The Forgotten Land (46 page)

The
burial was at a cemetery on the outskirts of Perth. Steve, Scott, Matt, Will
and their respective partners stood with Dave’s family.

Steve
recalled the battle in which Dave had died. They had fought long and hard, and
although they had tried gunning down the small force which had moved to
outflank them, the task had been impossible. He had not seen Dave die. When
they had initiated the ambush on the Iraqi soldiers, no one expected one of the
enemy to fire a quick, un-aimed burst. Much less for the rounds to kill one of
their patrol members. But unfortunately, that was what happened. As skilled as
the Australian SASR were, all the enemy needed was to fire one lucky shot at
the right time to kill a man.

Judy
clasped her hand on top of Steve’s and squeezed. Steve gave a gentle squeeze
back.

He
looked down at Dave’s coffin which was ready to be lowered. On the coffin was a
large, framed colour photo of the patrol just before their deployment into
Iraq. Dave wore a wide, proud smile and his eyes glinted with mischief. Dave
had been one of the Regiment’s finest soldiers; he was not only highly
decorated but well respected.

Steve
saw two eagles circling in the sky. They were flying near a stand of pines, most
likely where they had nested. One of them soared high and for a second was
silhouetted against the sun. Steve felt as if the bird was giving its own
farewell.

Dave’s
coffin was slowly lowered into the grave. The photograph of the patrol, once
bright in the afternoon sun, was cast into shadow and a moment later
disappeared from sight.

Steve
closed his eyes in silent farewell and a single tear slid down his face.

The
congregation filed through and threw a small scoop of dirt onto the coffin.
Each person said their own private farewell to Dave.

*
* * * *

The
soldiers were called back into work for a debrief after having spent three days
with their families. Judy dropped Steve off, as he knew that the debrief would
take the better part of the day and she needed the car to pick up the kids from
school. She and Heleena would spend the day together. Judy enjoyed Heleena’s
company and liked teaching Heleena all about the modern world. She showed her
how to open a can of dog food and how to use a mobile phone. The young
Norsewoman was a fast learner but she needed to be, there was so much to learn.

As
Steve walked into the briefing room he saw that the Regimental Sergeant Major,
the Commanding Officer, the regiment’s psychological officer and perhaps
another twenty soldiers were present. The idea of a debrief was to gather all
information possible from the actions of a patrol on the ground, in order to
learn from their mistakes or ideas that worked. Debriefs like this allowed the
SASR to improve, modify or delete some of their standard operating procedures
for the betterment of future operations.

Within
half an hour, the four soldiers were seated.

“Morning
all,” began the debriefing officer, a man by the name of Major Ken Griffith,
who was also an Intelligence officer. “Ah, ‘The Usual Suspects’,” he said,
greeting the four men in front of him.

“Yeah,
minus one,” replied Steve.

Griffith
nodded. “Sir, Ma’am,” he looked at the Commanding Officer and the regiment’s
psychologist.

“Okay,
well as most of you know, we’re here for the debriefing of patrol Bravo One.
Bravo One was an SASR patrol tasked with the location and capture of General
Mohammad Al-Hazareen so he could be brought to stand trial before the
international criminal court for crimes against humanity. Hazareen was
personally responsible for ordering the murder of up to ten thousand Kurds. It
is also believed he took part in the killings himself.”

Major
Griffith looked up from the statement he had been reading.

“So,
what happened out there?” he asked.

“We
got pulled into a time warp and found ourselves in the dark ages. Man, their
beer was strong!” laughed Scott.

“Enough!
Sit down!” Griffith shouted. “Sorry,” mumbled Scott.

“Well,”
 Steve  began,  “we  had  a  well
 positioned,  effective observation post set up on the outskirts of
Barzan. We were there for several days. Scott thought maybe Hazareen had been
brought to the village before we were deployed, so he and Will went into Barzan
one night. There was a new building on the far side of the village. It looked to
be a military type affair, with barrack rooms and such. The boys went in and
found it near empty apart from several sleeping Iraqi soldiers, but definitely
no General Hazareen. During the patrol they were intercepted by some mangy,
starving dog and this is the key to our undoing, a bloody dog,” Steve chuckled.

