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“Let’s see if Major Sholto will let you drive me to the market,” Second Lieutenant John Hamish Watson, MBBS, said, as he and *Private Ryan approached their commanding officer’s office door, their shoes clicking on the floor.
“If he won’t, I’m sure there’ll be another soldier available to take you there,” the private said.
“Or I can drive myself,” John said, with a smile. “I do have a driver’s licence, you know.” With a nod and an answering smile, Ryan knocked on the door.
“Enter,” said the major’s voice from inside.
Swinging the door open, Private Ryan stepped inside, followed by Dr. Watson. Major James Sholto was seated at his desk, doing some paperwork. The Sunday-morning sunlight flooded the office behind his desk. “Major Sholto,” Ryan said, “Second Lieutenant Watson wants to go to the market. I request permission to drive him there.”
With a nod, Sholto leaned back in his chair and looked from Ryan to Watson. “Does Major Clancy know of your plans, Second Lieutenant Watson?” Major Robert Clancy was the consultant trauma surgeon whom John was training under. A few months before, the young army doctor had received his first commission following his graduation from Sandhurst, and then he had been deployed to Camp Bastion in Helmand Province, Afghanistan, to start his training to become a combat surgeon.
Clearing his throat, John nodded as he clasped his hands behind his back. “He approved them, sir.”
Major Sholto nodded back. “In that case, permission is granted, Ryan.”
Ryan nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
He and John left the major’s office and stepped out of the building; the hot sun beat down on their heads as soon as they walked toward the garage. As soon as they entered the garage, they got into one of the jeeps and fastened their seat belts, and the private inserted his car key into the ignition. Within a few minutes, they left Camp Bastion and were on their way to the village not far from Bastion, where the Sunday market was being held. Several minutes after leaving the base, they arrived inside the village and drove toward the market.
“Well, we’re here, private.” John smiled as Private Ryan pulled the jeep to a stop just inside the Afghan village market. Since it was Sunday morning, the market was busy and crowded.
John glanced at his watch, which he wore on his left wrist. He had long since discovered that even though he was left-handed, fastening a watch on his right wrist didn’t work out too well, since it was too big a hassle to try to set the time on it with his left hand while it was on his right wrist. Reaching up to scratch his neck, he added, “We have a couple of hours to look around before the market closes at noon. Then we’d better return to Bastion.” He wiped the sweat off his face as he spoke.
“Yes, sir.” Scratching the side of his waist, Ryan smiled. “Shall we meet by the jeep at noon, then?”
John nodded. “Unless we decide to leave earlier than that.” Parting company, he and Ryan strode away from the jeep.
Before he started to look at all the merchandise being offered for sale, Dr. Watson stopped to make sure that his watch was correct. To his relief, it was. I’ve had it for seven years now, so I don’t know how much longer it’ll last, he thought. He had bought it at an Oxfam shop in London early in the autumn term during his first year in medical school at Kings College London. It had been one of the cheapest watch brands being sold there; therefore, John had wasted no time buying it. To his relief, even though it had come cheap, it had worked ever since, although he wasn’t satisfied that it would continue to for much longer.
When it wears out, let’s hope that the PX on base has some for sale! he thought. Question is, if my watch wears out while I’m deployed here, does the PX at Bastion even have any decent watches that I can afford? I’ll find out. He patted his khaki trousers’ right pocket to make sure that his flip phone was inside. Good. It’s in my pocket.
With a smile, the trainee combat surgeon strode towards the nearest vendor. He had visited that market several times since his arrival at Camp Bastion, and he had always enjoyed looking at the merchandise that was sold there.
Suddenly, without warning, as Second Lieutenant Watson managed to manoeuvre his way to the front of the crowd milling in front of the vendor that he was approaching, another soldier shoved past him, pushing him sideways against the wooden table on which the vendor’s merchandise lay. Pain exploded in his right arm and hand, and he heard a faint tinkle coming from his right wrist. The other soldier didn’t even stop to apologise, but rushed onward.
Consternation surging in his heart, John clutched his hand against his abdomen for a long moment, wincing in pain; in a few minutes, the intense pain subsided. He pushed up his khaki sleeve to make sure his arm was all right. To his relief, there were no cuts or scrapes, only the beginning of a few bruises on his arm and hand. Then he raised his right hand to look at his watch. The clear plastic cover had broken. He held it up to his right ear to find out if it was still ticking. The watch had stopped working altogether.
