The Sixteen (9 page)

They were suspicious of me from the start, mainly because I was an unknown who’d landed a plum job and they weren’t exactly sure why I’d been given it but, generally, they left me alone. The main exception to this was the Sergeant Cook, a big, fat, ugly bloke, who was constantly having a go at me, demanding to know how I’d got to be so pally with the old boy.

This Sergeant Cook didn’t believe me when I told him that I hadn’t a clue why the old guy seemed to like me and was more pleasant to me than the other orderlies, or why I’d been given this job in the first place. He went on and on at me, constantly bringing the subject up whenever he saw me.

He’d been having a go at me one afternoon and after he’d
gone one of the other orderlies, who’d seen him talking to me came over.

‘Here, a word of warning, pal! You don’t want to be getting too matey with that one,’ he warned quietly. ‘Watch your back at all times, and if he drops a spoon, don’t you bleedin’ bend over to pick it up!’

‘Why? What d-do you mean?’ I asked.

‘Why? ’Cos he’s a bloody big puff, mate, bent as they come and nasty with it that’s why, so watch out! He’s only in here ’cos he’s a good cook and he’d be given a right hard time of it in the normal camp, serve the bugger right an’ all it would!’ he explained. ‘Bloody soddin’ queers, I hate them!’ he said vehemently, almost spitting the words out. ‘If I had my way the whole f***in’ lot of them would be stuck up against a wall and bleedin’ shot!’

I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about but realised it was obviously something he felt very strongly about and really felt I needed to know. I was simply that innocent, that naïve.

‘Thanks for the warning, I’ll certainly k-keep an eye on him,’ I told him anyway, wondering what on earth I had to watch out for and just what exactly was a ‘pouf’. I suspected that it was something that I should be aware of, but I didn’t really want to ask any of my mates for details as they liked nothing better than to ‘take the Mickey’ and were already giving me a rough time about losing my stammer and ‘getting all posh’ and ‘full of myself’ from being around the officers so much.

In all, I spent about two weeks working in the Officers’ Mess during which time my stammer improved noticeably every day. It seemed little short of a miracle to me, that such a terrible affliction, which had been with me most of my life, was all but cured in so relatively short a period and in such a simple way.

I
’d been working in the Officers’ Mess for roughly two weeks and had picked up most of the basics relatively quickly. While I didn’t exactly enjoy it, it was better than what I’d been doing so far and had obvious advantages to it, the main ones being no morning parade or guard duty. But, as I was preparing the table for Sunday lunch, the fat Sergeant Cook called out to me.

‘Forget about that, Geordie, you’re leaving right now. Report on parade tomorrow morning,’ he ordered.

‘On parade! Eh, why?’ I asked warily, still cautious about him after the warning I’d been given.

‘How the hell do I know, probably for your next cushy job?’ he sneered. ‘I’ve just received orders, so forget about that and beat it!’

Typical, I thought, just when I’m beginning to get the hang of things and getting to lose that awful bloody stammer. I was a bit miffed at losing the perks and the decent food I’d been getting too.

‘But, Sarge, what about my dinner?’ I asked, as I hadn’t eaten yet.

‘Tough! Just beat it will you, Geordie,’ he growled nastily.

‘That’s great, isn’t it,’ I mumbled under my breath as I turned to leave.

‘What was that?’ he demanded, giving me a look that made me move pretty damn quickly.

‘Nowt! I’ll never understand this army,’ I muttered over my shoulder.

I couldn’t understand why I was suddenly no longer needed in the mess, but then I hadn’t understood why I’d been sent there in the first place. Although I hadn’t been there long I’d learned the job quickly, the fat Sergeant Cook had even admitted that much. So, I didn’t think it could be because I wasn’t very good at the job and besides, they’d known I had no experience when they gave it to me.

Typical army logic, I thought as I made my way back to the tent. But, at least it’s helped me to get rid of that damn stammer.

It was very hot and I spent the rest of the day lounging around with Bill and Dave, just messing about taking daft photos to send back home. But that night when we turned in I wondered what was going to happen the following morning and what crummy job I’d be given next.

‘Back t’digging ’oles tomorrow, eh, Geordie?’ Bill teased.

‘Looks like it, mate,’ I groaned. ‘Nothing lasts forever, especially if it’s good.’

Monday morning I lined up on parade and stood waiting for my orders.

‘Urwin!’ shouted the officer on parade. ‘You’re on detachment.’

‘Sarge, surely there’s been a mistake made here?’ I said, looking at the papers he’d handed me.

‘Yes, too bloody right, Urwin. I had a nice little job lined up for
you here on latrine duty! You’ve had it too cushy in the Officers’ Mess, lad. I’d like to know who’s responsible for these bloody orders!’ he barked.

‘But they’re sending me out with a truck!’

I was surprised to say the least. I’d hardly been out of the camp since we’d arrived and hadn’t a clue about getting around the island, so how was I supposed to know where to go?

