Overwatch

Derek called stand-down. We wiped down our weapons and rubbed a little oil over them. Not too much or they would smoke if we opened fire, and give our position away. I was tasked to get breakfast. We had been issued with compo rations. They could be eaten cold if necessary. A lot of guys hated them but they were pretty good if you had any imagination, and carried a few extras. They came with a little folded metal stove that used solid fuel tablets. The problem was, they burned with a very distinctive smell. Most of us carried small gas stoves. I got two of them and boiled water for tea. It was my chance to star.

Before we deployed, I had gone down to the cookhouse. I had learned that the guys in the background were people to keep in with. Often they were old sweats, who knew the score, and if you treated them with a bit of respect they would help you out. I had been sent to collect the rations and had asked the chef if he had any tips as this was my first O.P. He had provided a few extras that I figured would get me some Brownie points. I brought breakfast forward to the boys.

"Fuck me! Egg banjos!" said Nobby.

"Not just egg, egg and bacon!" the Kid extolled.

Derek looked at me. "Someone might just make a decent soldier." The praise from these men went a long way towards distracting me from my predicament.

Derek took out a flask and poured a little sweetener into the mugs.

"Gunfire?" asked Tom (Cincinnati).

"Gunfire," assented Derek.

"What's gunfire?" I took a mouthful. I spluttered.

"Tea with rum. It's best if you can get Navy issue grog but this'll have to do." Nobby laughed at me.

"Geez, that's excellent." I said after a more cautious drink.

"Yeah, it's kinda nice looking out over this with a good cup of tea and a good breakfast", agreed the Kid and he crashed the ash.

As we sparked up, cupping the glow, I looked around, and even with the limited view we had, I knew what he meant. The smoke mingled with the mist. Very few people would see our country like this. Even shift workers rarely had the time or vantage point to appreciate what we had. Maybe a few wildfowlers might experience it, but most of the populace would sleep through this. I felt rather privileged to live in such a beautiful country and I promised myself we would see a lot more of it like this. It was the inclusion of Jean in my thoughts that brought me in hard.

"Listen, youngster, don't brood on it." Cincinnati had recognised my mood change.

"You know nothing for sure, kid," said Nobby.

"Do you guys read minds or something?" I demanded.

"Na, we're just long in the tooth. We've done it all or seen it all before. Go get yer head down fer a while. We'll talk about it later," said the Kid.

Derek and I moved back. We couldn't move about to keep warm and we wouldn't put up the bashas until nightfall, so we crawled into our sleeping bags, wrapped in our ponchos. I had packed the cooking gear before moving forward, keeping everything together in case we had to bug out. If so, we would lose the minimum of equipment.

"D'ya want to talk?" Derek offered.

"I don't know. What should I think, Derek?"

"You shouldn't think anything. Doing things because of what you think is the road to nowhere. You need to know what's going on, and work from facts."

"But what's she doing there?"

"Can you prove to me that it is her"?

"That's her car and I saw her going in."

"Look, Drew, you know the yellow card rules. When you squeeze the trigger, you're the guy that stands in the box and explains why you opened fire. Nobody can tell you to shoot someone. It's an illegal order. You have to know that your target is armed and is going to shoot. Anything else and you go down for murder. Now tell me exactly what you saw".

"I saw her drive up in her car, get out, walk to the door, open it and go in".

"Stop there. How do you know it was her driving? You saw a car answering the description of the one she drives..."

"Jonty did a vehicle check. It was her registration number; make and colour are the same as well"

"It could be a ringer vehicle. Fuck! It could be a ringer vehicle. She could be the shooter!"

"Jean wouldn't..."

"No, you eejit, she could be PIRA using a ringer vehicle!" Derek got out of his green slug and hurried forward to the O.P. I followed. (PIRA was the Provisional IRA, a.k.a. the Provos)

"Hullo Zero, this is Echo Sierra four one Alpha, long message, over".

"Zero, send, over"

"ES41A, reference Bravo India Whiskey four three niner five, a blue Ford Escort, this vehicle is parked outside the targets location. Roger so far? Over."

"Zero, roger so far, over."

"ES41A, can you get in touch with the target and confirm that he expected this caller, over."

"Zero, roger. Why? Over".

"ES41A, there was no int on his visitor. This may be a PIRA substitute, over."

