Every so often, the government sent a convoy of money up to the front lines to pay the troops. It was the hardest convoy of the lot: loads of trucks, supposedly guarded by heavy weapons, mercenaries and the President’s elite guard. Casino had found out when the money was coming and even what route it was taking, but his fifty men wouldn’t be enough to take it down. He needed Captain and Sunflower’s fighters to stand a chance.
It wasn’t just that we could use the money. The government hadn’t bothered paying its troops for a couple of months and there had been rioting in army bases near the front line. If we stole their wages, the government troops would probably riot again, giving the rebels a perfect opportunity to launch an attack from the east.
If the government troops rioted, then the rebels broke through and advanced about a hundred kilometres, we wouldn’t be isolated behind government lines anymore. The women and kids would be able to move east, away from the fighting and I’d probably be able to get across the border into Uganda and fly home. There was a big chain of ifs and lot of danger between me and Heathrow airport, but I could finally see a way out of the jungle.
. . .
‘We’ve all got to fight this one,’ Captain said. ‘No excuses.’
Amo and Beck got guns. So did a couple of other women who usually stayed in camp. Grandma and a woman called Ghina who had a dodgy leg stayed behind with the kids.
We left camp in a big group. Amo hugged a tearful Becky, who couldn’t understand why she couldn’t come along. Everyone was a bit emotional. It was unlikely all of us would make it back, but there was also a feeling that it was worth the risk. All our lives might get better if we succeeded.
The truck we stole from headquarters was loaded up with sandbags, heavy weapons, food and ammunition. Don and Amin sat in the cab. Jesus and a few others made themselves as comfortable as they could in the back.
The other six of us were in the big Nissan. Desi drove, Captain rode beside him. Me and Sami were in the back with Beck sandwiched between us. Amo was squashed in the boot, legs astride a heavy machine gun mounted on a tripod. We kept all the windows open, so nothing would delay our fire if we encountered an army truck or unexpected roadblock. The dust billowed inside and the mosquitoes were drinking our blood like it was on special offer. Everyone was tense and quiet. There was nothing that hadn’t been discussed a hundred times already.
. . .
It was an hours drive. We met an army truck half way out. The soldiers looked at our guns, we looked at theirs. Captain smiled at them and after a couple of tense moments, everyone decided it would be best if they didn’t start shooting at each other.
The ambush site was a few hundred metres past the brow of a hill, so that the enemy had the least possible time to sight us. Apart from that, it was like any other overgrown section of dirt road. With the convoy not expected for another day, there was a party atmosphere. I met all the people from Sunshine and Casino’s units; learning names and putting faces to the stories I’d heard.
I was the star of the show. Everyone wanted to shake hands with the English kid who dropped out of an aeroplane. Quite a bit of beer was flowing and the leaders kept warning us to stay sober and keep the noise down. A couple of people in Casino’s unit even had radios. I wondered what was happening in the world, but the radios were set on stations playing African pop music.
. . .
After two days stuck at the side of the road, the novelty started to wear off. The tension got so bad I wanted to thump my head against a tree and knock myself out. All anyone ever spoke about was the convoy. Why was it delayed? Did it alter it’s route? Did we have the correct dates? Did the convoy even exist? Had it already been ambushed by units further behind enemy lines? Was the whole thing a trap?
When a storm broke, the ground got tramped into brown slush. We made the best shelter we could, using plastic sheets and branches. People were going to the toilet everywhere and there was nowhere to wash. We had to sit and sleep in the filth. It soaked through our camouflage, mixed with our sweat and itched like crazy.
Captain wanted to clear out before the unsanitary conditions made us ill. The three unit leaders spent an hour screaming at each other. Eventually they agreed to stick it out for another six hours. I showed Sami how to set my G-Shock to do a countdown. We sat together watching the minutes disappear; dreaming of soap flakes and getting some decent sleep.
There was less than an hour left on the countdown when it finally turned up. As soon as the first vehicle rolled over the hill, I realised we were in trouble. We’d been expecting trucks, which are made of thin steel, with cloth canopies over the back. What we got was a fleet of six APCs: armoured personnel carriers. They were enclosed in armour, with four solid rubber tyres down each side. There was a small bullet proof windscreen for the driver to see through and a twin barrelled, 25mm machine gun on the roof.
