Chapter Thirty-two

THERE WAS A SMALL Cl.u.s.tER OF PEOPLE OUTSIDE LEANNE'S HOUSE. Across the door was a banner saying WELCOME HOME HERO! Several children carried signs: OUR HERO STEVE. The twins wore outsize badges saying: YES HE'S OUR DAD! The welfare officer and a group of uniformed men from the rear party stood talking in quiet voices separately from the women and children.Leanne clicked shut her mobile. 'He's coming!'Her voice had gone squeaky again. Adi Kasanita was standing closest to her.'He's coming, he's coming!' she boomed, so that everyone could hear. People stopped talking and straightened, the signs were held aloft and, as a small army car drove slowly up the road, there was cheering.Leanne's heart beat so loudly that she could hardly hear the cheers. A twin was wrapped around each leg, waiting, and all she could think for one stupid moment as Steve's face became visible through the windscreen was: what happens if one of the kids tries to grab his leg? And finds it's not there? Because she had tried to explain but they were just too young to understand. They were too young to understand what was happening right now. They were too young to understand that the man who had just arrived was their dad.When he got out of the car Steve's face was white but he was smiling. The driver ran around and tried to help him. The small crowd stayed back and Leanne went to help too.Steve's smile slipped.'I can f.u.c.king do it myself,' he growled.She felt something inside her curl up as though it had been singed by a hot fire. She fixed her smile and kissed him on the cheek. 'Sweetheart, welcome back.'She would have liked him to take her in his arms and kiss her pa.s.sionately the way he did after a long time away. Right here in front of everyone. But he was reaching for his crutch.He moved unsteadily down the path to renewed cheering, Leanne behind him, the driver hovering close by. Everyone smiled and spoke to him as he pa.s.sed. He grinned back without focusing on anyone. Rosie McKinley started singing 'For He's a Jolly Good Fellow!' Everyone joined in.'He wouldn't use the wheelchair,' the driver was explaining. 'Wouldn't even let me put it in the car.'Jenny was holding the boys' hands now, as well as Vicky's. They made no attempt to run to their father but looked up at him with big eyes. Leanne grabbed them.'Don't you dare cry,' she muttered to Jenny, who was biting her lip. She began to drag the twins reluctantly along behind. A glance around at Agnieszka and Adi and Rosie and Sharon and all the other women whose husbands were in Afghanistan told Leanne that every one of them was close to tears. They all wanted their men home too. But not like this.Steve entered the house under the banner and made his way to the living room where Leanne had laid out some food. There were balloons in all the corners, huge bunches of them, and red, white and blue paper bunting around the wall which a group of mothers had made at playgroup.Leanne could see that Steve was relieved to sit down in a chair. His face was twisted with pain. She hadn't been sure the big welcome was a good idea but her friends had wanted to do it. Now that she saw his strained smile she knew it had been a mistake.The boys were sneaking closer to their father. One of them grabbed his good leg. Then . . . oh no! He had swiped at his father's other trouser leg, found it empty, and was now examining it with disbelief. Steve laughed, a deep belly laugh, a Steve laugh, and the tension in the room suddenly dissolved.'You won't find a lot in there, mate!'Everyone laughed at this and the boys ran around giggling wildly, picking up their father's empty trouser leg, hooting and putting it down again.The adults cl.u.s.tered around Steve with questions. The room became noisy. Leanne buzzed about with sandwiches and crisps and drinks. She watched Steve out of the corner of her eye. He had always liked being the centre of attention. You could often hear his voice above everyone else's at a party. She listened now. He was talking to Jenny Henley.'Dave had a stoppage and he went down to sort it out and I got on top and that's when it happened . . .'Leanne saw Jenny's face turn white.'Yeah,' Steve continued loudly, 'a few seconds' difference would have meant it was him and not me. Dave must be one of the few blokes in the British Army to be saved by equipment malfunction . . .'Jenny said something and Steve shrugged.'He certainly owes me a b.l.o.o.d.y drink . . .'Leanne knew that Steve had replaced Dave on top of the vehicle just fifteen seconds before the bomb blast. Because of those fifteen seconds, Jenny had been comforting her for weeks instead of the other way round. She had struggled with this knowledge quietly in the night and sometimes, for a few minutes, she'd even hated Jenny. But not enough to tell her. And now Steve had not hesitated to blurt it out.His voice was booming across the room again.'When I get to Headley Court on Monday morning they'll start fitting me up for a leg socket. As soon as that's right I can try out some new legs. Then I just have to pa.s.s a fitness test and I can get straight back out there!'And in answer to another question: 'Yes, there's a chance I can make it back out to the FOB before this tour ends . . .'Leanne didn't take time to think. She found herself striding across the room.'You're kidding!' she said, smiling broadly as though he had just cracked a very funny joke.'No, darling, I've already told you.''I thought you must be kidding!''Leanne. I've trained to fight. I've lived to fight. There's nothing else I can do.''The army's full of interesting jobs, you don't have to serve in the frontline . . .' She heard herself. She sounded aggressive. This wasn't the time and it wasn't the place but she couldn't stop.'What do you want me to do? Go and work for the quartermaster handing equipment out to other blokes?'The party noise was dampening a little now. People were stopping their conversations to listen.'Well, that's better than going back out to get the other leg blown off so we have to go through it all again!' she replied loudly. There were two Leannes in the room, the Leanne who was so tense and angry she couldn't stop herself shouting. And a small, calm, quiet Leanne who knew the welcome party was on the brink of disaster and could do nothing to save the situation.'You can do anything, Steve!' said a warm voice behind her. 'If you say you can get back out to that frontline, then I believe you will!'Steve looked past his hurt wife to the smiling face of Adi Kasanita.'Thanks, Ads. I'm glad someone believes in me.''Honey, everyone believes in you,' she said sweetly. 'Leanne too. She's so sure you'll do it that she's scared to death, poor girl!'Adi put an arm around Leanne and some people laughed and joined in and one of the officers said there was a para who had gone straight back out to Afghanistan with a new leg. After a while the voices and the children and the balloons made it seem like a normal party again.Leanne didn't want it to end. Whenever anyone said they had to go she persuaded them to stay a little longer. The officers were the first to drift off, then all the other men in uniform said they had to get back to their offices, and finally the mothers said: 'You two need some quiet time alone together.'Leanne wanted to shout: 'No, we don't!'But Jenny and Adi took the boys and suddenly the house was still, more still than it had been for months. Even at night when Leanne lay sleepless in her bed, it wasn't this still.Steve sat with his head back in the chair and his eyes closed. Leanne busied herself with the clearing up. Finally he spoke.'That was a load of s.h.i.t.'She froze, a stack of dirty cups in her hand.'You could say thank you.''What have I got to thank you for? Signs saying I'm a hero? Well, I didn't even get to the f.u.c.king base. I was only in Afghanistan five minutes. I'm no f.u.c.king hero. My mates are out there fighting, they're the heroes.''So that's why you want to go back,' she said bitterly.'Yeah. I want to go back. Get over it. I want to go back.'His crutch was leaning against the chair and he reached for it. He was going to stand up. She moved forward to help and was still moving when she realized that he had picked up the crutch to throw it at her. It hurtled with force across the room. She dodged. It hit the side of her body and bounced off onto the buffet table. With a crash it landed on a pile of plates.She stared at the mess of food, broken crockery and crutch and then turned to Steve, her hip throbbing with pain.'Why did you do that, Steve?'But he had closed his eyes and did not reply.

