A Lebanon winter Sunday morning , i am orderly cook first up braving the mountain wind in my face, head shrugging into my shoulders hunched, shiver .
I say hello to the kitchen , turn on the lights open the fridge . Blast the warm gas flame somehow reminds me of a turf ad on t.v back home I lower the flame and fry some eggs .
The bacon spits and crinkles when up the hill a hairy frenzy brakes . I step outside and peer , red tracer rounds race and rake Dangerous, no Chinese feast this .
Darkness grabs the kitchen The first mortar hits . I turn the lambent flames off . Shrill siren groundhog . Bedlam , flak jackets , helmets , casualties the kitchen is now a bunker.
Roache and O'Flaherty from County Clare two big genuine men. O'Flaherty hands crossed the outside door threshold with a flop as he collapsed, the lads drag him inside . Roache now bleeds on the kitchen floor blood spurts from his thigh.
I do my best to help breath deep yet worry We are all U.N , defenceless can't hit back .I hear shells whistle and impact the building and our state of mind ? is this my last moment ? we wait we cope.
We even manage to **** ,laugh and then mortars boom. The Israelis want to **** us but we have a T-wall called luck . Pat our medic plays a stormer , fair play I see young soldiers sitting on the floor shaking with fear , cant stand , do i see tears ?
Medivac , stretchers lift Roache & O'Flaherty Six men to lift big John . Noel is calm , shrapnel is his thigh & a kitchen knife his ad-hoc splint for his thumb.
Eventually relief its all over now . My heart pumps , what should i feel ? How can i analyse this ? Can i have a cup of tea Alan ? I put on the kettle as people are now reaching for normal . I get down on my hands & knees wiping blood of the floor . Visceral inner fight. i then light up the gas and i fry some eggs .