Captain ran along the road, telling everyone to stay calm and go for the tyres. We had a few logs and a turned up truck blocking the road. The roof cannon on the first APC started ripping the logs to shreds. You could tell just from looking that the APCs were tough enough to ride the logs and barge away the truck.
Some idiot ran into the road and shot at the bullet proof windscreen. The double cannon didn’t so much kill the gunman, as annihilate any suggestion that he ever existed. We all started blasting the tyres. Don fired our heavy machine from behind a wall of sandbags, ripping out great chunks of rubber. It’s a good job Captain knew what to do: any stray bullets hitting the armoured metal pinged off without making a dent. When the first APC drew level, the troops inside began firing out the sides at us through narrow slits.
I kept flat to the ground. The trees around us were disintegrating. Splinters of smoking wood hurtled in a thousand different directions. Beck screamed as a beefy chunk speared the back of his leg. The APC’s cannon blew away the sand bags and destroyed our machine gun.
One of Sunshine’s soldiers showed a bit of initiative and started up a truck. It ploughed out of the bushes, smashing into the side of the first APC. The momentum pushed the APC off the road, and rolled it onto it’s side against a tree. It was pretty helpless with most of its weapons pointing at the earth or sky. The bullet proof screen at the front gave way after being pounded by dozens of rounds. Grenades were tossed through the hole. The heavy back door of the APC clanked open and the troops inside got shot to pieces as they tried get out. Seeing the first APC destroyed was a massive boost. We felt like we had a chance. I don’t know how the woman in the truck didn’t get shot when she t-boned the first APC, but she managed to reverse and smash head on into the second one. While it was immobile, and I guess all the soldiers inside were finding their feet and rubbing bumps on their heads, Beck limped into the road and wedged a grenade under the wheel arch. I’d have bet anything he’d get shot, but he found a bit of speed and crashed into the bushes beside me, just before the troops inside started firing again.
The grenade knocked out two of the tyres, disabling APC number two. With all the noise, we hadn’t noticed that an APC from further back had pulled off road and was almost on top of us. Beck was fighting the pain in his leg, so I grabbed him and yanked him out of the way. There wasn’t time to get clear. I dived flat to the ground, pinning Beck underneath me. My pack got crushed, but the tyres rolled by on either side of us, with the metal bottom clearing me by a few centimetres
Once the APC was past us, we crawled a few metres into the undergrowth. We grabbed our breath and clipped fresh magazines on our AK47s. It was my last one. All the rest got crushed inside my backpack. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked, looking at Beck’s blood drenched leg. Beck managed a bit of a smile, ‘No.’ ‘Me neither,’ I giggled. I’m not sure what made me laugh. I guess it was relief at still being alive. The APC’s at the back of the convoy had been immobilised, but they’d each managed to unload some mercenaries. The ones that didn’t get shot straight away cut deep into the jungle and attacked our rear. A couple of them were running towar
ds me and Beck. We rolled behind a tree. I heard this loud Australian shouting in English: ‘Come out and get blasted, little blackies.’ I thought he was shouting at us, but the cocky idiot didn’t have the sense to shut his trap and use his ears. I poked my head out from the side of the tree and shot him between the eyes with the revolver. His mate pumped a few nervous shots into the tree and ran off. Beck fired a burst at him, but missed. I took the rifle and backpack off the dead Aussie. It was pretty heavy and I had no idea what was in it, but I’d lost mine and would need equipment if the battle lasted much longer.
The two of us moved from tree to tree, keeping low to the ground and ducking down behind each one. I don’t know if it’s good soldiering or not, but it’s what they always did in Vietnam war movies. Back at the roadside, things seemed to be working out. Four APCs were burned out. One was disabled, with the troops still holding up inside and one - probably the one that rolled over my head - had escaped. It was most likely heading to the nearest base to bring reinforcements, so our next task was to grab the money and clear out fast.