Chapter Thirty-three

'YES,' SAID EMILY, GUARDING THE ENTRANCE OF HER ISOBOX SO THAT Asma and Jean could not see past her to its interior. 'I am indeed coming to the shura. shura. I shall be very interested to learn from the local people how it is to live under British military occupation.' I shall be very interested to learn from the local people how it is to live under British military occupation.''Good!' said Jean cheerfully. 'We're here to help you prepare.'Emily raised her eyebrows. Asma thought she looked like a bird that wanted to peck you. Her nose was beaky and her alert eyes were very round.'And what preparation is necessary?'Asma explained that they would all be sitting on a carpet.Emily shrugged.'I daresay I shall be a little uncomfortable but I will manage.''So, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly will you be wearing?' asked Jean.Emily looked affronted.'I have no plans to change.'They glanced politely at her sleeveless blouse and sensible skirt. Her clothes struggled to contain her ample frame.'I'm sorry, but you really need a loose, long-sleeved top to cover your arms. And you must cover your legs.'Asma added: 'We wear combat trousers and that's all wrong but at least they're baggy and they hide us. You can't go in showing your legs, Professor.'Emily's strong, clever face frightened her. The confidence her intelligence gave the professor was like body armour. It meant Emily had views she was so sure about she wasn't scared to express them. It meant Emily did not care about her appearance and had no interest in what others thought of her.'You certainly couldn't show your young legs but I doubt they will take much notice of an old woman like me,' Emily said airily.Both Jean and Asma rushed to correct her and Emily weakened.'Well, we'd better have a look at my clothes then. Don't stand there letting the heat in.'She stepped aside. After the fierce light outside the isobox seemed gloomy. They could see piles of papers and two computer screens which apparently Emily had been using simultaneously. A bed was pressed against one wall and it was also covered in papers. But the most amazing thing about the office was its temperature. Asma and Jean closed their eyes and felt the delicious and unaccustomed pleasure of air-conditioning.Emily was flicking through clothes on a small hanging rail jammed in beside a computer.'I have a long-sleeved blouse. But I don't have a long skirt. And I'm certainly not wearing that ridiculous camouflage stuff. I have no wish to make myself look like a bush.'Asma did not want to open her eyes and reply. She just wanted to feel the cool air soothing her.Jean said: 'Surely you have something that will cover your legs.'Emily blinked. 'Why should I? I am not a Moslem.''Trousers?''Certainly not.''Nightie?''No.'Asma opened her eyes with an effort.'Do you wear pyjamas?''Well, I do have pyjamas but if you think I'm-''You could wear them under a skirt. That'd be better than nothing.'Jean agreed. 'It won't look so different from the clothes Afghan women wear.'Emily put her hands on her broad hips.'I am not going out in my pyjamas.''You don't understand,' said Jean. 'To the Afghans this is about your body and not your clothes. They don't care what you wear as long as you cover up. We can only visit them if we show proper respect. Asma and I always cover our bodies and we drape a scarf over our heads when we go to shuras. shuras.'Asma added: 'We're out there and we're women, that's bad enough for the locals. Uncovered women are just like: no no!''That view is of course unacceptable to me.''Professor, we're in Afghanistan, we've got to respect Afghan traditions.'Emily raised her eyebrows and looked birdlike again. She leaned forward to peck.'I can't see how arriving with troops and bombs to kill Afghans is respecting their traditions. However, this obviously matters to you both very much and you know the country and its people. So if you insist, I'll wear my pyjamas under my skirt. Although I shall feel rather silly.'Jean and Asma were ready and waiting with the military escort before the civilians emerged.'I'm telling you now so you don't laugh. Emily will be wearing pyjamas,' said Jean. 'She's got nothing else to cover her legs.'Sergeant Somers of 2 Platoon and his commander instantly guffawed.'That's what you mustn't do!' Asma told them.The OC looked around the group fiercely.'The girls are right. It is very important that no one laughs. no one laughs.'Emily arrived wearing pink pyjamas, a grey skirt, a pink blouse and pink headscarf knotted under her chin as well as full body armour and the OC was the first to burst out laughing. Despite glares from Asma and Jean, he was closely followed by the engineer and the 2 i/c. Martyn grinned from ear to ear and 2 Platoon muttered jokes to one another and staggered about stifling laughter. A few took pictures.'Get on the wagons!' their sergeant growled at them. And then immediately clamped his hand over his mouth.'At least all the colours match,' Asma told Emily kindly.'And we take our body armour off before we go in,' Jean said. 'You'll feel more comfortable without it.''I'm delighted to have brightened up everyone's day,' said Emily grumpily.'It's all in the interests of building strong local relationships.' The OC handed her up into the Vector.'Local relations would be much improved if you didn't spend so much time peppering them with bullets,' retorted Emily. Martyn rolled his eyes at the OC and then climbed up behind her.When they reached the tribesmen's house they were once again welcomed warmly by Asad, his father and brother. In the background hovered a large group of men and boys. n.o.body here seemed to find Emily's pyjamas funny.As they sat down, Asad caught Asma's eye and smiled. He was every bit as attractive as she remembered him. He was tall, much taller than most Afghans. His features were strong. And his blue eyes in that brown face were startling.'It is a great pleasure to welcome you to our home again,' he said warmly.She smiled back, dropped her eyes and told him how honoured the party was to attend the house and meet his family once more. Of course, the officers were supposed to present the greetings and she was supposed to translate them. But you could wait for ever for soldiers to do charm.Emily lowered herself onto the carpet with difficulty and clearly did not enjoy crossing her legs. She was introduced and her role explained and the tribesmen listened politely then turned to Martyn with their questions.'Is your search for Helmand's natural resources proving successful?' Asad asked him.Martyn said: 'Yes, we've had some very interesting results.''Is oil everywhere in this region? Or just in one place?'Emily did not intend to be ignored. Before Martyn could answer she said: 'We are concentrating our activities in the area we believe to be most productive.'Asad's father nodded and turned back to Martyn: 'And how can you know from looking at the earth that there is oil and gas beneath it?'Martyn smiled. 'I've been an oilman all my life. I just know, I can feel it, I can almost smell it.' He glanced at Emily. 'Although some people need persuading about my hunches.'Emily looked at Martyn coldly and then said to the tribesmen, 'Naturally our exploration is scientific and our suppositions should be data-based. We carry out an initial rough a.n.a.lysis of the terrain by looking at its predominant geological eras. After preliminary exercises which help us pinpoint where the most likely compression has occurred we do a detailed a.n.a.lysis by, among other less accurate methods, taking seismic readings from the rock.'Asma and Jean looked at each other in despair.'I can't translate that,' said Jean.Asma attempted it and the tribesmen nodded as though they'd understood. Asad asked Asma: 'Who did you say this woman is?'Asma explained again that Emily was an eminent professor who knew more about geophysics than anyone else in the UK.'So we can be sure, then, that the site is a true one?' asked Asad.Asma translated this and Emily nodded vigorously. 