Sabre Six : File 51 (25 page)

“Come
on, let’s go! We need to be at Camp Three by tomorrow.”

I stood up and off we went. The slope was immense; it took a lot of effort. I could see why the boss gave me water and food; otherwise, I wouldn’t have made it.

We were boxed in by two gigantic cave structures towering over our heads. It was magnificent! Everything seemed orange, a dirty orange colour: it looked like Mars. As we plodded on I could not help but think of Fran and what she would be up to right now. I knew deep inside that if something did happen to me, Nana would look after her.

On
reaching the Camp, we were welcomed by another Al-Qaeda patrol. There were seven of them, carrying AK47s and RPG rocket launchers – all Russian-made of course. They looked me up and down, laughing as they kicked me to the floor. The boss pointed me out to one of his higher-ranking colleagues, and I felt like a small child that had just been grounded; a puny little nut in the corner, nothing more than a piece of shit for someone to pick up and dump in the trash. I watched everything they did. Most were in their late twenties or early thirties, no-one older than forty.  Each one was a rag-head, wrapped up in their fancy working gowns; faces covered, and guns slung across their chests. What a bunch of twats! If only I could get my hands on one of their guns. All I needed was one chance, just one damn chance and this would be all over.

I
t didn’t happen anyway, as one of the Al-Qaeda brothers walked over to me and put his rifle butt into me: I was out cold. I woke up finding they had run a rope over a tree branch and tied the rope under my arms; I was left hanging over a box with only my feet keeping my body weight from falling. They laughed continually at my expense, but I remained there for six hours without being able to move or get into a position that did not hurt. I was going to shout out something about the Geneva Convention but it would not have worked, so I tried to laugh it off instead. In the morning we moved on further up the track, leaving the patrol to find their own fight. I was a prisoner of war and they felt so proud, showing off to the others that they had a Western soldier in their clutches; I was a big trophy for them. I started shouting out, “I am a medic, I am a medic, I am a medic!” non-stop until I was told to shut up.

Suddenly the leading soldier went down. He got down on one knee, and told the boss to come forwards. I was pushed down onto the ground; face first in the dirt, and at that moment,
a helicopter passed overhead. There was nothing I could do but remain calm and continue on my journey. We spent the next couple of hours marching down into the lower part of the valley. The wind had picked up a little, and I could feel a chill starting to hit my lower regions: I was shrivelled up like a prune. For the briefest of moments, I thought I could hear the chopper coming back round, but sadly it was just the breeze. The clouds had turned from blue to grey within a matter of minutes, and I knew a storm was brewing. It was just a matter of when and how hard it would strike. In my situation it wasn’t a very good idea for such a thing to occur, being that I was completely stark bollock naked! The troops weathered the encroaching storm and marched on; I myself thought they were fucking idiots for doing so. The ground was getting rather crunchy underfoot, and we had finally hit the summit. Down below was a sea of rocks, dust and gorse.

The guar
ds let me rest for five minutes. I felt shattered from the climb: my feet were bleeding heavily and I had no choice but to pick my blisters, which burst with white and yellow muck. As I continued applying first aid to myself, a wild dog came out of the blue. He sat calmly by my side, but the guards didn’t flinch, just let it happen. It gave me peace, though, even if only for that split second. I gave him a little tickle under the ear and off he went, staggering along like the little wild animal he was, hunting for his next meal. He reminded me of Griffer.

I was pulled to my feet, given a dusting down, a sip of water, and we set off again.

The ground was a lot harder as we hit the descending track, and my feet bled like bugger. I cried out at one point as I walked over a jagged rock, but the guards laughed and I was pushed even harder along the track. I got angry with myself, yet again. I pleaded to the guards to set me free, I had done nothing wrong. Please, let me be! The guards never even replied. I was fuming.

The following evening we set foot on the bottom of the next valley. My feet were being ground down to the bone, and I was screaming in agony. One guard urinated over my feet, which stung like fuck. We made our way through the fields and into the back end of a large plantation where we met a small
, four-man foot patrol. I felt very vulnerable to the mocking crowd in front of me as we walked casually into a dirty-smelling village. A young girl came running up to us, looking no older than twelve. She spat at me as they carted me in. The leader of the patrol came forwards, strutting his stuff like an over-paid general. I was told to sit down in the middle of the yard, where I was kicked and punished for a further ten minutes. The children enjoyed watching me suffer as their elders talked within their groups about what to do with me.

As I sat there being treated no better than a rat, I took time to sort out my bearings, mentally gaining ground in which I could
, one day, plan an escape. The general shouted out commands, giving basic orders to his troops, I laughed as they fell over each other trying to impress the Big Cheese. It was like a scene from Monty Python! One of the guards came over, picked me up, and pushed me into a small pen where I spent the rest of the day. It was so small that I couldn’t even stand up. On looking down at my hand I noticed that my right index finger wasn’t moving. Something was wrong with me: the right side of my body was in spasm. I hadn’t noticed any pain until now, but suddenly my body went into shock.

The General told his guards to pick me up and bring me inside. Maybe word had got ab
out, and my story now seemed genuine; maybe I was soon to be on my way home. I was placed in a chair, my hands were tied and everything seemed ok: as normal as it could be in the circumstances, anyway. Two soldiers dressed to the hilt walked in and stood by the front door. I must have been sat there for half an hour before the big cheese himself walked on in. He sat down in front of me, a cigarette in hand. Taking his final drag before he extinguished it on the floor with his foot, he blew the smoke into the air. He raised his arm to summon one of the guards to come forward with a pen and paper, and to place it down on his desk. He picked his nose, pulling out a small grey hair, and scratched his grizzly beard. Then he looked into my eyes.

