CAMP RUSSELL, TARIN KOWT
Yankee Platoon had arrived back late the previous afternoon to a sombre base. Now Matt sat on the edge of his bed, shaking. Although he was exhausted, sleep wouldn’t come. At the time, he hadn’t thought that the IED had affected him; he had just got on with business. Now, though, he couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his mind. Matt realised that he was not just shaking but also tapping a fist against his thigh. His foot was tapping too. He looked down at his feet and stopped them from moving and then also forced his hand to stop. This set off a series of convulsions deep in his stomach. Usually after an intense patrol the guys would get together and go to the gym, throw some weights around and decompress, maybe even do some unarmed combat or BJJ. Matt couldn’t even stand at this point.
A wave of emotion and nausea came over him until he was throwing up in the wastepaper bin next to his bed. Matt wiped his mouth and let out an inadvertent sob.
There was a knock at the door. Matt sat quietly back down on the bed and held himself still, not responding.
‘Boss? Boss, are you in there?’ It was JJ. Matt saw the handle move as the sergeant tried the door only to find it was locked.
Another voice came from the hallway. Someone was telling JJ that he had seen the boss in the dining hall not long ago. It sounded like Johnno’s voice.
Matt lay back on the bed, unable to move, feeling broken in body and spirit. He lay there for what felt like an eternity just staring at the ceiling. There was a black mark on the ceiling. He wondered how it got there. He wondered if all the other platoon commanders had stared at it at some point. For a moment he allowed himself to consider if he was truly any good at this or if he had just been faking it the whole time.
Abruptly, he sat up. Enough. He had suffered a shock and now it was time to move on, move past it. His men would need him now. Matt rose from the bed with renewed focus. It was time now to be a leader.
• • •
After showering and changing, Matt went to sit at his desk in the small platoon office inside the headquarters building. He would be expected to speak to the lads about Johnno, but he didn’t know where to begin. For a moment he contemplated calling his older sister Gwen in Melbourne – she could usually provide a good perspective on things. They had been great friends growing up in Bendigo where their parents owned the local hotel in the main street. Their mum and dad had been so busy trying to repair the family business from the shambles it was when Matt’s dad had taken it over from his drunken father that Gwen and he had grown to rely on each other. Three years older, Gwen had been his most important relationship. She had encouraged him to go to the Royal Military College after finishing high school, the same year that she left home to study law in the city. He picked up his phone, then put it down again, thinking better of disturbing his sister as he looked up at the clock on the wall. Opening a new document, he stared at the screen, struggling to formulate some thoughts.
The SOTG medical officer, Captain Fiona Blake, knocked on the door then stuck her head in. ‘Matt, are you there?’ Seeing him at the desk, she entered, pulling the door half closed behind her. ‘How are you?’ she asked. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. It’s been a hard few days but I think we’ll pull through.’
Fiona gave Matt a concerned look. ‘You know we can chat about what happened if you need to?’
Matt looked down again at the desk, struggling with what to say. He liked Fiona, she mixed easily with the Special Forces guys. Back at the 2nd Commando Regiment base in Holsworthy she would often personally oversee the Patrol Medic’s training. Before the deployment, she had stressed to Matt the importance of every guy carrying an easily accessible tourniquet at the centre of his body armour. She told Matt how Israeli soldier’s lives could have been saved in Gaza if they’d only positioned their tourniquets in such a way. The Israelis had learned the hard way. This had reinforced to Matt the importance of a fresh set of eyes over their procedures, as well as giving him an understanding of the passion Fiona had for her own role.
‘When are you guys heading out again, Matt?’ Fiona asked.
‘Not sure. Sam said the RSM told him that we might be training the Afghan police for the rest of the month.’
‘Hmm, I see. What do you think of that?’
‘Ahh, it is what it is I guess.’
‘Ah, there you are, boss. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ JJ pushed the door open. ‘Oh, g’day, ma’am. Sorry, I didn’t know that you were here.’
‘That’s okay, Sergeant, I was just leaving. See you later, Matt. Let me know if you want to chat.’ Fiona smiled at Matt and nodded at JJ as she left the room.
‘You okay, boss?’
‘I think so, mate. I just needed a few minutes to get myself in order and rehearse what I’m going to say, that’s all.’
