Worlds Apart (16 page)

‘I was licking some chocolate off my hands and its texture was like … raisins.’

There was a burst of uncontrollable laughter as she
stood up and headed back to her basha. I couldn’t see the funny side of it.

My attention turned to a couple of lads talking behind me.

‘I had a big argument with my gal,’ one of them said. ‘She wouldn’t stop going on about the washer … the fuckin’ washing machine! I can’t talk to her.’

‘Mate, we’re only halfway through…’

I closed my ears to it all and put my boots back on to go for a pee in the woods. I could feel the beginnings of a flu coming on and was dreading the night exercise. The twigs on the ground cracked noisily beneath my boots. I thought about the stream of bad conversation I’d had with my family, and then my thoughts morphed into memories of home as a kid; the smell of stewed chai, daylight hitting the living room, Dad watching the news, the weekend trip to the cash-and-carry, and I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I missed the kebab shop, the customers, and even that miserable Beardy.

‘Ahmed, where’s your weapon?’

I spun round. Briggs was stood at a distance looking through the sight ring of his M16 weapon at me.

It didn’t make any difference what I said. I should not be without my weapon.

‘Right, you fuckin’ idiot.’ His scream sounded like a woman being strangled. ‘Go and find it!’

I scurried back to the basha area weaving through the thick trees, eyes fixated on spots of light glowing from hexi burners.

‘Ahmed,’ Becky called as I flew past. ‘What’s happened?’

Blindly I searched around my Bergen for my weapon. ‘You don’t want to know,’ I replied shakily, grabbing my weapon and running back to the woods, where Briggs was still stood looking through his sight ring at me.

‘Hold it over your head.’

I gripped the cold metal, held it above me and raced towards him. The punishment was severe – but I deserved it.

‘F
UCKIN’ HELL, LEWIS!
’

‘Sorry, mate.’

Sullivan walked over to me, his big bushy eyebrows creased on his small forehead.

‘Ahmed, you got your cleaning kit around? Lewis lost his weapon and took mine to pass staff camp and slipped near the shithouse.’ Sullivan was holding a very muddy weapon.

Parade was in ten minutes. I desperately needed some hot food down me after that beasting from Briggs. I’d been surviving on cold rations because I still hadn’t got my head around how to heat up the ration packs.

I stared up at Sullivan, bewildered, not knowing what
to say. I had no idea why he was coming to me. There were plenty of lads around he could ask. Perhaps he wants to get me in trouble, I thought suspiciously, looking around for any staff hovering in the area.

‘You alright with that?’ He looked down at my hands that were loosely holding the hexi blocks and lighter to create a small fire for my food to cook on.

Before I could say anything, he took them off me and lit up the cubes in small, quick movements. I watched a small fire begin to glow. Then he poured some water into my metal beaker and placed my ration pack inside to heat up.

‘Thanks,’ I said, reaching into my Bergen and handing him my cleaning kit. I placed another ration in the beaker for him, the sausage one that I was not going to eat anyway.

A recruit walked past and pushed Sullivan playfully over to one side and then carried on walking. Sullivan watched him disappear. ‘Can’t trust that one,’ he said. ‘This morning he was creeping around us when we were still asleep and he should have woken us. It was only because I heard a twig snap under his foot that I woke up, bastard.’

I was surprised to hear that. I thought this kind of thing only went on in female selection. I wondered what had happened to all those girls, especially Adele. Though
the lads were aloof towards me and Becky, they seemed more pleasant to be around.

He turned back to me. ‘And what happened to you this morning, Ahmed? Your poncho was collapsed over you and your socks were hung out to dry.’ He began to laugh. ‘Didn’t anyone tell you to put your socks inside your sleeping bag to dry against the body heat?’

Somehow I found the energy to smile, but couldn’t remember. It was hard enough dealing with what was going on in the moment, let alone what happened a few hours ago. Obviously he hadn’t heard what just happened with Briggs, otherwise he’d be cracking up by now. I admired his humour but perhaps it was just his way of getting through.

We sat in silence, me watching the water furiously bubble away in the beaker and him cleaning his weapon beside me.

I was relieved to be sat down. Ever since the assault course on pre-selection, my right hip hadn’t been the same. I tried to rest it between intervals and didn’t want to tell anyone here, especially the medic in case I was dismissed.

‘I know I shouldn’t be asking you this,’ Sullivan took the main pieces of the weapon apart and placed them on the grass on top of his crap hat, ‘but how come you two are here?’

He knew I wasn’t going to answer.

‘You must be mad to do this.’

Perhaps I was mad, I thought, but wasn’t he just as mad?

‘So, are you Muslim?’