A grenade went off inside the last APC, followed by a few short bursts of rebel gunfire. Then it went shockingly quiet. The air smelled of gunpowder and burned rubber. I could hear birds and crickets again, with my ringing eardrums providing a backing track. I put my arm round Beck. ‘You’re one of us now.’ ‘Tell that girlfriend of yours what I did,’ Beck said. He was smiling, but looked slightly horrified at the bit of wood sticking out of his leg. ‘Mum,’ Beck shouted, looking around for Amo. It made me sad hearing the high pitched shout. Beck still had a little boy’s voice and there was a good
chance he wouldn’t live long enough for it to break. Amo was down the front end of the convoy. The dead and injured were being lined up in the road. Out of our unit, Don died when the machine gun got blown up and a guy called Claude was squished under the APC that went over me and Beck. Desi had some fingertips in a grenade blast. Most people had shards of wood stuck in them. I had a few little ones in my face and chest. I don’t think there was a single person who didn’t have some kind of minor injury.
Amo was directing medical treatment for a few people who were badly injured. She pulled the wood out of Beck and tied on a bandage. ‘Not too much pain?’ Amo asked. Beck winced, ‘Quite a bit.’ ‘You’ll live,’ she said. ‘Desi might not if we don’t stop the bleeding. Go and help him.’ Amo had taught Beck some of her medical skills, but I was in the way. I spotted Captain and sprinted
off towards him. ‘Did we get the money?’ I asked. Captain nodded, ‘Five sixths of it anyway. As far as we can tell, they split the cash evenly between the
six APCs.’ ‘Have you seen Sami?’ ‘No,’ Captain said. ‘She’s not among the dead or injured, but she could be stuck out in the trees.’ ‘Shall I look for her?’ ‘No. Casino is organising search parties. I want you to get the bullet proof jackets and helmets off the dead mercenaries. Most of those guys have loads of kit that’s worth grabbing. Then I want you to put the injured and our share of the money and equipment in the Nissan and head back to camp. There’s a risk you’ll be followed. If I don’t make it back before dark, I want you to organise two men to stay awake and guard the camp. I don’t care how tired people are. We must have a proper guard tonight.’ ‘OK. What about Don and Claude?’ ‘No point carrying dead people back to camp.’
‘And Sami?’ ‘Try not to worry about her, Jake. Hopefully she’ll turn up before too long, but I don’t want you
hanging about waiting for her. You’ve got your orders.’ ‘I think our truck’s blown up. How will you get back?’ I asked. ‘Looks like twenty or thirty got killed. We should have an empty vehicle I can grab. Otherwise it’s a ten
hour walk.’ Captain was right about the mercenaries. I worked with Jesus, collecting up their rifles, all of which had scopes, some of them with night vision. They also had lightweight Kevlar body armour and waterproof jackets and boots.
We loaded the Nissan. Amin took the drivers seat, which was a relief because I didn’t feel experienced enough to drive such a long way. Beck squeezed on my lap in the front, with four in the back and Amo nursing Desi in the trunk. The whole drive back, all I could do was worry about Sami.
15. NIGHT
We got back a couple of hours before dark. Grandma built a fire and started boiling water, so it was pure to clean Desi’s wounds. Me and Amin did a few journeys to the Nissan, carrying the loot. I stashed the metal cash boxes in the store room under the main building, then I went down to the stream for a wash. I hadn’t been down without Sami for weeks. The thought that she was dead or captured was freaking me out.
Beck turned up while I was feeling sorry for myself. He washed out his bloody trousers and started rubbing soap in his hair. ‘How’s your leg?’ ‘Torture,’ Beck said. ‘I was tempted to jab myself with the morphine, but Mum says it’s addictive.’
‘Desi?’ ‘He’s getting all the morphine he wants. He’s lost the tips off three fingers.’ ‘Did you see Sami?’ I asked. ‘She was with me until two minutes before the battle started.’ ‘I think she went in the bushes to go to the toilet. That’s the last time I saw her.’ ‘I don’t suppose you’d miss her if she was dead,’ I said. Beck shrugged, ‘I always got on OK with Sami until Edo died.’ ‘I still can’t believe that APC going over our heads. I thought we were dead.’ ‘Maybe we are dead,’ Beck said. ‘And heaven turned out to be a really crappy stretch of jungle.’ I laughed, ‘If we’re dead, this isn’t heaven.’ ‘Mum wants me to get everyone’s splinters out before they get infected. I’ll do yours now if you want.
