Andy McNab - Bravo Two Zero

More people came into the room. I was lifted up and put back onto a chair and re blindfolded I hoped it wasn’t just a fresh crew coming in to take over from where the others had left off.

“What is your name?” I heard from a new voice in excellent English.

“Andy.”

I didn’t give my full name. I was determined to drag this out as long as I could. My surname was a whole new question. The trick is to use up time, but at the same time to appear to be wanting to help.

“How old are you, Andy? What is your date of birth?”

His diction was very precise, his grammar better than mine. The slight Middle Eastern accent was barely detectable.

I gave him the answer.

“What is your religion?”

Under the terms of the Geneva Convention he wasn’t allowed to ask that one. The correct response should have been: “I cannot answer that question.”

“Church of England,” I said.

It was inscribed on my ID tags and they had them, so why should I risk another filling in over information that they already had? I hoped the information would help confirm that I was from England, not Tel Aviv as the crowd had seemed to believe.

Church of England meant nothing to them.

“You are Jewish?”

“No, I’m a Protestant.”

“What is a Protestant?”

“A Christian. I’m a Christian.”

To them, everybody’s a Christian who’s not a Muslim or a Jew.

Christianity embraces everybody from Trappist monks to Moonies.

“No, Andy, you are Jewish. We will soon find that out. Do you like my English, by the way?”

“Yes, it’s good.”

I wasn’t about to argue. As far as I was concerned, he spoke better English than Kate Adie.

I had my head down, swinging it from side to side, looking and sounding confused. There were long pauses while I appeared to be trying to think of things. I slurred my words, played on the injuries, played for time, dragged everything out.

“Of course my English is good,” he snapped, coming right up to my face. “I worked in London. What do you take me for-an idiot? We are not idiots.”

He had been asking questions from maybe 10 feet away, as if from behind a desk. But now he was up and walking around as he launched into a torrent of rhetoric about how intelligent and wonderful the Iraqi nation was and what tremendously civilized people they were. He was beginning to shout. Flecks of spit landed on my face. They smelled of tobacco and cheap cologne. The speed and harshness of his verbal assault made me wince a little; I clenched my teeth. I had to fight to control my reactions; I didn’t want him to know I was in a better state than he thought. You’ve got to take it for granted that these people are switched on.

“We are an advanced nation,” he spat. “As your country shall soon find out.”

I had been feeling a bit like a child on the receiving end of a scolding, who puts his face down while he’s being yelled at and his whole body starts to shudder.

He mentioned London and I thought, This is all getting on rather well here, we’re going to talk about London.

“I love London,” I said. “I wish I was back there now. I don’t want to be here. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m just a soldier.”

We went through the Big Four again. In my mind’s eye I tried to race ahead and compare what I was going to say with what I’d already said. I could hear lots of writing going on. All the pens seemed very close to me. I heard paper being folded and the shuffling of feet.

My interrogator moved away and sat down. His tone switched to something soothing and approachable.

“I know you’re just a soldier,” he said. “I am a soldier myself. Let us just get this done in a civilized manner. We are a civilized nation. There are certain things we want to know, Andy. Just tell us. You’re just a tool. They are using you.”

It was pretty obvious what was going on. My job now was to make them think that their methods were working.

“Yes, sir,” I said, “I’m so confused, I really want to help you. I don’t know what’s happening. I’m so worried about my friend outside.”

“Well, tell me what unit you’re from. Just tell us and you won’t have to go through this pain. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“I’m sorry, I cannot answer that question.”

It all started again.

When the new characters had come in, one of them must have slipped in behind me. When I gave the dud response, he must have got the nod because he threw a massive hook with a rifle butt into the side of my head. It took me straight onto the lino.

If you’re in a fight as a school kid you’re all revved up for it, and you’re expecting the blows. They don’t hurt so much when they come. If you’re not expecting it, the pain is intense. The shock from the rifle butt was horrendous. I passed out. I went to another world, and although it hurt intensely, it was actually quite a pleasant place to be.

As I lay on the floor, I noticed that my breathing was very shallow now and my heart was pumping more slowly. Everything was slowing down. I could feel myself gradually declining. I couldn’t swallow. Everything was a haze.

I took another blow from the rifle butt. Bubbles of vivid light exploded before my eyes. Then there was darkness.

I was semiconscious when they lifted me back onto the chair.

“Look, Andy, we just need to know some things. Let me do my job. We don’t have to do this. We are all soldiers. This is an honorable profession.” All of this in a low, soft, comforting voice. A sort of “Let’s get it over with, let’s be mates’ sort of tone.

“We could just leave you out in the desert to be eaten by the animals, Andy. Nobody would care, except your family. You’re letting them down, you’re not being brave, you’re just playing into the hands of the people who sent you here. They’re having a good time while people like you and me are fighting each other. You and me, Andy-we don’t want to fight this war.”

I was nodding and agreeing with everything he said, and all the time I was doing it the wonderful feeling was growing inside me that I had actually beaten him. He saw me nodding, but he didn’t know that inside my head my attitude was totally different. I started to feel better about my capture. Everything had felt so negative up till then. I was thinking: He must be believing this crap. He’s chatting away and I’m agreeing with him. I couldn’t believe I was getting away with it. I was on top of this discussion, and he wasn’t even aware of it. I’d got something over him. This could be the start of a wonderful relationship.

I was winning.

“Just tell us, Andy, and we shall send you back to England. What unit are you from?” He made it sound as if he had the power to summon a private jet there and then to whisk me back to Brize Norton.

“I’m sorry, I cannot answer that question.”

This time, as the kicks connected with my skull, there was a hissing, popping sound in my ears, and as I clenched my jaw, I heard the bones creak together. I felt blood trickle out of my ears and down my face. I was worried. Blood coming out of your ears is not a good sign. I thought, I’m going to be left deaf. Shit, I was only in my early thirties.

“What unit are you with?”

I was hoping desperately that he’d get on to something else, but he wasn’t going to let go.

I said nothing.

“Andy, we are not making much progress.”

Bizarrely, the voice was still soft and chummy.

“You must understand, Andy, I have a job to do. We’re not getting very far, are we? There is no big problem, just tell us.”

Silence.

More kicks. More punches. More screams.

“We already have this information from your friend, you know. We just want to hear it from you.”