Bravo two zero by Andy McNab

knew of some more Roland positions and had worked out a route around them, but from the way the loadies were talking you'd have thought they actually wanted to be attacked. They were gagging to get in amongst it. I imagined it would be a huge anticlimax for them if they dropped us off and came back in one piece.
        I checked my orders at a table on the other side of the airfield, undistracted. Because the first infil had been aborted, I would have to deliver an orders group all over again that afternoon-not in as much detail, but going over the main points.
        We waited for the elusive mail. The buzz finally went round that it had arrived and was on the other side of the airfield about half a mile away. It was 1730, just half an hour to go before moving off to the aircraft. Vince and I got into one of the LSVs and screamed round and grabbed hold of the B Squadron bag.
        One of the blokes received his poll tax demand. Another was the lucky recipient of an invitation to enter a Reader's Digest draw. I was luckier. I got two letters. One was from my mother, the first letter from either of my parents since I was maybe 17. They didn't know I was in the Gulf, but it must have been obvious.
        I didn't have time to read it. If you're in a rush, what you can do is slit the letters open so that they appear to have been read, so as not to hurt anybody's feelings if you don't return. I recognized an A4 envelope from Jilly. Inside were some toffees, my favorite Pie 'n Mix from Woolies. Oddly enough there were eight of them, one for each of us in the patrol. There was also the power of attorney letter.
        The Last Supper is quite a big thing before you go out on a job.
        Everybody turns up and takes the piss.
        "Next time I see you I'll be looking down as I'm filling you in," somebody said, going through the motion of shoveling earth onto your grave.
        "Nice knowing you, wanker," somebody else said. "What sort of bike you got at home then? Anyone here to witness he's going to give me his bike if he gets topped?"
        It was a very lighthearted atmosphere, and people were willing to help out if they could in any preparation. At the same time, another lot of "fresh" turned up. The regimental quartermaster sergeant had got his hands on a consignment of chops, sausages, mushrooms, and all the other ingredients of a good fry-up. It was fantastic scoff, but one unfortunate outcome was that after being on rations for so long, it put us all in need of an urgent shit.
        

5
        
        The ground crew had been up all night re camouflaging the Chinook a splashy desert pattern that drew wolf whistles and applause from the blokes who'd come to see us off.
        It was time for passing on last minute messages again. I saw my mate Mick and said: "Any dramas, Eno has got the letters. Make sure you look after the escape map because it's signed by the squadron. I don't want that to go missing: it would be nice for Jilly."
        I overheard Vince saying: "Any drama, it's down to you to make sure Dee's sorted out."
        Mick had a camera round his neck. "Do you want a picture?"
        "Madness not to," I said.
        We posed on the tailgate of the Chinook for the Bravo Two Zero team photo.
        The blokes were busy taking the piss out of the aircrew, especially the loadies. One of them was a dead ringer for Gary Kemp from Spandau Ballet, even down to the 1980s sideboards. Two or three blokes from the squadron were standing by a wagon doing the old shu-wap, shu-wap routine, singing "You are gold…" The poor lad was getting well embarrassed.
        Some blokes got together and-practiced doing the pallbearer bit, humming the death march. Others did a takeoff of the Madness video "It must be love," where the singer is standing over a grave and the undertaker's jumping up and down and across measuring him.
        Interspersed with the banter was the odd muttering of "See