‘Just do as you’re bloody told, Urwin, and report next door,’ the sergeant snapped and marched off.

I did as he said and went to the nearby 518 Company Depot and handed over the papers to the officer in charge, a sergeant, who allocated me a truck.

‘Right, lad. Report to the Ordnance Depot at Dhekélia,’ he ordered, giving me the papers I’d need to hand in at the gate when I got there.

I jumped into the passenger side of the assigned truck and sat there for a few minutes waiting for a co-driver. Suddenly someone banged loudly on the side of the truck.

‘You still here? What the hell are you waiting for?’ the sergeant bellowed.

‘Eh! But where’s the other bloke, Sarge?’

‘What other bloke? What are you talking about?’

‘Well, the driver!’ I explained.

He looked at me blankly. ‘What driver? You’re the driver, you pillock!’

‘Me! You’re kidding, though Sarge! The furthest I’ve been out of camp is to the beach and back!’

‘Tough!’ he snapped. ‘There’s a map in there above your head, use it. You can’t go wrong, there’s only one bleedin’ road straight to the place, it’ll take you five minutes. You’re the driver, NOW GET MOVIN’.’

I did as he ordered and set off, unable to believe that they were actually letting me take a truck out on my own.

After driving along for about ten minutes in the direction of Limassol, I got my eye on this guy standing at the side of the road near to a parked jeep. As far as I could see, he appeared to be alone.

As I drove closer, he stepped further into the road, put his hand up and waved at me to stop. I looked around but still couldn’t see anyone else, just this guy on his own. I wondered if he might have broken down, but we’d been warned about the dangers of terrorist traps, so I put my foot down and sped towards him – there was no way I was going to get caught out on my first trip.

He was wearing a short-sleeved army shirt and shorts and looked like an ordinary soldier except that there was something vaguely familiar about him.

And he obviously expected me to stop, as he stood right in the middle of the road until I was almost on top of him and had to jump to one side to avoid being hit. As I shot past him, I got a good look at his face and recognised him instantly – it was the guy from the beach!

Immediately I slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt in a cloud of dust. I looked in the wing mirror but for several seconds he was obscured from my view by the choking dirt and sand. When it eventually settled I saw him beckoning to me, and so reversed back to where he was waiting at the side of the road, dusting himself down with a hanky.

‘Hello there, Geordie, it’s me,’ he said calmly with no reference to the fact that I’d almost run him over and covered him with a fine film of brown dust. ‘Remember,’ he went on. ‘We met on the beach a little while ago.’

‘Yes, of course I do. Sorry about that,’ I apologised, pointing to
the dust that covered his clothes. ‘I thought you might be a flaming terrorist or something, I only realised who you were as I passed you,’ I explained. ‘Besides, when nothing happened the other week I thought you must have forgotten about me.’

He grinned broadly and shook his head. ‘Come on, get out of the truck, Geordie, just leave it,’ he said calmly.

‘What! Leave it!’ I was concerned; the truck was my responsibility and there would be hell to pay if anything happened to it. ‘I can’t just leave it. I’m supposed to take it to Dhekélia.’

‘No, you’re not.’

‘But I’ve got written orders!’

‘Well of course you have,’ he agreed, smiling. ‘Don’t worry, it’s all been taken care of, it’ll be here when you get back.’

‘What do you mean “when I get back”? Back from where?’

‘You said you wanted a change, some excitement, well, believe me you’re going to get it. This is it, Geordie, lad!’ he told me with a grin, his manner so casual and friendly yet at the same time so positive. He jumped into the jeep and slapped his hand on the passenger seat.

‘Come on, Geordie, get in. Stop worrying, I’ve told you your truck will definitely be there when you get back! I promise you.’

I couldn’t explain it, but there was a real honesty about him; just something so compelling about the guy that made me believe what he said; the truck would be taken care of. For all he sounded like an officer he certainly didn’t act like any other officer I’d come across in the armed forces, for he made me feel great and totally at ease. I jumped into the jeep and left the truck at the side of the road. As we drove off, I looked back at it, unable to believe what I’d just done!

We sped through the rocky hills and barren landscape into the middle of nowhere, or so it seemed to me, and travelled for roughly
twenty minutes along a dusty, narrow road. As we rounded the base of a steep, rock-strewn hill suddenly, to my surprise, we came in sight of what appeared to be a rusting old aircraft hangar standing well back from the track.

There was a fairly large flat area in front of it and I supposed it might once have been an airfield, but it seemed an odd place to have one out here in the middle of all these hills. I wondered if it might have been used for helicopters or something like that. There were a few broken-down outhouses and sheds close by, all pretty dilapidated and run down, nothing appeared to have been used for a long time. The badly neglected concrete areas of ground were cracked and broken, with parched brown tufts of grass pushing their way through, and nearby a couple of large lizards basking lazily in the sunshine, while others scuttled around in the dry grass before apparently disappearing into thin air.

