Here, is some more of the next scene, some additional notes and also the LETTER to the deceased’s Parents. its about the fourth draft and has suffered i suspect a dozen or more alterations. If you want an interesting exercise, try penning one of these, its simply not as easy as it lokks or you might think, let alone if it was for real.
Head Quarters SASR Special Detachment Brunei:
The normally quiet com’s tent, situated I the middle of camp whisky was jumping, radiating energy in more ways than one actually. To the casual observer, the traffic in and out of the tent, would seem normal, well normal for any camping ground, the various body, walked at a brisk pace, some bantering and carrying folders. The difference however, was that this Rather large tent was the central hub for all special air service regiment operations, currently taking place in the Brunei and Indonesian archipelago. The epicentre of all dark matter, skulking about tropical rainforests with death in tow, an ever present grim reaper.
The only thing giving the tent away as something extra ordinary was all the cables running out the back, the two fucknormous air conditioning units, plugged into the side cooling all the sophisticated com’s gear, more aerials and sand bags than a Saddam Hussein bunker complex and two very mean looking fully armed guards.
The two figures strolling towards the tent however were deep in animated discussion. It was not widely known outside of the military, that a RSM was the one person who happened to walk in both the world of the officers and the enlisted men. All digs knew to fear the RSM, not a man to be lightly mucked with, but its was also a given he was unscrupulously fair and made sure the officers were aware of the troopers requirements. RSM Mick Harris was the man, GOD, and the Colonel quite frequently deferred to his opinion on matters, the sign of a smart Commander.
At this point however, it seemed by the RSM’s arm waving they were in disagreement.
“Sir, we have no stand by choppers for a search and rescue, best we can do is see if 4 RAR have any birds available and mores the point, the legs to reach the crash site, we’ve had no survival beacons, although I don’t expect any yet, even if they are alive”, Mick lowered his arms and waited for the Colonels response, which he knew was coming.
- Conversation is between RSM and colonel, what the status is of Bundy zero zero and who is in the back up bird for SAR , KARADA, ref squirrel rage, and JB’s concern in putting another hot head in the zone. What’s the status of Burger 11, can they break contact and make the RV where Bundy zero zero went down.*
- Reference coffee ( cappuccino), skirts in the combat zone.
- Discussion on Indo movements and surfacing political issues with the Sultan.
- Topic of conversation on Bundy crew death letters to their NOK,
Move scene to JB’s tent, RSM present, Div Intel Office ( character to be confirmed), discussion JB, Intel, RSM
- JB, intimate moment on writing the letters, reflection, his minds thoughts, costs of the operation and impact on morale.
The lone figure sitting hunched over the desk, appeared at first glance to be writing, however, the little movement of hands, now visible toughly clasping the letter ,held out on the standard issue military collapsible desk, betrayed another scene.
This was the last and final draft of three other such letters that Lt Colonel Birmingham had written, each its own testament to the individual, both as a former serving member of the ADFs elite Special Air Service Regiment and as much also, to the individual themselves, a real person.
Whilst JB was known to his troopers as hard arsed and driving, they also new him to be a man of infinite patience, the troopers frequently prevailing themselves upon him, for recounts of his time as a notorious author and his literary world exploits.
In casting forward these snippets, the Colonel had fostered a sense of friend ship with all those he came into contact with, more so within the regiment. The regiment itself was a tight knit group; the loss of three people in the spec ops community was already being felt around the forward operating base and would for some time to come.
Like all tightly knitted communities, but more so within the military, they all dealt with their sense of loss and grief in different ways, banding together still more tightly when losses occurred and none more so than with their killed chopper crew.
The Colonel straightened up and drew in a deep breath, he’d known flight sergeant Moko before he had passed selection for the SASR, having grown up in Brisbane and met the former kiwi during his writing days. This letter was proving the hardest of all.
Dear Mrs & Mr Moko,
It is with a great sense of foreboding and loss that I pen to you, the news of your sons death in combat. You will by now I am sure have received the Armies official notification and undoubtedly his falling.
I find little comfort in prose, bearing such horrendous news, that ones son has passed, his time here cut short, whilst defending those beliefs we all hold so dear.
Like many before, and more yet to come, they freely grasp our banners and ideals, the upholding of right, the suppression of evil and the defence of the weak, these ideals and beliefs are all we hold dear and fight for, yet all too often for some, they pay the ultimate price.
We, those of us here, in what we consider to be his extended family, feel deeply at his loss and share your grief, this, perhaps may be cold comfort now he is gone, but his shinning example, of all that is good, right and just in man, his sacrifice at the altar of freedom, whilst protecting those he was closest to, carries with it a nobility unmatched.
You, your family and our troopers shall miss him, please know, he died doing what he loved and for a cause in which he believed.
Special Air Service Regiment