Death of a Soldier After what seemed like a long day at work, it probably wasn't, but I was looking forward to seeing my contact at the pub tonight. Collette the escort girl alias Jess the uni student. We had a certain rapport and kept in touch. And that was peculiar, I was twice her age, twice her size, fairly homely and tended to be somewhat dour. Jess was bright and bubbly, happy and outgoing. She liked to tease me. I think that I must like to be teased. But only by her. I also know she doesn't see me as a father figure! Mum thought I was going to the Chinese tonight with Jenny, my lady friend of long standing so I left in a barrage of advice. "You're wearing that? Sit up straight. Don't talk to her with food in your mouth ---” I arrived at the Unicorn pub with time to spare and ordered a beer. Somebody shoved in beside me. “Excuse me mate.” I glared at him. Easy Al, I thought, he's big and looks like he might have been a pug in his day. “You Al?” He asked over the hubbub. I barely heard him. “You were described to me, you're waitin' for Collette?” “Yeah, where is she? What's goin' on?” He nudged me. “It's all in here.” I looked down to see a brown, business-type envelope which I pocketed. I looked at him. “I expected somebody else.” “Collette?” He asked. “I'm her friend and co-worker. I look after her and some others but I let her down this time ---” “You bloody what?” “--- and she got knocked about pretty bad.” This big lump told me. “What the--- Where the hell were you?” I was shocked! Horrified! My little friend! What sort of animal --- “It was late and I was holding the fort. Collette clocked off and bolted,” the big feller told me. “I woulda called for a taxi if she asked but she didn't, she just bowled out the door calling 'bye-byes' and was gone.” “Who did it to her and why?” “A big, nasty bastard called Bruiser. A plain-clothes copper. I reckon he tried to rape her and she put up a fight. Our area's on his beat. He walks into any of the shops or pubs and gets what he wants and walks out without paying. When he's off duty he works as an enforcer cum bagman for a family who just about owns the area. What they don't own, they charge everybody else for a security service.” The big bloke paused for a moment, thinking. “A protection racket that's what it is! If you don't pay up, Bruiser breaks your legs. If you complain: the same. If you go to the police, guess which cop they refer you to?” “Are you going to do anything about him?” I asked. “Nah Mate. I'm well outa my depth. The manager of our escort agency put together all the info that she and the other girls could find without raising suspicions and put it in your envelope. I'm going fruit picking interstate for a while. So over to you and the best of luck.” “Wait a minute, where's Collette?” I asked. “In Saint Anthony's Private Hospital. I'm told that she's getting a full facial rebuild,” The security bloke told me. “ The bastard broke every bone in her face plus a couple of ribs. Our manager and me and some of the girls have put in towards Collette's medical bill but she's gunna be thousands short. And I guess the poor kid won't be working for a long time. Anyway, as I said, best of luck and you've never met me,” he paused, obviously upset, “I don't know who you are or what you do but please, please nail this animal.” “He's a dead man!” I assured him as he left. ---- How in the hell was I going to get a pound of flesh for Collette out of this monster? I was sitting in the hotel dunny sifting through the envelope contents. There was half a dozen photos, probably taken by the other escort girls with their phone cameras also a couple of sheets of information. None of this was reassuring. He was Bruiser Bentley, fifty-ish, big, bald, towering over the other pedestrians, and looked like an angry rottweiler. I bet that he carried his police-issue gun even when he's off duty. Yep- there it was, written right there to cheer me up. 'Wears shoulder-holster with gun at all times.' Just great! It's been said that a smart man knows his limitations and acts accordingly. I was fairly smart, I tore all this stuff up and flushed it down the toilet. Sorry Jess, you're on your own! If I hurry, I can meet good old Jenny for dinner. ---- I couldn't sleep so I snuck into the oldies bedroom and felt through mum's bedside drawer for her sleeping pills. My parent were both sleeping on their backs, mouths gaping and snoring their heads off. I was thinking of poor little Jess. I'll visit her tomorrow. Tomorrow? I looked at my bedside clock, it's tomorrow already. This sleeping pill better do the trick or I'll be a wreck at work. Mum called me for brekky. I'd slept through my alarm and mum wanted to now why. “Were you out late drinking again?” “Nah, you know that Jenny and I went out for dinner.” I said. She went on and on telling me I should look after myself now that I'm nearly forty, don't go out mid-week, take a vitamin supplement and she kept going on and on --- “Not the problem Mum!” I interrupted, snarling, “Jenny and I were bangin' our brains out in the park all night.” Over mum's outraged screaming, I heard dad, partly muffled by the toilet door. “That's my boy.” I reckoned by the time I cleared the