Iran then I'm a fucking
goat herder.”
“ Sorry?”
“ We never put tanks on the ground in Iran, especially not the
ones they were driving. I should know, I was fucking there,
man.”
“ Why would they lie?”
“ They see a girl in camo and think they can impress her with
bullshit. It only takes a couple of questions to catch them out,
you see. Troop movements, where who was with what thingy. Man,
that's really got to me. Such bull shit.”
I left her double-tapping her peas and finished my meal. The
kitchen tent was a swirling mass of people all trying to eat or
talk or both. Some engineers in overalls came and sat at our table.
Riley didn't even notice them.
“ I'm going to find a bunk and read these letters,” I said,
getting up.
“ Sure,” she replied, still looking down at her plate. She
suddenly heard something, a voice at the other side of the tent and
spun round, looking for its source. “Was that Benny?”
“ Benny who?”
She stood up and walked off calling out to 'Benny' who was
stood talking to a bunch of other guys in DPM. I could see the
engineers looking after her and nodding their approval to each
other.
“ Hey fellas,” I asked. “Who do I see about the digs? The
Colonel offered one for the night.”
“ The big guy over there, pal. Say, when did the Canadians get
here?” he asked. I shook my head, gathered our dirty plates and
hoped the room was soundproofed.
It wasn't. I sat there on the narrow cot listening to the
sounds of the cook tent dishing out the beer and the roars of
laughter as the G.Is got quickly hammered. It was one of their last
few nights on the base and they intended to leave it with a
hangover.
The room was plain, cold and bare with only a stumpy table
and a gas lamp to mark it as a living space. Once I'd sorted out
the room I'd gone back to my Land Rover to get my pack and found
that the remains of the kids had been taken away and the back of
the 'Rover scrubbed clean with disinfectant. I'd taken a quick look
around to make sure nothing was missing and as I'd stuck my head
under the seats I'd seen something glimmer in the halogen lights.
It was a 'Hello Kitty' fob that had somehow broken off Rebecca's
rucksack. I held it for a moment, looking at it and remembering
before heading to the bin to dispose of it. As I got there I found
I couldn't part with it and attached it to my own pack instead.
Figure that one out.
In my room I led on the cot with my back against the wall and
moved the table to shine the lamp on the letters I had on my lap.
They were all made from a similar paper - this recycled stuff that
was thick in some places and thin in others like a badly made pie
crust. They smelled of pie too, like they'd been made out of food
packaging or something. I held each one up to the lamp and turned
it around and over and side to side in the poor light but I could
see nothing particularly interesting. When I was satisfied I could
get nothing from the paper itself, I turned to the characters
instead.
They'd been left in date order which saved me the task of
rearranging them. Each letter was written in a feminine script,
some in ink, some in pencil and each one had been dated at the top
right hand corner. I read the small talk, the 'hi, how are you?'
flow of the text for that first letter and most of the next. For
example:
My dearest Alex, I miss you so. Today I spent my hours in the
Electronic books you gave me making copious notes and feeling that
I'm all that closer to success. Though the works are dated they
will suit my needs perfectly and I'm sure that the next time you
see me we will be even closer to our dreams...
At first I assumed the author was studying for an exam,
grateful for the help the text books gave her, but it dawned on me
that she was referring to an electrical problem she had. It was a
poor example of code but I suppose if you aren't looking for it
then the sentences themselves don't really say anything obvious.
Riley had
goat herder.”
“ Sorry?”
“ We never put tanks on the ground in Iran, especially not the
ones they were driving. I should know, I was fucking there,
man.”
“ Why would they lie?”
“ They see a girl in camo and think they can impress her with
bullshit. It only takes a couple of questions to catch them out,
you see. Troop movements, where who was with what thingy. Man,
that's really got to me. Such bull shit.”
I left her double-tapping her peas and finished my meal. The
kitchen tent was a swirling mass of people all trying to eat or
talk or both. Some engineers in overalls came and sat at our table.
Riley didn't even notice them.
“ I'm going to find a bunk and read these letters,” I said,
getting up.
“ Sure,” she replied, still looking down at her plate. She
suddenly heard something, a voice at the other side of the tent and
spun round, looking for its source. “Was that Benny?”
“ Benny who?”
She stood up and walked off calling out to 'Benny' who was
stood talking to a bunch of other guys in DPM. I could see the
engineers looking after her and nodding their approval to each
other.
“ Hey fellas,” I asked. “Who do I see about the digs? The
Colonel offered one for the night.”
“ The big guy over there, pal. Say, when did the Canadians get
here?” he asked. I shook my head, gathered our dirty plates and
hoped the room was soundproofed.
It wasn't. I sat there on the narrow cot listening to the
sounds of the cook tent dishing out the beer and the roars of
laughter as the G.Is got quickly hammered. It was one of their last
few nights on the base and they intended to leave it with a
hangover.
The room was plain, cold and bare with only a stumpy table
and a gas lamp to mark it as a living space. Once I'd sorted out
the room I'd gone back to my Land Rover to get my pack and found
that the remains of the kids had been taken away and the back of
the 'Rover scrubbed clean with disinfectant. I'd taken a quick look
around to make sure nothing was missing and as I'd stuck my head
under the seats I'd seen something glimmer in the halogen lights.
It was a 'Hello Kitty' fob that had somehow broken off Rebecca's
rucksack. I held it for a moment, looking at it and remembering
before heading to the bin to dispose of it. As I got there I found
I couldn't part with it and attached it to my own pack instead.
Figure that one out.
In my room I led on the cot with my back against the wall and
moved the table to shine the lamp on the letters I had on my lap.
They were all made from a similar paper - this recycled stuff that
was thick in some places and thin in others like a badly made pie
crust. They smelled of pie too, like they'd been made out of food
packaging or something. I held each one up to the lamp and turned
it around and over and side to side in the poor light but I could
see nothing particularly interesting. When I was satisfied I could
get nothing from the paper itself, I turned to the characters
instead.
They'd been left in date order which saved me the task of
rearranging them. Each letter was written in a feminine script,
some in ink, some in pencil and each one had been dated at the top
right hand corner. I read the small talk, the 'hi, how are you?'
flow of the text for that first letter and most of the next. For
example:
My dearest Alex, I miss you so. Today I spent my hours in the
Electronic books you gave me making copious notes and feeling that
I'm all that closer to success. Though the works are dated they
will suit my needs perfectly and I'm sure that the next time you
see me we will be even closer to our dreams...
At first I assumed the author was studying for an exam,
grateful for the help the text books gave her, but it dawned on me
that she was referring to an electrical problem she had. It was a
poor example of code but I suppose if you aren't looking for it
then the sentences themselves don't really say anything obvious.
Riley had
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