CHAPTER 1.

A knock at the door, woke me, my mother answered; I heard her scream out.

“Oh, my god! It’s David, isn’t it?”

I threw back the covers, leapt out of bed and rushed to the stairs, from the landing at the top I could see my mother bent over with her head cupped in her hands. I saw a back lit silhouette in the doorway. As I got closer, the silhouette turned into a clean-cut man dressed in a dark blue suit holding out an army ID card saying, “Can I come in please Mrs. Williams?”

He looked at me, but made no comment on the fact I was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. “Who might you be?” he asked.

“I’m Robert Williams.” I replied.

“I think you better help your mother inside, sit her down and put the kettle on.”

He introduced himself as the family’s officer and began to explain.

“I’m sorry to have to be the one to bring you this news, Mrs. Williams, but your son David, was shot and killed yesterday whilst on a routine patrol of south Armagh in Northern Ireland.”

My mother threw herself deeper in to the big brown armchair, “Jesus Christ, this can’t be happening, not my David.”

He continued, “It was whilst carrying out a routine car check, a sniper fired a single shot hitting David in the back, killing him instantly. It was out of the blue, and I’m afraid nothing could have been done to prevent it.”

Why couldn’t it be prevented? I said to myself. I could feel the anger growing, deep down, in the pit of my stomach. Then suddenly, without warning, I began to feel nauseous.

He droned on about all the help and support my mother could expect from the army in her hour of need. She sat in the armchair trembling and sobbing, I wanted to go back to bed and wake up to find it was all a sick dream.

“Maybe this is not the time to be discussing this. I’ll leave you my card, and please do not hesitate to call me at any time,” said the officer.

He stood up looked at me and without saying a word, gestured with his head to keep an eye on my mother.

“I will call you when we know any more Mrs. Williams, and again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

After he left I went back into the living room, my mother sat there sobbing and shaking. It took me back to the time we heard the news of my father’s death. I stood there not knowing what to say or do. I knelt down next to her and took her trembling hands in mine.

“Mum, I’m really sorry, I ... I don’t know what to do.”

She lifted her head, I saw her eyes were red with tears pouring down her face. I couldn’t help it, as the full enormity of what had just happened took its grip on me, and I too began to cry. She looked at me, leaned forward and we wrapped our arms around each other, and with a trembling voice she spoke.

“Oh, my dearest Robert, just hold me son, and don’t let go.”

We stayed like this for what seemed like an eternity, afraid that if either of us ever let go the whole world would collapse all around us.

********

It was late 1982, I was fourteen years old and lived in a small town called Folkstone on the southeast coast of England. Folkstone has a pretty close knit community, where everybody just walks into each other’s houses without even having to knock the door. My mother and father finally decided to settle here after he left the army. She said she was fed up with all the moving around they had to do while he was in the military, and she wanted somewhere she could finally call home. Although our house is a modest size, only a three bedroomed terraced house with a yard in the back, to my mother it is her little castle, and at least she owned it. She is so proud of it and keeps it spick and span. As the house is situated on a hill, I can see the docks from my bedroom. As a small child I went down to the docks to watch the ferries coming and going to France. My brother David got me into it, he said he often use to do it after my father died in a car crash not long after he left the military. At that time my mother was still really upset and would often break down crying. David said he found this hard to cope with and so started going down to the docks as a way of avoiding my mother’s grief. David was a typical older brother, always there for me when I needed him most, and protecting me whenever I needed protecting. I looked up to and respected him dearly. However, that all changed when he left to join the army, leaving me to fend for myself, and take care of my mother.

I was up late watching a Rambo video on TV, running around the woods using all his survival skills to evade and dispatch the local police and national guard. Here was a guy who fought for his country, only to be rejected by the very society he fought to protect. Hounded to the point of no return, when the only options left open to him were to fight back. I really admired that. It was just as Rambo was beginning to take the town piece by piece, that as usual David staggered into the house after a night of drinking in the town, and was, as he would describe it. “Pissed as a fart.” Drunk as a skunk. He was home on leave from his fifth tour of Northern Ireland.

I gave him a glancing look. Here we go again, I thought, might as well forget about the bloody film. Shit, I hate it when he’s drunk.

He fell into the armchair and began his ranting and raving, always the same after a tour over there.

“IRA bastards, allowed to get away with fucking murder, and us, with our hands tied unable to do anything about it. We have their photos on the walls in every police station; we see them every day walking the streets. What can we do about it? Fuck all! that’s what! Fuck all! It really piss's me off. Fucking government wants to open their eyes and see what’s really going on over there.”

I continued to ignore him, trying to take in the film.

He leaned forward lit a cigarette, took a big deep puff and continued. “Now we have an RUC copper with us on every patrol- Shit! Royal Ulster Constabulary, that’s a contradiction in terms. How they ever got to be named Royal, I’ll never know. They’re worse than the frigging terrorists. With them around, all we can do to these bastards is stop and search them at every opportunity, just to piss them off. Not like the old days, oh no, then we could take these bastards down a dark ally and give them a good kicking.”

