back.
Stanhope flicked Parker the middle finger, then nudged Trig in the arm with his elbow, continuing in a voice loud enough for Parker to hear. "That's the thing Trig, these cockney cunts think they own the place, fuckin southern twats. We’re up north now."
Stanhope could see Parker growing more and more frustrated. The rest of the soldiers were watching, anticipating a confrontation that had been brewing for weeks.
Parker swivelled on his chair. "You got something to say to me, Stanhope?"
Stanhope stood, raising his own voice. "What if I do? What you gonna do about it?"
Parker swept the chess board off the table, striding across the room and going nose to nose with Stanhope as everyone jumped in to hold the two apart.
"You know your problem don't ya Stanhope?" Parker hissed with a smile as the rest of the group struggled to hold them apart. "You're still pissed off I knobbed that bird of yours."
They lunged for each other, individual insults lost in the noise as the two men tried to get to each other.
"What the hell's going on in here?"
The men as one stopped and snapped to attention where they stood, Stanhope and Parker breathing heavily as Staff Sergeant Mills entered the room. His salt and pepper hair was as always impeccably parted at the side, his grey eyes soaking in every detail of the room.
He strode towards Stanhope and Parker, glaring at Trig who stood in the middle, just about holding the two apart. He glared at each in turn, his face twisted into a scowl.
"New orders have come in,” he barked. “Team of five needed. You three seem to be full of energy, so count yourselves in. Brigs and Johnson, you too."
"Yes Sir," Johnson and Briggs said in unison as Mills turned back to Stanhope and co.
"Since it seems you three have so much energy to spend, you can all go out and patrol until morning. First thing tomorrow I want you in my office for a briefing on the mission."
Stanhope opened his mouth, then closed it, remembering the stories of Mills which were well documented. By all accounts, he was a man not to be crossed.
Mills looked from one to the other, pausing at Parker.
"Parker, you are aware this is the British army, yes?"
"Yes, Sir" barked Parker, quick as a flash.
"And being a part of the British army implies you are representing your queen and country?"
"Yes Sir," said Parker, again robot like.
"Then why do you look like some kind of homeless vagrant?”
“I don’t know sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Get rid of it. Have a little respect for your position and pride in your appearance."
"Yes Sir," said Parker.
Mills glared at him for a moment more. "Go on then, do it now!"
Parker saluted, then left, heading out into the cold towards the barracks to shave.
"As for you two," Mills said, pivoting towards them. "Gear up and get out there."
In unison, they saluted. "Yes, Sir."
Mills stood for a moment, glaring at the two men. "Dismissed" he barked, pivoting on his heel and leaving the rec room.
"He's a fuckin wanker, that Mills" grumbled Stanhope, falling back into his seat. "Double fuckin duty. Parker's to blame, his fault for winding me up."
"Fuck it mate," said Trig, trying to diffuse the situation. "Let's just get out there and get it over with eh?"
"Suppose so," grumbled Stanhope. "What do you reckon these new orders are?"
"Dunno, can't be any worse than freezing our bollocks off in this shithole, though."
"True."
"Come on then," Trig said, grabbing his boots. "Sooner we start, sooner we can get finished."
II
It was sensory deprivation at its most extreme. A black void of absolute silence. With nothing to stimulate the senses, a person could go crazy. Joshua had been buried alive for almost two weeks now. Much like an animal in hibernation, he had slowed his vital functions down almost to a stop. He floated in an infinite inky limbo, straddling the line between sleep and consciousness, life and death, and for all he knew, heaven and hell. Time had stopped having any meaning
Stanhope flicked Parker the middle finger, then nudged Trig in the arm with his elbow, continuing in a voice loud enough for Parker to hear. "That's the thing Trig, these cockney cunts think they own the place, fuckin southern twats. We’re up north now."
Stanhope could see Parker growing more and more frustrated. The rest of the soldiers were watching, anticipating a confrontation that had been brewing for weeks.
Parker swivelled on his chair. "You got something to say to me, Stanhope?"
Stanhope stood, raising his own voice. "What if I do? What you gonna do about it?"
Parker swept the chess board off the table, striding across the room and going nose to nose with Stanhope as everyone jumped in to hold the two apart.
"You know your problem don't ya Stanhope?" Parker hissed with a smile as the rest of the group struggled to hold them apart. "You're still pissed off I knobbed that bird of yours."
They lunged for each other, individual insults lost in the noise as the two men tried to get to each other.
"What the hell's going on in here?"
The men as one stopped and snapped to attention where they stood, Stanhope and Parker breathing heavily as Staff Sergeant Mills entered the room. His salt and pepper hair was as always impeccably parted at the side, his grey eyes soaking in every detail of the room.
He strode towards Stanhope and Parker, glaring at Trig who stood in the middle, just about holding the two apart. He glared at each in turn, his face twisted into a scowl.
"New orders have come in,” he barked. “Team of five needed. You three seem to be full of energy, so count yourselves in. Brigs and Johnson, you too."
"Yes Sir," Johnson and Briggs said in unison as Mills turned back to Stanhope and co.
"Since it seems you three have so much energy to spend, you can all go out and patrol until morning. First thing tomorrow I want you in my office for a briefing on the mission."
Stanhope opened his mouth, then closed it, remembering the stories of Mills which were well documented. By all accounts, he was a man not to be crossed.
Mills looked from one to the other, pausing at Parker.
"Parker, you are aware this is the British army, yes?"
"Yes, Sir" barked Parker, quick as a flash.
"And being a part of the British army implies you are representing your queen and country?"
"Yes Sir," said Parker, again robot like.
"Then why do you look like some kind of homeless vagrant?”
“I don’t know sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Get rid of it. Have a little respect for your position and pride in your appearance."
"Yes Sir," said Parker.
Mills glared at him for a moment more. "Go on then, do it now!"
Parker saluted, then left, heading out into the cold towards the barracks to shave.
"As for you two," Mills said, pivoting towards them. "Gear up and get out there."
In unison, they saluted. "Yes, Sir."
Mills stood for a moment, glaring at the two men. "Dismissed" he barked, pivoting on his heel and leaving the rec room.
"He's a fuckin wanker, that Mills" grumbled Stanhope, falling back into his seat. "Double fuckin duty. Parker's to blame, his fault for winding me up."
"Fuck it mate," said Trig, trying to diffuse the situation. "Let's just get out there and get it over with eh?"
"Suppose so," grumbled Stanhope. "What do you reckon these new orders are?"
"Dunno, can't be any worse than freezing our bollocks off in this shithole, though."
"True."
"Come on then," Trig said, grabbing his boots. "Sooner we start, sooner we can get finished."
II
It was sensory deprivation at its most extreme. A black void of absolute silence. With nothing to stimulate the senses, a person could go crazy. Joshua had been buried alive for almost two weeks now. Much like an animal in hibernation, he had slowed his vital functions down almost to a stop. He floated in an infinite inky limbo, straddling the line between sleep and consciousness, life and death, and for all he knew, heaven and hell. Time had stopped having any meaning
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