The New Recruit Read online

  Now, in their second term, and out at the range, Liam mouthed the words himself, mentally rehearsing everything they’d been shown. He was confident that the information was hammered securely into his memory, but it didn’t stop him going through it one more time. He still wanted to make absolutely sure he wasn’t about to lose any of it.

  Arriving at the firing range, Liam sat down on a bench next to Jon and Cameron. About fifty metres in front of them was a crop of half a dozen man-shaped paper targets pinned to plywood boards, behind which rose a steep and high bank of mud. It was twice the distance they’d fired from before and it looked it. Standing on the firing line, between the junior soldiers and the targets, were Corporal McKenzie and a few of his fellow NCOs. And, after McKenzie had come over and given them the expected safety talk, delivered like he was already bollocking them for something none of them realized they’d actually done, it was time for them to step up and lay down some rounds.

  Liam watched as the first group were all called out. Each of them grabbed a pair of ear defenders, then walked out onto the range and up to the firing line where McKenzie was now back with the other corporals. After a regimented run-through of the final obligatory checks, the junior soldiers held their weapons parallel to the ground and, on Corporal McKenzie’s orders, prepared to open fire.

  The crack of the bullets bounced around the range as the rounds burst from the barrels of the rifles and slammed into the targets. Liam was by now itching for his own turn, could barely wait. He knew as well as anyone that soldiering wasn’t just about weapons and fighting, but then neither was it all about running across logs or learning to iron a crease in a pair of trousers. And it certainly wasn’t anything like any of the Army adverts he’d seen on television. It was all of this, and more, but there was something electrifying about using a weapon. It was as if it focused everything they’d learned, made it all make sense. Whatever it was, Liam wanted to get out on the range.

  A few minutes later, their rounds spent and accuracy analysed for good or bad, the first group of junior soldiers finished and Liam, with Cameron, stood up and walked towards the firing line. He adjusted his helmet, making sure his ear defenders were comfortable, then, as with the group before, under orders from Corporal McKenzie, he and the other junior soldiers readied their weapons.

  In that moment the rifle seemed to Liam to increase in weight tenfold. It wasn’t a physical weight, though, but a realization that the only reason to ever use it was to kill another human being. The SA80 was built to kill and to do so effectively and with unmatched accuracy and efficiency. It was hard and cold, with a deadly purpose. And its reputation was almost unmatched in theatre, even when pitted against one of the most recognizable semi-automatic rifles in the world, the AR-15, or M16 as most people knew it.

  Liam stared at the target ahead of him, the SUSAT drawing it just close enough to give him a clear view of what he was aiming at. The cool wind, which had been light and refreshing as they’d made their way out to the firing range, was now heavy and angry.

  ‘Standing position,’ Corporal McKenzie called out. ‘Ten rounds, in your own time.’ Then he roared at them with a simple two-word charge that brought Liam’s senses on line like a spark lighting a touchpaper: ‘Go on!’

  Liam, his weight forward on his left foot, as the corporal had demonstrated, gently squeezed the trigger. The weapon jolted hard in his hands, bucking against him, the recoil mechanism forcing the stock to thump hard into his shoulder. He gripped even harder, worried it might bounce out of his grip, crash to the ground, and let off a stray round to smash the back out of another soldier’s head. The SA80 was lethal, and if he didn’t control it properly it could just as easily bite him on the arse. Or shoot his face off.

  Liam stared at the target. It looked undamaged. Wherever he’d just fired, it clearly hadn’t been where he had been aiming. He was annoyed – he didn’t like getting things wrong, certainly not things like this, things that seriously mattered. Things that other people were watching you do.

  Corporal McKenzie came alongside and Liam noticed that the usual pit-bull snarl had been replaced by one of calm and focus. Corporal McKenzie, Liam had come to realize, was an odd mix of unbridled rage and detailed, careful coaching, and Liam listened to his every word. The shouting, the yelling, the endlessly picking them up on the tiniest thing wrong, was all for their own good.

