Higgins had recovered enough to start glaring at the men huddled in the mineshaft. As soon as the drone was out of range, he was going to let someone have it for leaving his weapon outside.
Half a minute passed, and the sound of the jet-propelled drone went directly overhead. ‘Sounds high,’ said Taylor, once the sound faded. ‘Must be doing a broad aerial surveillance. That’s good. They obviously have no clue where we’re holed up.’
Higgins didn’t waste a second once they were clear. ‘Okay. Which one of you cocksuckers left your rifle and cleaning kit out there?’
The men all stared back, no one owning up. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I’m mistaken. Perhaps it was left out there by a fucking roo. Or maybe Father-fucking-Christmas left it there as an early present! Who left the weapon outside? I won’t ask again.’
‘Sarge. Where’s Jessop?’ asked Bull.
Higgins’ face dropped, when he realised, looking around, that Jessop was not in the mine. ‘Little cunt,’ he muttered through gritted teeth.
Striding outside, Higgins saw Jessop walking back to the mine, looking sheepish. The other men trickled out of the cave to see what would happen.
‘What the fuck are you doing walking around like you’re sniffing the roses, Jessop?’ yelled Higgins. ‘Tell me you weren’t out in the open when that drone came over.’
‘I was taking a crap, Sarge, and I heard the call. Figured I wouldn’t make it back to the mine in time so I hid in a crevasse over there.’
‘You dopey little cunt. The latrine has been positioned so that even a retard like you could get back in time,’ said Higgins, so close to Jessop’s face that it was showered by Higgins’ spit. ‘If our position has been given away by your white ass hanging out your pants, I will personally tear you a new asshole. Understood?’
‘Yes, Sarge. Sorry, Sarge. I thought I was doing the right thing,’ stuttered Jessop.
‘Don’t think again. Your brain has not developed enough for you to think. You just do as I say, and when I say “into the mine”, I mean get in the fucking mine!’
Jessop was clearly shaken by the verbal hammering dispensed by Higgins. The rest of the squad was also shocked by Higgins’ reaction. Finn felt bad for Jessop, mainly because he would have done the same thing if it had been him out there when the alarm came in. Jessop was only 18, and Finn often felt protective of him, even though they’d been in training for around the same amount of time.
Higgins now turned to the rest of the men. ‘That goes for all of you! We cannot risk being spotted. Our number one offence is our ability to operate covertly, which is also our number one defence.
‘Right. Back to work. Hunt, you and Carver get onto those bikes. They need to be cleaned and checked by the end of the day.’
The rest of the day was uneventful, but everyone was now on edge, just waiting for another drone or chopper to buzz the camp. The game had just stepped up a notch.
For two days the squad had done little else but clean their gear and rest, the boredom relieved only by the numerous aerial reconnaissance drones and false alarms. This was more agonising than their nine-hour hike across the desert. Their routine was determined largely by the satellite sweeps, which also meant much of their time was spent in the mine. Nine men, on edge, inside a confined space, will generally result in frustration, anxiety and occasional aggression. Still, they were well trained and well led by Higgins, so discipline was generally good.
Carver and Finn had somehow become the bike maintenance go-to guys and spent hours every day shooting the shit as they went through the routine checks.
On the evening of day two, sitting outside alone, wondering what the next 24 hours would bring, Finn reflected on how he managed to get himself involved in this war. Though it almost made him dizzy thinking about how quickly his life had changed, he knew he’d never felt stronger or more purposeful and he loved the sense of camaraderie in the squad.
The light was going now. Soon it would be time to go in, before the satellite came over. Finn gathered his gear, stood slowly, stretched, then picked up his kit and moved gingerly back inside the mine. He was hoping for another mission to come up soon. The tedium of checking and rechecking gear was now getting unbearable, no matter how much of a pisser Carver was.
Most of the squad was doing the same, making their way inside, dropping their gear, finding a spot to park-up until it was time for dinner. The only thing that kept the men sane in times like this was humour. It may have been war that brought them together, but it was humour that created their bond. It was typical Australian humour, not for the faint-hearted. Some cultures might’ve called it bullying or cruelty, but for them, it was the greatest form of bonding that could be done. That night, unexpectedly, they were given emails from their family, loved ones and friends. It had been over three weeks with no mail, so it was a welcome surprise.
Each man’s email was downloaded onto his personal tactical unit, the military equivalent of the civilian’s MiLA. Sitting around the mine in the low light, the men talked about news from home.
‘Oh shit, guys. I’m a dad! Bella had a baby boy! I’m a dad!’ yelled Dave.
Calls of congratulations went around the mine.
‘Hey, Dave,’ called out Bull. ‘You better call the Guinness World Record people. This could be the first time ever that a newborn baby weighed more than its dad!’
The mine erupted in laughter.
‘Fuck you, Bull. I’m not a sniper for nothing. I’m such a crack shot, even my sperm never miss their mark,’ responded Dave smugly, to more wails of laughter.
Higgins, who had been laughing, was standing now. ‘All right. Cut it out, guys. The satellite will be overhead soon, and I don’t intend to find out how good their hearing is, so let’s keep it quiet.’
The men calmed down, and Finn went back to his emails. As well as emails from his mum and dad, there was one from Chris. Finn opened it and started reading with trepidation.
From: Chris08@me.com
To: Finn.Hunt@austinf.gov.au
SUBJECT: You’re a Knob
AUTHORISATION: CENSORSHIP APPROVED
Dude, hope you’re
Chris.
PS You still owe me $50 and I want it back, dickhead.
Typical Chris, thought Finn: simple and to the point, no faffing about. Even though the overzealous military censorship spiders had automatically gone through and edited it, hearing from Chris still made him smile, and he felt relieved that there would be no drawn-out apologies required.
Another email caught his eye — it was from Sophie. With a little shock, he realised he’d completely forgotten about her. It felt like a lifetime ago he had last seen her. When he had found out that she had gone back to the UK, he’d tried to put her out of his mind — he had no idea how effectively he’d managed to do that.
He started reading, curious to see how he’d feel.
From: Sophie.Marks@gmail.co.uk
To: Finn.Hunt@austinf.gov.au
SUBJECT: Apologies
AUTHORISATION: CENSORSHIP APPROVED
Dear Finn
I hope this finds you well. I’m so sorry I didn’t write sooner. I had to leave Australia quicker than I had hoped. My father wasn’t well and the rest of the family was pressuring me to come back. They thought it safer to be back in the UK, but given what’s going on around Europe, I tend to disagree. Anyway, all is generally well here. My father made a miraculous recovery once I returned — think I was tricked into coming home!