It's just a normal day. I'm off to a job interview and nervous. I chew gum and fiddle with my Zippo. An old lady in front of me asks me where the train is going, she's a little confused and I'm happy to chat with her, it takes my mind off the nerves I have.
The train stops outside Clapham and I close my eyes for a moment. The gum has lost its taste and I'm worried about the lies I've put on my CV. The huge chunks of time I've been unemployed are now filled with bogus jobs and I'm not sure of the dates.
A shell explodes and then gun fire erupts. I stagger out of the back of the Panzer, terrified and confused. Above me a helicopter hovers. Tracer rounds belch out of it and I'm going to die.
It's Russian Hind-D, I remember Rambo at the movies, this is the helicopter that kills everything and I want to live. I grab a machine gun and hump it onto the door. I struggle to cock it and my breathing is erratic and strained.
My friend screams at me and pulls me to the floor. My helmet rolls away and I have sand in my mouth. 'It's one of ours mate' His words are blunt.
I look up at the Puma. Its loady is firing on the unseen enemy far away and I nearly shot it down. I climb back inside the safety of steel and go to grab my rifle. Adrenalin surges and insanity screams.
The old lady is frightened. 'Are you OK love?' she asks, and I nod. The carriage is now silent. No more more whispered conversations or jostling of papers. Now everyone stares at the soldier who screamed.
I get off at the next stop and find a bar. I don't get the job, I swallow whisky instead of answering questions. The flashback is gone and I send my Doctor a text. We arrange to meet and I drink some more as a Puma kills from the sky.