"Zero, roger, checking. Out to you. Hello, ES21A, acknowledge last from ES41A, over."

"ES21A, acknowledged. We have not heard any gunshots but there is no activity at this time, over."

"Zero, roger, wait, out."

Overwatch Ch 8

We waited. We had absolutely no reason but every one of us was tensed for action. Only Derek had thought it through. We had no way of knowing who Miller expected. What better than to use a car associated with him, to mount an op against him. I understood what Derek had been trying to explain to me. Even if it turned out to be the car Jean used, it didn't mean it was Jean driving it. I had been looking through the IWS. When I thought of it, I couldn't be sure it was Jean. All I could really say was that it was a woman about the same build as her. Hell, it could even be a small bloke in a wig and skirt. Suddenly, I didn't mind the birdsong as much.

"Hello, ES21A and ES41A this is Zero, target has confirmed all correct, over."

"ES21A, roger, out."

"ES41A, roger, out."

"Zero, from the boss, good thinking, out."

Derek wasn't a happy bunny. "Yeah, good thinking 'cos everything is O.K. but we should have known earlier. I should have thought of it earlier 'n'all."

"Aye, but you're the one that did think of it, and you did something about, too," said Nobby.

Derek and I moved back to the rear area. "I get what you mean boss," I conceded. "All I saw was a green picture of her back. It might not be her after all."

"Exactly, doctor. Now get some kip, it's gonna be a long couple of days. You're gonna need to stay alert."

I got into my slug and lay there. I couldn't sleep. Although I felt a bit more relaxed about things there was a doubt chafing away at the back of my mind. I wanted to believe that it wasn't Jean, but I was sure it was a woman by the way she moved.

Jean was massaging my foot. As I watched I realised it wasn't mine. The leg was like a fat pink grub. She lifted the ankle and brought the foot to her lips. I sat up yelling "NOOOOOO!", and I felt a hand clamp over my mouth.

"Shut the fuck up, you clampett!"

I looked up and saw Derek looking pretty pissed off. "Sorry," I mumbled through his palm. Then, more clearly, "I must have been dreaming," as he took his hand away.

"Tea."

"Ta."

"No, dickhead. You make it."

"Oh. Sorry."

As I got the brew on I realised that Derek had woken me by shaking my foot. We were told not to shake anyone by the shoulder as some guys, especially the ones who had seen a lot of fighting, would start swinging as they woke. Nowadays it's recognised as a symptom of stress disorder. My reaction was pretty similar. I realised I must have been dreaming about Jean being with somebody else. That's why I woke up screaming. Derek went moved up to check on Nobby and the Kid. I made the tea and brought it forward. It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was bright and cheering, and our position was nicely camouflaged by the trees and gorse. It wasn't exactly warm but it was comfortable. We had struck lucky. The Mourne country could be drear and dreekit a lot of the time. Today the mountains were in their glory. I passed round the tea.

"Routine traffic. Tractors, mostly. They went out in the Jag, heading towards Kilkeel or Rostrevor direction."

Since it was daylight we went onto four hour stags. That way we got a decent bit of kip. Nobby and Cincinnati got their heads down first. Derek and me got to get cramp and damp first. You can't move too much in case you disturb the foliage and attract attention, but we would move back individually to take a fag break so we could stretch out. The big problem for me was that it gave me time to think. Although I was still holding on to the idea that it wasn't Jean down there, I still couldn't shake the suspicion that it was. I took the night sight off the weapon and placed it in its pouch on my belt. By day we would use the iron sights but we did have binoculars. I closely observed the Ford. I couldn't see Jean's rug on the rear parcel shelf, where she normally kept it, but it definitely was her car. The rear hubcap was missing and the GB sticker on the bootlid was torn. She always had the car in case Miller needed picked up. I was tearing myself apart, going from believing she was guilty, to hoping I was wrong. Derek tried to keep my mind off it, getting me to observe and record any activity, even the farmers going about their normal business. He also got me to work out new range cards using the map to work out more accurate ranges, anything to occupy me. I knew what he was doing and busied myself with whatever he thought of. We were able to talk a little as we were well away from the road. If I had been on Jonty's crew I would have had a much harder time. I told Derek how things had been between Jean and me, and how I had been trying to get a normal job.

