Sabre Six : File 51 (15 page)

I drank my tea. Then I spent the next hour pacing up and down the terminal, as far as I could go without getting bollocked by the security staff. Eventually I looked up one final time at the infor
mation board, and by some miracle my flight was back in action. I was to report to Gate Eight with my ticket. How they did it I’m still not sure, but a queue had already formed in front of me and I was pushed to the back. I handed over my ticket to the sexy looking female member of staff, and then walked casually down the corridor and onto the plane, where a young, bristly, bronze, quick-tanned homosexual male, wearing very tight trousers, welcomed me at the door. I couldn’t help but smile back, my sensitive side was coming out. Oh my God, I was turning Gay!

“Heeey, Sir! How
are you today? Welcome aboard!”

I took my seat next to a big fat donkey; she looked so fat, that I was wondering if the plane would take off. I never got anywhere near the window seat
, the fat cow! Her arse-cheeks were so big that she took up half of my seat. I was crushed. I was going to call Gay Boy over and ask to be re-seated, as she was sucking all my oxygen up. I had never seen such a fat Pakistani girl as this in all my time. I was going to enquire whether he had a double seat belt for fat guts next to me but decided against. The stewards did the head count, then the safety brief, before checking we had our seat belts on prior to take off. I was excited, and so was the giant elephant sitting next to me. She was sweating as any good heifer should. Off we flew: a working holiday to Pakistan, and I was a very excited boy! I had never been before. I would never have paid my own money to come here, though – if I wanted to touch the culture, then I’d buy a train ticket to Bradford.

We arrived at Islamabad International Airport, and it was the first time I had stood up in eight hours. I felt free from my fat friend, still sucked into her seat by the window. I grabbed my overhead bag and quickly jumped out the exit, waving frantically to my new gay lover. I swear he was sorry to see me go. I think I pulled!

It was nice to be on tarmac once again. I had been up in space for far too long, and my legs were like jelly. I made my way to the Departure Lounge to collect my bags. Security around here was somewhat warped: they were tight as fuck.

As a Westerner they did some minor checks on me, but they seemed to be full on with the Indians; I saw a guy with a turban being led away, protesting as he went. I was out of the airport quite quickly: the locals I had flown with were not so lucky. Finally I arrived at the airport’s exit, buying a coffee from a nearby stand. I held tight to my cup of Pakistani Coffee, which much to my surprise actually tasted alright.

Then,
as I stood outside the entrance sipping away at my coffee like a possessed tourist, a handsome male figure walked up to me. It was our Joe.

“What the fuck are you doing here
, buds?”

“Stan told me to be here!
What about you?”

“Same
here buds! Looks like we’ve got a job to do then, hey?”

“Yeah! Talk of th
e devil – look who it is!”

Joe was ex Reg, a darn good fighting soldier. H
e was in mountain troop and one of the best. He left the army after a court martial found him guilty of fighting down-town in Hereford. He nearly killed the fella.

A dark blue 4x4
had pulled up just short of the kerb, halting right beside my foot. Three men got out.

“Hello Michael, Joe! D
id you have a safe journey? How was the flight?”

“My de
ar Stan! How the hell are you, buddy? I can’t believe how mild it is out here: it’s warmer in Scunthorpe than out here in sunny Pakistan.”

“Make the most of it! The weather’s been hot, hot hot:
this is a welcome relief.

“I like the shorts
, Stan! You look rather handsome. Going anywhere special tonight?” We all cracked up. Joe was cracking jokes already!

“Sh
ut up and get in the car, knob-head!” I gave him a good dig in the arm. A big black 4x4 arrived and drove us to the opposite side of the airfield.

“So, where are we going then, Knobber?” Stan sat up front with some big butch bloke who was driving.

“No need to ask questions just yet, Michael. Just enjoy the view and get a little sleep.”

“Why do you always make thing
s so difficult, Stan, you prick!” He turned to face me and then winked at me. All I had was the image of Killeen in my mind. I had to put my own family to the back of my mind until this was all over.

Those mountains must be near enough twenty miles away from here! The land looked completely vaporized by the elements of Mother Nature. I continued looking from my back window of
the 4x4. I took a swig from the canteen in my bag. It was like watching a Western from my seat. Just a piece of barren land, soon forgotten as we passed on by, never to be seen again.

“Lads, there’s been a change of plan. Get you
r heads down for a while, as the Paki chopper has been delayed. Make the most of it boys!”

“Wake him up, Michael!”  I leant over to my colleague and gently nudged him in the side to awaken him: he soon opened his eyes. We had been asleep for over an hour now, and everyone just wanted to get out and stretch those legs. Mine were killing me, just above the knee.

A tall fella came running over to us with a beaming smile.

“Sorry lads, all ready to go now.”

“I see you’ve brought the glory team, hey?” I started laughing with Stan, and the others smile
d.

We fl
ew over the hill tops with the people looking upwards as we flew over their homes on the brightest of days. There was a pleasant breeze coming in through the door and it felt rather sweet. I was in a very relaxed mood for a change. We flew into a cloud formation, disappearing into the unknown, which only the pilot’s skills would get us out of now. The pilot started throwing the aircraft sideways. It pushed me out of my seat the first time: I had no idea as to what the fuck was going on. The door gunner was rushing frantically to gain his balance, flapping like fuck and holding on to the side of the craft. I had just about strapped myself in when we dropped about two hundred feet, or what felt like it! The door gunner’s headphones fell from his head. I leant forwards and picked them up, attaching them to my own head. I could hear the pilots very clearly.

