A Walk Over The Fence.
By Colin Moore.

“Read this and sign it’ The section commander mumbled to me.
I had noticed him moving from man to man offering the unofficial looking document for inspection. I knew what it was, as did every one else.
I took the sheet of paper from him and moved my eyes down the list of names until I found mine, next to it I scribbled my signature and read what was written, then handed it back.
‘ O group 1400 hrs’. Said the section commander and then he moved off and out of the tent.
The paper was a warning order informing the platoon that we were to cross the fence and move by foot to set an ambush at a yet to be disclosed position, full details would be given at the 1400 O group.
I had only been with this platoon a week and I still didn’t know any one, pretty much the outsider. In all I’d been in this army for four and a half months, four months basic training then posted to this combat unit I had served once before in another army in another place and another time but had never been in combat. What lay ahead of me was now untried ground and I was scared. Scared of dying or being wounded but most of all scared of letting down the platoon, these men who didn’t know me, and who I didn’t know.
The O group was brief; everyone already knew what they were doing and what was their role in the mission, so every one was preparing gear and collecting ammunition and expendables.
By this time I was shit scared; all this was becoming way too real. For the first time I was going face to face with an enemy that hated me and could kill me in any way he wanted, without punishment. The thought is most daunting it started to bare down on me like a steamroller. My assault partner and section 2ic Ami noticed my distress.
‘Hey Courtney don’t let it get to you’, he said ‘think about something else, cast the fear to one side and focus on the job, if you don’t you will get people killed’.
Fuck, that was supposed to make me fell better. He did have a point though. Once I thought about what he said I started to feel a little better. ‘ I must act professionally ‘ I said to myself.
I also knew what I was to do and what my role was, the only difference was that I had done it with cardboard targets and that was seven years ago.
‘I have to be switched on, stay alert, use the fear as an edge, stay switched on’ I began to silently recite in my head, It didn’t help.
At 1500 hrs we had a rehearsal and it went well. We rehearsed moving into position and setting the ambush, then initiating it with an imaginary enemy and finally withdrawing to a predetermined rendezvous point. Once we were proficient, we went over it again and then again.
By 1700 we had all the drills squared away and time was our own until 20:30 when we were to have an equipment inspection and to be prepared to move for 2100hrs.
Our target was a local militia leader who was to move to a new location in the evening of the next day. Intelligence had informed us that he would be using a seldom-used four-wheel drive track near the coast. The track ran through a small valley some twenty kilometers north west of the fence, we would have to move by foot to the ambush position at night and have it set by first light. The route we would be taking was not densely populated so resistance on the way was not anticipated. The ambush would be set into five sections; one section would be the ‘kill group’, responsible for providing interlocking fire from section support weapons, RPGs, and claymore mines, in short, to vaporize the enemy. In position with the kill group would be platoon HQ who were in command of the whole operation and had comms with all the other positions. Two section would be split into left and right ‘cut offs’; the responsibility of these positions is to inform HQ of enemy movement and to kill any one who escapes from the kill group. Finally three section would be set in depth to secure the rear and as a reserve in the event the ambush is compromised or the kill group needed support in killing the enemy, and provided cover during the initial withdrawal from the ambush.
The enemy would be in the form of two jeeps moving from left to right down the four-wheel drive track. The first jeep would be support for the second that carried the militia leader who was the target. It was estimated that the party would consist of up to ten individuals with an unknown firepower capability, which was believed to be no more than small arms.
It is important for us that all the enemy are killed in the initial fire fight no one must escape to call reinforcements we must kill everyone.
Ami and I with three others are to be on the right ‘Cut Off’.
At 20:30 as we were ordered we gather out side the platoon HQ For kit inspection, in our respective sections we form into three ranks. First our section commanders come through checking our weapons, ammunition, and kit. Tightening a strap here securing a noisy shackle there, radio headset check, night vision goggles operational etc.