Looking up, the young army doctor saw that the soldier who had shoved him against the table in his rush to get through the market had disappeared out of the crowd. Anger welled up in his heart. He didn’t even apologise! he thought. Gritting his teeth, John pushed his way back through the crowd and away from the table, his jaws clenched, and his fists balled into fists. A few minutes after marching back and forth in an effort to cool off, he came to a halt back in front of the vendor where he had been shoved against the table and took a deep breath before taking another look at his broken watch.
Looks like I’m gonna have to get a new watch a lot sooner than I’d planned! he thought, pressing his lips into a tight line as he gazed down at his watch. Not likely this market has any for sale, so I’ll have to visit the PX when Ryan and I return to Bastion. Does the PX even have any that I can afford?
“Hello, sir?” A little boy’s voice caught Dr. Watson’s attention. He turned his head towards his right to see a young, dark-haired Afghani boy holding a wooden box to the right of him; apparently, he had come up towards John as he was looking down at his watch. To his amazement, the box contained a sizable number of watches. “A watch for you, sir?” the child asked politely in broken English.
A watch! he thought, as he turned to face the child. Just what I need, and just what I didn’t think I’d be able to get here! Turning his attention to the little boy, he asked, “Could I have a look at them?” The little boy nodded, smiling.
Wiping the sweat off his face and bending over, John gazed intently at the watches inside the box. Some were cheap brands, he noticed, and the rest were cheap knock-offs of expensive brands. My last watch was just a cheap brand, which I bought at Oxfam—wonder what it’d be like to own a knock-off, this time? he silently pondered. Especially since I can’t afford any of the expensive brands themselves.
Reaching inside the box, the army doctor started picking up the knock-offs and examining them, one by one. After he had finished going over each watch that he had picked up, he placed it back inside the watch and picked up the next one.
At last, his hand landed on the smooth plastic cover of a watch that, unlike the others, had a square bezel. Like his old watch, it operated on a battery, and it had a black leather strap. Picking it up, the trainee trauma surgeon looked it over thoroughly. Fortunately, that watch was working, so he’d be able to set the time on it if he decided to buy it.
A Tag Heuer knock-off! Second Lieutenant Watson thought, as he cleared his throat. One thing’s for sure, I could never afford a real Tag Heuer—they’re much too expensive. But a knock-off’s a different story.
Turning to the boy, John asked, “How much are the watches?”
“Five hundred dollars,” the boy said.
“Five hundred Afghani dollars,” John repeated, and the boy nodded. Across the market, John saw out of the corner of his eye an old man standing behind a table in a vendor’s stand who was watching them.
That man must have seen what that other soldier did to me, he thought, and is offering me a free watch as a good-will gesture. That’s very kind of him, but I know he needs the money, so I’ll pay him for the watch.
With a smile, John handed the watch back to the boy, reached into his right jeans pocket to pull out his wallet, and removed a six hundred Afghani dollar. Handing it to the boy, who stuffed it into a bag he kept draped around his upper body while smiling his thanks for the generosity, John took the watch from him. The boy immediately ran back towards the elderly man while John held his new watch up in front of his face, setting it to the local time. Then he fastened it to his left wrist.
The boy thinks I’m being generous, but in truth, in British money, it would only cost a little over six pounds. Fortunately, while I do have to be frugal with my money, I’m not that short on it, John thought with a smile, as he returned to the jeep. Thank goodness that little boy came up to me when he did! I really needed a new watch after what that soldier did, and now I have one! Hopefully, this knock-off watch’ll last a lot longer than the cheap brands normally do.
“I don’t know about you, sir, but I’m ready to return to base,” Private Ryan said, approaching Dr. Watson. He held up a scarf he had bought at one of the stands, and John held up his new watch.
“I am, too,” John said. After he and Ryan had got into the jeep, Ryan turned on the ignition and drove the two of them out of the market to return to Camp Bastion. Dr. Watson smiled down at his new watch. It’s such a relief to have a new watch so soon after my old one got broken!