Between Insanity and Madness. (Chapter 17- The Mission.)

'What time do you make it Sergeant?' Warrant Officer Warren asked. Sergeant Joseph Larsen looked at his watch and saw it'd stopped working about three hours previously. He shook it a little but nothing happened. 1

'Damn it, watch stopped working a while ago.' He came up lamely with. Blinking wildly as he swatted some flies that were hovering about him as he laid on his belly, like all the other men of 'Alpha' Company.2

It was three o' clock in the afternoon. They were three hours behind Major Sawson's deadline, but in reality; everyone knew why. The men were carrying blisters, dysentery, minor fevers and headaches from the heat and humidity that all combined to slow the advance up into the country. It was another twenty miles till Marabahan, a small town near the Harrito River. It was then another half a day to Bangkanai, five miles away from where the 'line' really began. 3

Seymore was sure he would catch short shrift of Sawson. It seemed the Major was showing his true colours and wasn't the man everyone thought he was. It seemed, as many suggested as they talked to themselves whilst marching towards the village earlier on; that he was a crazed man in war, a gentle figure when he wasn't. 4

'Those people make the most dangerous of men look ordinary.' Ryan had reminded some people in his platoon whilst they were trudging along the stream earlier that day.5

'Are the comms all fixed up now Corporal?' Questioned Captain Seymore. He had taken his helmet off and poured the sweat that had gathered inside it onto the tall, thin, sharp green grass he was laying upon. The area that 'Alpha' Company had taken hold of to rest and recuperate and receive further instructions was thankfully in the shade. Too much sun had gotten to the soldiers, just as the lack of rations. An army may march on its stomach, but when that stomach is increasingly growling with hunger, some of those soldiers are going to turn around and rebel.6

'Yeah pretty much sir.' The Corporal flicked some grass out of his face as he replied. 'Give it another go now sir. You should be able to get hold of him.'7

The wireless field telephone was an excellent piece of kit for all Officers’s to use. Though it was new in use and still very much experimental, it enabled better communication between those on the field and those behind the men getting stuck into all the action. It was a lumpy, dark green rectangular box at first sight. When one looked a little closer, there were nine buttons numbered one to nine and two smaller buttons. The bottom one never worked whilst the top one was pressed how many times was appropriate. In this instance, the dial code was '1-4-3-1' and then for Major Sawson the top button was pressed five times. Four times were for 'Delta' Company, three times for 'Charlie', two for 'Bravo' and once for 'Alpha'.8

Captain Seymore looked around him. He saw in front of him the village, straight ahead with smoke coming from it. There was no tree's nearby and the river diverted off to the right some two miles before the entrance of the unknown village. The tall grass, like unsheathed swords, so sharp were the edges onto human skin, they all blow together in the same direction. He noted that the enemy could hide in this foliage easily and not be seen, so thick and tall it was, up to four feet some of it. Wild and untendered for years, centuries, never been cut, it was natural to the surroundings it belonged to.9

He saw the red LED light flashing on the wireless field telephone. Picking up the receiver, he thrashed the wires out of his personal space and stuck it to a dirty and grotty ear.10

'Where are you Seymore? Over.' bellowed the familiar voice down the phone. The Captain, like a told off child started holding onto some grass to steady himself for a heavy barrage of words.11

'I'm um, I'm just outside the village sir that you marked out to me and my Company Officer's over.' He said it nervously, lately he felt that the good working relationship that he'd built up with Major Sawson had been torn to shreds and exploited ruthlessly by a power-crazed old man who wanted one more shot at glory, or was it to save his job? He seemed to thrive on ripping the young Captain to pieces.12

The Major was five miles behind, with Battalion HQ and the other nation's rank equivalents. They were questioning why the 2nd Battalion was taking so slowly, in their views to get to Rescue Hill. Three weeks was nearly two and it would only get harder. They were also furious that the French, American and fresh new ANZAC troops had been getting heavily fired upon by stiff Chinese opposition and had been driven back at least twice with heavy casualties. Why weren't the Brits getting attacked?13