I turn to my right to double check Amis’ kit, he is the picture of professionalism every strap tight and in good order all his equipment is clean and dulled to reduce glare, every patch of visible skin is coated with random stripes of green and loam cam cream, his webbing immaculate every thing in the same place as mine, (as is with every one for in the event that one needs to assist the other we need to know exactly where the other has what we need), I ask him to jump on the spot, only the sound of the earth under his boots is heard. Now my turn, He turns to me and mumbles his checklist.
‘Cam, good …mmm… chin strap …webbing, ammo, now jump on the spot’
I jumped on the spot; I was also quiet until the bi pod legs of the light machine gun I carried flopped out from their position under the barrel and gas cylinder. I placed them back in position and jumped again, but still they flopped out. Ami had the perfect solution, as this was a common problem with that weapon Ami had encounter it before, a roll of black masking tape was produced and wrapped around the offending legs, the tape would hold the legs in place but would not hamper them being deployed in a contact.
The section commander finally got to us and preformed the same inspection as we had preformed on each other. Once the section commanders had completed their inspections they reported to the platoon sergeant that intern inspected them, then us again, then he reported to the platoon commander who inspected every one again.
That done, a final briefing, watches synchronized and passwords given, we finally got the order to move to the awaiting transport, a bus that would take us the ten kilometers to the fence.
On the bus, those who smoked smoked and those who didn’t checked their kit again or stared into nothing. There was a low humming atmosphere on the bus but no one was really talking, one asking the other for a light or cigarette, personal checklists revised, or simply humming of a favorite tune, no one spoke or thought of the future, what tomorrow brings is irrelevant right now.
At the fence we moved without a word down into the observation trench to the start point, a point in the wire where clearing patrols entered and exited from. Suspicion would not be raised by a patrol exiting from this point, for it was a regular exiting point.
20:55, We still had five minutes until the start time, so time was taken again to check equipment and make sure all is in place. Finally the order came down the line in the form of a whisper to prepare to move.
2100 exactly we move out of the security of the op trench out onto hostile ground. We moved in single file out of the check point through the mine field and onto a down sloping field about one hundred meters across. This part of the patrol was the most terrifying moving across open ground with the thought of snipers watching from the high ground on the other side. We all hoped the clearing patrol earlier had secured the area.
Safely across, an RV point was indicated by a hand signal. Straight down pointing to the ground with the index finger in a circular motion, as each man passed the point shown by the man in front he then passed it on to the next. In the event of the patrol being split up by whatever circumstances between that RV and the next we were to fall back to that point and reorganize. Several RVs would be indicated through out the patrol.
Now in the relative cover of the tree line we turned to a westerly direction and moved parallel to a dry creek bed. The forest was quite open so this we used to an advantage in making up some ground. The pace set by the platoon commander was a killer, moving over uneven ground with a pack and webbing weighing in at a staggering forty kilos and the addition of a seven kilo weapon I was soon soaked in sweat.
On top of the weight and deadly pace each step you took had to be calculated and deliberate, taking care not to make the slightest noise or to lose your balance and fall or slip, you had to move between the foliage without leaving tell tale sighs that you had been there.
After an hour of this punishment my lungs were burning and my breathing was hissing like an angry snake, cursing myself that I had never stopped smoking and that if I had this would be much easier. Then comforting myself with the fact that I was the oldest in the platoon, at least six or seven years senior to the rest of the men.
To my relief a five-minute break was ordered, again the information was passed on by hand signals from man to man. We deployed to al round defensive positions and rested. The Platoon commander and Sergeant checked their maps and section commanders checked their soldiers.
‘Courtney, you all right’. Ami whispered to me.
“Yeah I’ll be ok.’ I said hoping that I would be. I had convinced myself I could do it and had proved it during the training marches but the stress of being in a combat zone takes a toll on even the fittest of people. I decided to concentrate on my mental endurance and on staying switched on. My own life and the lives of those in the platoon depended on it. ‘Stay awake’. Ami added. ‘This is only the beginning’.
‘Yeah I know’ I said.
