The Tin Coffin

         

It took seven years, its the one factor that still puzzles me if I think on it for any length of time. The problem of course is that if I dwell on it for any amount of time it actually can become more of a mental trap.
Seven years training as a professional soldier to both physically and mentally prepare myself for that ancient and sacred of moments that all soldiers wait for, going to war.

The moment has arrived, I'm enclosed and wedged in this damn corner inside this insanely cramped, tracked steel coffin. This steel coffin is speeding. My own body armour, helmet and equipment encase me only tighter, Im surrounded by necessary instruments of war and occasionally catching glances from my fellow countrymen.
Its easier for me to look at them, I'm smaller and by default due to my physical imperfection I earn the honour of fitting in tightly against the engine block fire wall. Its an M113 armoured personal carrier, an icon from so many wars in so many countries, but right now it feels more like a relic, well out of date in this modern world. Just a glorified aluminium box with some extra steel panels for armour on the side.

Nothing is said because we each are going through our own mental warm up routine. For me however I have the ability to hide in this steel coffin shadows, tucked away in the dark corner where only my physical outline can be seen. The light in here is artificial, red, low intensity and just enough to get done what you need to.

Thinking about it now I distinctly remember watching my fellow passengers go through their own checks. Some silently talking to themselves, I knew this because I watched their mouths move and at the same time their hands would move across their weapons that were placed, barrel down, muzzles on the deck and the rest of that "tool of trade" cradled between their legs.

A water bottle was being handed around and they were all drinking from it. I refused and with my hands shaking like they were, I didn't want them to see that. That felt strange and I feel embarrassed, it just reminds me of how badly I needed to piss! This damn box is so tight and fuck having to wear all this shit!

For six months we have trained together for this tour of duty, worked together, lived together. We know each other well, some of them I have known my entire seven years as an infantryman to this point in time. Soldier "A", the Lance corporal, our section second in command, is sitting at the back, next to the closed back door, actually a ramp, he's the first out when we arrive on the scene. Soldier "A" is tall and what i would term a little "goofy" looking. He has his field notebook out and is going through some checklist, keeping to himself. He annoys me as he fidgets, I'm buggered if I'm going to listen to him if he's nervous. This job is hard enough having to deal with incompetence, but I feel angry because this guy has the ability to get us all killed. For two years I have lived with this guy and at times I felt the need to question his actions. Why the hell does he piss me off like this?

Baby sitting! that's what it feels like, constantly assessing people in charge of my future. I'm a dad and I've have been tasked to "look after" the young ones, "FNG's" f....n new guys. Yup I'm the unofficial daddy of the team. Christ I have a daughter of my own and here I am baby-sitting teenagers!

Why is it so hot in here? I'm sweating like mad! The winter snow is still outside and ice is causing our "teenager" driver to slide this coffin sideways more than moving forward in a straight direction. In my position I can turn my head and see the young lad around the side of the engine wall. He's fighting the controls and and swearing to himself. Two steel rods act as steering columns which he tries to guide both sets of steel tracks, pull on one side and you go that way, pull the other and that way too. I can see but actually feel as he over compensates for the ice on the road. This steel box is just side winding along, tracks screaming, metal on metal, horrendous noise because i have no earplugs.

The "boss" is only a hands reach in front of me. Our section commander, a full corporal, a very close friend. He's not the vehicle commander, that's the tall Maori bloke standing in the command turret just to my left. Right now he is the only one who knows what is going on outside, he's seated on the opposite seat from me. If I reached over I can tap him on the knee, normally, but we have stacks of extra ammunition boxes between us. We know each other very well, this man I implicitly trust and feel he understands me. It's not said out loud, shit he's looking straight at me now, what the hell is he thinking?
For Christ sake will you say something! no windows in here, its a fucking death trap and you let these pricks put me in the one spot I cant get of if it turns to shit! WHY AM I IN THE DEATH SEAT!!
His face is very hard to read, total concentration as he listens to the vehicle radio headset in his helmet, looking straight through me, he cant read my face surely not? I watch his mouth move as he answers some distant voice outside in the wilderness somewhere, short, sharp, business like with purposeful words into his mouth piece. He's strong, we all know it, few words are needed with a look like that, iron! "Don't fuck with me" look.
His features are just visible in this plastic like light, a proud Maori warrior, proud of his ancestry, I have to use that strength, shit he's reading my mind! FOR FUCK'S SAKE WHAT IS GOING ON?!!

If I interrupt him now, I would be greeted by a onslaught of abuse and ridicule, not only from him but the rest of the team. The noise inside is huge, the metal screaming along with the engine moving at full revs. I'm transfixed on the boss, he has information and it's pissing me off, god I need to piss! Don't shift you prick, you know I cant move! I cant see out and my back is against this bloody tin coffin's wall, I feel exposed and cant move! FUUUCKKK!

Eight of us all together, not including our teenager driver and the steel coffins commander. All we have so far as to what is going on is that there has been an incident of some sort. This f....n country is one big incident!! Bosnia f....n Herzegovina!

"BROWNY! BROWNY!", The boss is now yelling at me, I watch him lean toward my face and push his helmet microphone aside.
"Browny, I want you to provide medical assistance to the victims when we arrive, bro, they are toddlers, little kids". He has motioned for the rest of the team to lean in so they can hear. "All of you! I want you to put a round in the chamber, this is the real deal gentlemen. We have armed civilians with hostile intent. Read your rules of engagement cards again, make your weapons safe. On exiting this shit box I want all round protection, look out for each other and watch your area of responsibility. Browny will move to the victims location, I will have his back and for Christ sake don't fire until you check with me first. NO ONE IS DYING TODAY!'

Oh god kid's, why the fuck doe's it have to be kids? This is not fair, your doing this on purpose you pricks! This bloody light! I cant read my card in this bloody light! Why are my combat glasses fogging up? ANTI FOGGING WIPES MY ARSE!!
I swear I'm going to piss my pants if I don't move from here.
My field dressing is in it's place, I know it is cause its digging into my fucking kidney's. Christ let me get shot so i can just move the fucking thing! Breath Browny!, just breath, single shots, just like we trained. Look, aim, slowly breath out, gentle on the trigger, aim for the centre mass......I wonder if he has kid's too?

"TWENTY SECONDS GENTLEMAN TO RAMP DOWN, I WILL COVER YOU WITH THE .50 CAL!"

Oh god here we go, not kids, please not kids, please don't let me f...k this up