  ‘You nicked it, and that’s something,’ the corporal said, as Liam stared at his target. ‘You’ll improve. Just remember to never snatch at the trigger; squeeze it. And after you take a shot, try what I do: lower your weapon, control your breathing, then come back up for your next shot. That way you’re not just fixed in that aiming position all the time.’

  Liam and the rest of the junior soldiers understood that Corporal McKenzie didn’t want them making any mistakes. And neither did he want any of them going up against a hostile force without the right skills to take them on and win.

  ‘Means your arm muscles don’t get tired,’ continued the corporal. ‘And you maintain focus. That in turn means you can get proficient, accurate, can protect yourself and your mates and slot any bastard who wants to come in and have a go. Understand?’

  ‘Yes, Corporal.’

  Corporal McKenzie gave a nod and moved down the line.

  Liam, following the corporal’s instructions, squeezed off another shot. The crack of the bullet was dulled by the ear defenders clamped over his skull, but it wasn’t any less frightening to hear the live round blast from the weapon in his hands. This time, though, any fear was displaced just a little by his excitement. And with this second shot, he could see, he’d hit the target!

  Liam grinned. This part of the experience had never been mentioned: that to fire a weapon was actually fun. All they ever heard was how to do things right, never what something might really feel like. And here and now, as he fired another round, Liam found that he was enjoying himself. And the adrenaline racing through him took him back, way back to his time with the lads, when free running around the London cityscape was all any of them did. He couldn’t help but think how much Dan would have enjoyed this if they could have joined up together . . .

  Another shot, then another. Liam’s grin widened. The adrenaline was really flowing now; he could sense the tingle of it in his fingertips, the thrill growing.

  He glanced over to Cameron, who was focused on the task in hand, head down, staring through the sights, firing the weapon. He looked a natural.

  Liam came back on line to fire his own weapon, and as he did so he caught sight of the change lever and his mind seemed to seize up for a moment. He couldn’t remember if it was in the right position or not. The thing was marked, but right then, it meant nothing to him. He tried to focus, sort his mind out, but all he could think was: what if it wasn’t right and he still went and fired? What then?

  At the sound of Cameron putting down another two rounds, Liam flicked the lever to what he thought was almost certain to be the right setting. And then he pulled the trigger.

  4

  THE WEAPON EXPLODED into life as the magazine emptied in seconds and Liam swore, his voice drowned out as the target in front of him was peppered with holes, the rounds slamming home at a rate of over 600rpm. The shock of it knocked him back, almost made him stumble.

  Magazine empty, the world fell silent and Liam lowered his weapon. Adrenaline was coursing through him from what he’d just done.

  The next thing he knew, his weapon had been taken from him, his ear defenders ripped from his head, and Corporal McKenzie was right up in his face screaming at him, spit flying everywhere.

  ‘What the fucking hell do you think you’re doing, Scott?’

  Liam didn’t quite know how to respond, was still stunned by just how quickly the bullets had left the barrel.

  ‘Who gave you the order to switch to fully automatic?’

  Liam opened his mouth to say something, to explain that it was an accident, but Corporal McKenzie jumped in first.r />
  ‘You going to fucking well answer me, Scott, or just stand there like a big heap of shit?’

  ‘It was—’

  ‘I’ll tell you what it was,’ the corporal interrupted, shutting Liam down. ‘It was you disobeying a direct order and putting your life, and ours, at risk! Have you any idea just how much fucking damage a 5.56 round, travelling at 940 metres per second, can do to a human head at point-blank range? Well, have you?’

  Liam remained quiet. The corporal, not so much.

  ‘Do you have any fucking idea how dangerous what you just did was? Any idea at all? Or are you just a fuckwit who’s been lucky to get this far? Well?’

  Liam understood what the corporal was saying. How could he not? But he hadn’t done it on purpose.

  ‘I got confused,’ said Liam, realizing immediately just how lame his excuse was going to sound. So he snapped his mouth shut before anything else idiotic fell out of it.

  Corporal McKenzie leaned in even closer to Liam’s face, so close that their noses nearly touched.

  ‘If you did that on purpose, Scott, it’s a chargeable offence, did you know that?’

  Liam shook his head. ‘No, Corporal.’

