Live to Tell (20 page)

“Right,” the colonel droned on, “initially you’ll be working here at HQ, but in three weeks time, we’ll be moving you out into the field. I’ll tell you more nearer the time. Anyway, let’s get down to business. I want you to look at this map.”

Later, hiding behind
The
Daily
Telegraph
, in a quiet corner of the Officers Mess, Ben nursed a large scotch, thought back over the day and yawned. Sgt. Baker had in some ways turned out to be a lot better than he feared. He was in his early thirties and obviously had many campaigns under his belt. He’s a bit of a strong, silent type, Ben thought, but seems alright, probably tough as old boots. Kept it well buttoned when he was introduced to me. I must have been a bit of a shock. He probably thinks I’m still wet behind the ears. Surprised that they put him on this work, though. I’d have thought he’d be better employed doing a real job somewhere. Oh, well, guess they have their reasons.

Given what he had been told earlier, Cpl. Powell was much more intriguing and Ben felt annoyed. Superficially the man seemed to be everything you could want in a junior NCO and was obviously about the same age as himself, or even a bit younger. The first thing he noticed was the wedding ring he was wearing. To Ben, this immediately gave him an edge, a position in society. Ben had not yet had a steady girl friend, let alone a wife, something that irked him, as much as it appeared to depress his parents, and Cpl. Powell seemed altogether too young. Added to this, he was a good looking bastard, and tall with it. Ben was now feeling very annoyed. Perhaps that gumph about money was just so much hot air, an exaggeration, or even a mistake, he thought. Let’s hope. He certainly didn’t fit the image of a flash git, or even give the impression of any hidden wealth. In fact, he seems quite normal. And he showed quite a load of deference to the good sergeant, not quite what I would have expected if what the colonel said was true. He’s either genuine or he’s a clever bastard. Hmm, not sure about that. No doubt, time will tell.

One thing had struck him though. Danny Powell exuded an air of confidence, as if he was very happy in his own skin. Perhaps that’s what marriage gives you, he thought, confidence in yourself. Just hope he’s good at his job. Sourly, he looked around him and drained the glass, then decided to have another before turning in for the night.

Colonel Myerson was true to his word and Ben and his team were moved to a derelict farmhouse on the edge of a military unit in the south of the province. The phone-tapping work was tedious and Ben felt fed up. The weather had closed in and it rained incessantly. Water was coming in through the leaking roof and dripped down one of the walls. An atmosphere of putrefaction filled the air. Cpl. Powell kept pointing out that this was not good for the equipment but Ben didn’t care. He was convinced that they would never uncover anything new. The room was thick with dust and smelt foul but he was more concerned that their sleeping bags were also getting damp and hoped that if the listening gear became faulty, they would be recalled to HQ.

However bad things were, for Cpl. Powel and himself, he was sure it must seem ten times worse for Sgt. Baker who had little to do and passed the hours wandering about the crumbling building, “checking” things. The darkness of night had descended early and the three men were together as usual, trying to make the best of the wet evening. Danny’s headphones were around his neck and bored, he stretched back in his seat and yawned. There was a paper bag full of fruit in front of him, delivered earlier by a patrol.

“Throw me one of those apples, Danny.”

Danny looked round and smiled at John Baker, who was sitting on the floor in the corner. He threw the apple, narrowly missing his head. The sergeant grinned and neatly caught it.

“Good catch, Sarge.”

“Yeah. You know, the only reason I joined the Army was for the sport. You know, cricket and the like, but footy’s really my game. What about you?”

“Since I was a kid, being in the Army was the only ambition I ever had. Until I met my wife, it was the only thing I really wanted, but I did work with a bloke once who joined so he could get a motor bike. What about you, Sir?”

“Rugby,” said Ben, absentmindedly and then he noticed the puzzled expressions on the two men’s faces. “I’ve obviously answered the wrong question,” he said. “Start again?”

“Why did you join the Army, Sir?” The sergeant asked, staring quizzically at him.

“I guess you could put it down to family pressure. Yeah, that was it.” Not wanting to risk being held to ridicule, Ben readjusted his headphones, unable to commit himself to any further explanation that was fit for his sergeant’s consumption. Would he understand, he wondered, caring enough about your father to simply fulfil his wishes.

Sgt. Baker finished the apple and tossed the core squarely into the bin. To Ben’s surprise he got up and said, “I think I’ll take a stroll outside.”

When he left the room, Danny turned back to Ben and said, “You said you bowed to family pressure. That’s exactly what I didn’t do. My father was bitterly opposed to me joining the Army.”

“Well, perhaps I over simplified it a bit. You see, my parents came to Britain as refugees, when they were teenagers.” Ben smiled. “My father knew that being granted asylum here almost certainly saved their lives and thought of England as the Promised Land. He came from Dresden, spoke fluent German and as soon as he was old enough, worked for the intelligence services. My mother was from the Sudetenland and because of her I speak English, German and Czech, so I’ve got my uses, too. My father’s the biggest Anglophile you’ll ever meet, a lovely man, and it was his greatest wish that I should join the British Army, help repay the debt. It would have broken his heart if I had gone against him. So, here I am, in the Int. Corps, sitting in this wet hole and wishing I was somewhere else.”

Ben decided he had already revealed more than he wanted and changed the subject. “You mentioned your wife. I noticed you wear a wedding ring. What’s she like?”

