“Yes, Sir.”
“If you don’t think you can handle that, just say the word and I’ll have you reassigned to another detail.”
“I can handle it, Sir I don’t know what came over me Sir, I apologise, Sir.”
“Good, it is a very tense time, but we all have to hold it together, so carry on.”
Winters salutes Corporal Harris casually as he turns away from him, and Corporal Harris returns the salute with vigour, standing to attention as he does.
Finally, Dixon receives the all-clear from the mobile phone that was stuck in his face and he joins the rest of the team, complaining and mumbling to himself.
“What are our orders now, Sir?” Dixon asks Winters.
“Mission complete, Sergeant; the cost has been great, too great and our thoughts are with the team members who haven’t returned. Captain Richards, Dan and Wing Commander Buck.” There is a moment of silence before Winters continues. “I have to get the holdall to Command so this is where we part ways. I have no further orders to give you, so get transport over to Terminal 5, fill your bellies and rest up, we will know where you are. Thank you, everyone.”
Winters salutes the team, and they return it before Winters makes his way towards the Defender. On the way, he stops as he reaches Josh.
“Again, I’m sorry for your loss, Josh; my thoughts are with you and your sister and if there is anything I can do, get in contact with me, here, take my number.”
“Thank you, Sir, I will.”
The two men shake hands and then Winters makes his way over to his ride, while Josh saves his new contact into his phone.
“Right, let’s get this show on the road, I need some chow. Where’s my new friend?” Dixon announces as the driver’s door of the Defender closes.
Corporal Harris hasn’t moved from his spot, although he has been joined by the other members of his squad. He knows that he should be sorting the new arrivals out and he will, but he’s just building up to it. He doesn’t get the chance to stall any longer, however, because his nemesis is walking in his direction. Harris finds himself trembling a little as the tall, rugged-looking Special Forces Sergeant with the scar across his face approaches. To his credit, Harris manages to pull himself together and moves off his spot to meet him head-on.
The Sergeant doesn’t slow down as they meet, and Harris thinks he is about to be in a fight.
“Ahh, there you are, Corporal,” the Sergeant says as he moves around to Harris’s side and throws his arm over his shoulder as if they were best of friends. Harris is both relieved and confused. “What do you say we forget about all this bad feeling, mate, and put that misunderstanding behind us. Life is too short, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely, Sir,” Harris stumbles.
“Good, good, so you think you can help us with a lift over to Terminal 5?”
“Absolutely,” Harris again stumbles,” I was just going to sort that out, Sir.”
“Excellent, what’s your name, Corporal?”
“Harris, Sir.”
“Okay, Harris, let’s get moving shall we, I’m starving?”
“Yes, Sir, we have a minibus lined up over there,” Harris says, pointing.
Harris is now standing in front of all the new arrivals and he is unsure how he got there. Thankfully, the Sergeant has taken his arm from off Harris’s shoulder and stands beside him, waiting for Harris to sort them out.
“Flight Lieutenant Alders?” Harris asks, already knowing who he is due to his pilot’s uniform.
“Yes, Corporal?”
“I have orders for you to return to your squadron, Sir. Do you need transport, Sir?”
“Great, no rest for the wicked. No, Corporal, I can walk from here.”
“Thank you, Sir. Everyone else, if you can get into that minibus, you will be driven over to Terminal 5.”
Alders says his goodbyes, paying particular attention to Alice and Josh before walking off in the direction of the terminal building next to the landing zone.
The rest of the team load onto the minibus, leaving Harris behind.
Chapter 3
The drive to Terminal 5 is uneventful, although there’s some banter between the Special Forces lads. Their normal post-mission buzz is heavily tempered by the losses inflicted. Voices are kept low and the jokes are small and kept to a minimum, out of respect.
“How are you holding up?” Alice asks Josh. They sit together at the front of the minibus.
“I’d be better if people stopped asking how I was holding up,” Josh tries to joke.
“I’m sorry, my American insensitivity again.”
“Don’t worry, I was only joking. I don’t think it’s sunk in yet. I’m more concerned with what and how I am going to tell Emily; she is going to be devastated.”
“It won’t be easy, that’s for sure, but have you any idea what to tell her?”
“I think I will tell her it was an accident, that he was killed in crossfire in the battle. She will ask more questions, so I will say that he was shot in the chest, died instantly and didn’t suffer. What do you think?”
“That will sound believable to her and save her as much heartache as possible, I think you should go with that.”
“I am not looking forward to it. And then there is Dan. I will have to tell Emily that news as well,” Josh says, his head dropping slightly.
“I know,” Alice says. She feels a strong urge to put her arm around Josh and to pull him into her, to comfort him. But she doesn’t, as she doesn’t know if she should. All she manages is to put her hand onto his back and rub it as you would a sick child. She instantly feels pathetic and pulls her hand away.
Josh looks up to her for a brief moment, their eyes meeting in the dim light. He appears young as if he were a boy and so
