War Torn

‘COME ON IN, SERGEANT HENLEY.’ MAJOR WILLINGHAM’S TONE WAS friendly. He was with the 2 i/c, CSM Kila and Gordon Weeks. The 2 i/c was making mugs of tea as usual. Iain Kila called him, in private, the Brew Bitch.‘Before we get down to business, I’d like to congratulate you both, Gordon and Dave, on the way you and your men dealt with that horrific incident today. You must be very proud of everyone, not least the four men who risked their lives saving the casualties.’‘If there’d only been helicopters with winches available no one would have had to risk their life,’ said the boss firmly. Dave was pleased. The boss was beginning to grasp the fact that the best way of fighting against the enemy was fighting for your men against the big machine of the British Army.‘I agree with that and the point has been very strongly made,’ said the OC.‘Any update on the condition of Connor or Broom, sir?’ asked Dave.‘I spoke to Bastion an hour ago. They just say they’re stable. Which could mean anything.’CSM Kila added: ‘But we’ve had three calls from Angus McCall to ask what’s going on here.’Dave smiled.‘Scared he’ll miss some action.’Iain Kila said: ‘His dad has good cause to be proud of what that lad did today.’‘His dad?’ asked the OC.‘His father was in the Regiment,’ the boss explained.Iain Kila raised his eyebrows. ‘Says Angus.’The major smiled. ‘If everyone who claims to have been in the Regiment was telling the truth then Hereford would be the size of Canada.’He sprawled back in his chair, legs stretched out. On his desk was an open cake tin, its contents half eaten, probably sent by a relative or big-hearted member of the public.‘Now then, I’m sorry to question you about an old incident, Sergeant Henley, when you’ve had such a shit day. But I promised to get a report in about it and now they say they need it by first thing tomorrow. As you know, we’ve got this Royal Military Policewoman here at the base. As well as the woman from the Intelligence Corps. It’s all a bit of bad luck really: the pair of them are only here because they’re fluent in Pashtu—’‘But, sir, they’re good value,’ Iain Kila said. ‘They were good news with the detainees.’‘And their monitoring of the Taliban radios has been fantastic when we’re operational,’ added the boss.‘Oh, they do a fine job both interpreting and diplomatically: we were even invited to the tribesmen’s wedding, as you know, and I’m sure that was something to do with the charm of our interpreters. But the fact is, the RMP won’t stick to her interpreter role, she insists on doing monkey work even when we really don’t want her to.’Dave glanced at the boss. He looked tense.‘She’s got a bee in her bonnet about the Green Zone patrol when you dropped five Talis. I can stave off a full investigation if I say the right things in my report now. You know which incident I’m talking about?’‘Yes, sir. After the goat set off the IED for us.’‘Which makes me wonder if we shouldn’t have goats trotting in front of our patrols all the time. Like miners had canaries. Anyway, can I ask you to think back and take me through exactly what happened after the goat was blown up? And please understand that this is a relaxed and informal discussion.’Suddenly it didn’t feel relaxed or informal. The OC sat up straight to take notes. The tent was silent.Dave told how, after the IED had detonated, he and 1 Section had walked up the track looking for the old man who had been herding the goat. He described the appearance of the four Taliban fighters, apparently going home and unaware of their presence. He said that both he and Jamie had fired at them and all four had dropped.‘Now let’s get this straight. You were searching the dead men, all of whom were in a ditch, when McCall shouted out that one of the bodies was still alive. And you said . . .?’‘I think I said: get on with it.’‘Get on with it,’ echoed the major, giving the words great significance. ‘Can you remember what exactly you meant by that?’‘Well, I knew that our fire would certainly draw enemy fire. It was just a question of when they could locate us. And we were a small, vulnerable group out there in the field. So we needed to move quickly.’The major scribbled on his pad, nodding.‘But what did you want him to get on with?’Dave paused and glanced at Boss Weeks.‘Isn’t the interpretation of his words by his men more important than what he actually meant?’ suggested the boss.‘Fair point, Gordon. Get on with it. The men could have understood that to mean: remove his weapon and examine his injuries so that we can casevac him if necessary. Do you think they understood you to mean that, Sergeant Henley?’Dave looked thoughtful. He glanced at the CSM who nodded slightly.‘Maybe,’ he said cautiously.‘I think the RMP here at the base suspects you might have meant: get on and shoot him,’ said the OC nonchalantly.Iain Kila said: ‘Well, that’s not how the rifleman searching the body understood it, because he didn’t shoot.’‘Rifleman Bilaal shot him,’ said Dave. ‘But I think he was already dead.’‘How do you know? Did you see the wound or the blood?’‘I saw blood. But I knew it mostly because I’d shot him myself.’The major smiled.‘You know you’re a good shot?’‘Good enough to hit a lad when he’s that close. I’d seen him fall into the ditch. He had no body armour – it would be amazing if he could survive, and survive well enough to act dead. So when McCall said he was moving, I thought that it could be a death twitch. I’ve seen that before.’‘There was absolutely no doubt in your mind that the man was dead or very close to dead?’‘I thought this was a dead body twitching. If there had been any movement at all. But the rifleman who was searching him had been in his first real contact. He was showing signs of shock. In that state he could have imagined the body was moving. So I was more worried about him than the insurgent. What I wanted was for the rifleman to stop imagining things, pull himself together and get on with the body search.’‘This was McCall?’‘He froze when we shot the insurgents, although he was at the front and the first to see them. He had another chance a few minutes later and he blew that too. He’s OK now, fighting very well, and he distinguished himself on the minefield today. But like a lot of lads, he fell apart the first time he was asked to face the enemy.’CSM Kila nodded. So did Gordon Weeks. The major sat back in his chair with a satisfied smile and the 2 i/c approached with the teapot and his Brew Bitch smile: ‘Would anyone like a top-up?’‘But, Dave,’ Weeks said, ‘the OC might have to explain why Rifleman Bilaal then shot this dead body.’‘Mal thought the bloke was dead too,’ said Dave. ‘I’ve talked to him about it. But he’s McCall’s best mate and he could see him falling apart. He threw down a few rounds just to reassure Angus.’The OC sipped cheerfully at his tea.‘Good! I think I have enough there to keep the monkeys off our backs. The Rules of Engagement are misty in places and it’s too easy for people sitting in offices to tell men in the heat of battle how they should have behaved. I hope you’ll hear no more about it now, Dave.’Dave had been worried about this interview and he knew that the outcome should have been a relief. But after today’s bloodbath on the minefield, this investigation into a dead insurgent, although correct and required by law, seemed absurd.