The five-minute break felt like ten seconds and before I knew it we were on the move again and it wasn’t long before I was huffing and puffing once more.
Fifteen minutes later we had another signal to halt.
We halted and went down in all round defense.
Twenty seconds passed without any more signals, then it came.
A group of at least five-suspected enemy had been spotted fifty meters out to our right, moving up from the creek bed in our direction. My stomach dropped and I gasped, I thought, ‘this is it’, and immediately nausea overcame me and I felt my sphincter muscle relax. My heart was beating so hard that I was afraid it would compromise our position. It took what felt like an age to regain control of myself and pass on the signal. Ami gave me a look that yelled at me, ‘Sort your fucking shit out man’.
We were under no circumstances to engage the enemy in this phase of the patrol; any contact at this stage would compromise the ambush.
I spotted them, five black things moving towards us, they were closing with us at a keen pace. The air in the valley became hard to breathe; it had become thick and heavy with tension.
The eyes of every man in the platoon was straining to make out the figures, still they came weaving and ducking through the scrub, forty meters, thirty meters.
Then relief, the suspected enemy patrol halted and began to grunt and snort digging their faces into the ground.
Ami behind me had the night vision on, and said it. “Pigs’.
The warm feeling of relief replaced the horror of the moment before; the signal came down the line to confirm my elations, wild pigs.
My whole body was shaking with adrenaline, that was the most terrified I had ever been in my entire life.
An added bonus with the pig encounter was that we had to stay in place until they past. If we were to spook them they may alert anyone else in the area that something was up. So another five-minute break revitalized my burning muscles and tortured nerves.
Ten minutes later we set off again, still the killer pace of before was set but this time I had a second wind I was breathing clearly and moving smoothly over the uneven surface. Seems the pig encounter had given me an insight into what fear really feels like and so lifting me up to another level of stamina.
Two and a half hours after we exited the op trench we had covered a staggering ten kilometers across country, a good effort I don’t care what anyone says. But it was only half way and up until then we were in the semi-controlled buffer zone from then on though we’d be operating in bandit country anything and everything hates us here.
The fatigue that I had felt earlier had returned and I was swearing again at my inadequacies, now though the pace was a lot slower and tactical, weapons were held in the shoulder at the high port and a round chambered, safety’s on.
We halted at regular intervals to assess potential threats, a suspicious log on the track, freshly disturbed foliage, or to negotiate an obstacle like a road or riverbed.
Two more halts were called because of wild pigs, the fear of the first encounter remained with me on each halt although not as intense as the first, the butterflies of terror filled my stomach each time and my thumping heart threatened to compromise our position.
0330hrs we received the signal to halt, we had arrived at the ambush position we all went to ground and fanned out in all round defense, a scouting party was ordered forward to reconnoiter the position. Ten minutes later the recce group returned and gave the all clear, the order was given to move into position.
One section moved in first taking up the kill group position followed by two section splitting into their two respective detachments left and right cut offs, three section set up their rear defenses and platoon HQ set up with the kill group.
The platoon commander would initiate the ambush by firing the bank of ten claymore mines the kill group set up. Ami and I together with the three others moved off to the right to set up our position. We had an hour and a half to get the position squared away before first light.
Once every one was in place we stood to, just in case the enemy had learnt of our intentions and decided to hold a surprise party for us.
The platoon commander, happy that we were alone, ordered us to stand down, and we got to work on the position.
Our positioned on an elevated mound, gave us a commanding view of the track to our front. We were covered by hedge like shrub that grew almost to the track, so concealing all sign of us for two hundred meters either side of the position, behind was a gentle forested slope ascending twenty or thirty meters to a small plateau, where three section had set up their rear defensive position, from the plateau the ground sloped down to a dry river bed running east down to west. Our route of withdrawal was to a clearing five kilometers east of three section’s position on the plateau, where helicopters would extract us.
The track its self was a five hundred meter stretch of straight track that gave us two hundred meters visibility either side of the position. The opposite side of the track was a three-meter high cliff, which ran the full length of the track; in short the enemy would have nowhere to run.