'Certainly!' She glanced at Martyn. 'I do not make mistakes.'Martyn grimaced.Major Willingham was impatient. He said: 'Last time we were here you mentioned that you believed there was a Taliban training centre nearby.'Asad's father nodded.'We do believe that. We believe people are coming from all over the world to train at that centre. Some of them even come from England!'The OC ignored this. He asked: 'What effect are the Taliban having on this area?''We live in fear. They arrive at our homes and demand hospitality, they eat our food, take our animals and steal from our shops. They even bring drugs into our households,' said Asad's father pa.s.sionately.'So you would like the area cleared of them?''Yes. We would like them to go back to their own countries and leave us to our Afghan traditions.''Then why don't you fight them yourselves?' demanded Emily.'We are powerless in the face of their international strength.''You said you would tell us exactly where the Taliban training ground is. If you do so, we can help you clear this area of their influence,' said the major. He was trying to appear relaxed, thought Asma, but a slight breathlessness in his voice gave away the importance of the question.'We have discussed this among ourselves and we can tell you exactly,' said the father.Asad said something to one of the boys hanging around at the side of the room. The boy ran off and, while they waited for his return, hot, sweet tea was served by old men.Emily tried to take advantage of the break to stretch out her legs but Jean stopped her at once.'Don't put your legs forward!''Why ever not?''It just isn't OK.'Asma's face was reddening for Emily. 'You can stand up, but you can't stretch out.'The boy returned with a map and everybody pored over it. Martyn was quick to find the Early Rocks.'Can you tell me anything about that place?''It is a very holy shrine,' said Asad's father. 'A great Sufi poet lived at the rocks and when he needed water he drew water from the ground and there has been water ever since.''And,' added Asad, 'women believe that drinking this water will give them a boy child. In the past it was a very popular location on holy days. But people today realize that these old shrines are more like superst.i.tions than anything the Prophet would have approved. So no one goes there much now.''Of course you know it,' said Asad's father, 'because it is near your oil site.'Martyn and Emily looked surprised.'But how do you know where the oil site is?' demanded Emily. 'Has Martyn told you?'The men smiled and the younger brother, who had remained silent until now, laughed out loud.'This is our world,' said Asad. 'We know everything.''What is it called?' she asked.'The place you visit so often with your box?'Asad's finger rapidly moved across the flat desert to settle at the edge of a ma.s.s of contour lines. He had pinpointed the site exactly. The OC and the 2 i/c exchanged glances.'It has no name,' said Asad's father.'We should give it one, since it is a place of some significance. What will you call it, Father?'The older man thought for a moment, stroking his beard. Then he said: 'Allah is bountiful.'There was a murmur of a.s.sent from all around the room before Asma could translate.'Allah is bountiful? That's the name they've given it?' asked Martyn. 'Maybe it works in Pashtu but it doesn't do a lot for me in English.''I think what they're saying,' said the 2 i/c, 'is that they regard the oil and gas site as Helmand's winning lottery ticket.''They would be quite right,' added Emily.'They probably feel that Allah doesn't leave a lot to chance,' said Asma quietly. 'And I'm sure they disapprove of lotteries.''I get where they're coming from,' said Martyn. 'What they're trying to call the place is Jackpot.''Jackpot,' echoed the OC with approval.'Jackpot!' said the 2 i/c.'OK,' said Martyn, 'I'm sold on that. Jackpot it is.'During this conversation Asad had been talking intently with his father. Although it was clear, from the way Emily and Martyn kept rearranging themselves uncomfortably on the carpet, that the visitors were ready to go, the father now spoke to them all. Jean translated.'We would like to extend an invitation to everyone here today. My daughter is to be married next month. We would be very honoured if you would consider joining our family and friends for the wedding celebrations.'The invitation was received in shocked silence. Even Emily and Martyn looked to the OC for a reply.'Um, well, actually, we'd love to, really, but we honestly couldn't . . . I mean, we wouldn't be able to . . .'He looked helplessly at Jean who looked at Asma.'You should be flattered,' she said. She was blushing. 'I doubt anyone else in the British Army has been honoured this way.''I'd certainly love to go,' stated Emily.Asma said: 'Sir, it would be an amazing chance to win hearts and minds locally.'But the OC shook his head.'You know as well as I do that it could be a trap.'Asma stared back at him, her dark eyes wide, feeling offence on the tribesmen's behalf.The major said: 'I'm sorry, but it just wouldn't be safe. And, realistically, how could we come without huge protection? Which would be quite inappropriate at a wedding.'Emily opened her mouth to argue but Jean was already replying.'Jean's saying that you really want to accept. But you'd be in trouble for contravening current security procedures,' Asma explained quietly to the OC. 'She's saying you're honoured . . . you're sad that our rules prevent it . . . you appreciate this warm gesture of friendship.'The major nodded. 'Very good,' he said. 'Very creative. I can leave it to you girls to say the right thing.'The news was received with apparent disappointment by Asad's family. Asma was glad that Jean was the interpreter inflicting this disappointment.Driving home, the OC said: 'I must admit, their invitation seemed genuine enough and I felt bad turning it down.''An Afghan wedding would have been a most interesting experience,' agreed Emily.'And,' said the 2 i/c regretfully, 'Afghan feasts are apparently delicious.'Asma sat quietly thinking how much she would have enjoyed the wedding. When she was a teenager her family had been invited to the occasional Afghan celebration in London but she had known that these affairs were no more than pale imitations and adaptations of weddings in Afghanistan.Suddenly Martyn spoke: 'I don't trust those guys.'Everyone turned to him.'You think the invitation was a trap?' asked the OC.'Well listen, I just hated the way he could put his finger right on the map at Jackpot. And he even described the gravimeter. Which means they've been watching us and we didn't know it.'The OC did not miss his chance.'Perhaps now you understand that the level of protection we offer you is necessary.'He glanced at Emily. She sighed.'Merely watching us indicates only that they are curious.'Martyn folded his arms defiantly.'Yeah, well don't forget the guy's Saudi connections. I don't trust any of them, least of all that son.'Asma and Jean exchanged glances but remained silent.The OC said: 'Well, the main thing is they gave us the information we went for. Now we've got the detail on the Taliban's activities in the area, we can take the appropriate action.'

