Worlds Apart (13 page)

I sped up, focused on the bridge, and ran as fast as I could. No longer could I feel my feet on the ground and nothing else mattered as I reached the end. But when I did, my legs couldn’t stop going for some bizarre reason. I panicked.

‘Keep running!’ Taylor could see what was happening.
‘Slow down to the other side of the bridge and come back.’

Thankfully, my legs slowed down as I came back, but the coughing and spluttering were uncontrollable.

Adele slowly ran to the finish line and then began limping. I put my hand out to her. She paused, looked at me and then shook it.

‘Sir, I think I’ve sprained my ankle.’ Adele stood in front of Montague.

‘OK, we’ll see a medic when we get back.’ He turned to me. ‘Any injuries, Ahmed?’

‘No, sir,’ I replied.

Adele and I walked back to the Jeep.

‘What happened to your ankle?’ I asked her.

‘Just went down on it,’ she replied dismissively.

I felt both amazed and bad about the outcome of the run. It meant nothing to me except personal achievement, but to Adele it was losing face in front of the army; being beaten by a civvy.

Twenty minutes later, I was stood at the start line of the assault course with my helmet on. Half of the recruits had been taken off to do another exercise, including Adele and Becky.

A trainer demonstrated the safety instructions; balancing along narrow poles elevated twenty feet off the ground, climbing up widely spaced bars and jumping
off at ridiculous heights. He was small, agile and had a body like a boy. He made it look easy, though my stomach churned just watching.

The assault course is used to teach us techniques for crossing rough terrain and to familiarise us with tactical movements encountered during combat. Pirbright was known to hold the toughest assault course of all the military barracks.

‘Get to the front, midget!’ Staff Phillips growled at me from behind. I dived forward, pushing through the lads, and scrambled to the front.

I’d first noticed Staff Phillips this morning, hovering at the back of the theatre when we were watching the film. He appeared to be in his late forties with a shaven head that created a green curvy shape where his hairline receded. There were very few here who wore glasses, but his were jam jars, making his eyes look massive. To complicate matters, he was a bit cock-eyed so I had no idea who he was looking at.

When the demonstration was over, the staff put us in teams. My name was called out to join the second group. I walked over to them and I heard a few tuts from the lads. I tried to ignore them but knew they saw me as a hindrance; one man down.

‘OK, lads, on your marks…’ A gun was fired and the first team were off.

There was lots of shouting; the trainers hurling abuse, the lads cheering their mates on. I just stared in amazement. I had never seen such powerful body action in all my life, effortlessly splurging aggression and adrenalin. Physically, it goes without saying, they were built bigger and stronger. It was only now that I realised why men were better suited to the frontline than women.

The lads finished more or less at the same time, their faces were red and sweat was pouring down from inside their helmets.

Staff Phillips walked over to our group. ‘OK, lads, team effort.’ He looked at me stood in the middle of the giants. ‘Ahmed, you go first.’

My head began to spin at his unexpected order and could feel the breakfast travelling up from my stomach.

‘On your marks…’

The gun fired before I had a chance to think.

Eyes wide, I charged up the wooden plank, slowly building speed and momentum, then leapt up onto a pole. Somehow I stayed on but my balance was all over the place because of the webbing (the belt kit which held my ammo, water bottle and other kit in pouches) around my waist. I looked down and was horrified to see Staff Taylor walking alongside. He shouted at me to speed up, but as I jumped to the next pole, my foot
didn’t reach far enough and I fell between the wide gap onto the ground.

‘Get back up there!’ Taylor hissed, now stood above me. I heard the gun fire again and looked round. To my horror, the rest of my team were charging towards me. I knew if I didn’t move out of the way, I would be flattened.

I rolled to one side just as they passed, then I ran back to the start line to take the poles once again. This time I ran faster up the rank and managed to stay on, but when I got to the end of the last pole, I froze with fear at the twenty-foot drop.

‘Ahmed! Jump! Now!’ Taylor was not leaving my side.

No. I felt sick and wanted to climb down instead.

‘Now!’

I closed my eyes and jumped, landing on my feet on the soft ground but then fell backwards onto my bum.

‘Get up!’ He screamed, his face the colour of a fire extinguisher.

