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Authors: Paul Jordan
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chest to get comfortable and warm. John screamed, and I thought he was going to kill it. Instead he just threw it about 10 metres away while we all sniggered like kids under our sleeping bags. Even exhausted we still had a sense of humour. John didn’t seem to have one, though. Stop laughing and you grow old was our theory.
We slept in until about 5.30 the next morning when we were woken by the ritual call to pray at the Mosque. Over a loudspeaker a man would wail a prayer that seemed to go on for ages. None of us could sleep during this so we just lay there waiting for this guy to stop, but he just kept going. I knew the other blokes were awake when Tony said, ‘For fuck’s sake, stop mumbling, say what you’ve got to say.’
When the cleric stopped momentarily, John said in his best Elvis voice, ‘Thank you very much, now here’s a little number, I wrote on the way in tonight.’
Well, that was it, we all got up, and I went to find the Captain.
‘Morning Sir, what’s happening today?’ I asked.
‘Good morning. At around 1400 a long boat will pick you up from here and take you back to HQ.’
‘No problem, we’re going to secure our guns and kit inside the barracks and have a bit of a look around town, if that’s alright with you.’
‘Okay, that’s fine, there are some good restaurants for breakfast and lunch.’ That was all I needed. To hell with the ration packs, let’s get a decent feed.
We had a bit of a clean-up as we hadn’t shaved since leaving the jungle camp and were all looking a bit rough. We threw all our kit into a spare room and headed for town and some breakfast. We were in luck. There was a guy cooking some roti with egg, so we lined up and grabbed a couple each. That certainly filled a bit of the gap, so we went for a walk around town.
The place was like any other Asian town with the smells of food cooking in cafes and stalls on the footpaths, the open sewerage drains constantly moving with high rainfall, the markets selling vegetables, and fresh meat hanging in the windows or along the verges. We started to get a bit peckish again and found a small cafe. We sat down and ordered coffee and tea all around. We still had a few hours to kill, so there was no rush to eat. A young lady told us we could have nasi goreng (fried rice) or mee goreng (fried noodles). In conversation the name ‘mee goreng’ is often shortened to ‘me’, and when one waitress approached Cleve and asked ‘You want me?’ Cleve looked at the stairs going to the second floor and thought the woman was making him an offer of sex. ‘No, no, no, no, I’m okay, thank you, just some food, thanks.’ The poor woman had no idea what this crazy white person was saying, so she just smiled and walked away.
We made our way back to the jetty and sat around waiting for the boat which eventually arrived at around 3.00 pm. It was about 10 metres long, about 1.5 metres wide, and had a huge outboard motor hanging off the back. We gingerly loaded all our shit into this death trap and then slipped into a seat ourselves. Funnily enough, the boat was quite stable and, shortly after moving away from the jetty, the driver got under the bitch of a thing and we flew across the water heading for the Special Forces camp, which was an hour away.
The trip, though fast, was uneventful and when we arrived at the camp we unloaded our weapons and handed in all our ammunition. All leftover food was thrown to the shithouse and we sat and cleaned our weapons. Once that was done we put them back in the trunk and stored them in the armoury, then went to get cleaned up. We really needed a hot shower to get all the crap off our bodies and out of our skin, but there was no hot water, so we did the best we could with cold water.
The good Warrant Officer came up to our room that afternoon and asked if we’d like to go to the yacht club for dinner. Would we? Bloody oath we would! I could already taste the beer and steak. He picked us up at 7.00 pm
We slept in until about 5.30 the next morning when we were woken by the ritual call to pray at the Mosque. Over a loudspeaker a man would wail a prayer that seemed to go on for ages. None of us could sleep during this so we just lay there waiting for this guy to stop, but he just kept going. I knew the other blokes were awake when Tony said, ‘For fuck’s sake, stop mumbling, say what you’ve got to say.’
When the cleric stopped momentarily, John said in his best Elvis voice, ‘Thank you very much, now here’s a little number, I wrote on the way in tonight.’
Well, that was it, we all got up, and I went to find the Captain.
‘Morning Sir, what’s happening today?’ I asked.
‘Good morning. At around 1400 a long boat will pick you up from here and take you back to HQ.’
‘No problem, we’re going to secure our guns and kit inside the barracks and have a bit of a look around town, if that’s alright with you.’
‘Okay, that’s fine, there are some good restaurants for breakfast and lunch.’ That was all I needed. To hell with the ration packs, let’s get a decent feed.
We had a bit of a clean-up as we hadn’t shaved since leaving the jungle camp and were all looking a bit rough. We threw all our kit into a spare room and headed for town and some breakfast. We were in luck. There was a guy cooking some roti with egg, so we lined up and grabbed a couple each. That certainly filled a bit of the gap, so we went for a walk around town.
The place was like any other Asian town with the smells of food cooking in cafes and stalls on the footpaths, the open sewerage drains constantly moving with high rainfall, the markets selling vegetables, and fresh meat hanging in the windows or along the verges. We started to get a bit peckish again and found a small cafe. We sat down and ordered coffee and tea all around. We still had a few hours to kill, so there was no rush to eat. A young lady told us we could have nasi goreng (fried rice) or mee goreng (fried noodles). In conversation the name ‘mee goreng’ is often shortened to ‘me’, and when one waitress approached Cleve and asked ‘You want me?’ Cleve looked at the stairs going to the second floor and thought the woman was making him an offer of sex. ‘No, no, no, no, I’m okay, thank you, just some food, thanks.’ The poor woman had no idea what this crazy white person was saying, so she just smiled and walked away.
We made our way back to the jetty and sat around waiting for the boat which eventually arrived at around 3.00 pm. It was about 10 metres long, about 1.5 metres wide, and had a huge outboard motor hanging off the back. We gingerly loaded all our shit into this death trap and then slipped into a seat ourselves. Funnily enough, the boat was quite stable and, shortly after moving away from the jetty, the driver got under the bitch of a thing and we flew across the water heading for the Special Forces camp, which was an hour away.
The trip, though fast, was uneventful and when we arrived at the camp we unloaded our weapons and handed in all our ammunition. All leftover food was thrown to the shithouse and we sat and cleaned our weapons. Once that was done we put them back in the trunk and stored them in the armoury, then went to get cleaned up. We really needed a hot shower to get all the crap off our bodies and out of our skin, but there was no hot water, so we did the best we could with cold water.
The good Warrant Officer came up to our room that afternoon and asked if we’d like to go to the yacht club for dinner. Would we? Bloody oath we would! I could already taste the beer and steak. He picked us up at 7.00 pm
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