Chapter Thirty-four

A STRIKE OP ON THE TALIBAN COMPOUND WAS SOON ANNOUNCED. It was too big for R Company to handle alone so another company was flying in from Bastion to help.'Who are they?' asked Dave.CSM Kila said: 'Paras. And most of them have been out here before. So they know what they're doing.''So it'll be their op,' said Dave. 'And we'll be supporting them.'Kila shrugged. 'Don't worry, there'll be enough action to go round.'The oil exploration programme went on hold while R Company went operational. For once, Emily and Martyn were united. They wanted to get on with their job and there was a public argument in the cookhouse.'You're here for us!' Martyn didn't shout but his voice was raised. 'You're supposed to put our work first. And now you're telling us we're on hold while you go fighting.'The OC was tight-lipped. 'Let me explain again. again. With such a major Taliban installation so close to this FOB, you soon won't be able to continue with your work unless we take action.' With such a major Taliban installation so close to this FOB, you soon won't be able to continue with your work unless we take action.''They've given us no trouble so far!' retorted Emily. 'Although they have no doubt felt the need to defend themselves from your attacks.'The OC gritted his teeth.'Our intelligence is that there are now many insurgents in this area. They seem to have a direct route from here to various centres of the narcotics trade where they are in frequent contact with troops from our other bases. So this action is necessary for everyone's safety, not just yours.'1 Platoon gathered in the Cowshed for prayers. Boss Weeks said they would drive to the Green Zone and form part of an outer cordon with the rest of R Company. The Paras and their support would arrive in three Chinooks which would drop them inside the cordon, close to the compound. There would be two Apaches and two A10s on hand at all times. The outer cordon would aim to close in and join the fighting.'Tomorrow's operation could turn into a very major and decisive battle. It will demand focus, professionalism and bravery. I want you to know that I am completely confident of the ability of every man in this platoon to perform under extreme pressure.'Dave, standing at the front next to the boss, arms folded, noted that the boss had just spoken without an um or an er. He was saying what the men needed to hear. And incredibly, for the first time, they were all listening to him.He stole a glance at Weeks's now grizzled face. His fair hair hung around his ears and that boyish, round-cheeked look had been replaced with sharper, more robust lines.'This operation is a major offensive. It's the first time we have been in theatre with another company. And not just any company, but Paras.''That's why they get to take the compound while we hang around on the outside, then,' said Ryan Connor from 2 Section. 'Because they're Paras.''The Paras get all the f.u.c.king fun,' said a couple of lads from 3 Section, and all their mates agreed with them loudly.Dave said, 'You lot don't own this bit of Helmand.''I think you should be very pleased that we've got such experienced soldiers alongside us,' the boss said.'We're not going to see much of the action, though, are we, if we're stuck in the outer cordon?' called Mal.Dave put his hands on his hips. 'Got a short-term memory problem, s.h.i.theads? We're catching fleeing insurgents and closing in on the compound to support the Paras. That's action.'The boss added quietly: 'The last ambush 1 Section was involved in might be considered enough action for some people, Mal. We were extremely lucky to escape serious injury.' He glanced at Jamie.'And let's keep it that way,' said Dave. 'I don't want any sloppiness because you think the Paras are going to take the brunt of the contact for you. Just stay sharp.'R Company was due to leave the base at 0400. The base was already so busy at 0300 that there was an empty phone slot. It had been booked solidly since the operation was announced and Dave, as usual, had been too late for a place. He hadn't spoken to Jenny for a week. Or even two.He knew he should stop sorting ammo and grab the phone. His mind was on today's operation and he did not really want to realign his thoughts with the small domestic world of Wiltshire. The call would be affectionate, but it would have to be brief.When he held the battered handset at last, it felt rare and precious. Not because it could connect him to Wiltshire, but because it was something every man wanted.He dialled Jenny's number. He was determined that he wouldn't spend ten minutes apologizing for not phoning before. As the number rang he felt the usual fear that she wouldn't answer and the usual relief when she picked up.'Jen!'But the voice he heard was not Jenny's.'Dave, is that you?'It was his mother-in-law. Not a good sign.'Trish! Where's Jenny?''She's across the road at her friend's, whatsername.''Leanne?''Leanne. Is that the one who had something happen to her husband?''He got sent home.''Not in a coffin, I hope?'Typical Trish. Salt of the earth, always there to help in a crisis and guaranteed never to look on the bright side. Ever since they first knew Dave was coming to Afghanistan she had been darkly hinting at the inevitability of his demise, until Jenny had begged her to stop.'Not in a coffin, but not in one piece,' he conceded.'Well, there you are, then. And they've sent him somewhere else now.'This was Trish's I-told-you-so voice. It was entirely predictable and always entirely justified because nothing bad could happen which Trish hadn't already antic.i.p.ated. Some people had hobbies. Trish spent her leisure hours concocting disasters.'I think he's gone to Headley Court. Trish, is everything all right with Jenny?''No. She's not good, I'm afraid. She's been told she needs a lot of rest . . . oh, here she is now. Do you want to speak to her?'He gritted his teeth.'Well, yes please, Trish.''All right, I'll let you two talk. But, Dave, I must say something. Jenny's had too much to cope with alone here, and now it's beginning to show. Who knows what effect this is all having on the baby? We may not know for years but these things always come out in the end.'He rolled his eyes as the prophet of doom droned on.'You need to reconsider your position, Dave. You're out there fighting a war no one agrees with or understands while your family's here without you. Think about it, Dave. There. That's all I've got to say.''OK, Trish, I'll give that some thought.'Trish handed over the phone and he was alone with Jenny. There was a pause and then they both