With
all the gear on the ground at the rear of the aircraft, Matt and Will were
carefully carrying Dave’s body out of the Chinook.
“Put
him down there fellas,” said Steve, still dragging the Major behind him.
“Barry,
meet Dave, the fifth member of our patrol,” Steve stopped beside the corpse,
his eyes glowing with fury. “Dave was divorced with two kids he saw every
second weekend. He dedicated his life to the Regiment and died because some
bastard had a lucky shot.” Steve ripped the ground sheet away, revealing the
corpse. Dave was dark purple and half his face was missing. Part of his brain
was visible through the fragmented skull. His remaining eye was still partially
open and the dry pupil stared up at the sky.
“We
would have ended up liked that,” said Steve, forcing Major Douglas to look at
the dead body, “had Major Breckner not had the initiative and the balls to get
us out of the shit today!”
Douglas’s
mouth opened and closed again.
“We
were in a situation which was deteriorating. We were running out of ammunition,
were facing armour and it was only a matter of time before enemy reinforcements
arrived. Your aircrew flew in and pulled us out of a situation that would have
otherwise seen us in wooden boxes.”
“I
am aware of this,” Douglas said.
“I’m
not sure you are, Barry,” replied Steve.
“I
did not authorise this mission, and so disciplinary action will be taken against
all those involved,” Major Douglas said loud enough that the British aircrew
nearby could hear. “I will be in touch with the Australian army, and I will see
you on a charge,” Douglas said, his face red with rage.
“And
we can make your death look like an accident mate,” said Matt conversationally.
Major
Douglas flinched, but Steve dragged him forward again so he was forced to look
once again at Dave.
“You
just remember what the people under your command did today. They saved our
lives and they made sure that one of our good mates was brought home for a
proper burial. If anything you should be proud! You should be recommending
medals and ensuring your unit gets a citation for this.” Steve shook his head
as he saw Major Douglas was still clearly adamant about disciplinary action.
“Piss
off,” Steve said, pushing Major Douglas away. The officer turned back but
before he could respond, Steve shoved him away violently. “I said, piss off!”
Steve roared. Will pulled Steve away before violence broke out.
“All
right, mate,” said Will, “that’s enough.”
Steve
took a deep breath.
Major
Barry Douglas stormed towards the large demountable building of the Royal Air
Force flight line in the distance. The ground sheet was gently lifted back over
Dave’s body, hiding the gruesome wound from view.
“You’ve
got a prick of a commanding officer,” Steve called to the British aircrew
standing nearby. Some of them grinned or chuckled.
“You
should try workin’ with him,” called a man with a broad Birmingham accent.
British
Military operating procedures, directives and orders dictated that whether a
military force was at war, on a peace keeping mission, or on exercise on home
ground, the operation should run as smoothly as if it were a recruit’s training
mission. Whilst many high ranking officers were paid good money to ensure this
was the case, invariably it was not. Regardless of the time, weather, or the
day of the week, a Regiment at war was far more fluid, flexible and reactive
than a unit on some training exercise.
Steve
knew this, and he also knew that Major Douglas would be raising merry hell with
his peers and commanders to see justice delivered to those who had ignored his
direct orders. He would also push for insubordination charges upon the
Australian soldiers. But when it came to disciplinary action within the Western
military, it was much the same as civil law. Evidence needed to be sought and
provided and witnesses needed to be found. None of the helicopters had been hit
by ground fire, none of the aircrew had died, and within the space of thirty
minutes all of the helicopters had been refuelled, re- armed and were standing
silent upon the flight line, their ‘remove before flight’ tags drifting lazily
in the breeze as if the aircraft had never taken off.
Steve
knew no witnesses would be forthcoming. Major Douglas could argue with his
peers and subordinates until he was blue in the face. The Royal Air Force had
deployed on a daring rescue mission and had been successful. It was something
of which to be proud, a story to tell their grandchildren one day. It was
certainly not a mission that required disciplinary action. This would mean
Major Douglas would inevitably fail.
The
Australians talked and laughed with the British aircrew for some time, before
carrying their dead mate between them. Dave’s body was taken away to be stored
in a morgue. The British aircrew went back to their aircraft to conduct after-
flight inspections of the helicopters so they were ready to fly again at short
notice.
The
aircrew drifted away in dribs and drabs, no doubt to have a debrief somewhere
out of sight and ear shot of Major Douglas. Matt’s brother-in-law was more than
helpful in organising papers for Heleena. It was carried out very discreetly,
but within forty-eight hours, Heleena was an Australian citizen and within
ninety-six, she had birth certificate, passport, driver’s licence and a credit
card.
The
Australians were given accommodation for four nights. This brief stay allowed
the soldiers to wash clothes, shower, eat decent food and make short phone
calls home. It was not much, but a ten-minute phone call home was incredible
for morale. The adventure they had experienced with the Norse was like a dream
now. Some of these ancient warriors had given their lives to see the
Australians make it home and the soldiers knew that there was no greater
sacrifice. That the Norse were brave was beyond any doubt. It was something
none of them would forget, ever.
Will
and Heleena were given accommodation where Heleena learned how a shower and
toilet worked. Heleena was still showering and the smell of the fresh soap was
permeating the small unit. Will walked into the bathroom to wash his hands. He
stopped as his eyes drank up Heleena’s naked body that was glistening, wet and
soft. Arousal washed over him. She smiled and gestured to him.
“Come
here,” she said, soap suds sliding between her breasts and down her slim
stomach.
He
needed no second invitation.