The guy parked the jeep, jumped out and began to walk towards a small door in the side of the ramshackle old building.

‘Follow me, Geordie,’ he said and we went inside.

It was just as decrepit inside as it was on the outside, dirty, rusting and falling to bits. Although I hadn’t known what to expect, I was surprised to see that the building wasn’t empty.

Three men were training together using some form of unarmed combat. They were young and extremely fit looking, with lean, muscular bodies and faces. By the look of them, I guessed that they were all older than me by five or possibly six years. They all wore long trousers and plimsolls and were incredibly agile, moving around making very little noise – not shouting or screaming at one another. I’d never seen anything like it before in my life. They were using real knives and what looked like a bayonet, and seemed to be going through some well-rehearsed routine – although I later discovered this was not the case: they were genuinely trying to catch one another out.

With their dark hair and deeply tanned bodies, two of them looked like locals although the other one was quite pasty looking. Suddenly a terrible thought occurred to me. What if they were terrorists? I was frightened and nervous, and very concerned about what was going to happen to me. I realised that I’d stupidly dropped myself in it. I’d allowed myself to be put in this position despite all the warnings we’d been given. I hadn’t a clue where I was and as they suddenly stopped what they were doing and began to walk towards me, I panicked and turned around to get back out of the door. But the guy from the beach was already putting the bolt in it. I was trapped!

He placed his hand lightly on my shoulder and said in his quiet confident way.

‘Let me introduce you to your future teammates, Geordie.’

Still feeling very apprehensive, I turned back to the three men who were now standing directly behind me.

Seeing them more closely grouped together, I became even more aware of just how powerfully built they were. They gave the impression that nothing could stop them, that they could simply walk through a brick wall if they wanted to. And there was something else too, something very odd about these men – they didn’t appear to blink very often. They kept looking straight at me in a penetrating and direct way, almost as if their gaze was going right through me.

I expected my hand to be crushed by theirs when they shook it, but instead it was the complete opposite – their handshakes were firm but very gentle. Their general air of absolute confidence was overwhelming and I felt totally out of place standing next to them, like a cabbage in the middle of a strawberry field!

‘Hi, Geordie, we know all about you!’ the slightly shorter one in the middle said.

Well, I thought, if that’s the case what the hell am I doing here?

‘Just call me Dynamo,’ he went on, then smiling he stepped forward and shook my hand. ‘This is Spot and that’s Chalky.’ They both looked at me intently as they also shook my hand.

‘Nice to have you with us, Geordie,’ Chalky said and grinned.

The one called Spot merely took my hand and winked.

They spoke quietly and confidently and to my surprise, their accents were pure English public school, very calm and very precise.

‘Spot, bring Geordie a cup of tea up,’ the guy from the beach said, indicating for me to follow him as he led the way up a short flight of wooden steps and into a room at the top. As I followed him, I glanced around at the area in which they had been training and saw what looked like several tailor’s dummies, the heads of which appeared to be held on by small springs attached to the necks. I had no idea what they would be used for, nor the several old wooden doors standing against one wall with knives stuck into them.

Dynamo and Chalky had now quietly returned to the middle of the floor where they stood surrounded by several turnips suspended by strings at shoulder level from the beams above. It was all very strange; I was fascinated and very curious to find out more.

At the top of the stairs, I entered a very small, dingy room with a table and two high-backed wooden chairs stuck in the middle of it. An empty window frame, with only a few broken fragments of glass remaining, formed part of the wall between this room and their training area beyond. Through this opening, I saw that they had now resumed their training (although why anyone would choose this dump to train in was completely beyond me). What seemed even stranger was that the British Army would be using
such an out-of-the-way, run-down and decrepit place as this for a training area.

It was fascinating to watch them. I couldn’t tear my eyes away and itched to be able to join in and learn what they were doing. I was so engrossed that at first I didn’t realise I’d been spoken to until I felt a light tap on my shoulder.

‘Do you want this tea, Geordie?’ the guy from the beach said, smiling. ‘Why don’t you sit down here?’

I’d been so absorbed in watching Dynamo and Chalky I hadn’t even noticed that Spot had been in the room. I sat in the chair the guy indicated, but immediately jumped to my feet again as I heard several loud slapping noises coming from the training area. Looking through the window frame, I saw that the turnips were now swinging about wildly on their strings. Some of them were split in half, while others had huge chunks missing out of them. They had apparently been used as targets yet I could see no obvious weapons that could have caused such damage to them. Spot had now re-joined Dynamo and Chalky, but the two of them didn’t appear to have moved from where I’d last seen them standing. For the life of me, I couldn’t think what could have inflicted such an amount of destruction in the split second I’d looked away and what it must have taken to demolish all those turnips. I sat down again and looked at the guy opposite me in utter amazement.