He
took a sip of water. “So the boys came back to the OP and divulged the
information. Anyway next day, we hear this engine; it’s pretty close and growing
closer. Within maybe ten minutes this white four-wheel drive comes into sight,
and passes close to our OP, but not close enough to be concerned. This stupid
mutt had obviously followed Will and Scott’s scent and was standing right in
front of our position. The Iraqi boys decided to have a bit of fun and one of
them chased the dog, firing a few shots. I don’t think they killed it. But when
this bugger decided to stop chasing the dog he was standing right in front of
our position. He spotted us, we slotted him and that’s how the initial fight
began.”

“We
thought something like that might have happened,” said the Commanding Officer,
Lieutenant Colonel Jason Duggan. “But that’s not what interests me. What
interests me is what happened between your initial fire fight and the
thirty-six hours of radio silence before your final fire fight. We didn’t have
direct radio contact with you, but our allies were passing us details of your
transmissions. There was, however, thirty-six hours where you were silent, absolutely
nothing.”

Shit!
Thirty-six hours, is that all? Steve thought.

“What
can I say, Sir,” said Steve, “we had enemy all over us. We had driven the
vehicle into a cave and camouflaged ourselves. They were hunting for us and
pretty determined to find us. The bastards certainly didn’t give up easily. So
we couldn’t really afford to make a break for it, or make any unnecessary radio
traffic. Once the coast was clear, or at least when we thought the coast was
clear, we made a move and again got compromised. The Rover took a few bullets
in the fuel tank in that first contact so was out of action. We had to call air
support otherwise we would have been finished off there and then.”

“Okay,
Steve,” nodded the CO. “Fair enough, that makes sense.”

“You’ll
be happy to know,” said Major Griffith, “that General Mohammad Al-Hazareen was
actually in that white four-wheel drive. Your patrol killed him within the
first few seconds of the contact.”

“Fuckin’
told ya!” said Scott, nudging Will.

“The
UN had flyers dropped throughout the Kurdish communities that maintained UN
forces had been sent to hunt down and kill Hazareen, and that they had been
successful. Not entirely true, but that’s politics I guess. As it happens the
violence in Iraq’s major cities eased after that pamphlet drop. Not too sure if
that’s as a result of your actions or a result of UN peace talks, maybe both.”

“In
any case, it may not have gone quite to plan, but well done, lads,” said the
CO, “I would ask now for a minute’s silence in memory of Corporal Dave Hill.”

After
the silence, the group broke for morning smoko before going into detail about
the patrol’s fire fights. The group listened as the soldiers described their
final fight against the APCs and the tank. It had been a near impossible fight
and the fact that four soldiers had taken on and immobilised eight APCs and a
battle tank was incredible.

Especially
having only the M-72 Light Anti-Armour Weapon at their disposal, instead of the
FGM-148 Javelin they should have had in their possession.

The
day came to a close just on 1800hrs. Within half an hour of Steve’s phone call,
Judy had dropped Heleena back at Will’s house and was there to pick Steve up.

Back
home, Steve relaxed in his reclining chair with his hands on his head, watching
the TV. The smell of roast pork wafted from the kitchen. He looked up at the
framed picture of the SASR patrol taken by Pete Massicks all that time ago just
prior to their deployment. It felt like another life. Steve’s eyes rested on
Dave’s face. The big soldier wore a grin like a Cheshire cat, and little
wonder, he was about to deploy into a Middle Eastern desert.

I’ll
miss you mate, Steve thought.

He
was watching the television, but he was not listening to it. He was listening
to his children playing and giggling in the far room. His kids. He heard the
oven door open and listened as Judy checked the roast, decided it needed longer
and put it back in the oven. She was humming softly to herself.

