The Knock

He was my closest friend back then. Always ready with a joke, and that endless smile of his that was reassuring in dangerous times. His name was William and he was a private soldier in my section. We became friends almost the moment we met, and were seldom apart.

The streets of Belfast at night were not for the faint of heart with frequent shootings and acts of murderous violence. We patrolled in section strength and were always alert for trouble. But that particular night was going to be very different, if only we'd known.

I trusted Williams reactions so I had him on point as we moved cautiously through the shadowy streets, silent we moved, conveying intentions only through hand gestures and with weapons loaded and ready.

Something caught Williams attention and he signalled to pause, I hurried to where he was crouched as he pointed out two shadowy figures about 50 metres ahead, just kids smoking I reassured him, and motioned for our patrol to move on.

I returned to my slot, mid-section as William gave the thumbs up, no one saw the tripwire as his boot pulled it taut.

The blinding flash and thunderous impact of the blast threw us to the floor, no one moved for a few moments. I gasped, checked I was okay, and checked the section.

Man down. It was William.

I ordered everyone into cover and grabbed the handset from the signaller, "Contact, contact, wait out", they would know instantly back at HQ that we'd found trouble, and other troops would be heading for our location almost instantly.

I inched to where William lay slumped over his rifle, he was unconscious, I gave the order "Watch and Shoot" and the rest of the section adopted firing positions, I tended Williams wounds as best I could using the pitiful bandaging that was issued, but the shock had set in quickly and he was sinking fast.

He died of his wounds three hours later and I cried like a kid.

Three days later and I was called to accompany my commanding officer to the morgue. Together we had to formally identify the body. I was given his dog tags, his bible and medals to prepare for his mother.

He lay as though asleep, though his head wounds were extensive. I noted that he was unshaven. Odd that even after life has exited the body, hair still grows a while. I said a silent farewell and we turned to sign the paperwork confirming victim ID, before heading back to base in silence, he was everywhere, all around us, laughing and my hands trembled with emotion.

I volunteered to attend his funeral and to be the one who gave his parents the knock. The Knock was the hardest part of all as I stood outside Williams home and tapped on the door. His mother greeted me, her face lined in tears as I handed over his personal possessions, all laundered, pressed. She clutched his medals and beret to her breast as I stood before her unable to hide my own grief.

Yet he was there also, holding her in silence. He gave me that smile and hugged his mother as she wept.