A Soldier's Tale Ch. 05

Some people say having sex is intimate, well that's bollocks. How many sex partners have you had? 10? 15? 20? Maybe you are some sort of sexual athlete and you have had score of partners?

You want intimate? Try killing a guy.

Let's face it, that's as intimate as it ever gets because no one else is ever going to kill him again are they? And if you want that closeness multiplied till it's as deep as it can get, just don't kill a guy, but do it face to face, do it with a knife. That wasn't going to be my chosen method, it's far too messy and can be too chancy and I am not in the business of giving chances to anyone, but sometimes you just have to adopt to survive.

It was dark and it was pissing down, but there again it was Londonderry so that wasn't anything new. We used to reckon it rained for nine months of the years, and for the other three months, the water dripped from the trees, but whatever the reason it always seemed wet. And the dark? Well, the bad guys only do their business in the dark, so if you aim to catch them, its going to be at night time, stands to reason.

One of the big money earners for the IRA was running illegal taxi services all over Belfast and Londonderry, no tax, no insurance and stolen petrol made for pretty low overheads and massive profits. They quite often hijacked petrol tankers and would quite openly park them up outside their houses before driving off to refill the fleet of taxis.

We had been keeping an eye on a stolen petrol tanker and we were just waiting for the two thieves to come back. Eight of us had staked the tanker out and we were hidden in various bushes and dips in the waste ground, shivering in the wet and the dark.

The tanker was parked up on a large patch of waste ground facing the main road and we figured that a small path near the rear of the tanker that led to a housing estate was the most likely route for the guys to come back.

It was around three a.m. and the false dawn was just starting when a black taxi came belting along the road.

Before we had time to react, it had screeched to a halt beside the tanker and two guys had climbed out. Sodding typical, half of us were facing the wrong bloody way and far too spread out to pass the word along.

We had to act before they climbed into the cab; there would be no way of stopping the tanker once it was on the move. I started to rise up and my partner Pete started to rise up along side me. Unfortunately, at that moment the taxi driver started to swing his taxi around, and the headlights caught me and Pete full on lighting us up as plain as day, and leaving us feeling horribly exposed. The driver couldn't miss us and he didn't. Pressing on his horn, the noise split the night, that and his headlamps really caused things to go haywire. The tanker driver and his mate both split, running into the darkness where we couldn't see them because of the headlamps shining in our eyes. Pete took a quick snap shot at the taxi and a lucky shot took one headlamp out.

That was enough for the taxi driver and he quickly pulled a u-turn and sped away. That left the rest of us trying to hunt down the two guys who had done the runner, but as we didn't know if they were armed and didn't fancy switching on torches that could be used as aiming points, we were reduced to peering around in the dark.

We were left with no option but to carry out just a brief search before deciding if we should go stay there till daybreak. We decided to pull out, but it went against the grain to leave the tanker there, so we thought we would screw things up for them. We decided to cut the brake pipes leaving the brake fluid to empty out and freeze the brakes up.

I pulled out my bayonet, handed Pete my weapon and as the others started to move away I dropped to my knees and then my belly and crawled under the tanker.

I had just crawled into the pitch darkness when a hand grabbed my wrist and a fist hammered against my face.

Shit, one of the guys was under the tanker!

I tried lashing out with my boot, but couldn't get enough force going and again I got a fist in the face. He grabbed for my throat, anything to stop me shouting out for help.

I managed to break my hand free and stabbed forward with my bayonet.

The bayonet sank deep into him. I felt the blood spurt over my hand, drenching it; a foul smell came up from his ruptured belly as I ripped the knife sideways, cutting like mad and his guts slid out. I pulled the bayonet out, lashing and kicking out at him, even as I felt his dying breath on my face.

"Hurry up for christs sake" whispered Pete. "Are you having a wank or something under there?"

I rolled out from under the tanker, almost loosing my footing as I slipped on the guys intestines.

"Sometimes Pete, your frigging humour really really stinks"