front door, my mum'll be onto Jenny's mum, telling her how trashy her daughter was. Either that or the pair of them would be arranging our wedding. But I didn't give a damn. I had to get through the day at work before I checked on Jess. ---- I found the hospital and more or less lucked into the visiting hours. There was a bit of a problem getting past the nurse's desk. “Family only, Sir. She's still a bit fragile and tires easily.” “Nurse, I'm family, I'm her Uncle Al, we're very close. I've driven down from Mudgee soon as I heard.” “Alright then, you can have a few minutes, I'm sure that will cheer her up” “How bad is she?” I asked. “You'll have to speak to the doctor but I believe that there's no major damage. She's very uncomfortable and, I suspect, rather depressed.” The nurse took me into Jess' ward, she had a room to herself, and I stopped: shocked. Her face was swollen, black and purple. Her mouth was mis-shapen probably because her jaw's wired. Her nostrils seemed to have something hollow stuffed up them. There was a tube going into her mouth that I suspect they fed her through, and a morphine drip, of course. I'd seen a few of those when I was in the army in Afghanistan. “Hi Jess,” the nurse said, “are you up to receiving company, you've got a visitor?” Jess opened her eyes and looked at us. It seemed to take her a moment to focus and absorb the situation but she nodded. The nurse pressed a button and the top end of the bed slowly rose until Jess was in a semi-reclining position. “Hullo Sweetie, It's your favourite uncle Al visiting. I'd ask you how ya doin' but that'd be a silly question. Can I sit with you for a while?” I got a slight nod and a slight smile. I stepped forward and gave her a very gentle kiss on the forehead. “Well I'll leave you two to it. Don't let him tire you out, Jess,” the nurse said and I winked at Jess. I got another slight smile. “Jess, if there's anything I can do for you just let me know. You can't talk?” She did a little head shake and reached for my hand. “Are your parents going to come and visit you?” I asked. She nodded and pointed to the scribble pad on her bedside table. I passed it to her and she block -printed with a very shaky hand. 'DAD ANGRY' “Understandable,” I said and then the penny dropped. “Do you mean that he may go hunting Bruiser?” She nodded. I noticed tears on her face. There was a box of tissues on her bedside table. I plucked a couple and gently wiped her poor, swollen face. Damn it. I'm nearly crying too. I haven't cried since I was a kid. Probably didn't cry even then. “Jess, you gotta discourage your dad from chasing Bruiser,” I stressed. “He's a big mean professional. He'd chew your dad up like mince meat and spit him out. You tell your dad that you and your mum need him to go back to the farm. It's one of those things yer just gotta put behind you and move on.” I told her about my new job and my parents. She didn't laugh but gave a little smile. Then the nurse surged in. “Off you go Uncle Al, Jess needs her rest. Come again soon, I think you've brightened her up.” Jess let go of my hand and pointed to her scribble pad. I watched her print, slowly and wobbly 'HUG' she paused, thought and continued 'GENTLE'. I did, then kissed her on the forehead and bolted, jaw clenched, trying to keep a very stiff face. ---- I visited Jess a few times a week. She was starting to look better, her bruises were fading and she could talk a bit. It must have been frustrating for her not to be able to talk. She loved to chat. Or chirp, I sometimes thought. As Jess improved, I got angrier. Not with Bruiser, I'm beyond angry with him. With myself. For the first time, I was out of my depth. I felt useless, sidelined. I'd always been able to handle a situation. But now I was up against a huge, armed thug backed by the might of the police force. ---- Last time I visited Jess, her parents were there. “You must be Uncle Al?” Her dad, a tall, wiry, sunburnt farmer, queried. “My long lost brother. Sorry, I can't remember you.” He introduced himself and his missus and thanked me for looking after Jess. I noticed that Jess' mum was quite a looker and about my age. I thought, for just a fleeting moment, of giving the posy I'd bought for Jess to mum. Her father asked me about the thug that hurt Jess. “Mate, he's a six and a half foot tall copper, built like a brick wall and always has at least one other cop with him. Oh, he carries a gun all the time. And this is the main point, he's as mean as a a cut snake. Besides, I reckon he'd have a few dirty coppers on the side. Bother him and he'll hurt you, put a wee baggy of drugs in your pocket and send you to prison for years. Honestly, this is one of those situations you've just gotta write off and move on." I paused for effect. “Or probably die!” ---- I shovelled my brekky in and told Mum. “Early dinner tonight, please Mum, I'm goin' out.” “Where to? It's a work night. You've got to start looking after yourself now that you're nearly forty.” As I headed for work, I decided that I'd go to town tonight and satisfy myself that there's nothing that I can do about Bruiser. It had been weighing on my mind. The day dragged on. Bert, the foreman, asked me if I was okay. “Yeah