Forever the Colours (7 page)

‘Oh, stop with the game now, Mark, or whoever you are. It's getting boring and I'm tired and I've got a splitting headache. Just take us back to base, would you?'

‘Well, why don't ye close yer eyes, lad, and get some rest. We have a way to go yet.'

Tommy closed his eyes. He was, after all, far too tired to continue the game.
What
the
hell?
he thought.
You
win
. And fell asleep.

With a bemused look Mark Watson, private and medic, puffed on his pipe again. Finding that it had gone out, he reached into his pocket but could not find his matches. ‘Jesse, Jesse, lad, would you have a match on you?'

Standing on the other side of the horse and cart, Private Jesse Holmes, medic, nodded and reached for his matches, ‘Ay, Mark, I do,' and threw them to his comrade. ‘Do ye think he's lost his mind, this one?' Nodding towards Tommy.

Mark shook his head. ‘I don't know, Jesse, lad, but he don't sound right, do he? I think mayhap the Surgeon Major can fix him up.'

‘He talks funny, though, and he kept saying strange things.' Jesse shook his head slowly. ‘Reckon he's from London town, you think, with all those fancy words he has?'

‘I don't rightly know, lad, but hush ye now, we have a long way to go and this boy needs to sleep.'

The horse and cart, with Tommy lying unconscious in the back, and with Privates Watson and Holmes escorting it, followed the baggage train of the 66th Berkshire Regiment, and trundled off into the night, and into history.

Chapter 4

Dream

T
he
nipples are too large and way too dark. Mind you, this bird is a darky anyway, so they're supposed to look like that, ain't they
? She is properly gorgeous: fantastic body, tall, slim in the waist, although her arms are way too hairy and she should get her moustache trimmed.

The biker look is way behind the times,
love
, he thought. She dunked her head in the barrel again and came up spraying water in a lovely large rainbow of colours.
She has unusually long hair, this one. Really long, nearly all the way down to her… Oh!
Now
that
is kinky! She's wearing boots. Riding boots at that, or biker boots in her case, and jodhpurs by the look of 'em. Oh, to have them wrapped round my back! Hang on, what is she doing now? She's stretching or something, aerobics maybe. Oh, look at that. She can bend all the way down without bending her knees. Sexy! What is she throwing her arms round for? Kung fu! She knows kung fu as well! Just look at those moves she's making. She's well hard. Hard and sexy. Well, maybe not the moustache or the hairy arms, but everything else? Gorgeous! I wonder if she would be interested in a drink in the Lion or something. Or a movie, or we could just take a walk along the river; I don't live far from here. Think I'll ask her…

‘Hooch.'
God my mouth's
dry
. Tommy coughed. ‘Ah that's better. Hello, how are you then, gorgeous?'

Is that my voice? I sound like Frank Bruno or something. Eh, up then, here we go. She's looking over. Be calm, son, you can do this. Ah, don't put your top back on. Well, actually, maybe you can because you've got no tits and that tuft of hair in the middle of your chest is nasty. But that don't matter, don't matter at all. I've had worse down Bogeys on an '80s night, and they were fat as well as ugly. She's coming over, shit, she's coming towards me. Why is she putting her hair in a bun, or whatever you call it? Strange, but sexy in a grandmotherly sort of way. Look at the length of those legs, she must be six foot. She's coming over, right into my bedroom and straight through the wall, how funky is that? Mind you, my dad won't be happy; he'll have to repaper again. Can you still get Power Ranger wall paper? She's leaning over me. Well I'm gonna get a snog here. Wow! What lovely blue eyes. Eh, eh, hang on, where are you going? And there's no need to shout. Is that Spanish or something? Yeah, oh yeah, she's a sexy Spanish biker chick! Who's that? Oh crap! Is that my old man? It is, damn it, and he's talking to the biker chick and pointing. Shit! Dad's coming over, he's leaning over and putting a hand on my
forehead
.

‘I don't wanna go to school today, Dad. I feel sick.'

The biker chick is saying something to him. Is she trying to chat up my dad? Slapper!

‘He's married, you know, to my mum, and he's too old for ya.'

‘Easy now, go back to sleep, there's a good lad.'

‘Sorry Dad. OK, I am a bit tired. I got blown up today, yesterday, sssomething. I got, got…'

Darkness.

