need to take the Lordâs name in vain.â
Tommy tried to raise his head but failed. He felt weak, and the pain came again behind his eyes and then the sick feeling. He relaxed for a few moments with his eyes closed until it eased off.
Bloody hell, why is it so bumpy? he thought. âAre we in one of the coffins, mate?â he said to the strange voice.
âHave I not already told ye, yer not getting buried and yer not in a coffin.â
âWhat! What the hell are you on about? Are we in one of the Rovers or what? âCos if we are, the rear shocks need looking at.â
âWell dearie me,â said the voice, âtaken a real thump to yer thought box, havenât ye, youngân. Well, like I already said, the Surgeon Major will see to yer mending.â
Oh for Godâs sake , thought Tommy, this guy sounds like a farmer. And who the bloody hell is he? An army medic?
âAlright mate, listen. Whatâs happened to me, whereâs my platoon, did the kid make it and what is your bloody name?â
âCalm down, lad,â said the voice. âThe answer to yer last question is Mark, Private Mark Watson. Pleased to make yer acquaintance. And as for yer self, well, yer were knocked for six when that cannon shell landed next to ye and that âoss of artillery, and youâve taken a wound to yer head which I might say wonât heal proper if ye keep yelling like yer have been.â
The voice took a deep breath and continued, âAnd as for those other questions, well, I donât rightly know, but maybe if ye was to calm down a little, I might go and ask Hospital Sergeant Warren if he knows anything. How does that sound, now, eh?â
Tommy was fully awake now and totally confused. What did he mean, Hospital Sergeant? And what was that âoss? Horse of artillery? Horse! Was there a parade or something? He did mean horse, didnât he? â thought Tommy, because I have actually seen a dead one out there. Well, a horseâs arse anyway .
He looked over to where he thought the voice might be coming from to see if he could see the man who was talking to him. He could only see the silhouette of his head and shoulders against the dark sky; he couldnât see the bottom half of him at all â but what he could make out did not compute. The manâs helmet, if thatâs what you call it, was not the helmet he was used to, or, for that matter, the helmet used by the British Army. It looked like a big tit!
Not surprisingly, Tommy started to feel a little uncomfortable, and just a little scared.
âErr, listen, mate, could you tell me where I am, please?â
âMy name is Mark, lad. Why do ye keep saying mate? Was yer with the navy afore ye joined the regiment?â
What the hell is this guy on about? thought Tommy. He is properly taking the piss .
âListen, mate, Iâve been shot at, had an RPG lobbed at me, had my head up a horseâs arse, been blown up and one of my mates might be dead. So I would appreciate it if you would stop taking the piss and tell me where the hell I am.â Tommy took a deep breath as another wave of nausea hit him. âBelieve me when I say that, if I have to get off this Rover or flat bed or whatever the hell it is, I am seriously gonna kick your arse!â
âNow that will be enough of them profanities. I donât care for that sort of gutter language, do ye hear? If it carries on I will have to report it, understand?â
âOh, whatever,â Tommy said, exasperated. âJust take me back to my platoon, will ya?â
âWhy are ye so angry, lad? I know yer hurting, but try and be calm or ye will do yer self ill.â Suddenly Tommy heard a sound like a match lighting and turned his head just as a flame lit up the manâs face.
âOh my God,â he said out loud. The flame died as it was sucked into the end of a large pipe, but the image imprinted on his brain was of a face