Mate. My friend had an accident and she's in hospital..” “Is she going to be alright?” Bert asked. “Yeah, but she's in a lot of pain and very uncomfortable. Her doc's got her on morphine. I visit her But I get upset, you know.” “Al, if you want an early mark every now and then, I'll cover for you.” “Ta Bert, I might take you up on that.” ---- I continued to visit Jess a few times a week. She was starting to look better, her bruises were fading and she could talk a bit. As time passed, and Jess improved, I got angrier. Not with Bruiser, I'm beyond angry with him. Angry with myself. I'd always been able to handle a situation - one way or another. But now I was out-gunned by a huge, armed thug backed by some of his police mates. ---- I'll go to town tonight and satisfy myself that there's nothing that I can do about Bruiser. It had been weighing on my mind. and for the first time in my life I was feeling inadequate. My stomach was churning and I was becoming depressed. The day dragged on. Early dinner, a spat with mum and out. A train into Sydney. a bus to Sin City and a stroll down the main drag. I'd never seen such a depressing sight! Windows boarded up, shop doors shut, no lights. Then it struck me, it was early, not even eight o'clock. This place won't rock until --- Dunno, but late. Plan of attack. Ah yes, every good plan started with a beer. Into the nearest pub, ordered a light beer and made it last until nearly nine o'clock. People had turned up and milled about turning the place into a carnival. It was time to start my patrol. I mooched slowly down the street, hunched over, head down, trying not to attract attention, if not invisible but inconspicuous and inoffensive. I was wearing navy blue work trousers and a dark blue bomber jacket zipped up. To top off my invisible outfit, I was wearing a black baseball cap pulled down low. I was aware that there was bound to be CCTV cameras everywhere. A couple of desperate, past-it street women offered me a good time but I kept my head down and moved on. A police car idled towards me. I turned my back and looked in a shop window. It was dark and I had a good reflection. Clever Al, it was blacked out. How suspicious was I? On the upside, I had a good reflection as they cruised past. I saw two cops in the front. They didn't seem to notice me. One sat tall and he was bald. Like Bruiser. I gave them a bit of space and followed. There were more pedestrians moving about which was good, I hid amongst them and hoped that I was not attracting unwanted attention, the police car double-parked and the big bald cop got out and went into a take-away shop. I walked past on the other side of the road and looked over. The shopkeeper gave Bruiser, I was sure it's him, a folded newspaper which he stuck under his arm and two take-away coffees. Money didn't seem to change hands. Bruiser passed both coffees to the cop driver, smiled and tossed the folded newspaper into the car. He followed it in and they slowly drove off. I followed but the cop car disappeared into the traffic. I did a lap of the street up one side to the big intersection, crossed over and back the other side to the far end of the glitter strip, crossed over again and continued my patrol. Head down, shoulders slumped, Mister Invisible. This little black duck doesn't need any unwanted attention! Through the course of the evening I spotted Bruiser again going in and out of selected shops and chatting to the street girls. One of them handed him something, money or drugs, I wondered. He seemed to be constantly watching. This was one vigilant animal! He moved easily for a big bloke, like a predatory jungle beast looking over his kingdom. If anyone was silly enough to take him on, they'd find him to be a formidable opponent. Maybe God will strike him down. I've decided that I can't. Then I lost him in the growing crowds. Damn it, it was nearly midnight and I'd been on the move since six this morning. I was tired, foot sore and even more upset, besides Bruiser's probably gone home to his lair. This evening had been a waste of time and depressed me even more. I approached the lane-way that marked the end of the Glitter Strip and the start of the residential area for the umpteenth time tonight. I'd been crossing the road there earlier for my return lap but it was time to wend my weary way home. Suddenly I was grabbed by the upper arm and dragged into the lane. Bruiser! How? He dragged me past a stinking dumpster and slammed me back against the graffitied, brick wall. Why is he alone? Off duty? I'd heard that he's never without backup. This arrogant king of his own jungle felt he's untouchable! If he's alone, was he planning on doing something really bad? To me! And he reeked of booze and that's not good! “Alright Snoopy, you've been watching me all night. Tell me why before I snap your arms and legs off.” “No! No! No! Not you! Girls! I like to watch girls,” I told Bruiser with my eyes bulging and slack-jawed, “I walk up and down looking at girls. I like pretty gir, gir, girls. I --- ” He slapped the side of my head. “Shut up, stupid.” And that made me very angry but I grinned and dribbled at him as he gave me a quick pat-down. “Don't you touch my special spot. Nobody's allowed to touch my special spot.” Perfect! I put both of my hands over my groin. “Sister Anna told me not to let --- ” “Shut the hell up!” He slapped me again. “I want to see some ID. Have you got a driver's licence?” “I'm not allowed to drive because of my pla- pla-, plate.” “Plate?” he queried. I stared at him like he was dumb and explained in exasperation, “in my head. No, no, a steel plate in my head. Everybody knows that. About plates, it's in my pock, pocket.” I said with a silly grin. “Look, I'll show you.” He watched me suspiciously as I pulled a St Anthony's business card out of my hip pocket. The nurse gave it to me because it had the visiting hours displayed. I turned it over and showed him what I'd printed. 