Steve
closed his eyes. He was thinking of their mission in the Iraqi desert. He thought
back over the years, the excitement the Regiment had to offer and the
camaraderie. But there were also the mates he would never see again. The mates
that had either died in training accidents, or in some of the most arduous and
dangerous places on earth or in car accidents at home in Australia. He felt a
hand stroke his face and opened his eyes. Judy was sitting beside him. He
smiled, leaned in and kissed her. He was home.

*
* * * *

Several
days later, Matt, Will, Steve, Scott and their partners decided to go out
together to a local bar. Will and Heleena arrived at Steve’s house several
hours early, so Judy could show Heleena how to apply makeup. However, the night
was over shortly after Heleena, having been squeezed on the bottom by an older
man, had punched him to the floor and was about to break his neck.

*
* * * *

It
was raining outside, and as the sun began to set the air became quite cool even
though it was only autumn. There was a knock on the door. The kids were in bed,
so Steve was careful not to make much noise as he made his way to the front
door.

“Greg,”
nodded Steve, pushing the door open, to welcome the SASR’s Regimental Sergeant
Major.

“Apologies
for my sudden appearance.”

“No
problems, mate, want a beer?” Steve asked.

“Yeah,
wouldn’t mind actually,” replied Greg. “G’day, Judy,” he smiled.

“Hi
Greg, want a coffee?” asked Judy. “No, love, he’s havin’ a beer.”

Steve
cracked a stubby and passed it to Greg, offering the RSM a seat.

Steve
sat down too.

“What
can I do for ya, mate?” he asked.

“I’m
not gonna beat round the bush here, Steve. I heard about you guys when you came
off that chopper, I heard how you were dressed. As far as I know, no patrol’s
ever been dressed like that for desert operations. I know for a fact that you
did not lie in the debrief, but I get the strong impression that you did
neglect to mention parts of what happened. I ain’t here to chest poke, mate or
to reprimand. What you say to me will stay in these walls, I promise. I just
want to know for my own peace of mind. What the hell happened out there?”

Steve
took a swig of his beer. “Mate, with all due respect, I’m not sure you’d
believe me if I told you the truth.”

Greg
looked at Steve thoughtfully. “You know, Steve, my first real operation was in Vietnam.
We were supposed to observe an NVA battalion that was rumoured to be operating
near the Australian AO. We were out there for close to twelve days before we
came across their scouts. I was only twenty three at the time and needless to
say it scared the shit out of me. We went to ground and watched them and as
Murphy’s fuckin’ law had it, those scouts picked their way through the jungle
straight onto our position. I’ll never forget that NVA bloke’s face. His face
was all shock and fear as he realised too late. I knelt up and plugged him
straight between the eyes. Luckily enough the rest of the NVA battalion had
little idea where their scouts were and no idea where the shots had come from.
We were able to call in Arty onto their position.”

Greg
took a swig of his beer. “I’ve been shot five times, I’ve been stabbed twice,
once in combat and once in a damn pub brawl which left me with a lacerated
liver. I’ve been in more conflicts than I care to remember and I have killed
fifty-seven enemy soldiers in my time. That’s something I don’t want to
remember, but as you know it’s something that is burned into your memory. My
point is, Steve, that there isn’t anything in this world that you could tell me
that would shock me.”

“I
hear ya Greg,” Steve said softly. “Shit I’m gonna need another beer to tell
this story,” he grinned.

“I’ll
have anothery,” chuckled Greg.

“Righto,”
said Steve handing another beer to Greg.

 “Okay,”
he said. “Well I’ll just say it. We accidentally opened up a time portal and
were sent back in time about a thousand years to Viking Denmark.”

The
room was silent for a very long time.

“I
told ya,” said Steve.

“Just
give me a moment,” said Greg. “Okay, now that you’ve stopped stuffin’ about,
tell me what happened.”