Andy McNab - War torn

'McCall, leave the fucking shotgun,' Dave roared again. 'Stay where you are and we'll come for you.'

Jamie's voice: 'Strange movement in that line of trees. I think the Talis are firing from up in the branches.'

Dave turned to Mal. 'Did you have it when we stopped the second time?'

Mal's miserable expression was the only answer Dave needed.

Jamie let the gimpy do its work. A weapon fell from one tree but a body didn't follow. The answering fire began to lessen.

Drowsiness, sickness and headaches were peeling away from them now. Dave's head began to clear. Angus was fucking around in the stuff that had fucked them up in the first place. I'll kill him… Then he realized the Taliban was likely to save him the trouble.

With a sinking heart, he knew the lost shotgun was going to jeopardize the whole operation. The only safe way to go back for it was with the help and cover of all three sections and EOD to check for booby traps before they touched it. He knew it never would have happened if Sol had been here.

3 Section had moved round and were firing along the treeline as well now.

'1 Section, move forward,' the boss told them. Finn set off at the front. All Dave's instincts propelled him forward. But then those instincts were overridden by the knowledge that Angus was completely alone behind them and to leave him or the shotgun was unthinkable.

'Hold firm!' he said reluctantly.

'Move forward,' the boss said.

'We've got a problem at the back.'

'What problem?'

Mal's face turned towards him, blanched despite the sun, his brown eyes sunken.

Dave sighed. 'ECM not working.'

'1 Section, hold firm,' the boss instructed. Electronic Counter Measures was the only protection they had against walking into a remote-controlled mine, so no one was going to make them go forward without it.

They were still under sporadic fire, but Finn kept looking their way. Dave knew it wouldn't take him long to notice Angus's absence.

'Did we leave Angry behind?' Finn suddenly blurted into the mic.

'No.' Dave was still wondering what to do. If the rifle was at the corner of the field there was a chance Angus could get back with it alive. If it was still at their earlier position, then he would have to ask for support from the whole platoon.

'Is everything OK there?' the boss asked.

'Just what is going on, Sergeant?' Major Willingham's tone was crisp and indignant. 'Have you got a man down?'

'No, sir.'

'ECM problem,' the boss said helpfully.

'Well, hurry up.' The major sounded irritable. And Dave knew him well enough to be sure that the gap between an irritable OC and an angry OC was very narrow.

The silence stretched. Dave thought he could hear Major Willingham breathing like an angry bull into his mic. Ahead of them the other platoons were engaged in some intense fighting. Even the newest recruit must feel himself pulled towards the action; they were pinned in a ditch by their own incompetence instead. Dave wished the enemy would open fire and give them an excuse to hold firm but of course the Taliban weren't there when you needed them.

'Look, what's going on?' the OC roared at last. 'I want 1 Platoon to move forward. Surely you've sorted out your ECM problem by now!'

'Er…' The boss couldn't conceal his nervousness. 'How long will it be, Sergeant?'

'Any moment now.' Dave's gaze was fixed on the cannabis field, his heart sinking.

'Shit, Sarge,' Mal said bleakly.

'We'll have to go back for him.'

Finn ran down the ditch towards them. Dave told him what had happened and watched as Finn's eyes darkened.

'The fucking idiot!'

Dave recognized the fury of his own first reaction. He knew that worry came next.

'At least we're not under fire now…' Mal said.

'Angry's got everyone confused!' Finn said. 'Even the fucking flipflops.'

'Or maybe they've moved,' Dave said. 'Either to reinforce the centre or into the field to look for him.'

In the silence that followed, Finn's face rearranged itself, as Dave had known it would, into shock. Whatever happened, even if it meant botching today's whole operation, they could not allow a man to fall into the hands of the enemy.

'For fuck's sake!' the major exploded in Dave's ear. 'This is ridiculous. I need you forward. Now!'

To Dave's relief, the Taliban machine guns kicked off.

'Under intense fire,' Boss Weeks reported quickly. He obviously knew that Dave had a bigger problem than an ECM gremlin. 'We can't move forward yet.'

'If you'd moved when I told you to then you'd be there by now,' the major yelled.

The tension on the net was palpable. Dave's eyes were fixed on the field, but there was still no sign of Angry.

'I'll have to tell them what's happened,' Dave said. He felt hollow. He felt sick. This was a massive and embarrassing failure for his platoon. 'Sir-'

'Look!' Mal shouted.

A puff of something that looked like smoke but must have been pollen was rising from the edge of the cannabis field. Angus had stepped out of it and was running towards them, still bent double. He was carrying his rifle and the shotgun. His presence drew a volley of fire which Jamie on one side and gunners from 2 and 3 Sections soon silenced.

'Yes?' the major said wearily. 'What is it you're trying to tell me, Sergeant? I have a feeling that you're about to cock up today's action.'

'Not at all, sir,' Dave said. 'The ECM's working now and we're ready to move forward.'

'Well thank Christ for that!'

When he reached them, Angus handed the shotgun across Dave to his mate.

'Listen, Angry, thanks…' Mal said weakly. 'You shouldn't have-'

'You fucking shithead!' Finn shouted.

'No time for that here,' Dave thundered. 'I'll deal with you two when we get back. Now just get on with the fucking job.'

The section made its way along the ditch towards the compound.

DAVE DIALLED HOME ON THE SATELLITE PHONE. WHEN IT connected he listened to the ringing tone without hearing it. His head was ringing already from the bollocking he'd just given Riflemen McCall and Bilaal.

Mal shouldn't have left the shotgun. But Dave knew he'd been overcome by the cannabis plants. For Chrissake, he'd fallen asleep himself.

But there was no such excuse for Angry McCall's dash to save the shotgun. It was so insane that, deep inside, Dave couldn't help admiring the lad's bravery and commitment to a friend. Especially since that friend had recently been merciless in his criticism of Angry's own mistakes.

Dave had threatened to send Angus home, threatened anything he could think of, and the huge lad had hung his head and bitten his lower lip in silence.

'You said you were going to prove yourself,' Dave reminded him. 'And you will. But today you didn't. I'm putting you on shit duties for a week.'

He was just about to dismiss the lad when McCall said: 'Sarge?'

Dave waited, hands on hips.

'Sarge, I did it because I thought it was what my dad would have done.' He looked up briefly, then back at the ground.

Dave sighed. 'You've got to learn to be your own man-'

The phone's insistent ringing snapped him back into the present. It was going on too long. Jenny should be at home because Vicky would be in bed. So why wasn't she answering? The ringing gave him a hollow feeling. Had there been an emergency? No, he would have been told.

This sound of the unanswered phone was a sound more empty than silence. He forgot Mal and Angry and with each ring his mind and heart were pulled a little closer to home. He was tugged back to England, to Wiltshire, to the camp, to his street, to his house and to Jenny, Vicky and their unborn baby. The journey made him tired and tense. He had reached that point in his absence when it was better not to think about them too much. And now he had gone all the way back for Jenny. And she wasn't there.