SHAUN STEIGER BELIEVED in trust. Every evening he would light a fire and his campers would sit around it, toasting marshmallows. Then he and the other veterans would talk about their experiences in Afghanistan, encouraging the boys to open up about their own fears and traumas.

I stayed on the periphery of the campfire gatherings because I didn’t trust teenagers. Not in the dark. Not when it came to kitchens or fire-pits. I would wander past now and then to top up the wood or the marshmallows, counting heads and keeping an eye on the fuel load.

I would also listen to the veterans’ stories. I’d heard Warren talk about driving over an improvised explosive device near Tarin Kowt. I’d heard Joe’s story of coming under attack on patrol in the Mirabad Valley. Most of the boys were spellbound by this stuff; I knew how they felt, though I tried not to get carried away. I admired Shaun and Rhys and Warren and Joe, but they weren’t infallible. Sometimes I saw more than they did. Shaun was good at spotting contraband. I was better at reading body language.

That first night, when I studied the group around the fire-pit, I saw that Aaron was teetering on the edge of another explosion, that sleazy, smirking Jake had formed an alliance with Marcus, that poor Ali was scared of Dreadlock Dean and that no one wanted anything to do with creepy little Nathan, who had an empty space on either side of him—probably because he was playing with a dead moth and giggling to himself. I saw that Flynn Parata, the drama queen, was deeply impressed by Joe’s war stories and that Zac Henderson, wearing a brand-new Patagonia jacket to match his expensive haircut, was trying hard not to be.

‘How come you didn’t just lose it?’ Matt Spiteri piped up. Matt was easy to identify because he wore a hearing aid. He was also the only kid who’d volunteered for camp. ‘He wants to join the army when he’s older,’ Shaun had explained, insisting that Matt, like Ali, would gain enormous self-confidence from basic military training—self-confidence that would help him deal with bullies at school.

‘I would’ve lost it,’ Matt continued, squinting across the fire. He was the sort of kid who’d always be a target, eager, loud and opinionated. He had drifts of fuzzy hair and a mouth packed with oversized teeth.

Joe smiled at him. ‘I couldn’t afford to lose it, mate. None of us could. We had to stay calm.’