James Ashcroft - Making a Killing - The Explosive Story of a Hired Gun in Iraq

Thirty hours later and a thousand miles from Iraq, I had never been so happy to see the green fields and rain-filled skies of England as we descended into Heathrow. I walked into the arrivals lounge to see the two most beautiful women in the world; Krista and Natalie, blonde and sparkling, both in red coats with long tartan scarves, Krista tall and willowy with her pregnant tummy just showing through her coat, Natalie the perfect miniature in shiny leather shoes. She ran into my arms and I swung her round in the air like I always did, playing aeroplanes. Krista stood watching. She looked relieved, deeply happy, more beautiful than ever. I was a lucky guy.

I was enjoying the journey back from the airport in our new Range Rover, courtesy of my last pay cheque from Spartan, soaking up the sights and sounds of home.

‘Now you have come back, I think we should get married,’ Krista suddenly announced.

I was glad she was driving. I would have crashed the car. For the last five years every time I had steered close to the subject she had become angry and defensive, making it clear that it was never going to happen.

‘Sure,’ I said, playing it cool. We drove on in silence. I waited until we had parked up at home and then leapt out of the car whooping and shouting. I fell to my knees outside the driver’s door. ‘Will you marry me?’

‘Get up, James! Your trousers will get dirty and the neighbours are watching,’ she scowled. ‘And yes, of course.’

I asked her again as we gave Nat her bath and twice at dinner until she got angry again and told me to stop being silly. Then I asked her one last time as she lay dozing off in bed against me, with the solid lump of her belly touching mine.

‘Yes, James. I missed you so much. I wanted to marry you for such a long time, but I was too proud and silly to admit I was wrong. Now go to sleep.’ She rolled over and drifted off into slumber.

Tears of emotion pricked the backs of my eyes; I’m soft as butter on the inside, me. I don’t think I had ever been happier in all my born days than I was at that one special moment. For the first time since I had met her, Krista had admitted that she was wrong about something.

The next day was Christmas Day and after we had opened our stockings in bed with Natalie, my mother and the rest of the family arrived to help get Christmas lunch sorted. I announced that Krista and I were going to get married and my mother just looked at me.

‘Yes, James, I know. We have been planning it for a few weeks. I am trying to book a weekend this autumn. I am very happy for you, dear, but I really don’t understand why you didn’t ask the poor girl earlier,’ she sniffed.

The house was full of family and friends and I took a moment to make some calls to people who didn’t already know I was engaged. Dai’s girlfriend answered to say that he was still hung over in bed. I called Seamus to wish him Happy Christmas. He congratulated me when I told him my news, but he sounded tired.

‘How’s work, mate?’

‘Just the usual crap,’ he said. ‘We’ve just paid the guards yesterday and there’s a rumour gone round already that we’re not going to pay ’em at the end of January.’ I remembered the plan to pay the guards early, partly as a deception plan for security in case the pay convoy got ambushed, and partly because Baghdad would no doubt be locked down between Christmas and New Year as the threat level soared. ‘Sammy’s on the case, but I don’t think they’re listening.’

‘Are they listening to Ibrahim?’ I asked and he chuckled.

‘You know the score.’

Ibrahim would be weighing up what was more advantageous to him, to let the guards carry on believing they weren’t getting paid or to tell them it wasn’t true.

Mad Dog, John and Gareth had gone to the villa knowing they would be ‘stuck’ in Aradisa Idah for the entire period of the lockdown. Mad Dog had pulled a blinder and traded a bottle of whisky for a real Christmas pudding from the Brit encampment and had also arrived bearing cases of beer. They were about to watch Shallow Hal , a team favourite, then start working their way through the James Bond movies until they were all shit-faced and fell asleep. Everyone wished me Merry Christmas and congratulated me on my engagement.

I could see them in my mind’s eye, gathered in front of the wide screen in the sitting room with their plates of roast lamb, every man with a pistol on his belt and rifles stacked next to the sandbagged door. The Yaapies would close their eyes and say a silent grace before eating and Seamus would continue bullshitting John and Gareth about the time he worked as Princess Diana’s PSD.

As I looked around my own house, full of people chattering about their neighbours and holidays, I felt a sense of disorientation, that this was not the real world. It was just too frivolous. I felt an unexpected desire to be back in Baghdad. In the place that had become my home. But that was crazy, wasn’t it? When I thought about my friends with weeks still to go before they could also relax, still in danger, I felt ashamed to be safe at home in London with a glass of champagne in my hand.

I could not understand why, but my heart felt like lead as I put the phone down. Krista came over with a bright smile.

‘How’s Seamus? Did you say Merry Christmas for me?’

I plastered a smile on my face and said he was fine.

I had promised Krista I was never going back to Iraq, but as the days passed I watched the news of the worsening situation during the elections, the fresh spate of IEDs and firefights in Baghdad, the CF patrols and private security contractors struggling to prevent the city going up in one last apocalyptic explosion. Seamus never said anything but I had known him for long enough. I knew they were feeling the pressure and were short-handed without Dai and myself.

One night Krista asked me what was wrong. So I told her that I felt bad about being home in London when my team-mates were still in danger. It was unfinished business and I wanted to go back for the last few weeks of the contract and see it through with them.

She fingered the new diamond engagement ring I had just bought and then looked me in the eye.

‘I suppose you had better go then. I will be here when you get back,’ and her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled and kissed me.

I still had my return tickets to Amman and Baghdad as well as all my Coalition ID cards. I emailed Seamus and simply told him that my leave terminated at the end of the week and I was reminding him that he needed to organise a pick-up for me from the BIAP on Monday morning, 9.30 a.m.

The reply came immediately. ‘Transport’s arranged.’

The Christmas madness had passed and Baghdad had settled back into being its usual murderous self by the time I arrived. The guards had been told that everyone would be paid with a Eid ul-Adha bonus when the TF Fountain contract officially ceased at the end of January. Security at the sites was being managed by Colonel Ibrahim and Major Razak, with our team out of the guns and jeeps division and now acting only as consultants.

Sammy had been emotional when I left Baghdad and there were fresh tears in his blue eyes when I gave him the gifts I had brought for his family.

‘I knew, Mister James, I would see you again.’

‘Four weeks and I’m out of here for good,’ I replied.

He looked sad and I immediately felt guilty. We walked outside to Sammy’s old Toyota. It was a chilly day with a stiff wind.

‘It is a pity we did not visit the melwiyeh ,’ he said. ‘You would be very happy. Iraq is a very beautiful country.’

‘When it all settles down I’ll come back with my family,’ I said. ‘By then you will be very rich and I expect you’ll have three more wives.’