Josh was racked with guilt. A rational person would accept that it was bad luck and it could easily have been him. He had walked the last few tracks to the checkpoint and was thirsty. His friend had driven and it was his turn, but one is not rational in times of war when one’s mate’s organs are spread across the road. One just goes on and cleans him up, goes back to camp and plans the next day’s work. There is no time for grieving, just for working to survive.
That bloke who accused him of leaving his mate to die had trigged his guilt again; pulverising him was akin to destroying the enemy he could not touch. Now the shrink explained it in ordinary words he could come to terms with his mate’s death.
Going back to the war zone was the trigger for his other attacks. Once he had accepted that, he could move forward. He had to decide if it was just Helmand or did the thought of going to fight trigger these attacks. If it was the latter he was doomed, he was no longer soldier material. The shrink was not pushing him. He was now the one driving the discussion but the shrink pulled him back if he tried too hard.
One day he had been describing a particularly harsh experience where the Taliban had executed five women and children because they had collaborated with British and American troops. He had helped bury them. He was in the last month of a six-month campaign of blood, stress, and death. Men were cracking under the strain; angry and resentful and impatient.
He had described the burial scene, exploding with righteous anger at the needless death of a child. He was not ashamed, anger was good. He had blocked it out of his mind instead of dealing with it at the time. He had bottled things up instead of handling them. He cried like a baby, weeping tears for those hurt kids who would never get a chance to grow up.
Reality suddenly hit him. This six months’ tour in Helmand was enough. It was his second. He no longer wanted to see young lives lost. The excitement of going to war had diminished and vanished years ago. It was now just a job and in zones like Helmand a dirty job. He wanted a life where he didn’t have to look behind all the time to avoid a bullet in the back. It was time to pack the army in.
“These discussions have been fruitful, Doc. I now know what I have to do. I could not fight in a war zone again and I don’t want a pen pusher’s job in the military. I am going to resign my commission.”
“You’re sure? You could give yourself some time to think about these issues. Don’t make a rash decision.”
“I am sure. I still need a few more sessions with you but the most important thing now is to resign and decide my future.”
He felt as if a dark cloud had been lifted. His headaches had receded over the last few weeks. His sleep was still erratic but it was improving. He had managed to go to the pub with Paul without feeling sick in the crowded bar; loud music and bangs no longer stirred him up. It would take months, perhaps years before he could say he was near to normal again; if ever, but he would no longer be governed by fear again.
He called his commanding officer at base and left a message asking to set up the procedure for leaving the forces. He expected him to be shocked. He had been described as one of the most dedicated officers in his platoon when he had collected a medal, he had earned on his first tour of Helmand. His commander was a professional and the procedure was clear. He would win his release without a blemish on his record.
Now he had set the procedure in motion he had to face his hardest critic, his dad. Whilst driving to the Sunday lunch he felt hot and sick again. He had discussed the meeting with the shrink but still felt unprepared to hear his father’s harsh reactions to his resignation.
His mum greeted him cheerily as usual but she knew him well.
“What’s wrong, Son?”
“Nothing. I have some news for Dad he might not like.”
“Wait until after lunch when he is more mellow.” She knew how to handle the old man. How she had lived with his irascible temper for so long he did not know but she sailed through each day with good humour and cheer.
A large roast dinner and a bottle of wine left everyone relaxed. He looked around him. A farm like this for cars and a few animals and a family of his own would suit him. He had volunteered for dangerous and well-paid missions and had a tidy sum put away with the income from a house he rented out.
“So, when do you go back?”
“Next week. I have to see the medic.” He took in a deep breath. “I am resigning. I have to go to the interview but it will be a formality. The doctor I have been seeing supports me. He thinks it is the right decision in the long term.”
“What is stopping you going back? You are still young and healthy.”
“There are other issues Dad. It isn’t just being physically healthy and it will take a while to get back to the fitness I need for ops.”
“Fitness can be improved. What other issues?” Josh didn’t know what to say. His dad had no time for weaklings. Would he understand the mental anguish of sufferers of PTSD? It had been largely overlooked when he was a soldier. The anguish could hang on for years. His was diminishing but there was no guarantee it would never come back.
“There are memories that are difficult to forget. I didn’t enjoy the last six months tour in Helmand. It was just a job. I no longer have the commitment.”
“Bottling out because a few men died and you were injured?’
“My best mate died.”
“It happens to many soldiers. They just carry on.”
“I also saw things that made me wonder if what I did was worthwhile. Women and kids were murdered for helping our side.”
His father shrugged, “Collateral damage. It happens in every war.” Disinterest, cold detachment; that summed up his self-centred dad. If it didn’t affect his family and narrow circle of friends, it was not worth worrying about. No wonder he detested this man. He only visited the farm to see his mum. If he told his dad what he really thought of him he would cut all contact with him and stop his mum from seeing him.
‘Well I have made my decision. I am leaving.” His mum jumped in, trying to defuse the row that was flaring up.
