by Paul Gait
Excited children, oblivious to the regulations, ran excitedly towards the approaching line of servicemen and women.
A chorus of ‘Daddy…daddy’; ‘Mummy…mummy’ rose from the rushing children.
In spite of the heavy rucksacks, uniformed arms swept their offspring up, faces covered in kisses and tears of joy. Smiles erupted as child laden soldiers searched out their partners and spouses.
Joyful scenes enfolded over the apron. Hugs, embraces and long passionate kisses that promised more later.
Liz stood among the excited crowd and was getting anxious that William didn’t appear to be with them. Then she spotted him twenty metres from the back of the line of euphoric soldiers. Head down. A lonely figure.
Because of his guilt over Pete’s death she knew his homecoming was not going to be the joyful event that everyone else was experiencing.
Meanwhile, the enormous Globemaster had also come to a halt and the huge ramp at the back of the plane had been lowered. An attendant army was waiting. Within a few moments they were efficiently attending to the various loads of equipment held in its vast bowels.
Three black hearses drove towards the stationary plane and parked nearby. An honour guard of smartly uniformed soldiers was formed in front of them.
Above the excitement of the family reunions Liz could see three separate groups of soldiers marching smartly up to the ramp of the C17. These were the men chosen to carry the precious cargo, the coffins of their fallen colleagues who were being repatriated. Amongst them would be Pete.
The flood of joyful soldiers, partners and offspring passed Liz in a babble of excitement heading into the airport lounge.
She looked at William’s sad face and decided she couldn’t wait any longer. She ran to him, put her arms around his neck and embraced him tightly.
She wanted to say ‘William I’m overjoyed to see you.’ But his glum face suggested otherwise. Instead she said ‘I’m so sorry William,’ and tightened her embrace.
William dropped his rucksack and finally returned the embrace, enfolding her in his strong arms. She could feel his body shaking as he sobbed on her shoulder trying to hide his tears.
‘It’ll be alright,’ she whispered, stroking his hair.
‘It was my fault. Pete’s dead,’ he sobbed.
Liz was shocked by his outpouring of grief. Normally William rarely showed his feelings.
‘No, you mustn’t blame yourself,’ she soothed. ‘Shit happens. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?’
‘I gave him bad advice and he died.’ William wept.
‘Come on William, let’s go home,’ Liz said softly, stepping away from him and taking his hand.
‘No. I must stay and pay my respects to Pete and the other two,’ he said visibly getting himself together and standing to attention facing the plane. Others re-emerged from the airport terminal and formed a silent line.
At that moment the first group of six soldiers emerged from the belly of the C17, on their shoulders a Union Jack covered coffin. In perfect step they carefully marched down the ramp. At the front a sergeant walked backwards, firmly pushing against the front of the casket to prevent it sliding off the bearers shoulders. Behind the first group came two other groups of smartly uniformed soldiers carrying coffins similarly bedecked in a Union flag.
The three groups slowly marched towards the line of waiting hearses.
‘That should have been me,’ William said quietly.
‘I’m glad it wasn’t,’ Liz said squeezing his hand tightly.
They followed the cortege to the Memorial Garden at Norton Way to allow William to pay his respects in front of the flag pole upon which the Union Flag from Royal Wootton Bassett was flying.
Smithy joined him briefly before heading home with wife.
‘Take care Boss. Hope you feel better soon. Don’t forget. If you need anything. Just bell me.’
Finally Liz drove them home.
William’s sombre mood created a heavy atmosphere which Liz could not bring herself to break with small talk.
William stared forward through unseeing eyes, the thousand yard stare suffered by many service people who experience combat trauma.
Liz decided now wasn’t the time to remind him of his anniversary omission. But it was an angry bird caged in her head that needed to be released- sometime.
CHAPTER 15
They arrived back in Cheltenham after a silent journey. The atmosphere in the car had remained tense. Liz was desperate to talk to William about a million things but she judged now wasn’t the right time.