"Drew, you need to sort out where you are with Jean and start livin' your own life. I mean the life you want. Listenin' to you, you know that yerself. O.K. you might be enjoyin' this. I never regretted my time. I did things and saw things I wouldn't have any other way. I'd recommend it to any young lad who doesn't know what he wants to do. But you have exams and prospects doin' somethin' that has a big future for you and her. There's railways and engineering all over the world so you could emigrate if you want. Don't make your mind up until you get home and talk to her. Don't tip your hand though. Make sure you know exactly where you stand before you commit yourself. The other thing I'd say to you is this. If you ever decide to get divorced..."

"I'm not gonna jump the gun Derek."

"I know. You've cooled down a bit. But this is dead straight, make sure you have some money behind you that you can fall back on. You've had a warning shot here even if everything works out. I've seen loads of guys taken to the cleaners in a divorce. There was one bitch who even got his mother and fathers bank details so she could check if he'd been hiding money with them. Well, her lawyers anyway. Just watch your back."

"I hear what you're saying, Derek. I'll hold fire till I know what's what."

Overwatch Ch 9

The rest of the weekend went slowly. Stag on, stag off. I always seemed to be on rest when they went in or out. I never got a chance to see if I recognised Jean or not. The guys knew her and they said it wasn't her but I couldn't shake the idea that they were only saying it to put me at ease. In fact at one shift change, when I was bringing up the tea I heard Derek ask Nobby and Tom if they thought it was Jean. They told him they couldn't be sure. She was just too far away, and wasn't facing us for long enough for a positive I.D. I pretended I hadn't heard.

They left mid afternoon on Sunday. The rest of our company was relieved at 16.00hrs. We would have to wait till dark before we could withdraw. Then we would have to tab to the pick-up point. We were lifted by a three team multiple. One of the Land Rovers had only a driver so there was enough room for us and all our kit. We were taken back to K Coy's location and given a hot meal. They looked after us really well. Steak, chips, onions and mushrooms, followed by trifle and ice-cream. Our own Bn. wouldn't have done as much. The chef said they did this type of op often enough and the army owed us. That made a change. We were usually fucked off at the high port without anything. We cleaned and returned all the kit we had signed out. The storeman said he would have cleaned it in the morning but we took a bit of pride in doing the job right.

We were debriefed and handed in our patrol report. The company commander turned in and thanked us. Then he told us we could get our heads down in the Q.R.F. room. We would be heli'd out at 06.00 in the morning. In the meantime the company bar was open and the first drink was on him.

I was busting to get home to find out where I stood, but I took it on the chin. We were able to lock our gear in the Q.R.F. room and went to the bar. We got a table for both our teams but the 3 U.D.R. boys wouldn't let us buy, and every time we finished a round, another was set up for us. They were great company and I didn't notice that there was always someone from our crew with me all the time. I didn't realise either that they were making sure I didn't have time to brood. The crack, as they say, was ninety. Jokes and war stories were flying. Every so often something would come on the music system that would have everyone singing. It was just one of those nights that lives forever.

Now as any man knows, the wee ones hold nothing. After my second pint I had to break the seal. Then I was in and out to the bog after every pint. It was during one of these trips that I saw the two corporals, Big Derek and Jonty, standing in the shadows behind the silver cabinet. They were talking low, and when they saw me they seemed to change the subject because I heard Jonty clearly talking about the company commander turning in so late on a Sunday to thank us. Derek agreed it was a compliment. I went to the loo and rejoined the party. Derek approached me and took me outside.

"Cpl Johnston was asking me about the Ford. The guys recognised it and thought the woman looked like Jean."

"Was it her."

"They're not sure Drew. They didn't get a clear view of her. I'm sorry we can't settle it one way or another."

"Everyone knows anyway."

"Nobody's gonna talk about it. These lads know when to keep their mouths shut. You've stood by them. They'll stand by you. You know that."

"I know, Derek. There's few like them."

"Fuckit. We had a good op. Let's get a few wets down our throats." We rejoined the assembled masses and made a night of it.

Breakfast was at 05.00. These boys really knew how to look after themselves. Still half cut, we had a big Ulster fry with loads of tea. Then we headed for the helipad. An R.A.F. Wessex lifted us and in 15 minutes we landed on our own base. Naturally there was no storeman or armourer on location for us to return weapons and kit. Cpl Johnston went to the ops room to hand in a report of our activities for our own C.O. While he was there he got the watchkeeper to phone them. We filled the time with 'concurrent activity'. We cleaned and oiled our weapons, and cleaned and sorted our kit. We made sure we had accounted for everything we had drawn from stores and carried out a full ammo check. We usually did this in base location because there was an armed guard. That way we were protected while our weapons were disassembled.

