when you lot go back out. The last thing I want is time on my own to think.’
Toki nodded at the plastic chair opposite him and I took a seat. ‘You mean about last night, Briggsy?’
I took a deep breath. ‘Yeah. Know what, the more I think about it, the more I think I just got lucky last night. I mean, what if I had got taken, or got a round in my spine. You know, the rest of my life in a wheelchair, like Si said. Feels worse than getting chopped up … I’m worried I might get out there next time and think too much about it and start flapping. Know what I mean?’
Toki looked down at my shirt and pointed at the brown stain. His voice was firm. ‘Right, first thing, get that kit off and get washed and scrubbed. You don’t need the smell of blood on you for a start.’
‘It’s not that, mate. It’s, well … I’m more scared I’ll let everyone down. I just want to get out there and not think too much about it.’
Toki sighed and nodded slowly, more to himself than to me. ‘Sounds normal to me. All you have is self-doubt because it’s all new and different, that’s all.’
I suddenly felt pathetic, like a school kid again. ‘I don’t see any of you Fijian lads being scared of anything.’ It came out more like a whine.
Toki paused for thought and then smiled. ‘Everyone is, at some time or other. Anyone who says they have never been scared is either a liar, or has a screw loose in the head.’
I laughed at that, and Toki laughed with me. I was glad I’d come out with it. But Toki was lost in some memory of his own. He spoke slowly as if he was choosing his words very carefully. ‘My first kill was in Basra. I was eighteen, too. We were on a strike op, hitting some houses right in the city centre. I got upstairs when a guy came out of nowhere with a knife – a big butcher’s one. He jumped me before I could get my ‘80 up. We fell down the stairs fighting, I could smell his breath.’
Toki pulled his chair closer to mine and lowered his voice. ‘I can remember his spit spraying in my face. He kept screaming as he tried to stab me with his knife. His eyes were really wide, like a mad man’s. I had one hand trying to stop the knife going into my face, while I tried to get my bayonet out with the other.’
So Toki did know what it felt like. A thought crossed my mind. ‘Why didn’t you give him the good news with your pistol?’
Toki half closed his eyes and dropped his chin onto his chest, trying to get the bits of memory back in the correct order. ‘We didn’t all have pistols then. All I could do was keep head-butting him, but he wouldn’t give up. I got my bayonet out and managed to stab him about four or five times in the neck. He died on top of me. I was soaked in his blood. Like you said, it was mostly down to luck. I started to worry that maybe I wouldn’t be quite so lucky next time around, and that does your head in after a while. I kept worrying that I might let everyone down, or worse, end up getting one of my mates killed. You know, I still think of that Iraqi now and again, usually when I smell blood or cigarette breath. But you know how I get over that fear?’ He leant his giant head forward so he was just an inch away from my face and looked me directly in the eye, waiting for me to ask.
‘How?’
Toki’s stare remained constant. Only his lips moved as he spoke, stressing every word as if each one was gold dust. ‘I say to myself …’ He leant into the back of his chair and raised himself to his full height for greater effect. ‘I say to myself … Bollocks!’
I leaned back too, confused and disappointed. ‘What? That it?’
Toki simply shrugged, raising his hands towards the roof of the tent before letting them fall down at his sides again. ‘That’s all you need. Look, I’m a soldier, right? And as the saying goes, “You choose your branch, you take your chance.” It’s not for everyone, but everyone doesn’t have to be here, do they?’
I