guffawed.'Christ, your mum doesn't change, does she?' said Dave.'I don't know what I'd do without her.''What's up, love? What's happened?''I've been feeling weird for a while . . .''You didn't tell me.'Ooops. Stupid. How could she tell him if he didn't phone? He braced himself for her to point this out but she evidently decided not to.'Well, I'm just about to have a baby, it's normal to feel weird. But for the last couple of weeks I've been getting a bit s.p.a.ced out and my ankles were so swollen I could hardly move. Then my hands started to swell too and I just felt dreadful. The midwife said my blood pressure was too high. I've got to have complete rest. If I don't get back to normal in a week, I have to go to hospital.''But what will they do there?''I don't know. Monitor me, I suppose.''Oh, Christ. Is the baby OK?''Yes. The worst case scenario is that they'll have to induce me a bit early.''Induce!''Dave, don't worry.''Early!''Not very. We'll manage, love. Your mum's coming to help next week so I know I'll have a laugh then.'Jenny and Dave's mother were good mates. Dave just wished he could feel the same way about her mother.'How's Vicky?''Fine! Everything's fine.'But he knew everything wasn't fine. And he knew he was powerless to do anything.'I miss you. I worry about you,' he said. He kept his voice even so he didn't betray his anguish.'Well, don't. I'm OK and it's my job to do the worrying around here.''If you were OK your mum wouldn't be there.''All I do is lie around getting bigger. And Mum gets smaller. She's lost three pounds.''How's Leanne? How's Steve?''Well, you can worry about them if you want something to worry about. He's been horrible to her. Really angry. Seems to want any excuse to shout at her. As though she planted the b.l.o.o.d.y IED.''I thought he was at Headley Court now.''They're giving him at least two legs, maybe more. One for every occasion. But he's still horrible to Leanne. He's on an anger management course or something now.'Dave was aware that around him the base was buzzing with activity. His own men were gathering by the wagons already and sharing cigarettes. The air was thick with antic.i.p.ation.'Jen, s.h.i.t, I'm really sorry, I've got to go . . .'He rushed the rest of the call and then put down the phone feeling dissatisfied. He hadn't been able to tell her that in less than an hour he would be leaving for a big operation. And she had apparently decided not to nag about him leaving the army, at least for now. So they had talked about Steve and Leanne. As usual, there had been more unsaid than said between them. It was better not to phone at all.He walked briskly back to the ammo.1 Platoon was outside and ready by the wagons at 0330. The world was still dark but light threatened. You could see the red line of dawn waiting to disperse far away in the east.The men had checked and re-checked their kit and now they sat quietly. There was little conversation. They were thinking about the day ahead and the possibilities it would offer, for both bravery and for death.Sol looked 1 Section up and down. As usual, he stopped by Jack Binns. He made it his business to keep an eye on this lad and just yesterday had discovered that his heels were cracked. He spoke sharply, breaking the group's silence.'Did you remember to put that cream on, Binman?''Yeah, but they don't hurt much.''That's because I gripped you in time.'Mal said: 'They'll hurt when you've been on your feet all day, Binman. I let my heels get cracked and every step was like treading on f.u.c.king knives.''Is that why you lost the shotgun?' asked Finn. 'Because your heels hurt?''f.u.c.k off,' said Mal, lighting a cigarette and handing Finn one.'All right, Mr Angry?' Finn asked Angus, who was sitting leaning on his Bergen with his eyes closed. 'Want one of Mal's ciggies?'Angus did not open his eyes. 'Nah.'Sol had been watching Angus too.'What's up with you?''Nothing.''Had anything to eat this morning?''Nah.''Not scared of a fight, are you?' asked Finn.'Course not. I just don't want to f.u.c.k up in front of the Paras.'Sol's face creased into a frown. 'Who cares about the Paras?''I do.''Thinking of doing P Company, Angry?' asked Mal. 'Is that what it is? Scared you'll let yourself down?'Angus opened his eyes. 'I'm not good enough to do P Company.''b.o.l.l.o.c.ks,' said Mal.'You're the right size. Toms are mostly gorilla-shaped people,' said Jamie.'Toms are mostly gorillas,' said Finn. 'Forget the people bit.''You've got to think you're G.o.d's gift to the British Army,' said Sol. 'Or you can't join the Paras.'Finn drew on his cigarette: 'I thought of doing P Company.''Why don't you, then?' Binman asked.'Because he'd miss us,' said Mal.'What's the point? Just so I can wear a red beret and jump out of aeroplanes? I thought: Finn, you already have enough women chasing you, so forget it.''You said your old man was in the Jedi, right?' said Bacon to Angus, who had closed his eyes again now. Angus did not reply. But Streaky continued.'Well, why join the Paras? Why don't you follow in your dad's footsteps and go straight for the Jedi?''Selection,' said Finn. 'Now that really is a killer. Have a go at joining the Jedi, Mr Angry.''I wouldn't be good enough.''Your dad could give you a few tips about Selection,' said Mal.'He never talks about it.'Jamie said: 'Are you sure he was in the Regiment?'Finn narrowed his eyes. 'In the Regiment? In it In it? Angry's dad f.u.c.king ran ran it. And I mean he almost couldn't find the time because he was so busy walking on water. He walked right across the f.u.c.king South Atlantic and single-handedly took back the Falkland Islands.' it. And I mean he almost couldn't find the time because he was so busy walking on water. He walked right across the f.u.c.king South Atlantic and single-handedly took back the Falkland Islands.'Angus jumped up, like a sleeping animal suddenly woken, and grabbed Finn.Sol roared: 'Get off him, McCall, NOW!''Don't you insult my dad, you f.u.c.king diddicoy, you f.u.c.king piece of thieving s.h.i.t from a caravan, you f.u.c.king . . .'Two people grabbed Finn's right arm just before the knuckles came into contact with Angus's face. Four people dragged Angus away.Dave appeared.'What the h.e.l.l is going on here?''This piece of s.h.i.t insulted my dad!' yelled Angus.'For Chrissake, McCall, anyone who doesn't get insulted by Billy Finn isn't worth knowing.'Finn's eyes were narrowed but between the lids they glittered dangerously. His face had thinned with fury.'Show a bit of respect,' said Sol, letting go of Finn's arm. 