“How are you feeling, English?
”

In my current situation
I had no choice but to talk. “I am in a shit state, Sir.”

He smiled and picked up his pen.
“How are you in shit-state, Kevin?”

I thought he was taking the Mickey.

“My feet, Sir. I have no clothes, and I am worn out, Sir. And I need medical attention, Sir.”

“We will see, Kevin, we will see. We need your help first, do
you understand, Kevin?” I nodded.

“We need to know what you were doing in Afgh
anistan, Kevin, and why you were found just over the border in Pakistan.”

“I was lost
, Sir, I was dazed and confused; I didn’t know where I was going, or what for. It was the crash.”

“Tell me about the crash
, Kevin, tell me what actually happened!”

“I can’t, Sir!
I can’t remember, for God’s sake! I’ve already told you that. Why won’t anyone listen to me?” 

He started screaming at me, standing high above me from his chair.

“Do you think I am stupid, Kevin? Do you really think that we are all stupid?” I cowered in my seat.

“Do you take me for a fool, Kevin? You think I am a fool, don’t you?” I kept my head down.

“Sir, I am just a medic! Why won’t anyone listen to me? What am I supposed to have done? I am just a medic.”

“You are a liar, Kevin. You lie to me, you lie to us! You are a fool Kevin, why?”

“Sir, I am not lying, I have done nothing wrong.”

One of the guards hit me across the face, it knocked my head backwards.

He grabbed me around the throat, “Tell me what you were doing in Afghanistan, Kevin!”

“I was lost. When I realized I had gone the wrong way I got scared, and so I turned around and climbed the hills
, ending up in that village in Pakistan.”

“What about
your friend? Tell me about him!”  He smiled.

“What friend
, Sir?” Shit! They did have Joe!

“Tell me about your friend, Kevin
– he has told us everything, and he is on his way home now. Why are you are doing this to yourself, Kevin? Come on, tell me what you were doing in Afghanistan!”

“I was lost, Sir; I lost my bearings and headed for safety. I was in shock.” He sat down.

“You know there is nothing I can do for you now, don’t you Kevin?” What was he saying!

“Take him away, put him in the cage.” What was going on!

Two guards picked up my broken body and dragged me outside. My nose started to bleed.

Two trucks pulled up with at least twenty men in, and I knew that now I was in the real shit. They dropped me to the ground, hurting my arm on the way down. My muscle mass was wearing out. I could see my ribs and my hipbones; I was still without any clothing. I was dragged down the track towards the river, and then thrown into a wooden cage no bigger than an average dog kennel. I was left
alone for the rest of the day with at least half of my body underwater; I had leeches crawling, sticking to my body. It was fucking horrible, like something out of a Vietnam War film. At night the rats came, and I spent hours defending myself against them. I swear, one was as big as a small dog: I smacked him in the face. At night I thought about home, closing my eyes to remember Fran’s face; trying so hard to remember what normality felt like. I had lost my soul, now just a shell of the man I once was, and at that moment I admitted defeat. I wrapped my hands around the wooden beams as best I could, trying to sleep, but it wasn’t happening.

The water was freezing and I felt bitter inside. My heart was failing
, yet I could see the moon as bright as ever. I wished I was with Fran. That next morning was the wettest I had seen in a while. The rain was torrential, with a stiff gale was blowing across the river and down through the valley above. Three of the guards ate bread in front of me, my mouth watering, and my stomach churning for food: I had not eaten in days. I spent the rest of the day in this cage watching the soldiers going about their daily tasks – foot patrols, river patrols. Then, after hours of thinking, just standing there in my wooden cage, I started to plan my escape.

The cage was wrapped around
by rope, very tightly pressed together, which coiled round each wooden beam. I waited for the guards to wander off before submerging. Once under water, I started very carefully undoing the lines of rope, picking each strand apart one by one. By the time night fell, I had unexpectedly broken away one of the beams. I started shitting myself! What were the guards going to do when they found me! I had a good scan about, and there wasn’t anyone around: it was all clear. I started on the next beam. I pulled off the last piece of rope and the beam gave way. I ducked my head under: the hole was about two foot. I popped up one more time to have a look, but still there wasn’t anyone about. I submerged once again, squeezing my body through the tight hole. I was out!

I held on to the cage for two minutes deciding what route to take
, then I let go and swam as far as I could underwater. Holding my breath for as long as I possibly could, I emerged about 20 feet from the cage. I dared not look back in case I had woken the guards.

It was still dark outside. I slid my rotten body up the bank,
covering myself in black mud, and crawled up into the trees. I had no idea which way was best; I had no idea where I was or what I was up to: it was all a guess. I started running as fast as my feet would take me. I felt like I was running in a bubble, but it felt amazing to be free once again. I could see hills up front, and I knew that if I got that far, then I would be free.

I woke up submerged under water: I had been dreaming. I couldn’t believe that it was a dream! I was fucking fuming.

It was morning. T
he light was trying to break through the clouds, and it was tipping it down. The Al-Qaeda troops pulled me up from my cage, and I was flung on the ground and stamped on. I didn’t move. I was dragged by my feet over to one of the huts about ten feet from the cage. I was so cold now that my head was a fog.

“Tie him up!
”

They stood me up against the wall, tying my hands and feet like a wild animal. One of the soldiers stubbed his cigarette out on my chest. I failed to move, I was so cold I couldn’t even feel it and he looked deep into my eyes, pitying me as he walked on by.  Another soldier walked up and slapped me across the face. He told me to watch: he had a treat for me.

I threw up when they brought in Joe, dragging him in like a slave. He was smashed to pieces. They had cut off his hands and sliced his arms.

“Joe! Joe! I
t’s me, Michael!” I was punched in the face and told to keep quiet.