  ‘I’m not going to bother explaining it to you here,’ continued McKenzie, ‘but let’s just say if that was proved to be deliberate, you’d be so deep in the shit you’d have to swim to stop yourself from drowning in it.’

  Liam tried to swallow, but his mouth, his throat, was dry.

  ‘Get back with the others,’ finished the corporal. ‘And I want you in my office as soon as we return to barracks, got me?’

  Liam nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry, Scott, I didn’t hear you . . .’ McKenzie growled.

  ‘Yes, Corporal!’ shouted Liam.

  He didn’t wait for any more chit-chat and did as the corporal had said. Sitting back with the other junior soldiers as another group stood to take their turn at the firing range, Cameron squeezed in next to him.

  ‘Scott, mate, that was fucking awesome! Can’t believe you did that!’

  Liam looked at his mate and saw a huge smirk on his face. ‘Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?’ he agreed, and tried a smile. It didn’t sit quite right on his face and he really hoped he hadn’t completely shagged things up. ‘Though I reckon McKenzie doesn’t think so, eh?’

  Another figure appeared in front of Liam. It was Jon.

  ‘You’re a right fucking idiot, Scott,’ said Jon. ‘McKenzie’s going to skin you when you get back. And do it really slowly too.’ Then he added, ‘Ballsy, though, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘What did it feel like?’ asked Cameron. ‘I mean, you emptied the mag, Liam! It was fucking out there, mate!’

  McKenzie and the last group of recruits came back from the firing line, and then they were all marching back to barracks. When they were dismissed, Liam allowed himself for a second to think that Corporal McKenzie had forgotten what had happened, but then a familiar voice crashed into his ears: ‘Scott, you little shit! My office! NOW!’

  As Liam marched over to follow Corporal McKenzie, doing his best to try not to think what punishment was going to be meted out on him, he spotted Cameron and Jon. Together, and out of eyesight from the corporal, they stood to attention, and saluted him.

  A few minutes later, he was standing rigidly in front of Corporal McKenzie’s desk, the corporal having gone off and left him alone. The room was sparse, tidy, gave nothing away as to what lay beyond the corporal’s military exterior. Liam couldn’t see a photo of a wife or any family, not even one of a pet dog. Not that he’d seen the office of any of the other NCOs, but when he’d first been in there he’d at least expected some hint of what, for Corporal McKenzie, was in his life beyond the Army.

  It was some time before McKenzie returned, and when he did, Liam, who was still standing to attention, had almost lost all sensation in his legs.

  McKenzie sat down. He did it, Liam noticed, with the weight of a man about to deliver the death sentence.

  ‘I could have you kicked out,’ he said. ‘Still might, for that stupid prank you pulled out there today. I’ve seen some stupid things happen in my time here, Scott, but that was something else. What have you got to say to that?’

  Liam said, ‘It was an accident, Corporal. A misjudgement.’

  McKenzie was out of his seat, round his desk and in Liam’s face in a moment.

  ‘A misjudgement? Are you fully fucking serious? I mean, are you telling me that you have the actual balls to stand there and try and fob me off with some shit excuse that it was just a mistake? What the hell do you take me for?’

  Liam kept his answer simple, tried to make sure his voice didn’t falter, despite the fact that he was now bricking it big-time. ‘Yes, Corporal. It’s the truth, Corporal.’

  Corporal McKenzie continued shouting. ‘What you did out there was the most idiotic display of incompetence I have ever witnessed, you hear me?’

  Liam didn’t respond, couldn’t think of anything to say, because all he was worried about now was that he was about to be binned. And that terrified him.

  Corporal McKenzie stared up at Liam for a moment more, then swung back round to his seat and sat down.

  ‘Fuck knows why, Scott,’ he said at last, ‘but I’m not going to kick your sorry arse out. Not yet, anyway. I’ve already spent too much of my own time and effort, and tax payers’ money, into making you a soldier, so I’m not going to see that going to waste.’

  Liam wanted to punch the air with relief, but he knew Corporal McKenzie definitely wouldn’t appreciate it. Also, the corporal hadn’t quite finished what he was saying.

