The Odd Angry Shot Read Free Page A

Remember how you thought that the cards would get messed up.
    â€˜Bets thanks, fellas.’
    Remember how the daze passed by and you pulled him onto the table, moved yourself back into life; the world was coming back now, the mess was on fire—and how you started to hear voices again.
    The medic running along the road outside, his aid kit flying behind him.
    â€˜Everyone OK over here?’
    â€˜Medic!’
    â€˜On my way.’
    â€˜Jesus, you hit?’
    â€˜No, Ronnie’s dead.’
    â€˜You OK? You sure?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜Medic, for Christ’s sake!’
    â€˜I’ve only got one pair of fucking legs, mate.’
    â€˜Who’s that?’
    â€˜Roberts.’
    â€˜What’s wrong?’
    â€˜Lost his gut. Walked straight out of the tent. Went off about two feet from him.’
    â€˜Roll him over, keep his legs down.’
    Remember how he screamed.
    â€˜Oh shit, what a mess. I don’t think he’ll make it,’ said the medic.
    â€˜Signallers have got two dead, one wounded,’ someone yelled.
    â€˜What a night. Got a smoke?’
    â€˜Thanks, mate.’
    The medic runs to the signal lines, past the burning mess.
    â€˜How many?’
    â€˜Two dead, one wounded.’
    The signals corporal grabs the medic by the shirt.
    â€˜You sure they’re dead?’
    â€˜How fucking sure would you like me to be?’
    â€˜Let him go, you stupid shit.’
    â€˜Sorry, mate.’
    â€˜Yeah, it’s OK. Forget it.’
    â€˜One got it full in the face, and the other lost his chest.’
    â€˜How about the other one?’
    â€˜Over here.’
    â€˜Where’s the torch?’
    â€˜Ahhh, oh shit, it hurts.’
    Remember how you stood beside the medic and watched another professional whimper and you started to have doubts.
    â€˜He’s OK. His thigh’s ripped open.’
    â€˜Will they cut my leg off corporal?’
    â€˜Not unless they’re pissed they won’t, mate.’
    Morphine, clamps, saline, shell dressings.
    â€˜Move him carefully, we got a live one here.’
    â€˜Do we own a piece of board or plank or something?’ ‘How about a rifle?’
    â€˜Great.’
    The four of us watch as the medic slides the rifle under the leg.
    â€˜Stick your hand underneath and see if the muzzle is near his arse yet.’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜OK. Now lift his arse, roll it over a bit. Yeah, that’s it and slide the rifle up to his hip.’
    â€˜It’s there.’
    â€˜Shit hot. Right, now hang on and try not to jolt him. One, two, three lift. OK, now gently forward to the RAP.’
    Remember how it was outside the hospital that night. Some battalions had been hit a lot harder than we had. Seven land rovers full of casualties. Some were minor, some wouldn’t see morning and some, like the one with both eyes gone, would still be around in the morning but wouldn’t see anything.
    â€˜I’d rather be dead.’ It was Harry.
    â€˜Yeah, what a shit trick,’ I replied grimly.
    Good on you Harry. Remember him sitting beside you in the mud.
    â€˜Were you with Ronnie?’
    â€˜Uh-huh.’
    â€˜You look as though you’ve been used as a tampon.’
    I started to laugh.
    â€˜C’mon we’ll get those clothes off you and I’ll buy you a beer.’
    â€˜Buy me ten eh?’
    â€˜You’re on.’
    REMEMBER the mess line the morning after. Remember how Harry and I were three parts drunk.
    The Officers’ and Sergeants’ Mess had a huge hole in the roof, the result of a direct hit last night.
    â€˜Right place, wrong time,’ came from some wit farther up the mess line.
    â€˜What’s this shit?’ says Harry.
    â€˜Powdered egg.’
    â€˜You’ve really excelled yourself this morning, cookie.’
    â€˜You know why they call cooks fitters and turners, cookie?’
    â€˜No, why?’
    â€˜Because you fit