I nodded. With a name like Ahmed, what do you think? I thought. I handed him the sausage ration then opened mine, not quite believing I was finally going to have some proper hot food. I pulled a plastic spoon out of my smock pocket. It was tied to my buttonhole by a piece of string. The rations tasted amazing and I could feel my throat and chest warm up as it slowly slid down.

‘Does that mean you have arranged marriages?’ He watched me shovel the food down.

I hesitated before answering. Here we go, I thought, he’s probably waiting for me to pour out some terrible story about an arranged marriage and how I was forced to run away, the kind you read about in the tabloids. I didn’t like him any more. I wanted him to hurry up cleaning his weapon and get lost.

‘Not really,’ I replied between mouthfuls, only answering because he had warmed my food up, ‘but he would have to be someone my parents are happy with.’

‘Would he have to be Muslim?’

I scraped the last bits of food from the bottom and decided not to answer. I’m not going to waste my time
trying to open up his mind. I have enough things going on, like dealing with Briggs who was now gunning for me.
I will never leave my weapon again
, I thought, remembering his punishment.

But Sullivan wasn’t giving up. ‘So, does that mean you can’t go out with white boys?’

I stopped and looked up at him. We stared at each other for a moment until we were interrupted by Digsby, who came over and looked straight at Sullivan.

‘Parade in five, mate,’ he said flatly, then shot a glance at me and walked off.

I wondered what that look was for but didn’t spend too much time thinking about it.

Sullivan got up and winked at me. ‘I’ll give you the cleaning kit back later.’

I watched him go off into the distance and then got back to sorting out my kit. I wondered what the lads thought of me and Becky being here. It didn’t feel as bad as when we first joined them. Perhaps they were getting used to us, perhaps we had somehow won their respect by still being here, or perhaps they had no choice in the matter and gritted their teeth. I wondered how the staff took it and thought back to the first evening on parade; Briggs’s expression when he found out we were joining the lads will haunt me for the rest of my life. Since then Briggs’s motto had been to treat us as
bad as the lads, as their equals. There was nothing wrong with that, except sometimes I hated being a lad. Then there was Taylor, who was still hovering around since female selection. What was it with him? Did he have a bet on with the rest of the staff to see which week Becky and I would drop out? Perhaps we were their entertainment. I recalled a few occasions when I must have looked a sight coming back from a beasting. The more these thoughts went round in my head the more determined I was not to throw the towel in.

I shoved everything back in the Bergen the best I could and joined the rest of the recruits in rank. The hot food was now digesting in my stomach and making me sleepy.

Becky was stood at the front next to Sullivan. I wondered if she was managing as well as she seemed to be or breaking inside like me. We still hadn’t got to speak much but she seemed to be getting on better with the lads.

Briggs was stood at the front, debriefing us on today’s exercise. As always, he was very encouraging. ‘Even a one-legged geriatric could have done better than you lot today. What do you think this is? The fucking Ramblers!?’ His head was shaking with rage as he paced up and down the front rank, fists clenched tight. ‘If you get blisters, so fuckin’ what?’

Being small had its advantage amongst these tall lads. I felt desperately tired and closed my eyes for a second and immediately felt my body relax. My mind quickly fought back, freaked out by how close I’d come to dozing off. The repercussions were not worth thinking about.

Briggs dismissed us – ‘Piss off.’ I needed the toilet before preparing for the night patrol. Through the woods I trod to find a hidden spot. I pulled my pants down and squatted, staring up at the clear sky and focusing on the shiniest star. I thought back to Sullivan. A part of me wanted to find out more about Sullivan without asking him, but I couldn’t speak to Becky as I didn’t know her that well. I wondered what my parents’ reaction would be if I went home with a boy from the army? I knew the answer of course: they’d kill me if I went home with a boy, let alone someone from the army. Then I pondered what life would be like if I had taken the Shazia route. But that would never happen, I told myself. Manchester was where I had always been ‘meant’ to be, the army was my choice. I suddenly realised that Dad and I were in the same army but fifty years apart – how strange was that? I imagined him dressed in khakis and wondered what wars he was involved in. Syria, Malaya … Burma?

B
riggs gathered us under a shelter around a makeshift table with a map spread across it. ‘Listen in, lads; you will be dropped off within this area here. Enemy targets are here, here and here…’

I forced my eyes open, trying to focus on the blade of grass Briggs was pointing with on the map. Night exercises were a killer. Not only did it take twice as long to navigate in the dark but it was twice as dangerous. Recruits had been known to fall off hilltops that had been underestimated. But the worst part was the recruits themselves. Exhausted from a 5 a.m. start, the short fuses and aggression kicked in, testing our teamwork abilities.