William was beside her in body only. His mind was wrapped in despair thousands of miles away.
They unloaded the car and descended down the worn steps into the basement flat.
‘Well, home at last,’ Liz said, trying to sound bright, but feeling depressed that William had returned in such a sad state.
She had been excited about his return, especially as there was going to be no more tours of Afghanistan. But now she wasn’t so sure. He was creating an energy sapping atmosphere. A blanket of gloom had descended over the place and her excitement had been strangled.
‘Cuppa?’ she asked desperate to break the silence.
‘No, I’ll have a shower and catch up with some shuteye,’ he said gloomily, dumping his luggage on the lounge floor.
Liz tutted at the violation of the room she had spent hours cleaning. Nevertheless, she bottled her frustration of his thoughtless invasion to her ordered space.
‘I’ve put your stuff in the bathroom,’ she said, filling the kettle.
Normally on his return from ‘operations’ they would shower together. It was the start of their rekindled passion. But not today she decided. Now was not the time while he was wallowing in his own misery.
As he was making his way into the bathroom William spotted the anniversary cards from their best man and chief bridesmaid perched on the mantelpiece of the boarded off fireplace.
‘Oh, shit, I know there was something I was going to do. I’m sorry I…things just got in the way,’ William confessed. ‘I had it on my to-do list but what with a raid on a bomb factory, an urgent IED and poor Pete, it got forgotten. I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you,’ he proposed.
‘I should think so too.’ The angry bird had made an escape. Liz could no longer contain her anger. She couldn’t stop her outburst. ‘You come home here with a face like thunder and full of self-pity. What about me? I was worried to death when I heard the news about the explosion and the death of an EOD man. I had to call you to make sure you were alright. It wouldn’t have hurt you to have called me would it? But not you. Oh no! You were just thinking of yourself,’ she rattled on angrily.
‘What? I can’t believe how pathetic you sound. Wittering on about a bleeding missing anniversary card,’ William said, flabbergasted. ‘Pete is dead. Don’t you understand that? He was blown to smithereens. Do you understand?’ he shouted in her face.
‘Yes of course I do and I’m sorry.’
‘It wasn’t because he had forgotten to send a bloody card. Somebody wanted him dead and I helped them succeed.’
Liz needed to vent her frustration but her anger overcame her sensibility ‘Well we all have our crosses to bear,’ she replied angrily and instantly regretted it.
At that moment William lost his self-control and slapped her across the face. They were both horrified. He had never been violent to her during their long association.
She put her hand up to her smarting cheek and holding back the tears she yelled angrily, ‘don’t you ever do that again.’
He looked at his hand in horror as if it had acted by itself. He wanted to disown it’s actions.
He dissolved into tears, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he sobbed. ‘I…I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to. It won’t happen again I promise.’
‘You’re dead right there,’ she screamed, feeling the redness of his handprint spreading across her cheek. ‘You ever dare touch me again and I
shall leave you.’
‘I’m so…sorry …I don’t know what I’ll do if you left me…I need you so much.’
He dropped to his knees and covered his face with his big hands and cried, his body wracked with grief.
‘Don’t you know what it’s like for me …waiting to hear if you’re safe? I’ve got a life too.’ Liz filled up as well.
‘But Pete doesn’t anymore,’ he sobbed.
She moved towards him, her anger now neutralised by his breakdown. She put her hands gently on his head, spread her fingers through his hair, feeling his hot scalp.
He lifted his head, thrusting his tear streaked face into her stomach. His strong arms encircled her small waist. Holding tightly he continued to sob.
Pity replaced her anger. ‘Ssssh,’ she whispered, ‘Ssssh. It’ll be alright, it’ll be alright.’ A teardrop snaked down her cheek.
She moved her long fingers though his hair to his neck, felt the sweat drenched collar and stroked his ears, all the time talking quietly, consoling him.
‘It’ll be alright. Don’t worry. Soon it won’t hurt so much. Time is a healer. Ssssh.’