The Major knew full well that some of these grumbles would turn into complaints and he needed none of that to be heard from Brigadier Munro who'd made it perfectly clear that he'd end Sawson's career on the spot if he didn't give him what he wanted. This ultimatum turned Major Grant Sawson, formerly of the Parachute Regiment into a very angry man, more so because he knew his Battalion were behind on orders and lagging. Aggression and bullying tactics were needed, he wasn't a bully, but he needed to be one and he knew that damned Captain of his was a weakling, he could smell it from a mile away; so he would bully him to do as he wanted.14

'You've been there since midday and not moved? Over.' He shouted down the sound-power. Seymore grimaced at the muffled aggressive voice that reached into his eardrum and rattled it a few times. He sounded incredulous.15

'Been here for the last twenty minutes sir over.' He replied and there was silence. He'd replied so calmly and quietly, like a mouse, squeaking down the reciever.16

'Jesus damns you Jonathan Seymore! You were supposed to have been there at midday! What the fuck was keepin' you? What the fuck is wrong with you Seymore? Over!' The Major was a picture to behold, surrounded by his Battalion orderlies and administrative staff, he blew his top, his helmet was thrown at one man and his rifle onto the grass before him. He was mouthing all sort's of swear words worse than the usual that came to mind as one of the orderlies ran to find his helmet, even if it was thrown at him.17

'Sir, you gotta' understand. My men are tired, they've had no proper sleep for nearly a week and many are suffering from foot injuries that hold up the whole Company, let alone the Battalion sir.' He winced at the thought of the on-coming onslaught of words and insults all tangled together to soften him up with the usual threat. 18

'Damn you Captain! Damn you!' He started pacing the area, looking behind him seeing the foreign allied Colonel's and alike pointing and staring at him, knowing he was going into a full on rage. Known as a man of fairness, it seemed that the devil had taken over him. 'I don't care or give a flying fuck if they have a few blisters between 'em! Over.'19

'Sir, what do you suggest we do? The village from observation looks empty and deserted.' Replied an exasperated and worn down Captain.20

'You get those men, get them off their asses and get them to contribute to this operation before I come down there and whip your hide with my shoot! Out!' He slammed the receiver down and forcefully shoved it into the Communications Officer's hands, startling him a little. The Major stuck his helmet back on after it was given to him by another timid Officer and decided to have a smoke, to try and relax, to calm him and not think about it all.21

I've gone too far to be pulled back and chucked into the deep end. No, not this time. I will push and push and push until I can no longer.22

He'd already decided; in his own mind that with the Battalion a day behind schedule, not yet noticed by the aloof Brigadier and with Seymore's unreasonable behaviour towards him, that he wouldn't forget any of this. He puffed long and hard on that cigarette, sucking in all the smoke, inhaling and then blowing it all back out, before throwing it on the grass and walking off.23

'What do you see Warren?' Captain Seymore asked as he was working out how to confront the village. Some thirty ramshackle mud huts had were there, smoke coming from a few of them, no one as far as both men could work out were there. Seymore had given Warren the binoculars after training his eyes to spot anything for five minutes and finding nothing. 24

'I see exactly what you saw sir.' The Veteran Warrant Officer handed back the binoculars, his pug face lamenting the fact that they were all on their bellies, doing nothing. The scar on his face that ran down his cheek to the side of his nose was burning, the other one that was like a small indent above his left eyebrow was caused by shrapnel from many years before. He always sensed that when they were burning, something was going to happen. 25

His huge arms folded; his uniform like the rest of the Company; covered in much and wet with sweat and the swamps still. Patches of sweat were underneath the arms and staining the back of his camouflage jacket. Sleeves rolled up, pacing up and down a few yards, turning swiftly on his boots. The uniform had lost its shine long ago, it'd lost its neatness and polished boot's as soon as the sand got to them.26