I could see Sullivan out of the corner of my eye and wondered if we would be put in the same patrol. A part of me wanted to be because he was a good team player and a brilliant navigator. Unlike most of us, who relied on map-reading skills to pave our way, Sullivan would go by his senses and only bring out the map to check his bearings. He was a natural and the staff knew it; he just had to be careful not to get injured. Another part of me didn’t want to be put in his patrol. It might be awkward between us. What if the other lads picked up a vibe and then started spreading rumours? What if it gets back to Briggs? That would be terrible, not only for me and Sullivan, but also for the colonel. The
staff could use it as a reason not to have any more girls coming through. I recalled hearing something about the navy and how girls were not allowed on submarines because they were seen as a distraction. Was this the same for women on the frontline? Would a lad feel the need to look after a female buddy more than a male buddy?

‘Sir,’ Digsby piped up.

I looked around remembering where I was and realised I’d probably missed the main part of the briefing.

‘What?’ Briggs looked irritated by the interruption.

‘What are the timings?’

Briggs let out a sigh and looked round at the rest of the recruits. ‘Lads, can we leave the stupid questions till the end?’ He turned back to the map. ‘The timings will be given last, like in all briefings.’

I glanced round at Digsby, who was now sheepishly staring down at the map. My eyes slid across to Lewis, stood beside him, and couldn’t help smiling as I noticed a perfect arch of mud across his back and right arm, remembering Sullivan’s comment about slipping near the shithouse with his weapon.

‘Wanna share the joke?’

I spun round to Briggs, who was looking straight at me, face deadpan.

My lips quivered but nothing came out.

‘You’ll be leading a patrol tonight,’ he said pointing the blade of grass at me. ‘That will sort your fat arse out.’

I wondered why he kept calling my bony bum that. Perhaps his wife had a fat arse and he didn’t have the heart to tell her.

Ten minutes later I was stood with my patrol, made up of some lads from ‘E’ Squadron, the Welsh crowd.

My map-reading skills were not great at the best of times, let alone in the dark. Neither were my communication skills with this lot. God knows how they felt about me leading them out tonight but I couldn’t let their hostility cloud my thinking. Nor could I afford to show any signs of weakness, no matter what happened. I raised my heels off the ground a few inches to give me more height next to them.

A small van appeared from nowhere.

‘Get in,’ a mean-looking staff ordered us.

We all piled into the back, the door slammed closed, leaving us in complete darkness, then drove off. I couldn’t sense any of the others around or the terrain except that it was bumpy, hurting my bum on the cold metal flooring. It felt like we had been travelling an hour before the van stopped, then the doors opened to a dim light from the moon above. We grabbed our weapons and scurried out. I panicked as I couldn’t see anything or anyone. I tried to adjust my eyes to the darkness and
eventually shapes of the landscape began to appear as the lights of the van came on and then faded away as it drove off.

The lads looked at me, waiting for instructions. I pulled my laminated map out from beneath my smock and switched my pen torch on, feeling them stepping closer and towering over me. My eyes bounced around the contour lines on the map, then out onto the landscape. We were stood around trying to figure out where we were and I had no idea. I checked my bearings with the compass then led the patrol into the darkness of the Brecon Beacons. At intervals we would stop, I would go out, do a recce of the area, then come back and brief the patrol on our next manoeuvre. We stopped at a point where the map indicated a forest but seemed like it had recently been cut down. This must be it, I thought.

Just at that point, Staff James appeared from nowhere and stood behind us listening in. I’d seen him earlier, following Briggs around. He reminded me of one those National Front lads who’d chase me when I was a kid, but an older version.

I tried to change my tone to sound more authoritative but it came out like a bag of nerves, then I headed out to do another recce, leaving my patrol behind.

I trod through the open ground, gripping the metal of
my weapon tight. I wondered if Staff James was speaking to the rest of the patrol to see how I was leading, but he wouldn’t do that, I argued back, wondering if he was following me instead. I must be going the right way otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

I felt myself filling up with hope as I warmed up to this new role of leading a patrol. It made me more alert, I felt a sense of responsibility for my men and I was finally feeling like part of a team.

It must have been only 100 metres I walked before I suddenly felt like I was walking on air. Before I had time to figure out what was going on, my body suddenly plummeted down. I lost control of my arms and legs, a sudden rush of air hit my nostrils, then… splash! My whole body was immersed in cold water. The weight of my kit pulled me down deeper. I was sinking, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I struggled with the straps of the Bergen but the weight pulled me deeper into the water. It was too late. I struggled a little while longer, then stopped. My mind closed down into a sleep.