Once everything was cleaned and accounted for, we changed out of uniform and were ready to bale out as soon as we had returned everything. The storeman arrived and put the kettle on. We had more tea as he carried out his stores check. Once he had reported everything correct to the ops room we were able to de-kit. We drank tea and shot the shit waiting for the armourer.

Eventually he weighed-in. He had to do a complete check before taking in our bunduqs. Once he was satisfied everything was correct he reported to the watchkeeper, then took in the muskets. Sometimes I think we spent more time checking stuff and reporting to somebody than we did patrolling. Those of us who had them drew our personal protection weapons. They had been left in the armoury for safe-keeping when we were on duty. We never carried anything other than army issue weapons on patrol.

Finally everything was squared away and we signed off and headed home. I checked the time and saw it was twenty to eight. I figured Jean would have left for work so I was in no hurry home. The traffic was rush hour so I was approaching the flat just as the shops were opening. I had given way to the traffic at the roadworks outside the Post Office when I saw three of the workmen go to their van. As they turned round I saw two of them holding S.M.G.s and one with a sawn-off shotgun. They were pulling down ski masks and heading towards the security men delivering cash to the Post Office.

I didn't particularly want to intervene but I realised that the S.M.G.s were home-made. These guys were protestant paramilitary. That meant they were more likely to be scared-off than I.R.A. terrorists. Provos were unlikely to venture into east Belfast to carry out a robbery anyway. They were more likely to use the safe houses in their own areas.

I de-bussed, drew my pistol, (funny that, Drew drew), and moved to the side of the van, putting the engine block between them and me. Since they hadn't opened fire, and because of all the civilians in the vicinity, I had to issue a challenge.

"ARMY! STOP OR I FI...."

Overwatch Ch 10

That's the trouble with doing it by the book. As I issued the challenge they all turned my way, one of them with his finger on the trigger spewing bullets all around the scenery. I squeezed off one round just as I felt a punch on the jaw and the lights went out.

When I woke up, I was, as you can guess, in a lovely clean bed with fuck all on but a sheet and a load of bandages. I could see nothing and I felt like I had just got out of the ring after the fight with the Para. My jaw and teeth hurt like merry hell. I can stand anything only pain, especially toothache, and I had the biggest toothache you could imagine.

"Hny uhn errr? Wha hnuh fn hnd?"

"Nurse! He's awake! Now just lie quietly darling everything is going to be fine. Oh God I love you so much, Drew. Thank God you've come round. The doctors were certain the bullet didn't hit anything vital but it knocked you out from the force of it."

The nurse arrived and the doctor followed shortly afterwards. Once they established that I was conscious they gave me pain relief. Believe me; I was doing my damnedest to convince them I had no head injury. That's one thing I knew from my team medics course...no morphine for head injuries, and I really wanted morphine! The doctor explained that I had been hit by a bullet that had ricocheted off the engine of my van. It had entered just below my jaw and travelled up and out through my cheek taking part of my lower jaw and most of my teeth on the left-hand side of my face with it. My cheekbone had been fractured too. My eyes were bandaged because of that. Now I was awake they could check it out but they were confident my sight was unaffected.

All in all I was pretty lucky. The bullet was low velocity, from a home made S.M.G. which meant it wasn't as powerful as a commercial one. It was a ricochet, which reduced the impact some more but because it was out of shape and tumbling it made the wound bigger. Hey, I'll take a large, messy, non-fatal wound over a small, neat, fatal one any day. I had only lost a small part of my tongue so I should be able to eat, speak, and taste fairly normally. My jaw would be reconstructed using bone from my thigh and I would get a new set of decay proof molars screwed into it. I would get plastic surgery for my cheek and they figured I wouldn't be too badly scarred.

It may seem odd but at that moment my biggest concern was the hospital I was in. It was the same one I had worked in and it had a lot of staff who had republican leanings. I was worried that the IRA would be able to get in and top me while I was sleeping or drugged. Added to that were my concerns about my marriage and just to put the icing on the cake was how the railway company would look at it. Would they hold my job open and would I still have a place on the degree course?