The Education of Caraline

Our destination, 50 miles west of Kandahar, housed 28,000 British troops, several thousand Afghan National Army soldiers at Camp Shorabak, and 20,000 US Marines. Altogether, the three sections must have covered nearly 4,000 acres. Leatherneck, by itself, was bigger than many small towns, supported by four gyms, a vast dining area that could serve 4,000 people at a time, three chapels and, best of all as far as many of the troops were concerned, calling centers where they could phone and email their families back home.

The housing arrangements were restrictive, so the two-or three-thousand female soldiers and contractors were kept segregated, not that there was much privacy for anyone, should a romance develop. A fact which didn’t go unnoticed by me. In any case, most of the female staff didn’t go outside the wire, unless they were needed on a special assignment to speak to Afghan women.

When we finally crawled into Leatherneck, I was allocated a bunk in a tiny room shared by Private First Class Mary Sullivan from Beckville, Texas, a small town, some 150 miles east of Dallas – or so she told me. She was 24 and duly impressed that I worked as a journalist. She was one of a team of 15 women who worked in the motor pool, repairing damaged vehicles – and she was truly envious when she learned that I’d be traveling into the countryside and beyond the wire fence.

She chattered away about her hometown as I unpacked, shrugging off the sadistic body armor, then she showed me the way to the female shower area. A hot shower: what bliss.

It was less blissful when she insisted on continuing to chat while I washed myself. Despite being surrounded by people 24/7, I got the impression she was lonely. And she called me ‘ma’am’, which made me feel old.

“Do you have a boyfriend, ma’am? I couldn’t help noticing you were wearing a ring on that chain around your neck.”

“Yes, I do. You?”

“Nah, and it’s not so easy to hook up with people here. I only enlisted because I thought I’d meet loads of cute guys, and get a free college education. So, what does your boyfriend do? Is he a reporter, too?”

“No, he’s not. I’ve got friends who are reporters – one of them is over at Bastion right now.”

“Uh-huh. Where’s your boyfriend at?”

She really was tenacious: maybe they taught that in the Marines. Either that or the forces attracted tenacious people.

“I don’t really like to talk about him, Mary. It just makes me sad that we’re not together.”

By this time I was drying myself off, and I could see her eyes widen with interest at my words.

“Oh, my God! You must really love him!”

So not going there.

“You know, I’m surprised, Mary: a nice girl like you – haven’t you seen anyone that you think is cute?”

She twisted her dog tags around her fingers, as she thought about my question.

“Yeah, there’s this one guy…”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“Why? If you like him, go talk to him. I don’t know – offer to change his oil.”

She giggled.

“You think I should?”

I shrugged. “It’s up to you: but all I can tell you for sure is that life is short. And wouldn’t you rather know once and for all if he liked you or not? If he does, great; if he doesn’t, it’s his loss and you can stop worrying about him.”

After that bit of advice, which I was so much better at giving than taking, PFC Sullivan escorted me to the briefing room where I was due to meet Grant and the rest of his officers.

But the first person I saw was Sebastian, looking hot, dusty and pissed. Clearly he hadn’t had the luxury of time for a shower and a friendly chat about his love life.

His eyes lit up as he saw me and he started to smile. When he remembered we were trying to be discreet, he dropped his eyes back to the map he was studying.

Luckily, Captain Grant had been focused on the map spread out beneath his hands, so he hadn’t noticed Sebastian’s slip.

I caught the tail end of Grant’s monologue.

“If a guy sticks his head around the corner he could very easily have a gun. If you can’t see his hands, he could have something, a hand grenade, say. Pulling a trigger is easy – we need to bring him in. It’s not about that one person, it’s about the team. I’ll need you to go in first and…”

He became aware of my presence and he ground to a halt, looking irritated.

“I can come back,” I offered, calmly.

Jane Harvey-Berrick's books