Forget-Me-Nots in September (2 page)

Bev. (Said unit commander.)

Jude grinned. Ten parcel sending tours and no one had ever replied. Not even a thank you, so she had no idea if the parcels ever arrived. Her microwave beeped and she ate while composing a shopping list. She could shove a few extra bits into the box waiting to be sent in the morning. She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes before the corner shop shut. Grabbing her bag and keys, she ran out of the door and down the road.

“Hey, Jude.” Kevin grinned at her. He'd been her brother's best mate. The three of them had been inseparable as kids and she knew Kevin carried a torch for her, but she wasn't interested. She liked him, sure, but not in that way. Just a shame he never got the hint and backed off. If there was another shop close enough to the house to use, she would.

She rolled her eyes. “Aren't you sick of that one yet?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Just be grateful your name isn't Jack, else everyone would be coming in going ‘hijack' and boring you silly.” She shot him a quick smile. “Can I have three quids worth of black jacks, parma violets and fruit salads?”

“You'll rot your teeth. Do you want toothpaste with that?”

“Why not? Spearmint.”

“Sure. Do you want a quid's worth of each?”

Jude gave a nod and gazed around. What else would her squaddie like? “Please. The same bag is fine for all the sweets. I'm filling my squaddie box. Do you have any water bombs?”

“Yup. Got a new box of them in this morning.”

“Great. Five packets, please. And a red Frisbee and pack of custard creams.” She glanced over at the crisps and grinned. “And a big packet of cheese and onion crisps.”

Back at home, she logged into the site, found Bev's confirmation to e-mail with her, and typed.

Hi, Bev.

Thank you for your letter. It came today. I'm here watching the most amazing sunset, but taking the time difference into account, you're probably doing your PT about now. I can't believe it's almost July. Where's the year gone? And did I really put belly dancing and church in the same sentence? I didn't mean I was planning on dancing in the aisles—that might just kill a few of the little old ladies in the back row. I'm not exactly thin and sylph like. My brother called me plumpy and frumpy. It's kinda stuck over the years.

Thank you again for replying. No-one's done that before so it means a lot. On the FB page, other people said they hear several times a tour and it's hard not to be jealous. I tell myself you're all out there to work and not socialize, but at least now I know I have your address right and the parcels will get there. I'm posting it tomorrow. The PO is next to the bakery, so I'll sneak out and post it during a lull. Stay safe. Jude.

She hit send and within a few minutes got the e-mail alert to say it had been sent. Closing the browser window, she leaned back in her chair as her brother's image filled the screen. Jayden, her twin, older than her by fifteen minutes, looked at her from the desktop wallpaper. His air force hat was perched at a jaunty angle, trademark grin on his face, eyes twinkling. His blue uniform looked smart, buttons gleaming.

Jude's heart swelled with pride and then broke with the sense of loss. Her eyes filled and she kissed her fingers before touching them to the screen to his face. “Night, bro. Miss you.”

~*~

A day off consisted of cleaning weapons and training. Bev caught up on his reports and ignored the shouts of mail call. If he got mail, someone would come and find him. Sweat trickled down his back, and he shifted in his seat. July had come with a vengeance. The small fan made no difference at all.

Photo attachments weren't allowed on the e-bluey system, but that didn't mean he couldn't search for Jude on a social media. At least he assumed it was her, as her profile was totally locked down. He'd sent a friend request, but wasn't expecting her to accept it.

The door opened. “Boss, you have mail.”

Bev stood. “Thanks, Smudge. I'll be right there.” He strode through the heat over to the group who stood around the mail sacks. He was given two boxes and three letters. One box was covered in stickers and smiley faces. He flipped it over and smiled. Jude. She decorated boxes the way her letters sounded. He took it back to his office and left it until last. There were letters from his parents and a couple of people from church. A parcel from his grandmother contained socks, hand knitted jumper, slippers, and the usual long letter. He didn't have the heart to tell her that slippers and sand didn't really mix. He'd much rather she sent flip flops. They'd be of much more use in the desert than carpet slippers.