“Mayday
– Mayday – we have engine failure – we are going down – do you read? Over!” I started panicking. I thought of my baby girl, Fran.

The aircraft began rocking violently and w
e started spinning around and around. I could feel us falling, just waiting for the explosion when we would hit land. I knew it was going to be a very hard landing and I braced myself ready for it.

“Is everyone ok?” My lads seemed ok: Joe was laughing; Stan was very shaken by the whole ordeal.

The craft was in shit state. The pilots were moving up fr
ont. I could see other movement, everyone seemed ok! I extended my arm to reach out for the door gunner. He was dead! He must have banged his head on the impact. On leaving the aircraft and looking back, I realised we had crashed into a small plantation of trees. The craft had impacted sideways, causing the rotors to explode.  It was a bit of a fucking mess.

Stan calmed us all down and told us to wait, pointing to a flat piece of ground nearby. Stan had trouble talking to the pilots, who were a bit shaken and upset about the loss of their crew member. One was shaking his head like a nodding dog, pointing at the wrecked helicopter. He got through in the end, though. Stan walked back over to us and explained that an American chopper was coming to pick us up.  We loved Stan but he was always the bearer of bad news at the worst of times: for that, he was a plonker. Joe sparked up and blew his smoke into the air. The pilots still seemed more than a little shaken by the loss of a comrade. They left the body where it was and awaited help from the Americans.

“Oh what a life, hey M
ichael! What do you say, lad?” Joe turned to look at me.

“I have nothing to say.” He took another drag and fell asleep in the sun.

It was an hour later before an American Black Hawk turned up; they were full of beans on board, I had never seen such an excited bunch of dudes: bloody cocky Yanks.

“Hey, you guys
! Sorry to hear about that man!”

“One of the crew is dead
, mate! Who’s taking them back?”

“Another crew is en route, S
ir! We need to get you on board now, Sir!” We jumped on-board.

Joe looked at th
e door gunner on the Black Hawk. “You took your time, mate; I’ve smoked half a packet of cancer sticks sat here waiting for you!” The gunner didn’t know what to say. Good old Joe! He knew how to put his foot in it. We threw our kit on-board and took off into the sun, to find the cloud levels and mist had vanished. The door crew sulked amongst themselves as we gained altitude. They were not happy.

The Black Hawk was much cleaner;
it had shiny buttons and everything, and one was well impressed! We spent over two hours bobbing up and down into valleys, flying over hilltops and open areas until we finally descended below the tree line. The crew landed the bird gently onto the ground. It was a textbook landing. I felt like singing the American anthem!

Chapter Six: Sabre Six – File 51

JFK – Secret American Base

The camp was swanky for something that did not officially exist. Typical Americans, with everything a soldier could need: shops, hair salons, fast food, cool coke machine; the list was endless.

The nearest local village was an hour away. It was classified as frie
ndly, the CIA made sure of that. They bought the opium off the farmers and supplied them with medical equipment and schooling. The village did not go without. The local Taliban were kept happy with the money paid by the CIA for the opium. As with any war, morals disappear when there is money and drugs involved. They were very happy to live like western people.

The chopper crew stood down, the
pilots moved off to their bunks, and once we knew what the hell was happening we soon followed. I ended up on the top bunk: it was cool anyway, as I had a top window. It may have been a very small window, but it was better than the coffin below. Pakistan was very dry and dirty. There was so much dirt and filth about: it was monstrously unhygienic, a disaster waiting to happen smelling of piss, stale water, dried fish, death and burning timber. If you wanted work, then you had come to the right place.  Some American dude popped around with some scoff. The typical American Marine was big as fuck. Unlike the average British soldier, who would be trained up to go long distance with kit, the yanks tended to be big as they didn’t run around as much, and tended to be taken to where they were going and hike into their fights. Their kit was second to none, though. Very good kit, and lots of it. They were even issuing us with cigarettes and our Joe loved them! We spent the next few hours playing darts, card games and wanking as much as we could in the bogs, as boys do. It was good wholesome British fun.

It was reaching midnight when my eyes were getting heavy and it was time to hit the pillow. We had a busy day tomorrow. We were up at 06:00hrs, breakfast finished at 07:30hrs and fitness started at 08:00hrs: it was compulsory.
Their Drill Sergeant had a hard-on for fitness, he paraded at 08:00hrs every morning, the sad wanker. I turned off my bedside lamp and thought about home, and I was soon fast asleep.

I peered through my circular window;
it was looking light outside for this time of the morning. I closed the window, and then popped my legs out of my duvet and jumped to the freezing floor below. I rubbed the smeg from around my eyes, brushed my hair, or lack of it, squeezed out a fart, scratched my butt, picked my nose, took a sip of water from my canteen and then punched Joe in the face.

“A
re you coming for a wash then, buddy?” Joe followed.

“Lead the way
, mate!  You going for breakfast straight after? I’m bloody starving.”

“I need a good bacon sarnie, m
ate, with red sauce.”

“
American bacon tastes of dog compared to ours, so God knows what Asian bacon will taste like!”

“Ah, yeah! You’re right, bread it is then.”