said.
‘No?’
‘Nope,’ she added with a cute smile. ‘Just some physio, and few more operations, and some exercising under controlled conditions.’
‘I’d ... go back into the programme?’ I puzzled.
‘Yes, but no running to start with, baby steps first.’
I considered it, and I had considered being a civilian with a lot of scars, but ... my fitness was everything to me, and the idea of recovering at the programme appealed to me very much. ‘Fine.’
‘You’ll do it?’ she queried.
‘If there’s a chance I can get fit, damn right I’ll do it.’
‘Excellent,’ she said. ‘Oh, and I’m pregnant.’
People exchanged startled looks.
‘Pregnant?’ the Major repeated. He thumped towards me. ‘His?’
‘Yes, so no matter about the missing testicle,’ she said very matter of fact. She faced me. ‘Don’t worry, it won’t cost you anything, and I don’t need you involved with the raising of the child, all I wanted was superb genetics.’
I turned my head to the Major. ‘Get me a chopper, sir, and drop me back in that fucking forest.’
He laughed, then immediately cut it off as she stared at him.
Turning to me, she said, ‘That bad is it?’
‘Your attitude to kids is, yes,’ I told her.
‘Could we have a minute,’ she asked them with stern features. They filed out, still quite shocked, and I was due a telling off. ‘So, having a kid with me is so odious, is it?’
‘I’m not having a kid with you, I’m a sperm donor, an immobile one.’
She took a moment. ‘And did you have any particular desires to sit through a piano recital by a daughter of ours, take her pony riding or to the opera, encourage her to eat salads and cook French food?’
I considered that. ‘None of the above, but if I had a daughter I’d like some input – other than the obvious input.’
‘Look, you’re hurt, let’s not argue about this now -’
‘Is it not a court martial offence for you anyhow?’
‘Well, it’s ... not the done thing, but they need me more than I need them, and they know it. Besides, I can always go work for daddy, lots more money.’
‘Why don’t you?’
‘Who wants to work with their father?’ She looked down at me. ‘If I had caught pregnant by accident -’
‘This wasn’t an accident?’
‘Don’t be silly, I wanted your genes and pinched them.’
I stared up, wide-eyed.
‘Anyway, if I had caught pregnant by accident, what would you have done?’
‘Not much I can do without some cooperation from the other part of the equation. Not many choices to hand.’
‘And if I had wanted an abortion?’
‘I would have probably considered a life in Civvy Street, as I often do, and thought about what might have been.’
‘You’d be crap in Civvy Street, and we both know it. And since I
have no intention of marrying someone like you -’
‘Someone like me?’
She inched closer. ‘Consider what you’ve done this past week, and then consider your suitability for raising a child.’
She had me there. ‘This has been an unusual week. I normally sit behind a desk.’
‘Look, we’re not getting married because you don’t like my world, nor do you like my family or the upper classes. It’s not your thing and you know it.’
‘Well ... maybe.’
‘Definitely. So we have to deal with the fact that I am hoping for an outstanding athlete of a child, some day to be an outstanding officer.’
‘You’d want them to join up?
‘Of course, a six or nine year stint before a career in Civvy Street.’
‘Got it all planned out.’
‘Of course. So don’t be mad, and you will have access rights, so let’s concentrate on getting you well; I’m hoping for a paper about you and more publicity for myself.’
‘That’s my girl,’ I said with a smirk. ‘Mercenary to the last.’
‘Damn right. So get well quickly, and I’ll even get you some extra money from the programme.’
An hour later, and General Dennet arrived with his posse, as well as Colonel Bennet.
Colonel Bennet gripped my hand as I smiled up at him. ‘How you doing, my lad?’
‘Good, sir, and ... according to some I’ll be entering next year’s London Marathon.’
‘Really, they think you’ll make a full recovery?’
‘Kate does, and she’ll die trying.’
Colonel Bennet faced the General. ‘Kate is Flight Lieutenant Haversham, a doctor -’
‘I ... heard about the relationship, yes.’ He faced me. ‘Good to see that you’re being positive.’
‘I should have stayed with you as a driver, sir, cushy number, good food.’
He nodded. ‘Forks in the road, decisions made, luck of the draw.’
‘Since my legal council is present, there’s something you should know. I spent a lot of time hiding, and the Serbs accidentally shelled their own people, and they also surrounded a small area and fired at me without realising that they were hitting their own lines, and on several occasions I heard fire-fights going on, and I was half a mile away, sir.’
‘They made a lot of mistakes, yes, we’ve been piecing that together.’