Then he opened Jude's parcel. Piles of blueys sat on the top. Under that a red and black striped woolly hat and matching gloves, table tennis set, coloring pens, puzzle book, packet of biro pens, tea bags, coffee sachets, soup, a huge bag of sweets, sugar, jam pots, marmite, a Frisbee, crisps, biscuits and five packets of water bombs. Something soft wrapped in tissue paper turned out to be a Christmas Elf. Obviously handmade, he had red and white striped arms and legs and a green and gold outfit.

A handwritten note was wrapped around a packet of toothpaste and a new toothbrush.
Hey there! Don't eat all the sweets at once. I'm going to the bookshop at the end of the week and will get you a nice soppy rom/com or maybe chick lit. LOL. No seriously, I'll find something I hope you'll like. Enjoy.

Bev grinned. How could she possibly fit so much into the one box? Tucking the box under his bed, he headed down to the common room with Elf. The rest of the team sat on the chairs and floor opening their mail. “Hey,” he said. “Look what I've got.” He held up Elf to a host of cheers. “Unit mascot, perhaps? You blokes have been saying for weeks we needed one.”

“Great idea, Boss,” Smudge said. “Give him here.”

Bev tossed him over. “Just don't hurt him. He's mine.”

“I know.” Smudge turned him over and then reached into a box on the shelf. He pulled out a spare unit patch and pinned it to Elf's shirt with a safety pin.

Bev shook his head. The antics of his unit never ceased to amuse him, yet they followed him with unswerving loyalty and more than a sense of duty.

“There, now he's one of us, look.” He made Elf salute. “I promise to do everything the Boss tells me. But only after he's said it half a dozen times.”

Bev grinned. “Give him back.” He caught Elf and tucked him under his arm. “As you were. I need to go and tell his previous owner about Elf's new job. Oh, he needs a rank. Any suggestions for what rank we give him?”

Smudge grinned. “Higher than you, boss. Hey why don't we make him a four start general and put the Brigadier out of a job?”

Bev rolled his eyes, not needing to say anything.

“Nah, make him a private,” Smudge decided. “He can have candy duty.”

“Sounds good to me.” Bev trotted back to his office, trying to dispel the feeling of disquiet hanging over the base. It was quiet. Far quieter than normal. He pulled over his laptop and logged into the ebluey site. He typed fast. His gut was telling him something was out of place and that was never a good sign.

Hi, Jude. Just a quick note to say thank you for the parcel. Mail call just came and I'm staggered at how much you managed to fit in one box. Thank you so much.
The unsettled feeling in his stomach grew and tightened. He typed faster.
How did you know I needed toothpaste? Someone borrowed mine night before last and I haven't seen it since. Base shop was out, I checked. Private Elf, to give him his new name, has been adopted as the unit mascot. He's cute. And he's promised to do everything I ask him. Hopefully the first time not the tenth.

Alarms began blaring. Bev's stomach knotted. He hated being right.
Gotta go. Thanks again. Bev.

He hit send and slammed the laptop closed, standing in the same movement. Shouts and the sounds of gunfire came from outside as he ran to the door. He prayed for safety as he sprinted for the armory.

~*~

Jude took a rare day off and logged onto her social media account to find a friend request from Bev. She checked the MOD guidelines and once she'd assured herself it was fine to do so, accepted the request. She took a few minutes to look over his profile. He looked nothing like she'd imagined. His hair was dark blonde and not a typical military cut. He had brown eyes, a boyish grin, tanned skin and broad shoulders. His profile picture was him standing by a waterfall, wearing a white tee-shirt declaring I'm Free!

She headed into town and finished shopping for the next box. She stood in the post office and packed it, before sealing and posting it. This time the handwritten note included her e-mail addy. Getting into the car, she flicked on the radio.

“…scattered reports, as yet unconfirmed of an attack on Camp Reston in the Middle East. All contact with the base has been lost. Heavy shelling is believed to be happening in the area. We'll bring you more on this story as it develops.”

Jude swallowed hard, feeling sick. Camp Reston. That was where she sent Bev's parcels. She prayed constantly as she drove home, asking for safety and preservation and protection for all the soldiers and airmen out there.
Keep him safe out there. Keep them all safe.