Eventually his sobbing stopped. She cupped his chin and lifted his face from her now wet dress.
His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. The veins of his forehead stood out on his red sweaty face. She smoothed his hair which had stuck to his hot forehead.
‘I’m so sorry, but I can’t get my mind off it. Pete, the Taliban, the next bomb, the next bobby trap. ‘…I’ve had it. My nerves are shot…I’ve lost it…I can’t do this anymore.’ William blurted.
‘Ssssh. Those horrors are behind you now,’ she counselled gently.
‘You know I love you so much,’ he said dolefully. ‘I need you now more than ever.’
His eyes filled again. He pulled away from her, stood up and aimlessly went to the front door. Suddenly he balled his fist and punched the centre panel of the door.
‘I’ve had it. I’m no good for anything anymore. Look at these hands. I just can’t stop them from shaking. I’m useless like this.’
‘It will pass. You’ll see. This is what you’ve always wanted to do. Remember? You are good at it.’ Liz encouraged. ‘You’ve worked so hard to achieve it’
‘Maybe I was just too ambitious. Perhaps I’m not really cut out for this. Maybe I’m just…just too sensitive,’ he said irrationally.
‘Look at all your successes! Think of all the lives you’ve saved. All the injuries you’ve prevented.’
‘I don’t know any more,’
‘If for no other reason, you have to do it for Pete.’
‘Pete must be up there laughing at me for being so pathetic.’
‘I think you’re being too harsh on yourself. Nobody can go through the trauma of knowing your best mate…’
‘Go on say it…blasted to a million pieces. Do you know they couldn’t even find his eyes, his face, his heart, his soul. Jesus Christ. It’s awful. How can you get over that?
‘I think you’re asking the wrong one that question,’ Liz said, sitting down. ‘Perhaps you can start to understand how I feel every time you go out on a job. Never knowing whether I’ll see you again…waiting for the phone call to tell me you’re dead. Do you know I switch the television and radio off until you call me. Only then can I relax when I know you’re safe. So don’t ask me about the anguish. It’s because I love you that I’m still here.’
But he wasn’t listening. He was wrapped up in a flashback of exploding bombs, screams of injured soldiers, the dust, the stifling heat.
‘He was spread all around the debris of the effing buildings you know,’ he said, wide eyed. ‘Do you know they had to calculate how many bricks they had to put in his coffin to pretend he was in there.’
‘Oh god how terrible,’ Liz whispered, chewing her lip.
‘He always said that he hadn’t done enough in the Regiment to leave a mark…well he certainly left a mark out there in that place…a big red one.’
‘William! That’s a terrible thing to say.’ Liz admonished him for his black humour. But William was still lost in his memories.
‘Nobody deserves to die like that. He was trying to help the community and this is how they pay him,’ he said, pacing backwards and forwards, his eyes distant. ‘What was it all for?’
He suddenly stopped and gazed wide eyed at Liz expecting an answer. She shrugged her shoulders but said nothing.
William continued his rhetoric about Pete’s fatal incident. ‘After the dust from the explosion had settled, I gather people just carried on their daily life as if nothing had happened. The man was dead and they didn’t care that he was trying to help their community.’
‘I guess they’re used to that sort of violence and life goes on regardless,’ Liz said quietly, finding her voice.
‘Except for Pete,’ William ranted. ‘Nobody cared about the sacrifice he made.’ Huh sacrifice!’ he raged. ‘The politicians say the word, but they don’t really know what sacrifice means…it’s merely a hollow meaningless phrase said to appease the population about the death of my comrades.’
Liz had never seen William so animated before and listened surprised by his vitriol.
‘The thing that hurts so much…’William struggled with the words, ‘was I told him which wire to cut. It… it should have been me that died that day. Not him. Oh God, I can’t do this anymore,’ William said mournfully.
‘William, you can’t blame yourself for somebody else’s mistake. Pete knew what he was doing…and his luck ran out.’
