Page 17 of Conflict

Jamie leans forward, takes my glass from hand and places it back on the table. “The next few weeks will be hard, so thank youin advance. Maybe I should apologise now, you know for all the crap that’s about to come our way.”

I place my finger on his lips to silence him, and nod my head. “Apology accepted.”

CHAPTER 23

JAMIE

Alongside the CBT, Dr Munroe has me doing, I’ve been working on my physical fitness. Mental and physical health go hand in hand, so it makes good sense to work on both at the same time. I’m in pretty good shape anyway, thanks to the army PT officer and the gruelling training sessions he puts us through back at the base. Most of the time they’re vomit inducing. My thoughts are with my squadron as I train alone in the local park. Since we lost Tom, I’ve let my fitness slip a little so I’ve decided on a run today, the late summer temperature is perfect and the park is full of families and couples enjoying the good weather. I’m on my second lap around the large lake as I pass the football pitch where the under 13s club are playing a match. Slowing down, I jog over to watch for a few minutes. Some of them are really good, and I recognise one of them from a few weeks ago who told me he was only there because his mum works. That made me chuckle, but he still looked like he was having fun. Today’s session is an actual match by the looks of it, there are rival sets of parents cheering on their kids from the side of the pitch. The coaches are shouting at the referee when he makes what they think is a bad call regarding a tackle from the visiting team. To be fair the young lad is limpingto the sideline trying to look like he’s not too injured in front of his mates. A woman, I presume is his mum, comes running up to him with her arms wide open, ready to hug the living shit of him. He shrugs her off when he sees his team mates watching but he allows the coach to hold an icepack on his leg.

Moving in closer, I stand amongst the gathered crowd and watch as our local team scores a goal. A huge cheer erupts and the coach is shouting his praise at the young kid who is now doing a knee slide in celebration. I find myself cheering and clapping along with the rest of the onlookers. “They’re not bad, are they?” I speak to the coach who was shouting the loudest at the goal.

“I’m biased, but yeah, they’re bloody awesome. Taken a while to get them to this point though,” he answers before shouting at some kid called Ben, telling him to mark one of the other team’s players. He turns to look at me, smiling, “Haven’t I seen you watching them play before?” he asks.

I nod, but feel like I need to explain myself. I don’t want him thinking I’m some kind of paedo on the hunt. “Yeah, I seem to manage to time my runs with your training schedule. I miss playing with my mates back at the base,” I offer.

“Base?” now his interest is peaked.

“Yeah, I’m a soldier, but I’m on medical leave at the minute. Hence the fitness kick,” I chuckle but it soon turns into a cheer as the team scores another goal taking them 2-0 up and the ref blows the final whistle, declaring the home team win. The cheering erupts as the kids celebrate their win. “Right, well I better get back to my run,” I clap my hand against the coach’s shoulder.

“If you fancy a kick around, we have a five a side team on a Wednesday night, you’re welcome to come along,” he offers. “We’re always looking for players.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say and jog away from the pitch to finish my last lap of the lake.

With my hands on my knees, I bend forward and take in a few deep breaths as I stretch out my hamstrings and check the time. My next therapy session is this afternoon and I’ve agreed to let Scarlett drive me over there. I really miss having my own transport, that’s something I need to sort out soon. There’s a coffee van near the exit to the park, I head over and two lattes. Scarlett will already be waiting at home for me, no doubt stressing that I’ve not returned yet. The coffee will go some way to appease her.

As I cross the road outside my house Scarlett pulls up on the drive and climbs out. “I was going to apologise for running late but seeing as you’re not even showered yet, I won’t bother!” I hand over her coffee and bend to kiss her.

“Afternoon, gorgeous. How’s your morning been?” My arm comes to rest around her shoulder as we walk up the drive together. This still feels a little surreal but natural all at once. My mother shed a tear when I told her we together. I took it as a tear of joy.

“Urgh,” Scarlett huffs. “My morning has been shit. Rachel’s gone and got a job that means she’ll have to move to the other side of the country. I’m happy for her, of course I am, but she’ll be miles away.” I unlock the front door and let us both in. “Anyway, how was your run?”