  ‘But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get away with the stupidest fucking display I’ve ever seen in my life. So you’ll see the boss, who will deal with you.’

  Liam said, ‘Yes, Corporal.’

  ‘He might fine you. I don’t know how much,’ continued the corporal, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk, ‘but I can assure you it’ll sting. Why? Well, let me tell you why, Scott.’ He paused, but only to take one long, deep breath. ‘I want you to remember this moment, Scott. I want you to remember, for the rest of your Army career, that I decided to give you a second chance. Because believe me, if I get even a sniff of you messing something else up, I’ll personally kick your sorry arse back into civvy street so hard my bootprint will serve as a permanent reminder of just what a bastard I can be! Now get the fuck out of my office!’

  Liam didn’t need to be told twice.

  5

  THE FINAL TERM, just like the others, pushed on despite the weather. The sky was black and rain was hammering the ground into submission. Corporal McKenzie was, unlike the junior soldiers in front of him, protected from the worst the weather could chuck at him by a worn-looking but still effective Gore-tex combat jacket. They were standing out on one of the concrete roads that snaked in and around the college.

  ‘As you’ve got leave coming up,’ the corporal shouted, ‘what better way to finish a term than to do a little bit of exercise?’

  No one laughed; no one said a word.

  ‘You need to show us that you’re fit enough to deal with all that Army life will throw at you. And throw it at you it will.’

  Staring ahead into the rain, the water blurred Liam’s vision, but he was still able to make out the silhouettes of Cameron and Jon. When it came to what they were about to do, it was every man and woman for themselves. Liam had beaten Cameron a few times, but Jon not once. He wanted that record to change today.

  He was soaked to the skin, the rain coming down in stair rods, but he didn’t care. Hot weather made him sweat, the cold made him freeze, and if it was windy, he was either fighting against it or trying to stop it knocking him off his feet. Running in the rain, though, kept him cool. It refreshed him, kept him going.

  Corporal McKenzie spoke again. ‘You’ve all done your fitness tests, the press-ups and sit-ups, and passed them. Now you’ve all got to hammer out a decent time for the on
e-and-a-half-mile run in under ten and a half minutes. If your fitness isn’t up to scratch, you could get back-termed. So let’s get to it!’

  Corporal McKenzie stepped back, to be replaced by the PTI, the physical training instructor, a man whose physique was based, it seemed, on the design of a tank.

  ‘I don’t want any foot draggers,’ said the PTI. ‘All any of you should be thinking about is getting round this as fast as possible. It’s just a few minutes of your life. So make them count. Focus and push yourselves! You can do this!’

  Liam, like the rest of the junior soldiers, was silent, his mind on what he had to do now. He wasn’t going to fail at this. He’d worked hard on his fitness, even spent his last two-week leave doing little else but train, eat well and sleep. Even if it was just to get him out and away from his parents, particularly his dad, who didn’t seem exactly happy to have him back.

  Now he simply had to put all that hard work to good use. And if that meant throwing up halfway round the course to make sure he made it, he didn’t care.

  Liam calmed his breathing, imagined himself running, racing ahead, his feet pounding hard, his muscles working like engine pistons, firing him forward.

  The PTI’s voice cut through the air: ‘Go!’

  Like a foxhound at the sight of its quarry, Liam, in amongst the rest of the junior soldiers, launched himself forward, battling to keep on his feet as the great mass of drenched teenagers raced off.

  The ground was slippery thanks to the rain, and Liam had to work hard not only to keep his pace up, but also to stop himself slipping and twisting his ankle. Ahead of him, a female junior soldier called Taylor went down. It wasn’t an easy fall to get up from either. She’d gone down hard, but was up on her feet sharp, her knees grazed and bleeding. The PTI looked to check she was OK, but Taylor was already speeding off, the limp doing nothing to slow her down.

  Liam kept on moving, thinking only of that stopwatch timing him, almost like it wanted him to fail. And sometimes it seemed like it did. Some days, the fitness stuff was beyond him and he’d be blowing out of his arse within minutes, the PTIs yelling at him. Other days, like today, he’d be on fire. And that always felt good.