Wee Jimmy was always off territory.
He was the smallest and slightest of a bunch of roughty toughty guys, but each and every one of us knew he was the real dog’s bollocks. Once you’d ever seen him in action, you knew. Balls out fucker who didn’t have a reverse gear. That amount of courage needs a bit of looking after and when it came to him we always tended towards that thing. It’s the love that dare not speak its name. Man love, which has nothing to do with where you stick your dick.
A man’s man sort of guy. I’d seen him run through fields of fire to retrieve our friend who was down. I’d seen him then heft that half-dead man twice his weight over his shoulder while he struggled back through those very same fields of fire while every man Jack of us laid down the suppressive fire from Hell. The little fucker got him home alive too. Nobody, absolutely nobody on God’s good green Earth should be able to get through that situation.
Wee Jimmy did.