A Soldier's Tale Ch. 03

It was approaching five o'clock at night on Friday 17th May. There was the normal crowd of drivers hanging around the duty clerk, pushing and shoving and I was just another one, hoping that I wouldn't be called upon for a last minute weekend duty. We were stationed just outside Londonderry, we were just over halfway through a two-year tour of duty and we were all dog-tired. The hours were long, and there was an intense amount of boredom that only got broken by sheer terror if things went wrong, as they often did.

But if you can't take a joke, you shouldn't have joined up, right?

The clerk finally finished trying out the duties and pinned the sheet to the notice board. I took one look and cursed the fact that me and the clerk had never really hit it off.

My first weekend off in ages and I had been looking forward to staying in bed most of it, but now it was all ruined. I was down for a driving job the next day, taking three lads on a fishing competition, which was going to last two days.

There was a note attached to the duty, telling me to see the MT sergeant.

I knocked on his office door and walked inside to find out the full score.

"All right paddy" he said "you have a right one here, its come down from the old man.. Some of the lads in the Battalion are keen fishers and there is a competition taking place over the weekend at Enniskillen"

It was standing orders that only MT personnel could drive army vehicles, so these three were going to have a weekend fishing, and I was going to spend the weekend frigging babysitting them. We were all going to be in plain clothes, they were going to pose as English holiday makers over for the fishing in a mini bus, and I was going to have to look as if I was enjoying myself.

Brilliant, frigging brilliant.

I went over and checked out the vehicle, making sure it was full of fuel, the tyres were road legal and there was windscreen fluid in the washer bottle. Satisfied that things were ok, I made my way back to my quarters and had an early night.

Six o'clock the next morning, I was driving the mini bus out of the MT yard and up towards the arms kote, were all the weapons were kept when not in use. As I was signing out my pistol, Mike Williams, a long time friend came up behind me to sign one out.

"Fuck me, what's a remf like you doing, signing out a pistol? I asked him.

He just laughed and winked at me.

Going outside I saw two lads waiting by the bus, and the day just got worse.

Short neat hair, very clean clothes, shiny shoes and clean shaven.....in the 1980's.

They just looked like what they were, off duty army personnel.

I was also in the army, but I made every effort to look badder than the bad guys. My normal outfit would consist of a black polo neck with a high collar, that way an army haircut didn't seem as bad. I wore a black leather jacket with poppers, not a zip, zips could get stuck and if you were trying to grab a pistol from a shoulder holster, a sticking zip is the last thing you want. I also had on flared jeans with doc martin boots, the flared jeans also meant that if I was sitting in a car I could place the pistol inside my doc martins and it would still be fairly near my hand. I also wore sunglasses, strictly against army rules, but I pretended they were prescription ones, so far nobody had bothered to look through them.

I was just looking at them and their pile of fishing gear when I heard a voice behind me.

"Welcome to the remf special"

Turning around, I saw Mike smiling at me.

Now it was all sinking in, Mike was also one of the fishing guys and that's why he had drawn out a pistol. I opened the doors and started to help the guys pack their fishing stuff inside. Talking to Mike, I started to get the full monty on what was happening. We were due to book in at the hotel near the lodge where the competition was being held. There would be heats held on the Saturday and the winners would fish again on Sunday to find an overall winner.

The lads climbed in, got comfortable and I set off driving towards the camp entrance.

As we approached the barrier, I flashed the headlamps, normally the sentry would just lift up the barrier and we would even have to stop, but this time he was on the phone and waved me to a standstill.

As I sat there looking at him, he waved the phone at me, making sure I understood it was for me. I switched off the engine and went inside the sentry box.

"Paddy" the voice said "Its me, Joe, fancy giving me that job you are on"?

"Say again" I replied.

"I have just checked with the sergeant, he said if its ok with you, its ok with him and I can do the driving job cause I like fishing anyway"

I slammed the phone down, did the quickest three point turn in army history and sped back down to the MT lines, ignoring all the questions the guys where shouting to me.

As I pulled up, Joe was waiting, he had his own fishing gear with him, so this would be a working holiday for him, and I wouldn't be babysitting anyone.

He signed over the mini bus from me, waved goodbye and set off.

Meanwhile I went home and went to bed.

Later that night, I walked down to the naafi, since Joe had taken that duty, I was free all weekend, and just needed to stay clear of anyone who looked like they needed a driver. I could see there were quite a few guys heading for the naafi then remembered

that there was a wrestling match on that night.

Looking forward to a good night, I headed for the bar and grabbed a pint.

The wrestlers were every bit as bad as I expected them to be, but being so bad made it more fun actually, the punches were fake and were so easy to spot coming, and yet they still managed to connect by accident.

Halfway through the second bout the duty Major came in, along with the RSM.

I knew the major, had worked with him a lot and something told me it was bad.

Very bad.

The RSM walked towards the ring and told the wrestlers to stop.

The Major climbed in the ring, the lights went brighter and he started to speak.

"I regret to inform you, an explosion took place in Enniskillen this afternoon. Members of the Battalion were involved. There have been two fatalities, and one serious injury."

"You may now carry on"

As the Major left the naafi, I went outside and caught him up.

"Who was it?" I asked.

He looked at a piece of paper in his hand, " Joseph Roberts, Michael Williams, both dead and Kevin Rowland seriously injured.

Michael Williams, Mike, the guy I had joined up with and trained with and got steaming drunk with and just talked with a few hours ago.

Joseph Roberts, Joe, the guy I had swapped duties with.

The guy who died doing my job.

The Major looked at me "I am going up to the hospital, if you are sober, you can be my driver if you like? I just nodded and ran off to go and grab a car.

We drove along in the dusk towards the hospital and I asked the Major if they knew what had happened? "Seems the mini bus got booby trapped. The IRA figured out the lads were in the army, planted a bomb under the bus and when the ignition was turned on......"

My mind flashed back to how the lads looked when I saw them, shiny shoes, neat short hair, clean shaven, tidy clothes.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

We pulled up outside the hospital, made our way inside, identified ourselves to the armed sentries and made our way towards the operating room area.

As we got there, the sentry told us one of the lads was being worked on.

At that moment, the doors swung open and a nurse in blood stained clothing walked past carrying a tray.

With two legs on it.

The Doctors battled all night, they kept him alive.

Until five months later, when he decided to finish off what the bombers had started.

What was that about not being able to take a joke?