“Crazy,” said Danny grinning. “A useless cook, lousy at housework, not domesticated at all. Good at the things that matter though. He grinned again. She started out as an art student, and goes in for arty-farty things like stencilling and flower arranging. She’d be no good in the Army. She wouldn’t survive five minutes here. She’s dainty and very feminine. When I was stationed at Mill Hill I met a lot of girl soldiers who were feminine, but absolutely none who were dainty and I like dainty.”

“Well, you look pretty happy. Where did you meet?”

“Um, that would be in Italy, during my gap year.”

Ben had never heard a non-commissioned soldier say that he’d been on a gap year before, let alone in another country.

“It was love at first sight.”

“I’ve heard girls often feel like that.”

“Not her, me,” he laughed. “She had this mop of hair and had somehow managed to colour bits of it purple and lime green. Oh, and pink! I’d never seen anything like it. Still don’t know how she did it. Must have sprayed it on, I suppose. She was so beautiful I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. And just a baby, only seventeen and still at school, I think.” Danny grinned and Ben felt uncomfortable, not wanting to hear about his exploits as a cradle snatcher, even if it had ended in marriage, but despite his qualms, he wanted to know more.

“Don’t you know? About the school, I mean.”

“We don’t talk about that time, much. You see she was with my best friend.”

“Gawd. Yeah. I get the picture. So it was pistols at dawn?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. At the time I just kept a low profile. Then I bumped into her again, more than a year later, in a pub on the Edgware Road, and by then he was off the scene. The trouble was I was just on my way to North Africa. Luckily she was still around when I got back and it just took off from there. On our first date she’d glitter sprayed part of her face, and it knocked me out. When I was posted to BAOR a year later, we got married but she stayed in London to finish her studies. Now that’s done and I’m nearly through in Germany, we’re trying to plan our next move. She’s one in a million, never complains even though I’m hardly ever there. Now, because of this duty, I’m going to miss our second anniversary and her birthday. I couldn’t even get back for a summer holiday.”

Ben smiled sympathetically. “So, what’s she doing now?”

“On my advice, she gave up art and has just qualified as an accountant.”

“Good God.”

Danny laughed. “Yes, I know. And she’s gorgeous as well, a real babe. She’s so lovely, it’s a good job I’m away a lot or we’d never be out of bed.”

Ben felt a sharp stab of jealousy. To have someone you could just go back to like that seemed almost beyond his dreams. And yet, despite his envy he liked Cpl. Powell and knew that Col. Myerson had been right in his assessment. He hoped that when the assignment was over, their paths would cross again.

“Have you got a photograph of her?”

Danny looked serious. “Er, well, yes. But it’s not for public consumption. It’s a Polaroid I took, for my eyes only.”

“Don’t worry then. No sweat. You know, you’re a lucky man. I haven’t yet met anyone I liked enough to marry.”

“You’re telling me, I am. But don’t worry, mate, you’ll meet someone, you’ll see. Oh, I’m sorry, Sir. I shouldn’t have…”

“That’s alright and when we are on our own just call me Ben.”

“Better not, Sir. Sgt. Baker wouldn’t approve, and I’ll probably forget when he’s around. That reminds me of something that happened once, just before we were ma…”

A strange noise came from outside and both men froze. Ben put his hand on Danny’s shoulder and signalled silence. Without moving, they watched the door. It was flung open and the dishevelled figure of Sgt. Baker stood there, a knife glinting in his hand. Ben half rose from his seat.

“We had an unwelcome visitor, Sir,” said Baker, “and it was either me or him.”

“Good God,” said Ben, feeling the chill of fear. There was a smear of blood on Baker’s chest. “Have you cleared the area?”

Baker nodded. He looked shaken.

“Come in and sit down. Well done, by the way.”

Danny jumped to his feet. “I’ll make you a cup of tea, Sarge.” As he walked past him he patted Baker’s arm.

“Hand-to-hand combat is something I’ve been trained for, but it’s still fucking un-nerving.”

“’Course it is,” said Ben. “Good man. What happened? Did you hear something? I was surprised, you going out so suddenly. Did you think something was up when you went out, or was it a lucky shot? I’ll put in a report but until it’s cleared I don’t intend to name you. I’ll take full responsibility for the death. Er, OK, Sergeant?” God, I’m burbling, he thought.

Baker nodded.

“Glad you were on-the-ball. Bloody hell. God, yes.”

Danny came back with their mugs of tea.

“We all keep shtum, about this,” Ben continued. “OK, Cpl. Powell?”

“Yes, Sir, definitely,” said Danny offering the first mug to the sergeant. “Here you are mate. Get your hands round that. It’ll warm you up.”

“Where did you stow the body,” Ben asked.

“I left it in one of the outhouses, covered it with sacks but it’s blown our cover.” He took a large gulp of the hot tea. “Thanks, Danny. He wasn’t working alone. I’d stake my life on it.”

“OK. Corporal, can you get in touch with base? I think we’re going to be out of here pretty soon. When’s your anniversary?”

“Four days time, Sir.”

“Right, well we’ll see if we can get you home for it. Good work, again, Sergeant.”

The next morning, having deposited their kit at the nearby unit, Ben, Danny and John Baker ran across a windswept field, trying to attract the attention of the crew of the Lynx AH.1 helicopter that was about to depart for the North.

“Danny boy, Danny boy,” shouted one of the crew. “How’re you diddling, Son? Take a look at these bazoomers. Have you ever seen a pair like that?” He waved a magazine with a lurid cover at the corporal, before he noticed the officer at his side.

“Sorry, Sir, only jesting.”

“Any room for any passengers,” shouted Ben above the roar of the engine.