Andy McNab - War torn

'You'd turn into a fucking spider if you tried to use them all at once.'

'You'll have that too, Broom. You'll have a leg for every occasion. We'll start feeling sorry for those poor buggers with only the two.'

Broom remained propped on his elbow but closed his eyes.

'Buckle, you didn't look ready for Strictly just then.'

'Listen, mate. I don't know about dancing but I do know about fighting. And Afghanistan is the best fucking fight for years. I'm getting used to the idea that I'm missing this tour but I'll tell you something: I'm not going to miss the next one.'

Broom kept his eyes shut.

'Get real.'

'You feel that way now because you're still at the beginning. You're at the bit where you think your life's over. But it's not. It's all a big challenge but challenges are what we joined up for, mate. And I'm going to get back to the frontline. That's my biggest challenge yet.'

'You're married,' said Broom. 'Got kids?'

'Twins. Boys. They're not two years old yet. I'm going to be outrunning them until they're at least twenty-one.'

'What about your wife then?'

'What about her?'

'Does she fancy you any more?'

'Dunno.'

'Haven't you seen her then?'

'She visits me in Headley Court. Just a few hours at a time.'

His tone was indifferent. Broom looked at his big face and saw he was angry.

'So, how is she with it?' he persisted.

'With what?'

'You having one leg.'

Steve shrugged.

'She pisses me off, to tell you the truth. It's the way she looks at me. All sympathy. Sit there. Let me do that. How are you feeling? Dabbing her eyes when she thinks I won't see. I want to clock her one. I went home for the weekend between Selly Oak and Headley Court. Big mistake. I ended up chucking my crutch at her.'

Broom was silent, thinking that Steve Buckle could be a scary sort of bloke.

'It's not her fault, mate. Why are you so pissed off with her?'

'Dunno. She's overweight. Doesn't take care of herself. Sits around doing nothing in front of the telly. Then she comes in looking all sorry for me and I think: I could live without you easier than I can live without my leg. And other times I think: why've you got two legs? You hardly use them.'

Broom eased himself off his elbow and lay back down.

'I do get really angry,' Steve said. 'You will too.'

Ben Broom was assaulted by fear after fear. They came sneaking up on him like a series of ambushes.

'Will I have to leave the army?'

'Shouldn't think so.'

'What will I do?'

'What do you want to do?'

'Same as before.'

Steve got up.

'Then do it.'

'My bird might not fancy me any more.'

'So find one who does.'

Steve started to leave the room. He used a crutch this time, moving forward with comparative ease.

Broom felt desperate. He didn't want to be left alone.

'When will they make me look at it?' he called.

Steve was near the door now.

'What? Your stump?'

Stump. The word was horrible. Broom nodded and swallowed.

'Not until you're ready. They know what they're doing.'

'When are you coming back?'

'When I've seen Ryan Connor and after your mum's been and your bird if she's here. And if either of them starts crying all over you, just tell them to fuck off. I mean it. Don't put up with their shit. You're soon going to be skiing better than they ever could.'

Ben Broom started reorganizing his face. It took a bit of effort. The muscles felt tired before he'd even started to practise a smile. But by the time his mother walked in with the welfare officer, red-haired, freckled and too tearful to speak, he was ready for her.

'Hi, Mum! Great to see you. For Chrissake, there's no need to cry because I'll be learning to ski soon…'

'I'M GETTING FED UP WITH CLEANING WEAPONS ALL THE TIME AND never using them,' said Sol.

They had just eaten another sand sandwich. The civilians were busy. Angus had disappeared on stag again.

Binns said: 'I'm wishing the Taliban would attack us just to give us something to do.'

'Write a rap about Jackpot, Streaky,' Finn said to Bacon. 'We'll help. It'll give us something to do.'

'You can't write a rap about nothing happening,' said Streaky. 'Rap's rough and angry. Not bored and sleepy.'

'It's another game of cards then, lads,' said Finn, reaching for the pack.

Jamie groaned.

Mal closed his eyes.

'OK, guys, we've finished with the dynamite for now.'

Martyn had appeared in a cloud of fine dust.

'That's a shame,' said Finn. 'It was the only interesting thing going on around here.'

Everyone had wanted to set the dynamite off but Emily had shaken her head and wagged her finger.

'This is a radio-controlled explosion and human error could have a catastrophic effect on our results.'

'What happens now, Martyn?' asked Jamie.

Binns looked up hopefully.

'If you've finished with the dynamite, can we go back to Sin City?'

'Emily has to collate the results from all the seismometers. When she's put them together in the lab -' Martyn gestured to one of the Vectors – 'they should give us a complete picture. But if the images are wrong then we'll have to adjust them and repeat the experiment. So we can't go anywhere until she gives us the all-clear.'

'What are you going to do, then?' demanded Finn. 'While Emily's in her lab?'

'Play blackjack with you,' said Martyn, sitting down on an upturned crate.

The sandstorm had ended a couple of days ago but the camp was still covered with its sand. Even the playing cards retained a gritty residue.

Dave came out of the ops room holding a radio.

'McCall thinks he's seen some movement in the hills again,' he said.

Everyone groaned.

'Right, we'll have a few more pairs of eyes over there,' said Sol. 'Mal, Binman, Streaky, go for it.'

'But last time he said that we called out aerial surveillance and they didn't find anything!' moaned Binns.

'Yeah,' said Dave, 'but there was a sandstorm so the eye in the sky might have made a mistake.'

'Certainly,' agreed the OC, emerging behind him. 'And we shouldn't get complacent.'

But the men came back reporting there was nothing to see.

'Maybe,' said the boss to Dave, 'Angus should spend less time in the tower.'

'Well, let him finish his stag,' said Dave. 'He's down in ten minutes anyway.'

When a lad from 3 Section had replaced him, Angus climbed down from the tower to find Martyn sitting in the shade of the sangar.

'Hey, Angry, come talk to me.'

'What? Now?'

'Yeah. I'm sort of interested in this movement you keep seeing.'

Angus was already red from the heat and now he reddened still more.

'No one believes me.'

'Well, describe it, can you?'

Angus was surprised, but he sat down and got out a cigarette. He offered Martyn one and looked relieved when he didn't accept.

'Well, it's like a shadow. When the sandstorm was starting and I could hardly see the hills, that time it looked like it could have been a person. But the other times it's been like when you see a cloud shadow. Which sort of appears and then disappears when the sun goes in…'

'What do you think it is?'

Encouraged by his interest, Angus said: 'At first I thought maybe it was the shadow of an aircraft. Some sort of aerial surveillance. But I don't think so. I don't know what it is.'

'An animal?'

Angus shrugged.

'You want it to be Taliban. Right?'

Angus flicked his ash down. 'Well…'

'Because you want some action. Right?'

'That's what I signed up for.'

'You've already shown one helluva lot of courage. I've heard about some of the things you've done. Your dad must be proud of you.'

Angus looked at the ground.