*
* * * *
The
day before they were to depart to Qatar, Steve was asked if they would like a ramp
ceremony for Dave. A ramp ceremony was a display of respect, where soldiers
lined up either side of the rear ramp of the aircraft into which the body was
carried there they offered their final salute and acknowledgement. Steve knew
Dave would not have made any complaint, were he alive. The people who mattered
most to Dave, his family and his mates, were in Australia, and they would be at
his funeral. The ramp ceremony was a kind gesture, but it was politely
declined.
The
Australians were waiting out on the flight line before dawn. Dave’s coffin was
delivered half an hour later. Within the hour the soldiers were airborne on a
USAF C-130 Hercules. They stayed the night on the massive American Base, before
they were airborne once more early the next day for Dubai. Once they landed
they had a four- hour wait before they boarded the Australian flight home.
They
stopped briefly in the Maldives to refuel before continuing for Australia. The
aircraft touched down in Perth. They were finally home.
Judy
was waiting off to the side, and it took Steve some time before he found her.
She was running towards him. He opened his arms and kissed her hair as she
wrapped her arms around his waist. They stood holding each other for a long
time, neither of them saying anything.
“I
missed you,” Judy’s voice said into his shirt.
“I
missed you too,” he said, smelling her perfume and feeling her body pressing
against him.
“Where
are the kids?” he asked, as she pulled away.
“Still
at school; it’s only twelve o’clock.”
He
smiled and kissed her. “Good. We could do with some time alone.” He draped his
arm over her shoulder.
“I
think we could,” she smiled.
Matt
was on the far side talking to his girlfriend, Vanessa, who was smiling up at
him through her tears. Scott was with an old girlfriend he had split from
several times before. Will was standing hand in hand with Heleena, who was
dressed in modern clothes that really flattered her.
Steve
looked to see Dave’s ex-wife waiting, with her two children.
Judy
had noticed too.
“I
know Dave didn’t make it,” she said, “should we go over?”
Steve
nodded.
Steve
and Judy walked over to Sandy, who had been holding it together. She had not
been crying, but her eyes were glistening and the children were confused.
“Sandy,”
Steve said as he held her to him. He could feel her shuddering before the tears
came. She buried her face into his shoulder and cried openly for a long time.
Matt
and Vanessa came alongside them. Matt knelt and pulled the children to him.
“Where’s
Daddy?” one of them asked.
“Your
daddy has gone to a better place,” said Matt, holding the boy and girl close.
He could not remember their names and cursed himself for it.
“If
you close your eyes tight you can see him, and if you whisper to him you can
hear him. He is here with us, you just can’t see him,” said Matt, his voice
breaking. “When you go to bed tonight, close your eyes and speak to him, you’ll
see,” said Matt, smiling at them. They seemed reassured, for now anyway. Matt
and Vanessa grabbed the children’s hands and pulled them gently away from their
mother and led them to the spectator’s window, where people could watch
aircraft land and take off.
“Wow,
look at that one!” said the girl, standing on her tip toes as she pointed to a
twin propeller aircraft roaring into the sky. Several minutes later a Qantas
jet landed, its airbrakes roaring powerfully as it slowed the aircraft.
They
stood there for some time with the children until Sandy had regained her
composure. Matt and Vanessa led the children back to her.
*
* * * *
Dave
had been in the Special Air Service a long time, but in his will he had still
opted for a private burial. The media were not invited. Sandy would be damned
if her ex-husband’s funeral turned into a media frenzy as journalists pushed
and jostled to get a story. Just one Australian Defence photographer was
permitted to attend the funeral.
Steve
and Judy arrived an hour before the church service to find Sandy talking to the
priest about the coming ceremony. She was holding herself together, but her
eyes were dark rimmed and puffy. She had not slept well.
Steve
left Judy with Sandy and the priest, when he spotted Dave’s parents. Dave’s
father, Al, was a hard-eyed man who had served with the Royal Marines before
migrating to Australia in the late-1960s. Catherine, Dave’s mother, was the
opposite. It was easy to see that her heart had been broken. Al was supporting
her as they walked in.
“Al,”
Steve shook the older man’s hand. “I’m very sorry.”
Al
shrugged. “These things happen,” he said softly. Even though he was making out
that he was dealing well with the death of his son, it was clear he was not. “I
just hope the bastard who got Dave was slotted.”
“Yeah
we got him,” Steve said. “Good,” growled Al.
Steve
looked at Catherine. She was pale and her cheeks were wet with tears.
“I’m
sorry Catherine, I’m sorry,” he said. “Oh Steve! Oh Steve,” was all she could
say.
“How
did he die?” Catherine asked after a long while. “Come on, love,” Al said,
taking her arm.
She
pulled away. “No, I want to know Al, I want to know how our boy died!”
“I
don’t know if it’ll help,” Steve said. “Tell me,” Catherine said.
“All
right,” said Steve, taking a breath. “We got compromised and we fought off the
initial force, but a smaller force moved around to flank us. We went after them.
When we found them we set up an ambush, but by chance one of them got an
unlucky shot off which killed Dave. He died instantly.”
Catherine
nodded and blew her nose. “Thank you,” she said looking at Steve through
tear-filled eyes.
The
church was now packed with Dave’s family and friends. The ceremony began as his
coffin was gently carried to the front of the congregation.
The
ceremony went for almost an hour. Some of Dave’s friends recalled memories of
the man, Sandy spoke of her memories of a husband and father, and Scott
recalled how on one hot day in the Middle East, Dave had beaten him hands down
at a game of cards, winning almost two hundred dollars in cash.
“I
still reckon the bugger cheated!” Scott said, as he moved away from the back
towards his seat, eyes glistening.