Lost in Translation Prologue – A Walk in the Park by Persephone

Sometimes going through transition can feel like you're walking through a minefield. And sometimes you actually are...
 
Author's Note: I hope that you find some small pleasure in this tale. As ever please be tolerant of my failings, and forthright with your criticism. ~Persephone
 

Helmand Province Afghanistan - 2014

In the back of the heavily armoured Mastiff personnel carrier Staff Sergeant Mick Farrell was trying to reach an itch between his shoulder blades but try as he might he couldn’t quite reach far enough under his body armour to get at it. He struggled against his restraining harness and squirmed around in the hope he could at least rub it against the hard seat back.

“Oof!”

The Mastiff hit yet another pothole jarring him back into his seat and snapping his head back with a hefty thunk as helmet met metal at speed. “Useless bloody driver! I swear the bastard aims for the bumps.”

A low chuckle sounded from the other side of the dusty and dimly lit interior. “We could ask him to slow down Staff. I’m sure the RAF will hold the flight back for us if we ask nicely.” The young second lieutenant’s drawled comment drew snickers from the rest of the reconstruction troop who were currently crammed cheek by jowl in the filthily hot compartment. Staff Sergeant Farrell’s ability to be uncomfortable in any vehicle, and his desire to make sure everyone else knew it, had become something of a troop joke so far during the tour and the guys were happy he was keeping it up right to the bitter end.

“What was the point of us building the buggers a new bridge if they don’t have any bloody roads leading to or from it anyway?” He complained as he now tried to slide the antenna of his personal radio down the back of his neck to reach that bloody itch.

The young officer grinned at his second in command. “Probably because we blew the old one up in the first place. Because the village elder managed to call in a favour from the district governor, and because the head of the provincial reconstruction team had some budget left over and knew how much you wanted to have a last ride travelling to the arse end of nowhere before we get to go on R&R.” He paused as the vehicle lurched again, causing yet more swearing from the Staff Sergeant.

“Fuck! I’m going to strangle that little shit of a driver when I get out. Last week the rest of the troop got a cushy thirty minute flight in a nice comfy Chinook to make the R&R flight, but us? Oh no, we’re stuck in this heap of shit. Boss, what happened to the privileges of rank?”

Within a few moments however the Royal Logistics Corps driver eased down through the gears and brought the heavily armoured truck to a halt whilst the top cover sentry, still swathed against the ever present dust in shemagh, helmet and goggles, ducked down inside. “Sir, there’s a choke point just ahead so the boss wants to take a quick shufti before going through. We’re going to de-bus here for about figures ten.”

“Thank you Private Eldridge.” Second Lieutenant Josh Wells smiled at the youngster who, at nineteen, was probably only a few months younger than himself before turning to his own team. “OK guys you heard the man, de-bus, usual drills, stay on the hard standing and five and twenty metre checks. Let’s move.”

Moments later the armoured rear doors were cracked open and the half dozen passengers gratefully claimed out into the brutal sunshine and choking arid dust of southern Helmand before spreading out to their positions. Still conscious of just how new and shiny the single rank pip on his body armour really was Josh anxiously checked that his guys had all spread out and were searching the area around them for possible IEDs before casting a quick glance to his Staff Sergeant.

“It’s all right Mister Wells. They’re fine” Staff Farrell murmured reassuringly to the young officer. “Remember what I told you, your own drills come first. That shiny pip doesn’t make you bullet or bomb proof.” He watched as the youngster flashed him a quick smile of gratitude, white teeth showing for a moment in sharp contrast to the dark grey layer of dust and sweat that caked his face before obediently starting to scan his immediate area. Mick shook his head at the sight. Even in the bulky body armour and helmet 2nd Lt Wells still looked like a schoolboy. Small hands, small feet (the Quartermaster had had real fun finding boots that fitted the lad) and a bobbing adams apple that seemed big enough to bounce on the front plate of his body armour. At least the lad wasn’t like most arrogant young Ruperts. He actually listened (most of the time) and more importantly understood the first rule of being a second lieutenant; he might be in command but his troop Staff Sergeant was in charge. Yep, Staff Farrell decided, the youngster had potential.