The platoon commander soon came to locate our arks of fire; we had already located them, I am sure he already knew that, but he confirmed them any way.
I had set up a make shift tripod for my machine gun out of some branches which I had lashed together in the shape of two h’s, the forward H supporting the barrel and the rear H supporting the butt, the supports of the rear H was spaced apart so that the gun would swivel left and right on the arks we had set to cover the track.
Once set up, I took up position to cover Ami and one of the others as they moved down through the hedge to the track where they set up the claymores; we had two banks of three claymores set up in interlocking arks to cover the track. These were counter measures to make sure no one escaped, on top of the claymores we had an RPG with six rounds just incase the two RPG’s of the kill group failed to take out the jeeps, the machine gun with 1500 rounds and four M16’s fitted with M203 grenade launches. The left cut off was equipped the same. Although we had the advantage I was still terrified, my mind was working over time. What if this? What if that? I tried to shake it off but it didn’t work it stuck with me.
Thoughts of capture and torture filled my head and plagued my sanity.
We weren’t even supposed to be there in that part of the country the enemy could do what ever they wanted to us, oh shit what have I got myself into. I began to silently sob.
Pain shot through my head like a thunderbolt; two well-placed fingers on my neck had virtually paralyzed me.
‘Get your fucking shit together or you’ll fuck us all up’ Ami hissed in my ear. The pain lingered a while when he removed his fingers but was soon gone, I realized I had been sniveling like a baby. If any one had been walking down the track the position would have be compromised. Fuck, I thought, and a wash of cold sweat trickled over my skin. It was a wake up call the situation that I was in called for level headedness and professionalism. I put my fears in the back of my mind and concentrated on the task at hand. One of the guys from our det, the section commander, returned from HQ with the comms cord.
This was connected to the finger of the platoon commander, when the enemy arrived the section commander would pull the cord informing the commander that the enemy has arrived and to stand by. Some what primitive but the quietest option at hand, also the easiest to transport.
It took us an hour to set up and get squared away, first light saw us standing to again.
First light is a prime time for any opportunistic terrorist to attempt an attack, but so far we had managed to deploy undetected.
The sun eased its way into the sky and its warmth filtered its way down through the trees and onto my body, it was heavenly. The forced march of the night had left me soaked with sweat and once we stopped I had become quite cold, now the sun warmed my battered body down to the bone.
We had shifts on sentry two of us would be on guard while the other three were asleep and then three awake and two asleep. Well that was the plan but since we had the section commander with us he slept most of the time. He ordered us to wake him only if there was a problem.
The morning past problem free but as noon took hold the problems began.
At around 12:30 a battered old Peugeot 205 came rambling down the track and came to an abrupt halt directly in front of our position, it carried two occupants, who were engaged in what seemed a subtle discussion. After a few minutes of artistic hand gestures and shoulder shrugs the subtle discussion erupted into a full on war of words. The driver, obviously not in agreement with the passenger burst from the driver’s door with his arms waving and moved to the rear of the vehicle, kicking the rear wheel on the way. Moments later the passenger exploded from the car and rushed toward his associate, the passenger also feeling obliged gave the rear wheel a boot.
The situation went from bad to worse then to a nightmare.
In the back seat of the car was a tri colored mongrel dog that appeared to be growing a go-T beard, he was looking directly at me.
I waved it off as a coincidence until Ami lightly shook the section commander awake and gestured toward the development on the track. As the section commander moved the dog stood up and began wagging its tail, all the while still staring in our direction. The situation quickly upgraded from nightmarish to terrifying as the dog casually dismounted from the vehicle and made its way toward our position. The heated argument was now down to a simmer and the vehicle occupants soon became interested in the dogs direction.