I
love
camping.
Camp
fires,
a
bit
of
weed,
some
beer
and
shagging.
Camping's
brilliant!
It
reminds
me
of
when
me
and
Dad
used
to
go
all
the
time
at
weekends.
Mind
you,
I
didn't
shag
or
smoke
or
drink
then,
not
with
my
dad.
That
was
when
I
was
a
teenager,
with
my
mates.
Oh
no,
me
and
Dad
used
to
make
fires
and
tell
ghost
stories
and
eat
fried
food,
like
bacon
and
eggs.
Some
of
my
mates
used
to
take
the
piss,
saying
he
was
old
fashioned
and
stuff.
Well,
he
was
old;
he
didn't
have
me
till
quite
late
in
life.
But
he's
still
cool!
He
would
tell
me
stories
about
his
time
in
the
national
service,
and
about
the
places
he
was
posted.
He
would
tell
me
about
the
things
he
got
up
to
in
West
Germany.
That's
why
I
wanted
to
join
the
army
in
the
first
place,
to
fight
for
my
country;
defender
of
the
faith
and
all
that.
Not
actually
like
that
though,
is
it,
in
reality?
I
mean,
in
reality
it
can
be blood,
guts,
pain,
fear
and
shitting
yourself.
Yeah,
reality
is
a
funny
thing
sometimes.
Anyway,
camping!
Yep,
I
love
camping,
always
have.
Sometimes
though,
it
can
be
bloody
uncomfortable.
Like
now.
This
camp
bed
is
proper
lumpy.
And
why
is
it
when
I
open
my
eyes,
it
looks
like
I'm
under
water?
Talking
of
water,
my
mouth
feels
as
dry
as
a
Pharaoh's
sock!

‘Hello,' Tommy croaked. ‘Hello, is anybody there?'

No answer.

Tommy was lying on his back. He opened his eyes again.
Oh
wow!
he thought,
I
feel
stoned.
He tried to focus his gaze straight up, and he could just make out what looked like a khaki-coloured roof. After a few more moments of blinking, he realised it was a tent roof; he could also see the cross pole. Trying to recall how he came to be staring at the khaki-coloured roof of a tent, he suddenly remembered that he had been hit by a banger – idiot! It was an RPG.
Right
then
, he thought,
I
must
be
injured.
Yes,
that's
it.
I've
taken
an
injury
and
that's
why
I'm
here.
This
is
a
hospital
tent,
then.
But
I
can't
be
that
bad
because
the
lads
were
taking
the
piss,
weren't
they?
You
know,
bringing
me
in
on
a
cart
instead
of
a
heli.
Ha!
Very
bloody
funny,
that.

‘Oi, can anybody bloody hear me?' Tommy said, louder this time. ‘I'm gonna die of thirst here, you know.'

‘I can hear you,' said a deep voice. ‘I will get you some water in good time, so please keep your voice down. There are some sick individuals in here, thank you.'

Ah!
Tommy thought,
I'm
not
alone,
then
. He moved his head, following the voice, but he still could not focus properly. His head felt like lead when he tried to move it. He could just make out a blurred figure sitting at a desk with what looked like a candle burning on it, and Tommy could not help but smile at this.

‘Bloody typical,' he said to the figure. ‘They can't even be bothered to pay the electric bill, let alone supply us with decent kit.' Tommy sighed. ‘Wankers!'

‘Now listen here, Private,' said the blurred figure. ‘Please keep your voice down and your comments to yourself, there's a good chap. I will be with you in but a moment.'

Well
lardy
fucking
da
.

Tommy tried to focus on his surroundings, moving his eyes slowly around the room – tent. It was obviously a tent, he could see that now, even with the blurred vision. The thought of camping with his father came back to him and he had to swallow down an involuntary sob. He took a deep breath and continued to scan around. There were other beds in here as well, three he could count, two of them occupied. Why hadn't they flown him out yet? And better still, why wasn't he in a proper hospital in Kandybar? This thought confused him; in fact, everything confused him: The cart he had been on with the horses, the bogus soldier with the dodgy hat and fake moustache, some raghead with a bloody marvellous curved sword…Was that real?

Was any of it real? What about that girl, with the long hair and kinky boots? Where was she, and was she a nurse perhaps? When he thought about it, she was a right dog, actually, with all that facial hair. Oh well, any port in a storm, especially a port with such long legs. He looked around the tent and was shocked to see how basic it was.
Oh
brilliant.
I'm
in
a
Red
Cross
camp!
How
fantastic!
he thought.
Blown
up,
nearly
carved
up
and
dragged
around
on
a
sodding
horse
and
cart,
and
now
the
local
witch
doctor
at
a
Red
Cross
camp.