He paused for a moment, and began searching around the armchair and table in front of him. “Is there any booze in the house?”

. “Afraid not,” I replied. Still looking at the TV, pretending to take in the film

He had been in the Para’s for eight years; it was his life. Our father had spent fourteen years in the army, but was only in the Pioneer corp’s. So my brother had been brought up to know nothing else. David had made up his mind that as soon as he was old enough, he too would join the army, but not the Pioneer corp’s. “I’m not going to spend my time in the army digging shit pits” he said, and so decided on the Para’s. This would have pleased my father, having his son join the army too. Unfortunately my mother didn’t share the sentiment, I think she had higher hopes for him. David had seen pictures of soldiers throwing themselves out of airplanes, and decided that was for him. I don’t think he realized at the time just how hard it was to get through the training. He soon found that he had chosen one of the most elite regiments in the British army, second only to the SAS. If the British government ever wanted someone to go into somewhere to kick arse the Para’s were always the unit of choice. They have a saying in the Para’s (In the event of a crisis, cry havoc and let lose the dogs war.) David even had it tattooed on his arm. He loved telling everyone he met how great the Para’s are. “The best regiment in the British army, second to none, AIRBORNE.” He would shout. I didn’t really understand why he felt so passionately about the regiment. I had never found anything in my life so far, to warrant such a response. I figured you had to be in it to appreciate it.

He was always a very happy person, that was until the beginning of this year, when he got the call to go and fight in the Falklands campaign. After he came back from there, he had completely changed. He became more introvert and angry, and began drinking a lot more. I often heard him at night in bed shouting and crying to himself. I wanted to ask him what the problem was, but my mother told me to leave him be, and let him work it out for himself. It felt weird to hear him locked in his bedroom crying on a night. He was a stocky man, with the body of a body builder, a shaved head and tattoos all up his arms.

He continued on about how much their hands were tied whilst trying to police the terrorism which had gripped Northern Ireland for so many years. As I looked at the film on the TV it suddenly struck me, just how ironic it all was. Here was Rambo a soldier going through the same experiences my brother was going through. Outcast by society, just wanting to do the job the army had spent so many years training him to do, and yet seemingly placing as many obstacles as possible in his way, until finally he can take it no more, and decides to take matters into his own hands. My brother also picked up on this as he suddenly stopped ranting and caught a glimpse of what I was watching.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he suddenly shouted.

I finally turned my gaze away from the TV to look at him properly for the first time.

“That’s what we should be doing, fuck what all the politicians are saying, we should just take matters into our own hands. If we were to do that, we could end all this shit that’s been going on over there for so many years, in a matter of months.”

I sat there for a moment and thought. So why the hell don’t they just do it. I was just about to ask him, but then remembered how drunk he was, and that It would only end up with him getting even angrier, and all I really wanted, was for him to go to bed and give me some peace.

********

Now my mother and I are standing on the tarmac at Brize Norton military air base, it’s a crisp cold morning, I can see the dew on the grass glistening in the sunlight. Cold mist pouring out of my mother’s mouth with every deep breath she lets out. We watch the C130 aircraft taxi, the propellers begin to wind down and the ramp at the rear begins to lower. It seems like a lifetime before we see the first of six soldiers dressed in combat uniforms, carrying a Union Jack draped coffin, marching in slow time toward my mother. She is stood dressed in a black dress, holding a handkerchief to her sobbing face, shaking and whispering to herself repeatedly,

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god.”

I put my arm around her, and try to console her, but she just shrugs me away. “Let me be” she said. I stepped back and stood behind her.

********

After the full military funeral at our local church, I went back to school, and a couple of years later I sat my final exams, not caring what the results would be. I had already made up my mind to enlist in the army, and join David’s regiment, the Para’s. I knew the training for this regiment was tough, but it wouldn’t be half as tough as breaking the news to my mother. It has been only her and me for the last eight years, since my father died and David went off to join the army. So, the thought of me leaving home would be grief enough. Leaving to join the army, that was going to devastate her. My mother was sitting in the armchair watching Coronation Street, one of her favorite soaps, and with a stomach full of butterfly's, I made my move.

“Hi, Mum. Would you like a cup of tea?”

She turned and gave me a suspicious look. “Thanks son, that would be nice . . . what are you after? It’s not often you volunteer to make the tea.”

This was true. “What do you mean? I often make the tea.”

“If you say so, love,” she said, with a little smile on her face, and turned back to watch her program.

I looked up sheepishly. “Well, Mum there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh, yes? And what might that be, love?” she said without turning her gaze from the TV.

“Well, I have finished school now, and been thinking about what I might do with my life, and well-”

She turned to look at me and interrupted. “Join the army by any chance?”

Surprised I said. “How did you guess?”

“I always figured you would end up following in your brothers footsteps.”

“I have thought long and hard about it, and, it is what I want, Mum.”

“I know, love, and nothing I say will change anything. I don’t have to like it, but if that’s what you want.”