“What are you going to do when you leave?”
“I am considering IT and security.”
“Low life work in security. They take anyone; criminals, and rejects from the army.”
“Not if I start my own firm. I have good mates who have left the forces and started reputable firms. My IT skills will ensure I have access to good work, perhaps servicing government departments.”
He got up. His dad was looking for a quarrel.
“I have got to go now.” His kissed his mum. “I’ll visit later next month. Keep well.”
His father snorted in disgust and buried his head in his newspaper ignoring him. Bastard. His mum was a saint staying with him.
Chapter Eleven.
The villagers were disturbed. Outbuildings and offices were broken into and computers and expensive technical equipment were stolen, the criminals knew what they were looking for. Sue was worried she worked so late on her own.
“Take your paperwork home to do.”
“I will still need to come back to the surgery when I do home visits and bring back animals.” She needed a partner but a small village like this couldn’t support two vets, she relied on the farms for regular income. Her nurse worked until eight pm unless there were emergencies or over-nighters, but she was on her own until eleven pm some nights. This is why she took on few domestic pets. There was less need to provide overnight care.
Sue worried about her. She met Paul and Josh in the pub.
“I think she underestimates the risk. An owner was punched and had a concussion last week.”
“I’ll go to the surgery and talk with her. Give her some advice,” replied Josh.
“She is working late tomorrow night. Her last patient is about seven pm but she will probably work until nine pm. She can’t afford someone to be with her all the time. She only started the business a year ago and all her spare inco
me goes into the practice. She hasn’t had a holiday for years. She worked for a vet practice for two years and saved every penny she earnt and borrowed the rest but the vet in the next town is thinking of selling out and she might incorporate their office and staff with hers.”
Josh thought there was now an opportunity to see her again, he could also do something useful with his time. Now he could drive and would get his release papers soon he should be sorting out a new job. He would sign on with some IT agencies until he could find a suitable employer or make the contacts to start his own business.
Pat put the sleepy cat into the cage. She had better finish the paperwork or she would be in at the crack of dawn. She wished the practice could entice a junior partner but it had to grow more clients before it would be an attractive investment for a young vet wanting to develop a lucrative career. She was lucky, few working-class girls could afford to have their own practice, it was an expensive career.
She moved into the next room. She heard a creak; a door needed oiling. Strange. She thought she had shut and locked the back-entrance door. A rustle followed, then silence. Had she left the window open near her papers?
She heard another creak, this time from the middle room. Someone was in the surgery. No-one could see anyone enter the surgery through the back door; it was secluded in a back yard, facing a row of shops which were dark and empty now.
She had padlocked the yard door but anyone could climb the fence or break them if they were determined enough to get in. She had two choices; to confront them or ring the police and try to get out the front before they could reach her.
She moved to the door and peered out. Damn it. She had changed her coat after a procedure and her mobile was on the counter in the next room. Could she get to it quietly? She took off her heels and squeezed herself around the door, holding it tight and silent. Got there. She reached her mobile and called the police.
“I think I have a burglar in the back of my surgery at five Knight Street. I’m on my own. I’m going to try to get to the front door.”
“We’ll have a car with you in a short time. How far is it to the front door?”
“I have got to go through two more doors.”
“Try to get there but keep this line open and tell us if the criminals are near.”
The village police station had closed down and the nearest one was five miles away. Please God, let there be a car patrolling near this area now the burglaries have been reported. She heard a bang as if something had been knocked onto the floor and a dog started barking.
“Shut up. The neighbourhood will know we are here.”
She gulped and moved faster. Swish. Her coat in her haste pushed some papers on the floor. God, they must have heard that. Her heart started pounding. Louder footsteps sounded on the tile floor, moving quickly in her direction.
Josh parked the car outside the surgery. No cars were there. The light was on, so her car must be in the yard. The receptionist must have gone by now. He was late, some tractors in the rural lanes holding him up.
He knocked on the front door. There was no answer, but he was sure he heard a noise, quiet and slow; as if someone was moving almost silently between the rooms, not wanting anyone to know they were there. There was a louder noise, as if someone was moving quickly now through the building, uncaring if they were heard.
She rushed to the front door, hearing someone running to catch her up, banging doors behind them. Someone knocked the front door and then called her name. It was Josh.
“Josh, I am behind the door but someone is in here following me.” She hastened to open the heavy padlocked door but her hands were trembling and slow.
“Get back. I’ll kick it in.”
She stepped back but was too late, a masked intruder had caught up with her. He pulled her back against him by her hair.
“Where is the safe?” His mate was unplugging the computers. ‘I’ll take these out by the back door. You deal with her.”
She kicked back but he wrenched her arm behind her back viciously. She blenched and bit her tongue in pain; her hair felt as if it was being torn out.
“Over there. In that cupboard.”
“Show me.”