'IF JACK IS DISTRESSED CALL ST. ANTHONYS HOSPITAL.' He snatched it off me and stared at it. I replaced both hands over my special spot again. Before he could ask any awkward questions, I used one hand to withdraw Mum's razor sharp steak knife out of the makeshift rag scabbard that I had fastened to my fore-arm with rubber bands. I certainly hadn't planned a confrontation at all. But I knew that I was going into enemy territory and like my old sergeant told me. “Anticipation's the name of the game, lad.” “How did you get a plate in the head?” He asked. “Born with a hole in yer head? Car accident?” “Sh, sh, shot,” I lied. “Where?” “In the head,” I said exasperatedly. He stared at me and said slowly. “No Snoopy. Where were you when you got shot in the head?” “Afghan,afghan,afghan---” I jibbered. “Afghanistan?” he asked. I nodded. “You were a soldier?” he asked. I nodded again. Come in sucker, I'm thinking. “And I got PSDDD.” I said proudly. “Me too, Snoopy. Desert Storm. Looks like we're peas in the pod.” “Did you get shot, too?” I asked and thought oops, I'm not sounding like I'm brain-damaged. “No. Worse!” he said. “Wor-,wor-, wor- worse---” “Yeah Snoop, worse, far worse. Sometimes I wished I was dead.” “How?” I gazed at him pop-eyed. He'd let go of me and was leaning back against the brick wall, beside me, towering over me. The light from the main road was lighting his face. He seemed to be staring into space. “What the hell, I'll tell you. I was the sergeant in charge of a small strike squad. There were ten of us. Me'n'Corporal Herby Jones and eight of the toughest, hardest soldiers I'd ever want to serve with. We'd just finished an overnight perimeter patrol. The first light, long shadows and we were walking towards the compound gates. I waved to the tower guard. The gates opened. “Are you seein' this Snoop.” I nodded. Why was he telling me this? I'm not his confessor or his therapist and certainly not his friend. I was his potential executioner! Bruiser's looking at me but I don't think he's seeing me. He had that thousand yard stare going on. “Me mate, Herby turned to me and said, 'there's only ten days to go, Sarge and we're goin' home.'” “Yer see Snoop, we were just finishing our second tour.” “Yeh, yeah,” I said. “goin home.” “That's right, I looked at Herbie and we were grinning at each other like loonies,” Bruiser paused, “and then Herbie's head exploded! All over me. I was covered in his blood and bits. Of Herbie.” “No, no ---” I said, looking at him. I swear there were tears glistening on the big, mean bastard's face. “This tough sergeant went into shock, " he said. "And that's about all I knew for nearly ten months. The guard reported that he saw a muzzle flash from about one klick away and that the sniper must have had a scope. He had fired a fifty calibre, explosive round used for armour piercing. It'd be me, the sergeant, he was aiming at.” I was gaping at him, genuinely shocked. “Two of my blokes hit the deck and gave us covering fire, so did the tower guard. I was told that I yelled for them to get into the compound and led the charge with what was left of me mate, Herbie, in my arms.” “That's real bad, Sarge,” I said. “ I'm told that the medics were there in seconds, sedated me and medi-vacced me home. I didn't know anything for months. Oh yeah, I was told that my two blokes who were giving us covering fire ran for safety. One was cut in half, near enough and went down screaming. Rumour has it, the tower guard put him out of his misery.” “Really, really bad,” I mumbled. “You don't know the half of it,” he continued. “When I was in rehab me wife left me. Took off when I was crook. Can't say I blame her, but she shoulda ---” Bruiser's crying now. He's sobbing, tears are running down his face. “--- even worse, a few weeks back something set me off,” he continued, “and I blacked out and did a real bad thing --- To a lady friend! I ended up in rehab again.” “What?” I asked but I knew. It had to be my Jess - and that's why I wanted to kill him. “You don't wanna know, Snoop. Do you have family?” “Parents.” I said. “This is a bad place, Snoop. Go home. Look after your parents.” The tears are still rolling down his face. I suspected he's having a melt-down. “Go home, Soldier,” he ordered. And I did. This poor, sad bastard's got his own living hell. I tucked my knife away and walked off into the bright light. I heard a gunshot, paused and kept walking.
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