The tweezers are in my pocket.’ I slid on a pair of shorts and sat on a rock. Beck ran his hand over my chest and face, feeling for spikes of wood. He counted fifteen and began the painful process of plucking them out. It took half an hour. By the end I had streaks of blood trickling everywhere.
. . .
I took guard duty once it got dark. There was a shelter at the top of the path, built specially for whoever was on guard. I was tired, but I was thinking about Sami and I knew wouldn’t sleep. Amin sat with me. I was embarrassed to look at the tears running down his face. If one person had to die, I would have picked Don, but Amin was crushed.
I never found out the whole Don and Amin story, but I heard they were cousins and best friends from boyhood. Amin could read our lips, but Don was the only one who understood the strange sounds he made. He couldn’t write, so with Don dead, he was cut off apart from nodding yes or no. I offered Amin a bit of the melted chocolate I found in the Aussie’s backpack. He shook his head.
There were feet crunching on the path. I tapped Amin and we both switched our rifles to automatic. I went running down. Captain had a couple of the women with him and two boys I didn’t recognise. ‘Did you find Sami?’ ‘No,’ Captain said. ‘How far did you look?’ ‘We looked,’ Captain snapped. ‘You’ve been her boyfriend for a month; I’ve been her father for sixteen years. It may surprise you to know it, but I do care about her.’ ‘I just asked.’
‘Jake, I’m tired and I’m in a shitty mood. There’s a chance Sami’s been captured. We’ll stand guard tonight and if she’s not back by morning, we’ll have to move the whole bloody camp.’ Captain looked back at the two new recruits. ‘This is David and Joseph. Casino gave them to us.’ The brothers shook my hands. David was seventeen, my height, but more powerfully built. Joseph was only eleven, but he already had the I don’t give a shit look of someone who’d seen a lot of action. One side of his face was badly scarred where he’d been burned. His eyelid hadn’t healed properly, making his whole face twitch when he blinked.
‘These guy’s slept in the truck,’ Captain said, looking at his new recruits. ‘They’ll take over here for a bit. You and Amin might as well get some rest.’
I didn’t want to be alone, but I couldn’t be asked to argue. As I laid in our hut, it sounded like no one else could sleep either. Amo was looking after Desi. Grandma was helping her and Beck had started taking out Captain’s
splinters. It’s weird after a battle, you’re tired as hell, but you’re heart won’t stop racing and you can never sleep. I tried for nearly an hour, but all I could do was sweat, worry about Sami and pick at the scabs where the splinters came out. I lit a candle and started wondering what was in the dead Aussie’s pack.
I tipped the whole lot out. There was a radio and a packet of spare AA batteries, binoculars, a set of cutlery, a metal compass, some ammunition and a cloth bag with a Gillette razor and some decent toiletries inside. I was most excited to find socks, boxers and t-shirts. They were a bit big for me, but I’d been rinsing out my only set every day since I got here.
There was also a plastic pouch filled with documents. I took out his passport and flipped it to the picture. Kieran Paul Montgomery, born 20-11-1974, Townsville QLD, next of kin Eleanor Kate Montgomery, mother. The other people I killed, I only had a few seconds to remember their faces. Knowing his name and seeing his stuff gave the whole thing gravity.
There was a photo of Kieran when he was about thirteen, standing barefoot with a little brother on either side and his parents behind. He looked stocky and gormless; definitely the kind of kid you’d expect to go out, join an army and get a thrill out of killing stuff. There was a notebook as well, with a newspaper advert pinned inside.
Ex Military Personnel Required For security work in Africa and the Middle East Exceptional Rewards for Suitable Candidates Earn over US$3,000 per month. Tax Free. Call Gold Cross Security There was a phone number after it and his letter of employment form the Dubai office of Gold Cross. The notebook was full of phone numbers and addresses. Some of the entries were ex-girlfriends: Donna (London, good shag), Donna (Cairns, now married), Donna (School g.friend). I was impressed by the number of women in his book. Right at the back, was a newspaper clipping, stuck down with crinkled up tape:
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