‘You’re not listening to me…why don’t you listen? I’m talking about killing my friend. My best pal. My guilt.’
William shook his head as if disputing Liz’s argument. He turned and started going into the bedroom. Liz knew she was on a losing battle and said, ‘If you’re going to go to bed after your shower I’ll go for a run so that I don’t disturb you.’
She thought about the celebrations she had planned for his homecoming which included a ‘show’ in Stratford upon Avon; A romantic meal at their favourite restaurant and a night of passion…but now she thought that in his state it would be a waste of time and she would cancel it all.
CHAPTER 16
William undressed, leaving a trail of his clothes over the flat and went into the shower.
Liz, irritated by his clutter, scooped them up, took them into the bedroom and dumped them in the dirty washing basket. She could hear the water running in the bathroom but no sound of him washing. She listened for a few minutes and concerned she called,
‘Are you OK William?’
No reply.
‘William!’
She left the bedroom and opened the bathroom door but almost immediately it hit something and wouldn’t fully open.
‘William are you OK?’ she said in a panic, wondering if he’d collapsed against the door. ‘Let me in sweetheart.’ She pushed the door again and it moved slightly. The gap was just wide enough for her to put her head around the door. William was naked standing with his back to the door, motionless.
‘Come on darling let me in.’
He moved slightly and she pushed her way in.
‘You’ll feel better when you’ve had a shower and a few hours’ sleep. Let me help you.’
‘No, I’m alright,’ he said, sounding haunted. ‘It’s the flashbacks. It’s difficult to get my head around this…this tranquillity, after living in a hell hole for the last six months, always expecting an attack or a ‘shout’. We had to be alert.’
William stepped into the bath and swung the glass panel into place. The spray bounced off his firm suntanned body immediately showering the gleaming glass which Liz had polished.
She so much wanted to join him in their usual ritual but resisted the temptation and left him vigorously shampooing his hair.
She changed into her running kit and waited until William had finished showering. After twenty minutes he emerged with a towel around his waist.
‘Feel better fo
r that?’ she asked smiling.
‘No, I’ve got a fearful headache. Got any pills?’ he asked, holding his forehead.
‘Yes, paracetamol OK?’
‘Yeah, whatever.’
Liz rummaged through her handbag and found the box. She squeezed two tablets out of the blister pack and gave them to him.
‘I’ll get you a glass of water,’ she said, going into the kitchen.
Meanwhile William made his way into the bedroom and put on a pair of pyjamas she had laid out on the bed for him.
‘Here you are,’ she said, giving him the glass of water. ‘Do you want me for anything else?’ she added, hoping his carnal desire had been aroused by his shower and he would sweep her into bed.
‘No I’ll try to get some sleep.’
‘Hope you feel better,’ she said and kissed him on the forehead. She gazed at him momentarily before closing the bedroom door quietly behind her.
‘Me too,’ he muttered to himself, turning on to his side. ‘Let’s hope the nightmares let me.’
Before she left she hid the packet of paracetamol. She didn’t want his suicide on her conscience.
CHAPTER 17
As she started her run, the tension of the day suddenly overwhelmed her. The amalgam of her emotions reached ‘critical mass’ and she started crying.
Running with misty eyes she felt frustrated that she couldn’t do anything to help him. She hadn’t been prepared for the dramatic change in his personality. Then there was the totally out of character slap across the face. Was this a sign of worse things to come?
She recalled the days on camp when domestic violence was happening but not talked about. It was a ridiculous code of silence that helped to perpetuate the abuse.
‘We all knew about the abused women,’ she reflected. ‘We all knew what was going on when they stopped their usual routine and stayed at home. It was generally a sign of them waiting for the bruises to disappear.’ She recalled. ‘They were then caught between a rock and a hard place. If they told anyone about the assault, he could be court marshalled and kicked out the army and they would probably end up homeless. Then she would have an even more abusive husband on her hands. It was a terrible dilemma, either getting beaten with a roof over your head or ending up on the streets. Life wasn’t fair.