Andy McNab - Last Night-Another Soldier…

I held out my plate and Cookie slopped a ladle of mince and a splat of spuds on it, one beside the other, followed by a bit of green pond life around the edge of the plate. One of the things I loved about the army was the queuing system because I got to go to the front. Us riflemen got fed first, then NCOs like MacKenzie, and officers got fed last. When it came to food and kit, the lads always came first. At least there was one advantage to being low-life.

I picked up a knife and fork from the cutlery bin at the end of the counter. Everything was made of plastic – plates, cups, knives and forks – so everything could be chucked away in bin liners after every meal. It was cleaner that way, and would definitely go towards helping MacKenzie win that bet.

Just like the toilet waste, all used plastic was burnt too. Greenpeace would do their nut if they saw the black smoke that came out of our FOB. Mind you, if they wanted to worry about plastic, there was a lot worse for them to worry about in Afghanistan. The plastic high explosives the Talis used to make IEDs (Improvized Explosive Devices) did a serious amount of damage. The battalion had had more lads killed by IEDs than they ever had killed through getting zapped.

Cookie offered me spotted dick for afters, but I refused on the grounds that he said that to all the lads. He didn't bother to reply, just rolled his eyes skyward. He'd heard it all before, of course, but it was the law that you had to try and wind him up anyway, just for the fun of it.

I couldn't stop thinking about IEDs. Those things were just out there, buried in the ground, waiting for you to drive over them or step on them out in the field. Rumour also said that if you stepped on one, the last thing you'd hear would be a click as the connection was made between the electric charge and the detonator. I was more worried about IEDs than about getting zapped. I suppose it was because you had no control, no choice, you couldn't even fight back. It just happened or it didn't.

But it wasn't just Taliban IEDs that blew our soldiers up, it was the Russian mines too. They'd been buried in Afghanistan years ago, but they were still active. The Russian mines were called legacy mines, not that it mattered much to us who laid them or when. All that mattered to us was that there were thousands of them out there just a couple of inches under the ground and no one knew exactly where they were. Except, I suppose, some old Russian back in Moscow with the world's biggest map of Afghanistan stuck full of drawing pins.

I scraped my chair in next to Flash, who was using a spoon to get the mouthfuls in quicker. Si couldn't keep his eyes off the TV screen at the back of the room. Football repeats, of course, but he'd watch anything a hundred times over before even thinking about turning off the telly.

Flash stuffed a giant spoonful of meat into his mouth. 'Mmmm. Not bad. Not as good as me dad's mince, though. He makes the best.'

I picked up a fork and got stuck in too. 'Your dad cook, then?'

'Yeah. Better than me mum, even me missus. He does roast beef with big fat yorkshires every Sunday.'

Sounded good to me, but I couldn't really chip in with the Happy Childhood Memories game. 'Never saw my dad cook. Never saw him do anything really. He legged it before I started school.'

Flash always listened to what I had to say. 'Yeah? He was in the Falklands, wasn't he?' He barely got the words out before the spoon was loaded up and heading for his mouth again.

'Yeah. In the Guards.'

Si's eyes flicked away from the screen and he began pumping his arms up and down like he was marching. 'Oh the Guards… left, right, left, right, left, right…'

Flash lowered his spoon for a second and glared at Si before it was his turn to get a slap around the back of the head. 'Shut up, Si! Dickhead.' Si grinned and went back to his TV viewing. 'Go on, Briggsy, your dad was in the Guards?'

'Yeah, but I don't really remember anything about him, except that he was always drunk. Well, that's what my mum says. He used to come back home from the pub, give her a good slapping, and then disappear for days on end. My mum reckons the day she did a runner with me was the best day of her life. I don't think so, though, she still gets upset about it.'

Flash finished his meat and turned to his mashed potatoes. 'Harsh, mate. Harsh.'

Si looked away from the screen towards me. He'd obviously been listening as well as watching and eating. 'Poor little Briggsy,' he said in a sing-song voice, but his eyes didn't turn back to the telly.

I took a forkful of mince. 'Nah, it was all right. Mum got a job in the biscuit factory and we moved to a different estate. I got my own bedroom and everything, know what I mean?'

Flash was spooning so fast he'd got a big blob of mash stuck on his chin. He rubbed at it with the back of his hand, but the potato only spread out even more. 'Did your mum help you with your reading then, what with you having dyslexia and all that?'

'Nah. She didn't really notice. She was out working too much. She sort of feels guilty now, like it's her fault I'm in the army. The schools weren't any help. I didn't even know I was dyslexic until I joined up. I thought I was just thick! Well, I am…'

Flash started to rub his chin with two fingers in a more determined effort to get the spud off. 'You're not, mate.'

'I know, I know. Just a reading age of ten. Ain't good, though, is it?'

'How's the coursework going? Those educators squaring you away?'

'Yep. They've told me they're going to sort it. I've got loads of homework. Toki's still giving me a hand.'

'Good news. Listen, if you need any more help, give us a shout. Whatever you need.' Flash licked the mash off his fingers and was now moving on to the green stuff. Weird how he ate everything in separate portions, never mixing the different foods together.

'Thanks, but I'm doing all right. Know what? Joining up was the best thing I've ever done. Getting educated, being out here, doing the business.'

Someone scored a goal and the TV crowds roared. Si turned his attention back to the screen. He slapped his palm across his forehead, feeling the pain of the goal all over again, then he switched his focus back to us, his mates.

'If I hadn't joined up, I reckon I'd be in prison by now. That's where most of my old mates are. We were always getting into trouble. Just for stupid stuff, shoplifting, nicking cars, nothing serious. But then I started, like, getting pissed off with lads who had new cars, motorbikes, stuff like that. So I started to kick 'em in instead of nicking 'em. Smashed people's shops up just because they had stuff and I didn't. So I ended up in a detention centre down near Portsmouth when I was sixteen. Soft in the head, or what? Joining up was a good move, know what I mean?'

I nodded as Si started sipping his brew loudly. That was about the longest speech I'd ever heard Si make.

Flash nodded too. 'You know, the papers really get me ticking, the way they go on about hoodies and how all you kids are the scum of the earth. But you know what? They never write about teenagers like you two, or me boys. You lot have all bothered to get your finger out your arse and make a go of life.'

Si burst out laughing so much his brew came out of his nose. 'Briggsy's got two fingers out of his!'

Even I had to laugh at that one. We carried on eating in silence for a bit, and then Si started up again. 'You were lucky last night, Briggsy. Just think, what if that bullet had gone just a bit the other way? That would've been the end of your wedding tackle. Mate, what if it had gone any higher, it would have zapped your spine and you could be in a wheelchair for life. What if…'

I didn't really want to think about it, so I cut him off quick. 'Haven't really thought about it, mate.'