'And you, Angry. Save your fighting for the Taliban.'The pair melted back into the group, shoulders still squared.It was almost 0400. Sol took Finn and Angus aside as the others climbed into the Vectors.'A section with its own fight is no good at fighting the Taliban. Put it behind you. Both of you. Now. And I don't mean: snarl at each other across the wagon. I mean put it right behind you so you can fight alongside each other as mates.'They both nodded at Sol and then at each other. It wasn't much but it was enough. They jumped on board and sat at opposite ends of the wagon.Asma had climbed up beside the boss at the front and this had put Gordon Weeks in a very good mood despite the day that lay ahead. He had barely slept but now he felt wide awake and alert.'I hope you won't have to fire one at the Taliban this time,' he said. 'They won't be more lenient on you because you're a woman.'Asma sighed and yawned. 'You don't understand the Taliban.''Does anyone? Do you?''It's not like being in the army. It's not one b.l.o.o.d.y great organization. It's a bunch of smaller groups all arguing among themselves. A few are fundamentalists, most aren't. Some are part of a big machine, some aren't. Some people hedge their bets and join because they think the Taliban will be here for ever and the British will go. Or they join because they're made to. Or paid to. Or because they're angry at civilian deaths. Or because they think the British are bad for the opium crop . . .'Her voice disappeared inside another yawn and she closed her eyes. Weeks sneaked a long look at her. She was beautiful in the early morning, too, but it was a different beauty from the Asma who smoked under the stars every evening. In this light she looked more fragile. He started to imagine waking up next to her and then remembered abruptly that he was supposed to be discussing the Taliban.'Today the enemy isn't disaffected local farmers. We know that a lot of the men in the compound are committed international fighters who want to control Afghanistan.'She shrugged. 'We'll never eradicate the Taliban or drive them out.''Are you telling me we can't win today?''What's to win? All this fighting won't bring peace. But I'm sure we'll clear the compound and kill a lot of them.'Too soon they reached the edge of the Green Zone. The boss told his platoon to debus and then jumped out himself. Asma was to be driven forward behind the inner cordon fighting and he smiled at her before he slammed the door.'Be careful today,' he said softly.

Chapter Thirty-five

DAVE STOOD COUNTING THE MEN BY EACH VECTOR AS THEY JUMPED out into the dawn.'Two hands on your weapon, McKinley!'For Chrissake, Gayle, how many times do I have to tell you to unhook your sling clip?'Do your pouches up, Bacon! Get a grip.'Two hands on your weapon, Mara! Get a grip.'Sling clip, Broom. Get a grip.'I hope there's water in that f.u.c.king Camelbak, Binns.'Two hands on your weapon, you. And you! Get your finger out of your a.r.s.e.'Switch on, O'Sullivan, your pouches are a mess, sort yourself out.'Maybe he should count the number of times he told lads to get two hands on their weapon and, when he reached a million, leave the army the way Jenny wanted him to. Jenny. Jenny. He watched the section commanders lead their men off and then followed them into the orchard. He watched the section commanders lead their men off and then followed them into the orchard. Jenny. Jenny. He hadn't told her he loved her. He had just talked about Steve and Leanne, his mind on his ammo. And then he had put the phone down with a sense of loss. He hadn't told her he loved her. He had just talked about Steve and Leanne, his mind on his ammo. And then he had put the phone down with a sense of loss.They proceeded in silence, waiting for the enemy to know they were there, waiting for the first shots. Within five minutes, the shots came, peppering the silence. But they sounded far enough to the right to allow the men to continue without changing direction. No one fired. They continued to stumble into the half-dark along a field's edge, against the cover of a treeline, listening for the next shots.After a long pause there was more firing. It was still to their right and this time it was much closer. 2 Platoon reported that they would take cover and open fire.Dave and the boss had a brief conversation and decided to keep going. As the shots got louder, Dave wondered if they were moving towards the enemy or the enemy was closing in on them.'We'd better take cover,' he told the boss as they emerged from the field and reached some crumbling walls, pink with age. Previous fighting, perhaps with the Russians or maybe more recently, had turned this building, whatever it had once been, into a ruin. You could see the holes of previous explosions.The lads seized the chance to get down with their weapons and fire back. There had been rumours about today's operation long before it was confirmed. It was a relief to end the long period of antic.i.p.ation by firing at last.'Keep something back for later, lads,' Dave said.He looked along the ruined walls at his men. Angus and Finn were so intent on their jobs that their argument was forgotten. Streaky and Mal were focused too but they were both giggling insanely. Men sometimes heard laughter in contacts but they seldom guessed it was coming out of their own mouths. Just nerves, thought Dave, as the first contact of the many they expected today kicked off.'Tell your boys to slow their rate of fire,' he told Sol, 'or we'll be low on ammo before we get to the big fight.'In the distance was the unmistakable thump of helicopters. Chinooks. Bringing Paras. At the sound, enemy fire eased. 1 Platoon seized the chance to advance.Corporal Baker, the commander of 2 Section, asked to take his men further out than originally agreed. He had identified an enemy position and wanted to outflank them.Boss Weeks agreed to this. 3 Section, which was nearest to the target compound, pressed forward with 1 Section to join the Paras, who could be heard landing now. The helicopters were attracting not just light arms and heavier machine-gun fire but RPGs as well. As if the Taliban had been expecting them.Apaches must be guarding the Chinooks: Dave could hear their chain guns putting down some 40mm cannon rounds to help the Paras get out. From the deeper thud of the Chinook rotor blades Dave estimated that they were on the ground for less than thirty seconds, just long enough for platoons of Paras to stream out of the back. And then they took off into their own dust. They flew right over Dave's head towards the desert, an Apache hovering high on either side. He knew the Chinooks were scheduled to