The dog approached one of our claymore mines and began an in-depth sniffing investigation of it. Now the two men were both studying the dog’s antics with growing interest
I began to shiver and the butterflies of fear returned, a sensation of wet heat spread through out the central area of my body. As if motivated by my lack of self control the dog promptly cocked its leg and urinated on the claymore. The men instantly lost interest in the dog, and returned to their positions in the car, a short sharp whistle and the dog was trotting back to the car with a contented angel in his step, and with a final glance in our direction it jumped into the lap of the driver then jumped to the back seat and never set eyes on us again. The engine roared and the Peugeot rolled off down the track in a cloud of dust and black oily smoke.
The rest of the afternoon proved uneventful compared to that first situation, no more dogs just a group of local women that came by around 1400hrs, and at about 1600 a drunk tourist on a tour bicycle zig zagged past, I think he was German or some thing European that was for sure. Not exactly the best tourist destination, that’s probably why he was drunk.
Day eventually faded into night, and at last light we stood to every one awake and alert one hundred and ten percent.
By 1930hrs the cloak of night was fully drawn over us.
Intelligence had estimated that the target would be moving through our AO between the hours of 2000hrs and 2100hrs, weapons checked, primed and safety’s off in an instant state… we waited.
The evil serpent of fear stirred once again deep inside my soul, it threatened to overtake my very being. The bitter taste of bile made its way up my throat, nausea overtook my body and I began to shake. The icy grip of Ami’s fingers found their way back to my neck and my shaking subsided his eyes again reached out and thrashed me back into control.
20:18 I finally managed to get reality back into prospective when the tell tale rumble and rattle of jeeps took hold of me.
‘Ok Courtney this is it, you’ve been a weak fuck until now, time to prove yourself to yourself’. I said to my self.
‘Fuck this up and your dead’. I continued…’Ok… ok settle down here they come, breathe… breath, your gunna be ok ‘.
It was them all right; the lead jeep was a flat deck Toyota Landcruiser with a fifty-caliber machine gun mounted on the deck, Intelligence never said any thing about that, shit.
One terrorist manned the fifty cal and another two sat at his feet armed with AK47’S, in the cab was the driver and one other armed also with an AK47.
The second vehicle was a Landover Defender in the front sat the driver and a bodyguard his weapon was not visible, in the center of the jeep sat the target flanked on either side by two more bodyguards again their weapons were not visible, I assumed they would be armed with Uzi’s, in the back of the Defender sat two more bodyguards clearly holding AK 47’s.
To our surprise there was a third vehicle a Landcruiser manned the same as the first, which made it two fifty calibers we had to deal with.
In only seconds from the first moment we spotted the vehicles they were directly in front of us moving fast, a second latter they entered the kill zone.
The air in a five hundred meter radius was sucked into the kill zone and hell opened up before my eyes.
The claymores ripped the Defender to pieces, the silhouetted bodies inside rock back and forward and fell apart as a wave of over ten thousand white hot lead balls cut through steel, clothing and flesh, broken glass adding to the carnage, it was a fascinating display of human savagery.
A brief whoosh… and the defender was engulfed in flame, both RPG’s from the kill group found their targets.
The lead vehicle was hit but still mobile, amazingly the fifty cal gunner had survived and he was laying down frightfully effective fire on the kill group, it was as if he was possessed he didn’t take his thumbs off the fire button for a second.
Whoosh…whoosh, simultaneously the two kill group RPG’s fired again, both firing high exploding in the cliff, showering the gunner with earth, but he was relentless and kept firing.
Short sharp screams came echoing from the kill group and their rate of fire slowed.
The section commander began yelling ‘fire, RPG fire, fucking fire.’
Whoosh… our RPG fired and we all began firing.
The RPG found target hitting the cab of the Landcruiser the gunner was cut in two, his torso went flying legless onto the bank and flopped lifeless behind the wreckage of the jeep, but the fifty continued firing.
The weapon had over heated and melted the catch that held back the bolt, now the weapon sprayed death up the slope toward three section and ripped through two men cutting chunks off them as if they were watermelons.
Thinking they were under fire three section returned fire.