I finish the last of my coffee and nod. “Good, but I need to get a move on. We’ll have to leave in ten,” handing my takeaway cup to Scarlett I run upstairs to shower and change as she heads into the kitchen where my mum is baking. Since I came home, she’s taken it upon herself to make sure the biscuit tin is fully stocked with her infamous lemon shortcake biscuits and those little raspberry tarts I love. I’m blaming her for the little weight I’ve gained in the last month.

Thirty minutes and several biscuits later, Scarlett pulls up outside the clinic. I lean across and kiss her slowly, savouring the taste and feel of her lips against mine. Her hand comes to rest on my cheek as she tries to deepen the kiss. “If you carry that on, I’ll not be able to get out of the car for the raging hard on,” I pull back and kiss the tip of her nose. “Let’s put that on hold until later. I’ll be an hour, what are you going to do while I’m gone?”

She reaches into the glove box and pulls out her kindle. “Don’t you worry about me, I came prepared.” She turns its on and unclips her seatbelt. “Off you go then,” her eyebrows rise towards her hairline as she nods towards the clinic entrance. Her attention is then turned to her book as I climb out of the car and head into today’s session.

Dr Munroe looks far more casual today than he has done for the last few sessions, I’m not sure why I’ve made a mental note of that but it somehow feels significant to me. “So, Jamie, I thought we’d spend today’s session revisiting some of the thoughts you’ve mentioned that are occupying your mind. Is that okay?” his hands are rested in his lap on top of the notebook he always has, and his glasses rest on the tip of his nose instead of the bridge as he awaits my response.

“Sure,”

“You said in our first meeting that you wished you’d been in the same vehicle with Tom. Can you tell me why you feel that way?” he places his notebook down on the table beside him so he can focus all of his attention on my answer.

Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and steeple my hands beneath my chin. “I was supposed to be in the lead truck with him, it was my turn to drive. I should’ve been driving the truck that was blown up, not Tom. If I’d been on time Tom would have been in the second vehicle and he’d still be alive. It’s my fault he’s dead.” I run my palms over my face and take a moment to let that sink in.

Dr Munroe leans forward, matching my stance. “It’s extremely sad that your friend died,” he pauses allowing for some reflection. “However, I’d like us to delve a little deeper into why you think it’s your fault. If you think back to that day and all that you knew then, the intelligence that you had at the time from the countless other patrols you’d done on that route, can you remember anything that would indicate your convoy would encounter a landmine on that particular patrol?”

I take a moment or two to think about what he’s asking me. We had run that route hundreds of times without a single incident. “No, prior to that day we hadn’t encountered any problems on that stretch. Sure, that area could be hostile, obviously, but we’d been present for months. The locals welcomed us generally. We were their safety net. There hadn’t really been any insurgent activity for days – weeks even before that day.”

“Okay, so before the explosion, you had no intelligence to alert you that the morning patrol would be any higher risk than any other day?” He sits back in his chair and lifts a leg to cross his other one, resting his ankle on his knee as his hand comes to rest on his shin. He’s wearing Star Wars socks.

“No, nothing. We weren’t aware of any new activity in the locality,” my heart rate spikes a little as I delve deeper into my thoughts.

Dr Munroe reaches over and grabs his notebook again, jotting something down before he carries on. “So, prior to the explosion, you’d seen nothing suspicious, and there was no new intelligence. Can you tell me what the lead truck’s responsibilities were, Jamie?” His gaze rests on me as he allows me time to process my thoughts and answer him.

“Well, the lead truck is responsible for scanning the area for any potential threat or danger. If they spot anything, the second and third truck are there to provide back up,” my throat feelsscratchy as I try to swallow. The sip of water I’ve just taken is doing nothing to ease the sensation and I cough, aiming to alleviate the itch. “But I should have been able to see and warn them.”

The doctor lifts his pen and taps his chin rhythmically. “Mmm,” he pauses again to gather his thoughts. “Before we determine that, how far ahead of you was the lead truck when the explosion occurred?”

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