2

Bev leant against the wall of the hospital block. Blood soaked into his shirt and trousers. Operation Minimize was being announced over the tannoy. The base was on lockdown. The only thing going in or out would be med-evac flights. With the mess out there he estimated it would be at least two days before it was lifted, maybe more.

His gaze never left the busy theatre where the medics were working on one of his men. Ten wounded—three critically. An ache like he'd never known built inside him, and he knew if he didn't contain it, the ache would turn to rage and anger and a desire to march down to the prison block and personally execute the man responsible. But that wasn't his way, wasn't the right way to handle the situation.

Steve appeared beside him. He looked just as tired and shocked as Bev felt. “Boss, are you hurt?”

Bev shook his head. “No, Steve. None of this blood is mine.”

“The brigadier is looking for you. I told him you were probably here.”

“Thanks. I'll go find him in a bit.” He moved over to the doctor and nodded through the window at Pete. “How is he?”

“Stable, but we couldn't save his leg. We're sending him back to the UK on the next flight. You probably saved his life.”

Bev nodded slowly. “Can I see him?”

“One minute. If he asks about the others, don't say anything. But I do need to brief you on their conditions, sir.”

Bev held the doctor's gaze. “Then don't tell me until I come back out, sergeant. And that's an order. Because I won't lie to any of my men.” He didn't even give the medic time to reply before he headed into the recovery room.

Doped up on meds, wires, lines and blood everywhere, Pete looked at him. “Boss…”

Bev kept his gaze on Pete's face, not wanting to acknowledge the way the covers fell flat partway down the bed. “Doc says you're going to make it.”

“Thanks to you…”

“Doing my job. You just go home, rest up and give that wife of yours a hug. That's all the thanks I need.”

“What about the others?”

Bev shrugged. “Not heard yet. Better go, they only gave me a minute. Send us a postcard from Blighty.” He headed back into the corridor and faced the medic. “OK, Doc. How bad?”

“Three dead, seven wounded.” He offered the report.

Bev took it, fingers numb as he opened it. The names sent shockwaves of pain, anger and grief through every part of his body. His knees buckled, but he hid it by leaning against the wall. Two deep breaths later, he raised his eyes to the medic. “And the wounded?”

“Airlifting them all home as soon as we can. First plane leaves in an hour.”

“OK, I'll get their kit boxed and ready to go with.”

“I'll do that,” Steve said. “I'll get a couple of the lads to help. Be quicker that way.”

“Thanks. I want the remaining unit in the crew room in two hours. No exceptions.” Bev tucked the report under his arm and trudged to the brigadier's office, not bothering to change first. He tapped on the open door. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

Brigadier Hereford-Jones nodded. “I'm handling the media over this one. As you're the unit commander, can you do the letters to the families?”

“Yeah,” he said, hating that part of his job. “I'll try to have them done for the first med-evac flight in an hour.”

“Liaison are starting to inform the families now. But a handwritten letter never goes amiss in these circumstances.”

“Is that all, sir? Only I need to change first…” Bev glanced down at his blood-soaked uniform.

“No. Shut the door.”

Bev did so, his heart in his boots. The smell of the dried blood on his hands and clothes turned his stomach. “Sir, with all due respect, I lost three of my men out there. The rest of the team need me and—”

“Something like this is never easy,” Brigadier Hereford-Jones spoke slowly. “A green on blue attack. We train these blokes, trust them, then they turn around and do this. You were right. I should have trusted your instincts.”

“I could easily have been wrong.”

“But you weren't. At least we got him alive.”

Bev nodded. “Sir, if you want the letters on that flight…”

Brigadier Hereford-Jones nodded. “Go. I'd like to attend the unit debrief, if that's all right.”

“Sure.” Bev left the office, knowing that wasn't a request. He showered quickly, leaving his clothes to soak in a bucket of cold water. Sitting at his desk, he struggled to write the three letters to the families of Smudge, Pixie and Rex.

Only when he'd finished and handed them to a sergeant to place with the things going on the flight home, did he finally give in to his emotions and cry.