Unaware of the attention focussed on him Josh dutifully finished his checks then settled down into a fire position to scan his arcs. The only life he could see was a solitary child about a hundred metres away who was equally intent on the stopped convoy as he sat close to his small herd of goats foraging amongst the barren rocks and scrub. Josh grinned to himself. It was probably the most exciting thing the kid had seen all day. He let his attention move on, steadily quartering back and forth across the otherwise empty terrain whilst his mind returned to planning his R&R.

Back to the UK, back to his parents home, and back to his father’s certain desire to drag him down the the pub every night to show off his soldier son now that he’d lost the long hair and earrings and ‘made something of himself’. Visiting the relatives for Sunday lunch and seeing the look of relief barely overshadowing the strain in his mums eyes as the thought he was safe warred with the realisation that he was going back. Yeah, it would be a good break. The only thing he would definitely not be doing was seeing ‘her’ in the mirror. All that was definitely behind him once and for all. Instead he’d go to the pub with dad, maybe get a game of rugby in, and…

Josh’s attention was snatched back to the present as the dull crump of an explosion rent the air that caused everyones heads to snap up and the 50 cals on the two mastiffs to swing round to cover the dirty grey pillar of smoke and dust that now plumed out of the rocks and scrub. For an unutterably long moment a stillness hovered over the landscape. Then, the thin wailing cry of a child reached the convoy.

Josh scanned back and forth through the optics of his assault rifle hunting it’s source. His eyes passed over it twice before a dirty bundle of rags suddenly twitched and shifted where the little goatherd had been. Behind him the sound of running boots caused him to glance behind.

“What happened?” The para lieutenant commanding the convoy gasped out as he skidded to a halt beside Josh.

“There was a kid herding goats up there. It looks like he set off an IED or an old Russian anti-personnel mine.”

“OK stay firm and keep your eyes peeled to see if this is a come on.”

“What about the child?”

“We didn’t cause it. It’s a rag-head, so it’s not our problem. As soon as we clear the choke point we’re moving out.” Then, without waiting for a reply, the para officer scrambled to his feet and started to jog back to the lead Mastiff.

Josh stared at the retreating back in shock.

He looked back at the pathetic bundle of whimpering rags on the hillside, and stood up.

“Sir what are you doing?”

Silence greeted Staff Farrell’s question as his young officer walked over to the Mastiff and pulled out a Vallon mine detector.

“Sir?”

Josh glanced up at the top cover sentry manning the 50 cal “Private Eldridge cover me” he called as his hands remained busy assembling the Vallon unit.

“Sir, what the fuck are you doing?”

Only then did the young engineer officer turn to his second in command, his eyes wide and his nostrils flaring with barely concealed anger. “Staff, we have a casualty to deal with, break out the stretcher and follow my path.”

“But…”

Josh cut him off abruptly, “that’s an order Staff” he snarled before returning his attention to the Vallon, waiting for the ready tone. A small chirp finally came from the unit and without a backward look he stepped of the road sweeping steadily from side to side as he headed into the rocks and scrub.

“Fuck.“ Staff Farrell swore to himself as he watched his officers retreating back. “Fuck.” Then he turned to the rest of the team around him. “Smiffy, dig out the stretcher and trauma pack. Roach, get me the lane marking kit. Move it!”

Alone in the scrub Josh put all his focus into clearing his route to the bundle of rags. Steady overlapping sweeps, parallel to the ground, eyes constantly scanning for disturbed earth and other indicators. He didn’t even hear the irate shouts of the Para officer demanding he return. Josh barely paused, and then only to blink clear the sweat from his eyes before moving on. Ahead the softly mewling cries of the child tugged him forward.

“Steady, boss, steady, don’t rush.” Staff Farrell murmured from a few metres behind, his rifle sweeping left and right as he covered his officers back.