He turned around as the door lock burst and the door was propelled inward with a massive kick. Josh exploded into the room; eyes focused on the two yobs. Pat was hiding her fear but she grimaced in pain. A red haze covered his eyes, as anger he had never experienced before burned him up from inside. The bastard was hurting his woman. His army training set in and he calmed down.
“Let her go.”
“Are you going to make me?”
“Yes, I fucking am.”
“If you don’t want to get hurt very badly move away from her.” Josh had to make a split decision. He didn’t want to hurt Pat if he went for the man. He moved back a pace but the creep pulled her even more tightly against his chest.
“She’s our insurance, our getaway card. She’s coming away with us.”
Pat had attended self-defence classes. She flopped against him, over-balancing him for a second, making him step back; then, as he slightly relaxed, she jabbed him with her elbow in a sensitive place.
“You bitch.” She’d winded him. She slid and jabbed him lower down; he howled and let go of her. Josh moved instantly grabbing his shoulder and kneeing him. He crumpled to the floor and Josh put him out of action with another vicious kick.
“Out.” he yelled at Pat. “You’re in the way. Call the cops.”
“They are on the way.”
He set to the other yob, kicking him first in the stomach and laying him out with a few punches.
“ Get some rope. It’s safe to come in now.” The men were unconscious. She came back with her find.
“Give it to me please.” He trussed the men up. “That was a good trick. Where did you learn that?”
“At self-defence classes at uni. I hoped I would never have to use it.”
“You did famously.” She was trembling. He hated to see her so scared. He could have murdered the bastard who hurt her. Only his army training had stopped him from disabling the bloke for life. He put his arm around her and hugged her tight. It was a walk in the park for him, he didn’t even have a bruise.
“Thanks for your help.”
“I was going to look at your security system.”
“It can’t be very good if they broke in.”
“These guys are so sophisticated they can get into most things, don’t beat yourself up about it.” He heard a siren.
“The police will be here in a minute.” She was rubbing her arm. “You need to be examined; he could have done some damage to the ligaments.”
“It just feels sore.”
“Nevertheless, I’ll take you to the hospital and wait for you and give you a lift back.”
“Okay.” His mind was clearly made up. “Are you always so bossy.”
“Only when someone I care about needs my help. You frightened me to death, thinking you were going to be hurt by those jerks.” He opened the door, a gentleman again; no longer the robotic killing machine.
A and E was quiet for a change. “Nothing looks as it was torn, there is just bruising. You won’t be able to do any physical work for a few days.” The doc let them go.
“You need a few days off.”
“I can’t afford it. There is no-one to take my place and my insurance will be barely cover the loss of earnings.”
“Tough. You can delay any ops and I will help you with any heavy stuff. Just do the paperwork and easy work. I can shift animals for you.”
“I have a few examinations booked. I can do those easily. I don’t need any help. The nurse will be there.”
“Are you always so independent?”
“Yes, when I can manage easily.” She climbed out of the car and he opened the door for her, the perfect gentleman.
“Want a coffee?” He took her chin in his hand. “I would love t
o but you need the sleep. I’ll take a rain check. How about you coming to dinner tomorrow night? I make a mean chilli or I can do a barbeque.”
“I should be making you dinner. Come about at seven pm. My arm will be good enough to cook then. Do you fancy Italian?’
“I love it. I’ll bring the wine.” He smoothed her hair out of her eyes and kissed her cheek. “Sweet dreams.”
He drove off feeling cheerful. Not only was she pretty but she was strong-willed and intelligent; she had shown spunk and sorted the creep out when he had held her. Other women would have moaned but she had not made a squeak when he hurt her. She would have made a good army wife. He had heard a military bloke had two-timed her; he didn’t know what he had lost, the moron. He looked forward to dinner the next evening, he bet she was a good cook.
Chapter Twelve.
He arrived punctually, dressed casually smart in pressed jeans and oxford shirt and pullover. He had made an effort.
“I’ll chill the wine. Oh, South African. Lovely.” A garlicky aroma permeated the kitchen. “We are eating in here. My housemate is out for the evening so we have the lounge to ourselves.”
“Can I do anything?”
“No, I am lucky. I shared a flat with a half-Italian girl who taught me to make a basic lasagne. I have done it for years now and can relax. We just need to put the bread in and everything is ready. Shall we sit in the garden? The heater is on.”
“Sure.”
The garden was small and easily maintained. A cat came and sat beside her and baleful green eyes stared at him without blinking.
“He is unfriendly. I feed him and he guards me but he will not let me cuddle him. A stroke is all I am allowed. He was hurt badly by humans and mistrusts all strangers but he is improving. Just don’t make any fast moves or he may lash out.”
“I want a dog one day. My parents and brother have big dogs and I enjoy them. When I leave the army, I will have a dog.”
“I would love one but I work long hours and it would be on its own.” She poured him out a glass of wine. “Thank you for coming to the surgery. I would have been seriously hurt if you hadn’t intervened.”
Escaping The Shadows Anthology: Shenanigans'19 @ The West Midlands Book Signing. Page 24