‘Sure, of course, that’s understandable.’ JJ fidgeted awkwardly for a few moments. ‘Well, the lads are going to be in the outside barbecue area in about ten minutes. Are you ready? Do you need me to do anything?’
‘Do you have Johnno’s beret?’
‘Yeah, it’s on a cushion sitting up on the pedestal next to his photo. The chaplain and I have set it all up and the RSM provided the final check. He’s happy with it as well.’ JJ looked up at the ceiling and Matt had the impression he was blinking back tears. Matt guessed he was remembering how he had teased Johnno about that very same photo. It was the only photo taken of Johnno since he’d joined the army – the one he had to have taken by the unit photographer. JJ had joked that anyone with only one military photo, and that being in their polyester uniform, would surely be KIA because it was their fate to have that photo used. The quip didn’t seem so funny now.
‘Okay, JJ, no worries – I’ll be there in a few minutes.’
JJ nodded and stepped back out the door.
Matt sat staring at the screen for a moment longer. The words that he had just typed melted into a wet blur. Matt pressed the enter key and the printer came to life. Standing from his seat he walked towards the door, grabbing the sheet of paper from the printer as he walked past. He wanted another coffee but he knew that too much caffeine would make him even more emotional, and he didn’t need that.
Was this my fault? he asked himself as he walked down the hallway. Was there something I could have done differently, could have done better? He shook his head. There was no use thinking like that. Nothing could change the outcome now.
Matt exited the headquarters building, leaving the air-conditioned interior for the harsh heat of the outside. He squinted as he placed his Oakley M Frame sunglasses over his eyes against the dazzling sunshine. The warmth felt energising but the task ahead of him felt anything but.
Making his way along the loose stone path he rounded a corner into the shaded open barbecue area. As he walked he placed his Sherwood green beret on his head. It was an old friend, comfortable, and embodied everything he had believed in these past six years.
Yankee Platoon was already assembled. They stood in silence, forming a U shape around the lectern and the framed picture of Lance Corporal John Lewis. Their heads were lowered. The SAS troops started to arrive in twos and threes, hovering at a respectful distance from Johnno’s platoon, save for a couple who approached Johnno’s closest mates to offer words of support.
Matt looked around. He saw Saygen standing and talking with some of the guys from his troop. The CO and RSM had also arrived. The CO gave Matt a nod. That was Matt’s cue, and so he walked over and positioned himself next to the army chaplain. The chaplain was in his camouflage uniform with a white gown draped over his shoulders. He offered Matt his hand, which Matt shook.
Softly clearing his throat, the chaplain began. ‘Very often, we observe that men are seemingly taken from the earth before they reach their potential. One of the many travesties of war is that young men are killed while still in their prime. We then, who are left behind as observers, wonder at the workings of the Lord. How can someone who in the morning was so vibrant and full of life be taken from the earth before the sun has set?’
The chaplain’s voice became a dull hum in the background as Matt let his mind wander back to the previous day.
He recalled watching from the roof of his own car as JJ ran to the damaged Bushmaster. Saw once again the wheel that had barely missed his head, heard again the deafening boom. Just before these events he’d had a gut feeling about the area, he remembered. It was a foreboding that he had ignored; he’d been thinking about Cinzano and his team, and how they seemed to be going out of their way to create friction. Was it unreasonable to expect his men to man their guns, maintain security, pick up their rubbish? He just wanted Cinzano to hold his men to account. That was what he had been thinking when Team Two’s vehicle was picked up and turned around in front of his eyes.
‘Matt?’ The chaplain’s hand was on Matt’s forearm. He motioned Matt to the lectern to deliver his eulogy.
‘Thanks, Padre.’
Matt moved to the lectern. Looking out at the men, he could see that the SAS guys had their heads held high. They looked dignified and strong. This was in stark contrast to the men of his own platoon. Their faces were screwed up with emotion, fighting back the welling tears.
Matt felt a surge of emotion come over him, too – not emotion that crippled, but emotion that empowered. The type of feeling that coursed through you when it was time to be tested. Matt’s men needed him now even more than they did in combat.
‘Everyone gathered here knew Johnno in a slightly different way,’ Matt began. ‘The men of Yankee Platoon knew him as dependable and professional. He was well known across the wider unit as someone who actively pursued knowledge. Anything John became interested in, he would quickly become an expert about. Chances were that even if you were already an expert in that area yourself, he would still school you in it.’