I looked at her lovingly, put my arm around her and kissed her on the cheek.

“Wow, Thanks mum your great.”

“Just be careful, that’s all I ask,” and turned back toward the TV.

“I will, I promise.”

I went upstairs to my bedroom and quickly pulled out all the leaflets I’d picked up at the army careers office. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this excited, the pictures of soldiers parachuting looked so inviting. I even went through my brother’s photo album, looking at pictures of him in all his combat gear, with a cam creamed covered face, looking mean as hell. Then I began recalling all the conversations we had together, remembering the enthusiasm he felt as he talked about his regiment. I took David’s red beret off my dressing table, placed it on my head, and stared at myself in the mirror, imagining myself already a member of this elite unit. I looked out my window and watched the ferries coming and going, then decided to go into town and take the big leap by signing on the dotted line. As I was only sixteen I would need to have my parents consent before they would allow me to make the commitment. I explained to the recruiting sergeant that my mother had already given me her permission. He said that was fine, but he would still require her signature on the recruiting papers. However, he said I would be able to sit the entrance exam today if I felt I was ready for it. Being as eager as I was, I immediately said yes. He led me into a small room with four wooden desks, each desk with a plastic chair behind it. I sat behind one of the front desks, and then the sergeant left the room. I looked around the room and could see the walls adorned with all matter of military posters, covering just about every trade the army had to offer. After I had finished observing my surroundings, I began to think about the impending test, and suddenly felt a feeling of apprehension. I began to think; maybe I shouldn’t have been so eager after all. Just then, the sergeant entered the room carrying a paper booklet and a pencil.

“Okay, this test consists of an English paper, a math’s paper, and a problem solving paper. You have an hour and a half to complete it. If you find you are struggling on anything, leave it and move on. You can always come back to it later if you have time.”
He placed the booklet on my desk and handed me the pencil.

“Do you have any questions before you start?” He said.

“No…I don’t think so,” I replied.

“Okay, you have an hour and a half starting from now.”

I turned the first page and began the English test. The sergeant had left the room, which felt a little weird, as I was use to taking tests in school where there was always a teacher there watching over you. Still it’s not as if I had any way of cheating, I mean, only ten minutes ago I had no idea I would be taking a test.
I had difficulty with only a couple of the questions, and was surprised just how easy the test was. I finished the test with at least fifteen minutes to spare, but decided to wait for the sergeant to return. He entered the room bang on time.

“Have you finished.” He asked.

“Yes, with time to spare.” I replied.

“Oh, found it easy did we?” He said, with a smile on his face. Well I suggest you go into town for a walk around and come back in about half an hour. I should have your results by then.”

I went to the nearest café and ordered a coffee. I sat there looking out of the big window at a sunlit main street. Watching all the shoppers passing by, thinking. I now have to go home and tell my mother I have taken the entrance exam and almost ready to enlist. I just hope it isn’t going to be too traumatic for her. I finished my coffee, paid the bill, and headed back to the careers office. As I entered, the sergeant told me to sit down, and began to explain that I had done very well on the test and as a result would be eligible to enroll in any trade I wished. I immediately answered him.

“I would like to join the Para’s.”

He gave me a look of disdain. “Are you crazy? Didn’t you hear what I said? You have a choice of any trade, why the hell do you want to waste your abilities on a regiment like the Para’s?”

“It’s what I want, my brother was in there and it’s what I have set my heart on.” I replied.

“Just how fit are you?” He asked.

“Well, I don’t really know, I’ve never thought about it.”

“The Para’s are one of the fittest regiments in the British army, and only twenty percent of recruits ever make it through the training. So don’t you think it would make more sense to go for a trade?”

I let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, but I’m only interested in the Para’s.” I replied.

“Very well, if that’s what you want, but remember if you find it all too much, you can still change your mind. Now what I need you to do is take this letter home with you and get your parents to sign it. Once you have done that, come back and we will carry out the final paper work. I will then give you a date to report for duty and start your training, okay?”

I left the office and headed straight home, ready to give my mother the news. As I walked in my mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner. I could smell and hear the sizzling of the bacon she was frying, and immediately felt hungry.

She stood at the cooker with an apron wrapped around her waist, singing some old song. As she noticed me she stopped singing.

“Hello son, where have you been all day?”

“Well mum, I’ve been to the army careers office, and em took the entrance test.”

She turned from the cooker to look at me. “So why didn’t you tell me you were going there?”

“It was a spur of the moment thing. I figured being as you agreed to me joining, then I might as well get the ball rolling. I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t intend to upset you.”

“It’s just come as a bit of a shock that’s all. She turned back towards the cooker, then I could hear her beginning to sniffle, I walked up to her and put my hands on her shoulders.

“Don’t get upset mum, it will be alright.”

She turned her head, and with tears running down her face, said. “Don’t worry about me son, I’ll get over it, now go and get washed up ready for dinner.”

“By the way, that smells great mum.” I said. Then gave her a kiss on the cheek and left the room.

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