Читать книгу Dog Soldiers: Part 2 of 3: Love, loyalty and sacrifice on the front line - Isabel George, Isabel George - Страница 6

Alongside the bearer party at Kenneth Rowe’s funeral was a young Lance Corporal, Liam Tasker. His job that day was as hat orderly, collecting the bearers’ caps, but the occasion overwhelmed him and placed in him a need to honour the fallen dog soldier, not at home, but in the heat and dust of Afghanistan.

JANE

Liam was always up to something and if he had a bee in his bonnet God help anyone who tried to stand in his way!

When he was deployed to Afghanistan in September 2010 one of the first things he noticed at Camp Bastion was the memorial to Ken Rowe. It stood at the entrance to the military working dogs’ kennels – which had always had the unofficial nickname ‘Muttley Lines’, but in remembrance of Ken it was officially named ‘Rowe Lines’ in 2008. But for Liam that wasn’t anywhere near enough of a tribute.

Liam rarely wrote letters, in fact I don’t think he ever wrote me a letter. Yes, I had cards and the odd email, but Liam was a phone man and so I often had calls giving me the latest news, and if there was something bothering him I would know.

From very early in that tour I got the very clear understanding that Liam was, to say the least, very unhappy about the lack of what he would call a ‘proper’ memorial to Ken Rowe. When he told me that he had drawn out a design for a more fitting tribute I knew that, whoever his commanding officer was out there, they would certainly hear all about this new memorial every day until Liam had seen it built and dedicated. I couldn’t help laughing to myself because that was typical of Liam. I often think that if people were dogs, Liam would have been a terrier – digging, chewing and pulling until he got what he wanted.

I remember how fired up and excited he was when he told me that he had mentioned his idea for a new memorial to a colleague and together they had come up with a design. It included a large dog’s paw suspended by chains, all within a wooden framework. It sounded very ambitious to me and I wondered when on earth he was going to find the time to construct it, but I made all the right noises (I hope) and said, ‘That’s wonderful, son. You do that.’

I never thought of Liam as a handyman. If he had been building it with his dad, Ian, or his stepdad, Jimmy, I would have known that he would have had the right hammers and nails and whatever to do the job, but on his own it would have been achieved on pure energy and dedication. That was my son, Liam.

When Liam was first deployed I was on my laptop 24/7 just in case he was online. We ‘chatted’ as much as possible and I became so obsessed with looking out for him that Jimmy had a quiet word with me. He was worried that I would exhaust myself if I kept up that pace for the entire sixth-month tour! That’s when I started writing the letters – every day.

Sometimes I wrote twice a day. It was my way of staying sane but I’m sure some of the letters must have driven him mad. Thinking about it now I’m sure that if anyone sat down and read all the letters I sent they would probably think they were the ramblings of a crazy woman!

Sitting in the Afghan desert Liam was subjected to the daily news of what was happening in the Duffy/Tasker household on the NATO base in Belgium, and that included news of the washing machine breaking down, his sisters Laura and Nicola doing their girly stuff, dance lessons, Brownies and the joy of a new television. It was all stuff that he would have been involved in if he was home with us so there it was in my letters. I know they made him laugh and I know he shared my stories with his mates, too – embarrassingly!

I don’t know what possessed me but I remember telling him all about a woman on the TV quiz programme Deal or No Deal who messed up and lost £20,000 in prize money. For some reason, which escapes me now, her expensive mistake really got to me! I rattled on to him in the letter which he passed around his mates. I’m sure they all felt sorry for him having to put up with his mother’s ranting and raving but it started the Deal or No Deal banter between us and from then on if that was mentioned it was Liam’s way of telling me that I was ‘going on a bit’!

For me writing a letter was the next best thing to having my son at home chatting away and bustling around the house. Liam always made me laugh. We never saw him show any anger but we remember his gift for laughter; even when things were far from funny he had a way of seeing the funny side. He always told his elder brother, Ian (we call him ‘wee Ian’ so as not confuse him with his dad) and his sisters that he was ‘Mum’s Golden Child’. They thought it was hilarious and it was that kind of cheekiness that helped him get what he wanted at home and it probably got him out of trouble in the Army, too.

Liam was always up to something and if I’d given birth to him first God knows if I’d have had any more children! He always had mischief written all over his face and his rosy cheeks and hazel eyes were always getting him stopped in the street. ‘Oh, isn’t he a little angel?’ was something I heard very often, especially from elderly ladies, when we were out shopping. I remember thinking: ‘If only you knew what a little demon he is at home!’ His dad always said: ‘Liam is a remarkable boy – for many, many reasons,’ and I agree. Certainly he was a character and anyone who met him was unlikely to forget him.

Liam was born on 11 December 1984 at 1.15pm at Forth Park in Kirkcaldy. It was an induced birth and he was the smallest of my four children, weighing in at six and a half pounds. While Ian took care of our posting to RAF Gütersloh in Germany I stayed with my mother in Scotland. It was such a busy time and here was this lovely early Christmas gift. We were so happy. It’s really difficult to try to put into words just what Liam was like as a little boy, but I’m smiling just thinking about him and the things he got up to. If I have one word that described my son from day one it would be ‘cheeky’.

He was a really good baby although he always needed to be doing something. Liam was nothing like his big brother, Ian, who was quite happy to amuse himself playing with his toys and games. They were great pals but Liam needed to be entertained, otherwise he would look for something to do and inevitably get into mischief. He was my wee lovable rogue. When he was up on his feet he always liked to dance naked around the house wearing my boots – he’s gonna love me for saying that! He always had his cheeky wee grin and if he got upset we knew he must have hurt himself as it was the only time he cried.

Liam was always taking his lead from big brother Ian, which usually meant that he tried to walk before he could crawl. When he was three years old he was fascinated watching Ian ride his bike up and down the road and decided that he was going to ride a bike too. You could see in his face exactly what he was thinking and as soon as he got the chance and a little bike of his own he taught himself to ride it and he was off! Sadly he didn’t have a scrap of road sense, which made nervous wrecks of my neighbours every time they saw him out at the front of their house!

When Laura was born on 7 December 1990 Liam was so excited. He had hoped that she would arrive on his birthday but when he saw her he forgot all of that and happily told everyone at the Mess Christmas party that day that his little sister had been born and she was called ‘Flora’!

Liam always said he was lucky having two dads. Ian and I split up when Laura was two years old but Liam always remained very close to his dad, who he called his ‘Dad-Dad’ and to his stepdad, Jimmy. Liam was eight years old when Jimmy and I married so he always had his family there as a constant in his life no matter which RAF base we were transferred to next. And when our daughter Nicola was born, in March 1997, Liam was such a proud big brother and fussed over her all the time.

He was such a loving and caring lad and even as a small child he would do anything for anyone. It started back then, him telling everyone he was my favourite and calling himself the golden child! But when his brother or his sisters were ill he would always want to be with them and make sure they were not alone or unhappy. If he could make them feel better by making them laugh, he would be there.