"Yes. I wasn't really desperate. I was worried because I didn't know how long we might be stuck."I gave her the car keys. We climbed in for the short drive to her house. The storm had subsided slightly. It was still raining but not the torrents. Marjorie parked close to her front door. I helped her unload her shopping into her kitchen."Where's Alan?" I asked.Marjorie glanced at the kitchen clock."He's probably at the station. He was going to the library and then to the station."Alan commutes by train. I assumed he was buying a ticket or something."Does your mother need her shopping urgently?" Marjorie asked."I'm not sure. Perhaps." Please take it to her and then come back for a coffee in about half an hour. Please?" Of course."+++As I reached my front door I could see Alan's car turning into the road. I was pleased that he would be home in seconds. I hadn't been convinced that Marjorie was as unaffected as she said she was.I handed the small amount of shopping over to my mother before. "The Major raised an eyebrow. Now, they were getting to the heart of the problem. If he were to believe all the stories he'd been told, he was sitting across from a mercilessly efficient killing machine that would have made the fictional John Rambo look like a wimp. The plain-spoken, unassuming young man across from him might well be a very talented sniper, but the actions attributed to him were just impossible, "So, you single-handedly overcame a truck full of Iraqi soldiers. Is that correct, Sergeant?"The Sergeant's eyes widened, "Oh, no sir. I waited until the truck was stopped and the driver got out to ... uh, relieve himself, sir. Then, I climbed into the cabin and took the truck into al-Zabr."The Major frowned and read more of the file in front of him, "You drove a truck full of Iraqi soldiers into al-Zabr? What would you have done if they'd noticed you weren't the real driver?"Sergeant Kent sat even a little more upright, looking like nothing so much as a schoolboy who'd been.
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