Part 47 (1/2)

What the f.u.c.k was that? When you hear a gunshot totally out of the blue, the whole body jerks. As I turned around, I saw Nino looking like a puppy that knows it shouldn't have p.i.s.sed on the kitchen floor. He started gabbing off: ”It fired! It fired!” As he took the safety catch off, he must have had his finger on the trigger and had an ND (negligent discharge).

My mind screamed: f.u.c.k! as I went straight on the net and shouted: ”Go!

Go! Go! Go! Go!”

To El Nino, I motioned with my thumb to put his safety catch on.

It had been initiated now. It was. pointless staying there.”I waved them on, and we moved toward our target. ”Go! Go! Come on!” I knew we were heading for a total and utter gang.f.u.c.k.

It wasn't slippery underfoot, but I found it difficult to get my footing in the slime. I was expecting to hear the explosions or gunfire. just as we approached the hut, there was some automatic fire and single shots coming from the area of the huts. I wasn't bothered, I kept going forward. My eyes were focused on the building and who might be coming out of it.

I got there first, followed by Rodriguez. ”in, in, in!” I said.

He hesitated, not understanding what I wanted.

I pointed at him, then at me, and I went in.

There were long tables with trays stretching to the far end.

b.u.t.ts in the shoulders, we moved down either side.

I was shouting at Rodriguez. He was shouting in Spanish: ”Stand still!

Police! Police!”

To the far right I heard Rod shout: ”Move up! Move up!”

The firing had stopped now; there was just yelling and shouting and the sound of metal falling and furniture being overturned.

There was something coming on, the radio, but I couldn't understand what it was.

In the semilight inside I saw large, oil drum-type barrels, empty packets of cigarettes, beer cans lying on their side.

I was hoping the other three were outside and covering our a.r.s.es.

All I wanted to do was get to the other end of the hut and get out.

I heard more shouting, then gunfire. f.u.c.k! As I looked around in a semistoop, I saw a figure running down the path toward the Generators.

Then there was more gunfire.

I knew it was Nino, Gonz, and One-of-three-Joses firing, but the boy kept running. I knew the cutoffs would take him down.

I shouted at Gonz and the others to go to the storeroom. They ran up to it, but there was no way they were going straight in. They shouted and kicked against the wood. They worked their way to the door, gingerly opened it, and took a tentative peep.

”Get in there!” I shouted. ”In, in, in!”

They crept inside and reappeared two seconds later. It was full of barrels; there were no people.

To the right there was shouting, but I ignored it. ”Helipad!

Helipad!” I shouted, chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

I had a pain in my throat from all the shouting and running around. I told Nino and Gonz to stay where they were; Rodriguez and One-of-three-Joses were to come with me.

We ran across and started- going up the track. There wasn't time to get them to cover each other; we just ran as fast as we could toward the helipad.

I was flapping and breathing hard, my face drenched with sweat.

This time I was checking behind me as I ran, to make sure the other two were with me. As we hit the rise, we could see the opening of the helipad itself. I could now feel the heat on my back.

I was going to run around the edge of it to make sure everything was clear. There was no time to tell them; I just hoped that they would be there.

We started to move around the line of the pad, just waiting for someone to run or fire. I couldn't care less either way, I just wanted to get this over with and recover something from the shambles. The area was - clear.

The sun was burning the mud; the floor was covered with mist, like ankle-deep theatrical smoke on a stage.

Standing on the edge of the helipad, I heard screaming from somewhere down near the living accommodation.

I got on the net and said, ”Rod, check? Rod, check?”

Nothing. Then, ”Send! Send!”

”We're up on the helipad-that's clear. I'm now coming down.”

”Roger that. We've got a man down. Get down here, we need help.

Out.”

That explained the screaming. Having a man down made me seethe even more about Nino having an ND.

He'd f.u.c.ked everything up; blokes were getting hit, and the chances were people were getting away.

We got down to find total chaos. Rod was controlling and looking after the casualty. The boy was on his back, screamin his head off.

A 7.62 round had hit him in the wrist and traveled up his forearm, exiting just below the elbow. He'd lost all the muscle ma.s.s on the lower arm.

He was screaming like a pig. He was going to live, but he must have been in agony. All the other boys were cl.u.s.tered around, looking very sick.

It was a matter of controlling the people who were in the huts and also controlling our own people, who looked as if they wanted to bolt back into the jungle and run and run.

”Get back!” I shouted. ”Cover that hut!” My ranting and pointing meant more to them than what I was saying.

Rod had the medic pack with him. He looked up at me and said, ”It's just a matter of plugging up the holes to stop the blood. If he stopped screaming, he'd see he's okay.” Then he looked at the boy on the ground and screamed: ”Shut up!”

He unwrapped more field dressings and pressed them hard onto the wound.

He grabbed a pack of hemocell and tried to get an IV line into him. The boy had lost a lot of blood and needed more fluids fast. He was going into shock. Still, some people just stood around; perhaps they were in shock, too.

Tony was in the huts, controlling the people inside with lots of shouting and kicking. I heard a shout of ”Shut the f.u.c.k up now!” His group had plasticuffed them, picked them up, grabbed them by the hair or their clothes, and got them on the ground, hollering and shouting to keep them scared and under control. Now they were manhandling them out of the door and making them lie down on their stomachs in the mud.