return to base while the Apaches were staying around for this operation but the sound of the disappearing rotor blades left a deadly silence. It was broken only by distant fire.Maybe the enemy had moved now, converging on the newly arrived Paras. Which would trap them nicely in the cordon. Except that Dave knew better than to underestimate the Taliban.They crossed a ditch and then a field of dried-out poppies, their pods cracking and dry stalks breaking as the men pa.s.sed. The fighting continued but it still seemed far away. 1 Platoon was wrapped up in a local silence which was broken suddenly by the sound of an explosion nearby. A loud, dull thump. Dave barely had time to recognize it before the screaming started. He could hear it in his earpiece, a hideous backing to the voice of 2 Section's Corporal Baker reporting, breathless with horror, that there was a man down. And he could hear it in his other ear, more faintly but for real: deep, primal roars of pain just a few hundred metres away.'f.u.c.k, it sounded like a mine . . .' Dave was saying as he turned towards the explosion, his heart sounding louder in his ear than the far-off contact.He was point man now: the boss had pulled 1 and 3 Sections around behind him. He moved rapidly, stumbling sometimes, once nearly falling into a ditch, his Bergen banging on his back. All the time he was getting garbled reports in his ear from Corporal Baker that they were under mortar attack. Then someone else was shouting: 'Keep back!' In the confusion, it became clear that the man screaming was Broom.Dave was breathless now but he kept running, following a drainage ditch half-filled with dirty water. His mind was focused on getting to his men but he could not help remembering a dark Afghan night and Ben Broom stealing away with the satellite phone: 'I like to keep an eye on my bird, Sarge. If I don't keep calling her, she might fly . . .' . . .'Dave, his breath short and his heart thudding, reached 2 Section just in time to see the second explosion. He saw the smoke go up with bits of debris inside it. Shrapnel. Or and he tried to keep his mind from going there but the thought kept coming anyway the body parts of a victim. He could hear more screams of agony.'Another man down.' Shock had leached all expression from Corporal Baker's voice.Another voice, the boss's: 'Are you under mortar fire, Baker?''Don't know. It could be mortars . . .'Dave was still gasping for breath. 'It's a f.u.c.king minefield!'The men were cl.u.s.tered at the edge of a large weed-infested clearing in the woods. It might once have been a field but no one had farmed it for a long time.'Freeze!' ordered Dave. 'Everyone freeze! And don't anyone try to get near the casualties, however much they scream.'The boss organized 1 Section and 3 Section to cover the clearing as Dave reached the group. Most were at the side of the field and those who were close enough now leaped to the edge. Lying about fifteen metres into the clearing was the body of Rifleman Ryan Connor. About five metres beyond him was Ben Broom. They were both screaming, shouting, roaring for help, which no one could bring them.'Don't anyone go near!' yelled Dave as he saw their mates wavering, faces contorted with agony for their friends. Two had frozen in positions halfway towards them. They looked ready to try to bolt the rest of the way.'Kirk, O'Sullivan, stop!' shouted Dave. 'I said freeze! Don't move a foot, don't move a f.u.c.king inch.'He worked his way through the trees around the edge of the field, over dense undergrowth.'My leg, my leg, I've lost my f.u.c.king leg, I looked down and my f.u.c.king, f.u.c.king leg was gone!' shrieked Broom.'Help, G.o.d help me, holy Jesus,' screamed Connor in a voice that sounded full of Afghan earth.2 Section stood at the edge of the clearing, watching hopelessly and helplessly, longing to run to their mates, faces blanched. A few tried to call encouragement to their friends but their voices were robbed of strength and depth so they sounded like a voicemail message.Dave looked at the casualties and saw that Broom had certainly lost his lower leg and maybe an arm. Blood was pouring from his body. Connor was surrounded by blood too, but it was hard to see from here where he had been damaged.'Mine strike. Two tango one casualties. Out,' the boss reported.Dave could guess what had happened but he let Corporal Baker tell him anyway: 'Ben was cutting across the field and suddenly, bang! He was lying there screaming so Ryan ran over to him and, bang! I thought it was a mortar attack. I didn't stop Ryan because I thought it was a mortar . . .'Dave said: 'It'll be a legacy minefield. Soviet. The Russians picked a spot and scattered them everywhere. That's why this place isn't cultivated, the locals all know about them.''I've lost a f.u.c.king leg, my f.u.c.king leg's gone, my leg, my leg, my leg . . . f.u.c.k it, f.u.c.k it . . .' shouted Ben Broom.'Can you get some morphine into yourselves?' called Dave but neither Broom nor Connor could hear him over their own roars of pain.'Heeeelp, f.u.c.king heeeelp heeeelp, I'm dying . . .' screamed Ryan Connor.The men, faces ashen, waited for Dave to tell them what to do.'Chinook's coming,' came the boss's voice.'No room for it to land here,' said Corporal Curtis of 3 Section.'The Chinook can't land in a minefield,' snapped Dave. 'And let's hope it's got a very long winch. Because the downdraught could set the whole f.u.c.king field off.'The boss said: 'There aren't any winches on the Chinooks.''What! Someone nicked them all?''They had a design fault. So they all got packed off back to the UK and the replacements haven't arrived yet.' The boss's voice was small and miserable.'Well, what good to us is a f.u.c.king Chinook without a winch?' demanded Dave.'We've asked the Americans for a Black Hawk.''Will that have a winch?''Yes.''How long will it take?''They're waiting for clearance now.''How long?' It was unbearable to hear the agony of the men in the minefield. You just wanted them to stop. And you knew that if they did it would be worse.'The Americans can't operate without high-level clearance.''Oh, f.u.c.k, do we have to wait for the President of the United States to find time to OK it?' yelled Dave.'We're doing our best.' The boss did not sound defensive. He sounded deflated. 