My final few weeks at home pass quickly, and now I’m packing my belongings to make the trip north to Elgin. Having spoken to my commanding officer, he told me that Dog and I are leaving for Iraq next week for our four-month placement. We will be stationed in Baghdad again, supporting the local community and training their armed forces.
Part of me is looking forward to getting there and starting the final countdown to my Army career. I won’t be re-enlisting after this three-year service contract. For once, my mind is made up. I want to do my job to the best of my ability, then move on with my life. What I’ll do after that, I don’t know, but I feel ready for a change.
Chapter twenty-five
Lance
21st October 2020
“Our safe mission to Iraq turned deadly,” I say on stage in front of my gathered comrades and family. Like the military man that I am, I should stand tall. My voice sticks in my throat. “I returned in a wheelchair. Dog came back in a casket.”
The last two months are a complete blur. Every day that passes makes me realize that this hell is my reality. After landing in Iraq in mid-July, we were deployed straight to the training camp. No known threats, no issues on site for the past twelve months. This was deemed a low-risk mission.
That day, we were working with the Iraqi trainees, as we did every day. The training ground was in an old part of the city, destroyed by bombs years before. Our exercise was to locate thewoundedand assess any live threats.
In teams of five, we scouted the area, sweeping for unexploded devices. Mines have been used liberally throughout the countryand are responsible for thousands of deaths each year. This area was cleared, and any mines deactivated to be made suitable for the training to be undertaken. My team worked well, locating all the placed dummy mines. They were now extractingciviliansfrom the area.
The explosion was deafening, and the ringing in my ears caused me to fall to the ground, grasping my head in my hands. I tried to shake the noise from my skull, but it only got louder. My trainees scattered, terrified—many of them had experienced an onslaught before, so they knew what was coming.
Scanning the warzone to assess the damage, I saw two trainees from another team lying on the ground covered in blood. Dog ran toward the injured men and crouched down over their still bodies, assessing their injuries and administering first aid.
The suicide bomber walked toward them calmly and with purpose. It played like a slow-motion film in front of my eyes. I sprinted as fast as I could, shouting at the top of my lungs to try to warn my friend of the oncoming danger. The bastard pressed the button as Dog looked up into his eyes. The realization on my friend’s face of the situation was obvious. This was the end for him.
Then it hit me. Sheer, never-ending blackness. There was a bang. Bang doesn’t even seem like the right word, but I have no other way to describe the deafening sound that signaled the end. My eyes clouded, the screen then going blank. There was nothing, no sound, no vision, just an empty hollow when I had no idea where the fuck I was. In that moment, the pain never came, my body shutdown—right there in the middle of a war field.
My next memory was waking in the field hospital back at base. Doctors and nurses swarmed, shouting orders at each other.
“We have to amputate,” I heard a collected voice state. “We can’t save the leg.”
Inside my head, I was screaming, “No!” but I don’t know if I verbalized it.
Then it all went dark again. And I woke half the man I was, losing both my limb and my best friend.
Preparing for Dog’s funeral this morning had been torture. Having only lost my leg four weeks ago, I’m relying heavily on others to assist me. Exactly four weeks after landing on Iraqi soil, I was shipped back to Britain, disabled.
“Are you ready to go?” Ainsley asked gently. “Lance, we need to leave now. The service starts at eleven.”
Only military men were in the church when we arrived, except for Hamish, Ainsley, and Hannah. A small crowd, and it made me realize how few people were part of Dog’s life. That’s the thing about funerals—they give you a window into how important someone was to people.
Hamish pushed me to the front of the church into the accessible area. As strange as it is for my ex-wife’s lover to be helping me, I’ve appreciated his assistance these last few days. Both Ainsley and Hamish have been supporting me the best they can in this godawful situation.
The congregation rose—all except me—for the entrance of the minister, and the organist started to play. Six officers carried his coffin down the aisle. I should’ve been one of them, but I’m trapped in this fucking wheelchair for the foreseeable future. The pallbearers sat his coffin down, and the minister began his service.
“We are here today to lay to rest DavidDogJameson, our loving friend and comrade.”
I sat silently throughout the service, hearing the words but not listening. Dog had no family of his own, only mine. He had me listed as his next of kin. As I was in no fit state to organize the funeral, Ainsley stepped up and coordinated the day. For that, I will be forever grateful. Left to me, there would be no attendees.I’ve been so wrapped up in my own sorrow, I’ve barely had time to mourn the loss of my best friend.
The minister’s voice interrupted my bitter thoughts.
“Now, I would like to invite Major Lance McDonald to give the eulogy in David’s memory.”
Hamish immediately stood and pushed me up the ramp to the center of the stage, facing the congregation. Being unable to stand, I was forced to remain seated in the confines of my chair. The minister passed me a microphone, and I took a deep breath. Then spoke of my lost friend, I would never replace.
***
Dog’s wake is being held at a small country inn only ten minutes from the church. The door to the function room is located around the back of the inn. It’s dated but quaint, with old wooden tables and chairs. Floral curtains hang in the windows, and a crazy printed carpet decorates the floor. Each table holds a tray of cheese sandwiches and sausage rolls.
The mood changes from somber to more upbeat. Almost like a party. Brigadier Marshall and his wife, Stephanie, wave us over to the table they’re sitting at. I nod to Hamish, and he pushes me over. Once settled, he leaves me with my old friends to return to Ainsley’s side. Hannah has been extremely quiet today. She loved Dog like an uncle and is feeling his loss as much as I am. The Brigadier casts his eyes over me.