I scurried over to the ten-foot wall and took a jump, clamping my arms over the top as my feet were scrambling below. My arms weren’t strong enough, though, and I slid back down. I took another run at it, bashing my knees against the wall as I jumped up, but my arms were now throbbing, giving way and making me drop
down. I closed my eyes in defeat. I didn’t want to go back and try again – I knew my arms couldn’t take it.

‘You! Help her over.’ Taylor ordered a lad stood on the sideline.

Within seconds, a pair of hands clamped round my ankles and flung me over the wall. Unfortunately, the recruit overestimated my weight and I went flying up like a rocket through the air and landed quite a bit away from the wall on the other side.

‘I said give her a leg up, not throw her over. Stupid twit!’

I got dizzy as I stood up, straightened my webbing, which had crawled up to my ribcage, then charged under the barbed wire, dragging my body through. I wanted to stop and have a rest but couldn’t. I came out the other end and tried to stand up, but fell back down as my webbing pouch got caught in the wire.

‘Get out of there, Ahmed!’ someone screamed from a distance.

Off I ran to the twenty-foot bars. I clambered up, kicking out as high as I could because the space between each one was too wide for my legs and my hands could hardly grip the bars properly. Suddenly my foot slipped, causing me to flip backwards, suspended by one leg hooked over a bar. I gasped. My eyes dropped down to two upside-down trainers, waving their arms at me.

‘What are you doing up there? This isn’t a circus!’

I felt my leg slipping and panicked as I tried to swing back up to catch the bar above. My stomach muscles hurt but I didn’t care, I was about to fall and land on my head.

I finally got down the other side of the bars, where Taylor was waiting for me at the last exercise, the water crossing.

‘Move it!’ he said, handing me the swing rope.

The rope was so thick I could hardly get my fingers around it. Ready to swing, I looked down and froze at the massive drop I had to cross, which was even bigger than that between the poles.

‘Don’t think, Ahmed,’ Taylor’s low, threatening voice was millimetres away from my left ear.

Somehow I tore my eyes away and swung forwards, but let go too soon, causing my body to fly through the air and then drop into the trough of water. It felt like I was drowning. I panicked and splashed around frantically before standing up and realising that the water only came to my waist.

I stood to attention afterwards with my team, ready to be debriefed. I was drenched, my head was burning beneath the helmet, which we weren’t allowed to take off, and, from their silence, sensed a damning judgement amongst the recruits like I was wasting the regiment’s time.

Staff Phillips walked over to the other teams. ‘Good effort, lads,’ he began, ‘but I don’t think you were getting through fast enough…’ He talked them through his critical analysis, pointing out what each lad was doing wrong and where.

Then he turned to us. ‘As for you lot … you were shit!’

I stared bleakly at the treetops in the distance. This was worse than the last eight weeks of female selection put together and we weren’t even through the morning yet. My body felt it had been kicked a thousand times and I missed Liz.

Phillips pointed at me. ‘Where was she when you lot were all at the finish line?’

I didn’t like the way this was going.

‘The fastest out of you lot should have been helping the others get through. You get nothing until the last man is in.’ He was now shouting. ‘You will do it again!’

I couldn’t believe my ears. No. Not again. Please! I was just coming to terms with almost dying up there. I couldn’t take another bashing.

Mortified, I walked back to the start line with my team.

‘On your marks…’

The gun fired and we were off again. This time, two lads stayed behind me all the way, aggressively pushing
me through each obstacle like a rag doll. Over the wall they threw me and I was kicked in the face by one of the lads in front. I thought my head was going to come off; the side of my face burned like hell from his boot; I couldn’t see properly in one eye and tasted blood inside my mouth. Before I could think too much about it, I was dragged under the barbed wire from both sides, then pushed up the bars where I’d done the circus act. The heights felt higher this time, but this was the least of my worries when I was thrown into the tunnel. Last time I was alone and crawled through fast because of my size, though it severely bruised my elbows and knees. This time I was sandwiched between two lads as I scrambled through on all fours, then the lad in front suddenly stopped in the darkness. Nobody moved. I closed my eyes and prayed he moved soon before I screamed. The air became thin and made me feel claustrophobic. I couldn’t breathe, move or see, and the side of my face was still throbbing. I wondered if this was being done deliberately by someone outside.