With that reassurance Josh calmed himself. It’s a minefield, I’m trained for this. I have the kit. It’s just like the training. I can handle this. Follow the drills, slow and steady, he reminded himself over and over as the child’s position inched closer until at last he stood over the whimpering child, the ever-present dust already staining dark beneath the rags.

“Boss, keep going and clear the immediate area. I’ll deal with the casualty.” Even as he spoke Staff Farrell dropped to his knees and with practiced ease ran his hands over the boy. He took in the shattered leg, the hoarse gasping breaths from lips turning blue and the wide pleading eyes in a white face. “It’s ok little one, it’s ok” the seasoned old veteran murmured gently, incongruously reminding Josh of the way his second in command also spoke to him.

At last Josh too was able to drop down on the other side of the kid. Still calm and professional Staff Farrell started to brief him. “OK, boss we’ve got a T1 casualty. Multiple puncture wounds to the chest and arms, possible sucking chest wound so if you can start with that? Major trauma left leg. Shit! I need to get a tourniquet on that right now. Smiffy where’s that fucking trauma pack….”

Lieutenant Colonel Alex Molyneux, the Commanding Officer, or CO, of 19 Engineer Regiment steepled his fingers and stared at the young man standing to attention across the trestle table that served as his desk. Second Lieutenant Wells had only been with the regiment for a couple of weeks before the pre tour training package had started. As a result the CO didn’t know the boy as well as his other subalterns, and ‘boy’ young Josh Wells certainly was. He had yet to grow beyond that gangly stage of being a teenager and looked almost… ’unfinished’ Alex decided. However, despite young Wells’ appearance, both his squadron commander and Staff Farrell had spoken well of him, and Alex had good cause to trust Staff Sergeant Farrell’s judgement.

“The CO of the Paras is furious.” Alex caught and held the youngster’s gaze when he finally spoke. “His exact words, spoken with, I might add, a fair degree of vehemence, included ’recklessly putting the convoy at risk’, ‘almost making his toms miss their R&R flight’, ‘blatant failure to follow orders’ and he wrapped it up by calling you ‘a childish bloody outlaw with no common sense who should still be in school.’ So, young Wells, what have you got to say for yourself?”

Alex noted with approval that the boy’s eyes held his steadily. “We don’t leave children to die sir.” The youngster stated simply. “I’d rather be thought to have no sense than no honour or humanity.”

Alex sighed as he silently agreed with the young officer’s sentiment. “Well, you’re lucky young man. Firstly, you were out of reach on R&R until the Para CO calmed down, and secondly, as a result of your and Staff Farrell’s actions, the boy survived and just happened to be the son of the village headman in Chah-e-Anjir. That led to a discreet little chat with a HUMINT team whilst you were away, which in turn led to the discovery of a significant bomb making factory over in 40 Commando’s operational area. So basically, well done, but don’t do it again.”

“What? Save a child's life sir?”

“No. Piss off the Paras.” The CO tried to glare before grinning and relaxing his pose. “Now, bollocking over, how did you find your first time of deliberately walking into a minefield?”

“I didn’t really think about it like that at the time sir. I just followed the drills. It was only when I got back to the UK that it hit me.”

“Yes, it does tend to get you like that, and I’m sure that if you decide to make a full career in the Royal Engineers you will undoubtedly be called to do it again. You did well.”

“Staff Farrell was there to help me sir.”

“And that’s the job of senior NCOs. Making sure brash young officers grow into wise old ones. As I said you did well, now get yourself off young man.”

Unsure if he was expected to reply Josh merely nodded to his commanding officer, saluted and turned to leave before the CO added a final word. “Oh, and by the way, you may be interested in the new nickname the boys have coined for you given how loud the Para CO was in sharing his opinions.”

“Sir?” For the first time a slight frown creased the youngster’s brow.

“The Outlaw Josie Wells.” His Commanding Officer chuckled, not noticing the sudden start the name caused the young officer.