The occupants of the third vehicle had managed to get into cover behind their jeep. Seeing the RPG and our muzzle flashes they concentrated their fire on us.
Kneeling beside me the section commander was yelling orders.
‘ Twenty meters to your front, four enemy behind vehicle…fire…’
I fired, ten round bursts, I wasn’t scared any more; well I didn’t think I was.
Then the weapon jammed.
‘Stoppage!’ I screamed.
I cocked the gun and fired, nothing.
I opened the top cover wiped off the rounds, cocked the weapon closed the top cover, pulled the trigger, changed the gas plug to adverse, opened the top cover replaced the rounds, closed the top cover, cocked back the bolt and fired.
One of the enemies behind the jeep motivated by his comrades’ effort with the fifty-caliber on the lead jeep jumped up onto the deck and began firing.
The section commander was still yelling orders,
‘ RPG, fifty cal twenty meters to yo…’ he was abruptly cut short with a bubbly gasp.
Fifty caliber rounds thumped loudly through his flesh sending hunks of his body over us. I twisted wildly to get the repulsive chunks off me, all the while keeping my head out of the molten swarm buzzing only inches above my head. I glanced over at Ami, his eyes were full of grief and fear, the section commander was a good friend of his.
I had a slight immunity to the grief; I hadn’t time to get to know any one except Ami.
The GPMG’s of the kill group had now trained onto the third vehicle along with three section from above, tracers combined into one to produce the effect of a science fiction laser beam of destruction.
One of the enemies attempted to flee back up the track but was caught by a wall of red hot ball bearings from one of our claymore banks, he fell in a red white and yellow heap on the ground. Ami fired the second bank since the last jeep was in its ark…boom…whoosh… boom… the RPG fired at the same time transforming the jeep into an orange fireball.
The RPG man had fired from a prone position and the back blast had set fire to his trousers, I saw him rolling around on the ground trying to put himself out.
Through the headset of the dead section commander I heard the order to stop firing, so I stopped firing and reached into the muck and put the earphone to my ear.
“Stop firing, I repeat stop firing!’
I turned to Ami ‘stop firing, stop firing’ I ordered.
He looked at me then checked his own radio, only to find it had been destroyed.
“Stop firing, stop firing!’ he ordered.
Slowly the firing stopped. The silence was deafening my ears screamed and went numb. I glanced at my watch 20:22 I figured it had stopped.
‘Ami what time do you have?’
‘Eight twenty two.’
Fuck the whole contact took only four minutes.
The order to stand to came through.
‘Three section search party quick time’ the platoon commanders’ order came through the headset.
The search party moved out onto the track to check that everyone was dead and for possible intelligence.
The search party took only a couple of minutes to go through the wreckages and report back to the platoon commander they had located 17 different heads or parts of heads full bodies were hard to identify the enemy had been cut to pieces.
With the search party safe in cover we were ordered to re organize, ammo was redistributed, weapons and equipment checked wounds treated and head count taken, I realized that I had shat my pants, the RPG man found the same, that made me fell better I wasn’t the only one.
Ami collected what was left of his friend the section commander and wrapped him in his survival blanket and took him to the stretcher-bearers. Ami said nothing and showed no emotion, he would grieve latter.
Our casualties numbered five dead and lightly wounded, the five dead fitted on to three stretchers all five of them were killed by the fifty calibers there was not much left of them to take home.
One section followed by two section withdrew to the small plateau up the slope behind the ambush position where we stood to.
Three section designated stretcher-bearer duty was put in the center of the patrol with one section leading and two section bringing up the rear. We moved out single file in a southeasterly direction we had five kilometers to slog to the helicopter extraction point.
It was 20:30 we were on our way out and the whole ordeal had only taken twelve minutes I felt as if it had taken two or three hours.
We push out a strong pace, an hour and a half and we’re outta here.
I no longer felt my muscles adrenaline was pumping through my veins and pushing me forward. I’m alert watching seeing all, I am an animal every sense acute tuned to the pursuers but they’re not there yet.