After what felt like an eternity, the lad finally moved. I crawled forwards as fast as I could, my face in his arse, my knees taking a hammering on the concrete, and squinted up at the first slit of light. I took a deep breath as soon as his arse was out of the way and filled my lungs. It was an amazing feeling, but it didn’t last
as I was pulled over the scramble nets and then dragged to the finish line.

Relieved to be in one piece, I took my flask out of my daysack and threw the cold water over my face. I wanted to sit down and rest but there was no time.

Staff James took us over to our next exercise.

‘Same teams, lads,’ he ordered. ‘First group, stay here, the rest of you fuck off over there and do some press-ups.’

Staff James disappeared off with the other group. We got down and started pumping.

Digsby, one of the lads from my squadron, was beside me. He reminded me of the Milkybar Kid, but twenty years on with a nose that looked like it had been punched a few times.

‘What I want to know,’ he said breathlessly, ‘is what you girls are doing on our course.’

I kept my head down, just focusing on the press-ups.

‘She’s not allowed to say?’ another probed.

‘Mate, she’s gonna have to kill us if she does.’ Someone else piped up, followed by strenuous laughter.

‘Which unit you from, Ahmed?’ Digsby wasn’t giving up.

I kept quiet, wanting the other team to come back so I could stop these press-ups. They could interrogate me all they wanted – they wouldn’t get anything out of me.

‘They’re back, lads.’

Heads down, we began pumping faster.

‘Oi! What do you call that?’ Staff James’s voice could be heard in the distance ‘You! Another ten.’

I lunged down and up, strands of hair fell over my face from the helmet, which lay heavy on my head.

‘Right, you lot follow me. Ahmed – do the other eighty later.’

I stood up, wiped the grit from the heel of my hands and followed Staff James. The other team passed us; helmets in hands, glazed expressions, red faces dripping with sweat.

Around the corner, Staff James pointed to a Jeep parked at the bottom of a steep slope. ‘Pretty straightforward, lads, all you have to do is get it to the top. You’ve got two minutes to come up with a plan. When I call, your time starts.’

We all turned in to one another and began talking simultaneously. One of the lads suggested I get into the driver’s seat and steer the vehicle. We all thought it was a good idea.

All too soon, Staff James was back. There was no plan.

We ran to the Jeep and to our dismay two trainers were sat in the front, leisurely talking to one other. They were built like brick houses, adding another ton of weight to the vehicle. I squeezed between two lads at the back and placed my palms flat on the bumper.

We pushed, but it wasn’t moving. The lads roared.

‘Come on, lads! Move the fucker!’ shouted Sullivan, the Australian ex-Special Forces, taking the lead.

The sun was beating down on us and like slaves we pushed, until finally it moved an inch. The shouting got louder, sweat poured down our faces.

‘Come on!’ I heard myself shout, but couldn’t bring myself to swear. Our momentum got the vehicle creeping up. I couldn’t help thinking this team was one man down because my strength didn’t match that of a man. Halfway up, the vehicle suddenly stopped and began rolling backwards. The roars got louder. I moved my hands down to the grill, my lower back stabbing with pain. Meanwhile the trainers sat in the front and continued their leisurely chitchat.

‘Don’t lose it!’ Sullivan shouted. ‘Up! Up! Up!’

We had to get this vehicle to the top otherwise we’d all be thrown off the course. I couldn’t face being the cause of that. Suddenly my hand slipped, causing me to fall to the ground. The vehicle continued rolling backwards. The shouting got louder. I looked up, inches away from being trapped beneath one of the wheels. A rough hand suddenly grabbed me by the collar and threw me back onto the vehicle, bashing my forehead.

‘We’re losing it, lads! Push! Push!’

The roars continued. Another surge of adrenalin and
the vehicle began moving the other way. The grill was cutting into my hands but I just had to keep going.

‘Come on! Beeeeeautiful! Up! Up!’ Sullivan aggressively sung the motivation.

Eventually the vehicle came away from us and rolled down the other side of the hill. The feeling was unbelievable and I was overwhelmed with emotion. We cheered, grabbed each other to almost a hug then began chasing after the vehicle for some reason.