A gentle laugh rose from the crowd.
‘I knew John in a different way. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that he was a scared boy when I first met him. That was on our selection course, six years ago. He was only eighteen at the time, and he found the whole process overwhelming. I remember him wanting to quit on a couple of occasions. But he made it through. And that transformed him. He grew in confidence as he realised what he could endure, what he could push his body and mind to achieve. That’s when he started to push all of us as well. He expected of us what he expected from himself: perfection.’ Matt took a deep breath.
‘Johnno continued to look for challenges. Mountaineering, adventure racing – it was as though he deliberately chose those pursuits that would turn him back into that scared boy, just so he could rise above the fear every time. In the end, he came across a challenge that he couldn’t surmount, as we all will eventually. This time, though, Johnno didn’t choose the challenge – someone else chose it for him.’
Matt turned the paper over and looked down for a moment. Then, raising his head, he looked out at his men. Thirty sets of eyes were locked on him, anticipating his next words.
Matt narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice. ‘Someone took the time to put that IED in the ground. That person knew that we were coming – and they should know that we are coming still.’ Matt looked across at his CO and then back at his men. They seemed to be standing a foot taller now, their heads up and shoulders back, exuding pride and determination.
‘John Lewis was the much-loved son of Harold and Deirdre.’ Matt paused to acknowledge their loss before continuing. ‘He is the brother of Emily and a brother of the 2nd Commando Regiment – he shall not be forgotten.’
He let go of the lectern and turned to the photo of John Lewis. ‘Lest we forget.’
The men repeated this in unison and stood in silence as the bugler played the last post.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, the men moved out of the barbecue area and started to wander down towards the dusty airfield. The Special Operations Task Group formed an honour guard, starting at the open doors of the waiting Boeing C-17 Globemaster. As they stood there in the heat, the infantry battalion of the Mentoring and Reconstruction Task Force took up positions, lining the road all the way back to the base.
‘That’s an incredible sight, boss,’ said Ben Braithwaite, who stood at the front of his section.
‘There must be close to a thousand men and women here,’ said JJ. ‘I’d be surprised if there’s anyone left in the camp, boss.’
Matt nodded.
‘The Dutch and American Special Forces detachments are here too,’ he said, tilting his head down the line towards the two different units.
Johnno’s section appeared at the gates. The men of Team Two had ensured that someone was with the body at all times. Forming an honour guard around the Long Range Patrol Vehicle, they accompanied the casket from the hospital to the waiting aircraft.
The crowd went silent. At first, the only noise was the low hum of the Land Rover, then, as the honour guard approached, their footsteps could be heard.
The makeshift hearse arrived at the giant cargo plane and the honour guard removed the casket. Slow marching, arm in arm, they moved it inside.
Minutes later, the honour guard reappeared from the belly of the plane and stood in a line at the aircraft’s back. Then the tail door of the plane closed. Inside was Johnno’s casket, accompanied by his closest mate, who would stay with him until he was back with his family. The huge jet engines started and minutes later it was taxiing down the runway. The men and women of Camp Russell continued watching in silence until the aircraft was just a speck on the horizon.
Matt and JJ turned and walked back towards the base. For some time, neither of them said a word.
Finally, Matt said softly, ‘JJ, we need to get after this guy, mate.’
‘I know, boss – I was thinking the same thing.’
Matt beat a fist into the palm of his other hand. ‘I want to find out who did this and I want to turn their whole world upside down.’
JJ nodded. ‘Agreed, boss. Let me make a recommendation though: we need to get the guys out on the range – tomorrow. A hard day’s training is in order, especially since the CO saw it fit to can the helicopters and cancel our time-sensitive targeting mission.’
‘Yeah, in his defence, though, I understand why he had Saygen keep up the TSTs. But you’re right, JJ, we have to shake them out of feeling sorry for themselves and we need to build their confidence so that they know we can take this fight right to the Taliban.’
‘There’s a rumour going around that we might spend the next three weeks helping to train the Afghan police force in building searches. That could slow things down a bit. I’d much rather jump straight back on the horse, so to speak.’
‘I heard that too. I’ll ask the CO this arvo. If it’s true at least it will give the intel guys some time to get us a solid lead.’
‘Right, shall I make the bookings then, get the compound target and the 25m range sorted?’
‘Good plan, bro.’
They walked the rest of the way to the camp in complete silence.