He looked sour; his face was like a brick. Rubbing his scar on his cheek and smelling the perspiration from his own body, he stopped and cleared his throat. In the small clearing before him, all four hundred men of 'Alpha' Company were present and watching him.27

'We got ourselves a problem boys.' He stopped pacing up and down, 'a big problem. We have a village to the front of our position over there.' He pointed with his veiny hands, his index finger outstretched to the small village in the distance. 28

He continued, 'this village is in our way and we need to see what's in it. No good pouring the whole Company into the village and finding a load of our slit-eyed cousins in there ready to stab us with their karate moves.' He saw a few of the men laugh at what he had said. Warren was a man who said what he thought and didn't give a damn. He knew his men would take a piece of comfort in the fact that he said it like it was, not like some rhetorical crap that's shouted out by some stupid Brigadier with no life experience.29

'You looking for volunteers sir?' Private First Class Ryan Garten interrupted. He was standing up and leaning a little on his right leg, he could do much on his left since he'd been shot there by the Russian's in Budapest.30

'Damn right I am Private. You were putting yourself forward?' He glared at Ryan and nodded at him, the unusual friendliness between them was talk of his platoon sometimes, who questioned why they were so close, given the fact that one was at the top of the non-commissioned rank structure and the other was down the bottom with all the other guys.31

'I'll go too sir.' Sergeant Joseph Larsen's hand went up as he said it. The war paint on his face had all but nearly faded. You could once again see his youthful looks underneath all that black paint and green and brown rubbish.32

'Me too sir.' Murmured Private Hayden Smith. His brown hair was sticky and matted from the gel he'd put on nearly seven days ago on the transport ship. Streaks of brown dominated his fair looks, his blue eyes were still something to behold though.33

'That's three men. Need three more that's all.' He was willing on the soldiers, who were all looking at each other, backs turned and nervous looks exchanged. Who would do it and stop him from picking at random?34

'I'll do it sir.' Private Foley shot his hand up. He looked over his shoulder to a grinning Ryan, who gave him the thumbs up. Private Foley after talking to Ryan on the trail through the jungle, felt indebted to him, enabling him to feel comfortable around the men and giving him that small dosage of confidence that every man needs to persevere.35

'I will too... I need to.' Lieutenant Clapham swivelled around in surprise and saw it was none other than Edward Nelson Lord, the seventeen year old who he treated on board and had been shadowing his platoon and helping out that had volunteered. The young Private stepped forward and showed himself to Warren who gazed upon his slender frame and small height before nodding his head at him.36

'Sir, with your permission, I'd like to lead the scouting party into the village.' Lieutenant Clapham stuck his hand up too. He looked at Captain Seymore who avoided his eye contact.37

'Sir, as a man in the scout party you will need to have a weapon on you.' Warren reminded Clapham that he didn't have a weapon on him, since he was a Medic and wore the 'Red Cross' emblem on his helmet.38

'Then give me your pistol. I feel it's an obligation to lead these men Warrant Officer. I'll take my helmet off too.' He threw his helmet to the ground, knowing that if he wore it and was engaged in combat he would contravene the Geneva Convention, holding a weapon whilst wearing it would be very difficult to explain at a Military Court-Martial. He rejected offers of temporarily wearing other soldier’s helmets, thankful in a way that he could feel the breeze rush through his greasy hair.39

A sense of shock and disbelief rang across the clearing. This young Lieutenant, who'd never, fired a rifle before, nor even a pistol was asking to be given one to use if need be. Not only that, but he also asked to be leading the scout mission. Warren was impressed; he could see this kid go far. He saw a lot of maturity in this young man, if only he got that sense of a pompous arse out of him, like many Officer's have about them, he'd be knocking on the door for an instant promotion straight away. 40

Warren passed his pistol along the waves of hands that carried it to the Lieutenant who grasped it with both hands and felt its alien nature sizzle through his grip. A weapon of death in the hands of a man who promised to try and prevent it. War makes people do strange things. It makes Lieutenant Clapham volunteer for scout duty.41

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