Again the air starts buzzing with green lights, and I yelled as loud as I could,
‘Contact…contact rear…enemy force… number unknown… one hundred meters to my front…Ahh…rear!’ I dive to the ground, ‘Watch my tracer!’
Two section is soon in extended line awaiting orders.
‘Two section… on Courtney’s’ tracer…fire!!!’ yells Ami as acting section commander.
“One section gun group on me’ on command the gun group arrived in an instant and took up position.
‘One gun group to my right… await my order’ Ami sends up a Para flare, by this time the platoon commander has sent the stretchers forward with the platoon sergeant and two soldiers for protection and returned to the fire fight. Seeing Ami already in command he orders the rest of the remaining men on to the skirmish line and leaves him to it. Making a mental note in the process. Noticing the arrival of extra men Ami makes the appropriate corrections.
‘Five Platoon … to your front … fifty meters …five enemy moving forward…fire!!!’
The five terrorists pursuing us try to use fire and maneuver to continue their advance but are cut down. They only muster sporadic ineffective fire.
‘Five platoon stop firing!’
‘Gun groups only… at your targets carry on!’ yells Ami.
The flare fades, at this stage the terrorists made the break under cover of dark ness. Fiiiishh… up goes another flare they hadn’t made even a meter. The gun groups opened up.
Down the barrel over the sites I saw him come and I fired a long sustained burst, I watched my tracer rounds plow into his soft flesh and saw them light up around him, rounds drove through his cheek bones distorting his facial features and for a brief moment I though I saw the devil himself, the lifeless mass faulted and fell never to rise again. Then it was over and we stood to.
Ten minutes passed and no counter attack, and from the distant sky the whoop…whoop…whoop of helicopters was heard, a short minute and the shark like shape of Cobra attack helicopters circled above. Now for sure the enemy would retreat, a few minutes later once the Cobras had cooled the place down a bit two Black Hawk helicopters arrived and the first landed.
The stretchers and three section climbed on the first chopper and it took off, then the second landed and the rest of use climbed on.
I was the last in the chopper I climbed up and sat on the floor with the barrel of my weapon pointing down between my knees. It was still loaded and the safety was off. I calmly pushed the safety on but didn’t unload no one said any thing.
I looked out the side door into the black and stared at nothing.
Ten minutes later we landed next to the other chopper, close to the spot that we had caught the bus the night before, so long ago.
We debussed and made our way toward the platoon commander who was yelling over the rotors,
‘Five platoon form up on me.’
Once every one was formed up he commanded,‘ Five platoon…unload!!’
The platoons weapons clattered as we unloaded and held open the empty chambers for inspection. The section commanders tapped each man on the shoulder as he inspected their weapons and declared them safe.
I was last in line so once Ami had cleared my weapon I in turn cleared his.
As I declared his weapon safe and turned back to the line he grabbed me again by the neck, but this time softly so I turned back to him.
‘You did good for your first time in combat’ he said.
‘Thanks.’ I replied.
‘You’re not a bad soldier…for an old bastard’ a smile erupting on his face, and he turned away.
‘Ok guys that’s it for now debrief 0800 tomorrow morning’ said the platoon commander to tired for formalities.
Everyone went there own way most to the showers, I should have gone straight to the showers too since I had shat my pants earlier but I didn’t, I wanted to have some reflection time.
Making my way to the edge of the chopper pad I ask one of the pilots for a smoke and a light, once at the edge I looked down the wide valley to the south in the darkness and thought about what I’d done in the last twenty-four hours. For one thing I’m a changed man, I draw back on the smoke and savor the rich woody taste then exhale every last bit of breath I have. For the first time in my life I felt alive, with soiled trousers and bits and pieces of a man I never knew stuck to my shirt and through my hair, fuck, I’d even killed a man maybe more than one. And I felt alive. It began to rain and I let it soak me to the skin, to myself I thought ‘I’ve been for a walk over the fence and it showed me a lot but this side is much nicer.’

Colin Moore®15/04/2003