Free The Easy Day Was Yesterday by Paul Jordan

and we all piled into his Pajero and headed for the club. On the way he pulled into his mate’s place and said he would only be a minute. When he returned he had a bottle of scotch in his hand.
    At the yacht club, we took a seat outside to enjoy the sea breeze. It was a wonderfully relaxing place to sit and spend some time. The wide landing we sat on protruded over the ocean. The steaks arrived and so did the coke, and that’s when the Warrant Officer pulled out the scotch. Now, I’m not a big scotch drinker, in fact I hate the shit, I’d rather have a beer — the only thing scotch does is destroy a good glass of coke. But the Warrant Officer had gone out of his way to get the bottle and I wasn’t about to offend the man, so I slowly sipped the poison.
    Once again, I’m buggered if I know how we got home because the Warrant Officer was so pissed he had trouble finding his car, let alone driving the bastard. But get home we did and, after a bit of a sleep-in and breakfast with the cats, the commanders decided we needed a day out downtown. This was beyond boring. There was very little to do or see. We couldn’t sit down and have a quiet beer, but we did decide to risk Kentucky Fried Chicken. We stood at the counter checking out the menu when a young local boy came in and stood next to us. No big deal, but suddenly this kid squealed like a cat having its tail stood on, then he meowed. Well, fuck me; I nearly shat myself. Initially we didn’t know where the noise had come from, but when he meowed again we were hard pressed to control our laughter. John could barely get his order out he was in such a fit of laughter. Two of the blokes walked into the toilets so they could laugh. I hoped he wasn’t making those noises from eating too much KFC. With that, we ate our order and walked around town for a while. Tony and I found a small cafe that was wall to wall with people, so we decided to sit and have another feed. The food was great so, with our bellies finally satisfied, we found the rest of the patrol and caught a taxi back to base.
    We said our farewells and, after a night of karaoke with Stuart thinking he was Barry Manilow, we headed home again, but this time with no beer for the trip.
    Well, that was that. It was bloody hot in those jungles, but not as hot as the Sub-Inspector’s office. Right now, I’d rather be in the jungle somewhere — anywhere but here.

5.
NIGHTMARE DAY ONE
    Monday 26 May
    At 3.00 am I decided sleep wasn’t going to happen, so I got up and sat at the Inspector’s desk. It was still very dark outside, but the power had come on and so had the lights. I sent a text to Sallie to let her know I was awake. She said that she’d spoken to a few people who’d advised her that this was a ‘nothing’ offence and I’d be released following court today. Well, that seemed to be good news and I certainly needed some right now. What a damned mess I’d gotten myself into. I should have been sleeping on the rock-hard mattress in the hotel instead of sitting here awake at 3.00 in the morning.
    At 5.00 am the door was unlocked and we wandered outside into the fresh, cool morning air. The Sub-Inspector had set up a table in front of the police station to take advantage of the cool air and he now began the paperwork. He had a statement from Ujwal, the immigration guys and his own statement. The morning chai arrived in the traditional small glasses, pre-milked and sugared. It was very hot and sweet and I was grateful for it. My cell phone was almost out of battery, so I asked if the Sub-Inspector had a charger. He did, but there was no power. He then asked me to sign a statement that was written in Hindi.
    ‘No, I’m sorry, but I don’t read Hindi, so I have no idea what I’m signing,’ I told him regretfully. He seemed annoyed and considered this for a while. Then he said, ‘Perhaps you can write that you were asked to sign this, but you did not know what it meant or said.’
    I gave that some