'We're going to locate the nearest helicopter landing site for a MERT team, because getting the casualties out and away to a Chinook may be quicker than waiting for the Americans.'Getting the casualties out may be quicker.'Fuuuuuuuuuuck!' roared Broom. He looked as though he was floating on an island of blood. He was only fifteen metres away and he was as unreachable as a man a thousand miles offsh.o.r.e. He would die from his blood loss unless help reached him soon.Knowing his voice had to be both strong and severe to check Broom's yells, Dave bellowed: 'Stop shouting and start helping yourself, Broom.'Broom fell abruptly silent.'There's a b.l.o.o.d.y mess around your right leg so get your morphine out and shove it in at the top of your left. Come on, go for it! Now!'Broom began to fiddle with his pouches.'Get on with it!' bawled Dave mercilessly. 'It's in your left thigh pocket. Do it! Do it now! What about you, Connor?'Connor responded with an awful cry. It was both the whimper of a small child and the roar of a large, injured animal that knows it is about to die, but it was not the cry of a man.Dave tried the same tone on him. Connor, however, was past responding to commands.'s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t, what can we do?' Corporal Baker's face was ashen. His tone picked up the misery of the injured.Dave looked around him at the nearest men. Shocked faces, shaking hands, a few tears.'2 Section doesn't look safe for this job.'1 Section, covering the field, were closest.'I'm looking for mine-clearance men in 1 Section. I'll take you, Dermott . . .'He sent Mara from 2 Section to replace Jamie's position.'Me, Sarge!' Angus was already leaving his position in antic.i.p.ation.Dave sighed.'All right, McCall. But just stay behind Jamie.' He was sending another man up to replace Angus when Finn shouted: 'That should be me, Sarge.'Angus turned to glare at him.'I'm not taking a section commander or a 2 i/c.''But Angry's too big and clumsy!'Dave ignored him. 'Jamie, you start over here and work your way towards Connor. McCall behind you. Then I need two men to start from over there and work towards Broom. I'll have you, Binman. And Mal follows.'The men he had chosen blinked at him as if they had just woken up.'Right, Dermott and McCall here, Binns and Bilaal there. Bergens off, bayonets ready, GET GOING.'The men began to struggle out of their Bergens.'Make sure you've got water, man behind must have a stretcher, carry only what you need, something to eat but not much. Of course, trauma kit. Give them some extra field dressings, someone. OK, then down on your belt buckles and it's look, feel, prod look, feel, prod with your bayonets before you move forward. Remember that one? with your bayonets before you move forward. Remember that one? Look, feel, prod. Look, feel, prod. Got mine markers? Got mine tape?' Got mine markers? Got mine tape?'They were taking off their pouches now, rummaging through them at the same time for mine tape, grabbing their bayonets. Binns looked skinnier and skinnier as the pouches came off. Finn moved in to help him.The two front men got into position and eased down onto their stomachs at the edge of the minefield.'Gently! DON'T HURRY!' roared Dave. 'Or you'll be lying there too.'At a double moan from both casualties Jamie and Binman from their separate positions began to sc.r.a.pe urgently at the surface of the soil with their bayonets.'GENTLY! This is your new-born baby. It's a bag of f.u.c.king eggs. It's a MINE and it's going to explode!''They're coming,' lads called to the casualties. 'They'll soon be getting you out of there.'Broom was moaning more quietly now he had a shot of morphine inside him. Connor had fallen ominously silent.'Ryan's still breathing,' shouted Kirk. 'I can see that.'Kirk and O'Sullivan were the two members of 2 Section who had been stuck in the minefield when Dave had ordered them to freeze.'If I go forward on my stomach from here,' called Kirk. 'I can get to Ryan faster than Dermott and McCall.''No,' shouted Dave. 'I want you two back safely, not b.u.mping around the casualties in your Bergens in a minefield.'Kirk started to argue.'Shut the f.u.c.k up and tell me what you can see from there,' ordered Dave. 'How much leg has Broom lost?''About half. Maybe a bit more.''Connor?''Dunno. Can't see what's wrong with him.''Shrapnel, maybe. But he's got two legs, two arms?''I think so, Sarge, but there's so much blood . . . he could be missing a foot.''All right, Kirk. Now, you and O'Sullivan get your bayonets out, mine markers ready.' They reached carefully for their bayonets, wobbling dangerously because they could not move their feet.'Sarge, I don't have mine markers,' called O'Sullivan miserably.No matter how many times you did kit inspection, no matter how often you reminded men, they were guaranteed not to have the vital bit of kit when they needed it.'Why the f.u.c.k not, O'Sullivan?''Erm . . . I used them for something else . . .''What else can you do with mine markers? For Chrissake?'O'Sullivan stood helplessly in the minefield, his face gawping.'Oh don't bother to tell me now. Got anything else you could use?''There's markers here, Sarge,' said McKinley. 'Can I try throwing them over to him?''Can you f.u.c.k f.u.c.k! We're trying to get him out alive, s.h.i.thead.''Use your peanuts!' shouted Corporal Baker to O'Sullivan.'His peanuts? His peanuts peanuts?''Yeah, Sarge. O'Sullivan buys up the peanuts from everyone else's rations, he loves them, his Bergen's full of bags.''We need something that will stick in the ground.''He could anchor them with stones. Run a bit of mine tape between them.''It's better than nothing.' Dave shouted to O'Sullivan: 'Got your mine tape?''Yes, Sarge.''Right then, you two. Remember, no hurry. Go slow and live. Now crouch down. Take a look at the ground all around you and then feel it with your fingers. That includes the ground between your feet. Go behind you, go in front, go to the side. Then use your bayonet to prod. Do that until you've got a box around you big enough to lie in. So after that it's down on your belt buckles, sort yourselves out and start moving this way. SLOWLY.'There was an urgent voice at his side.'Sarge, I could start this end and make a path towards-''No, McKinley. I've already got eight men out there. I don't want to lose a ninth.'On the radio the boss's voice said: 'I've been trying to get EOD but they're all tied up. Thought an engineer with mine-detecting equipment would help but we haven't managed to extract them yet . . . there should be some on their way soon . . .''Yeah,' said Dave. 'Yeah. Soon. OK.'No helicopter, no winch, no mine detectors and no f.u.c.king EOD. Just two men bleeding to death and six more in danger.'The casualties seem to have gone rather quiet,' said the boss.'Yeah.'Dave was tired of shouting. He was tired of talking. He was wet with sweat. And he felt powerless. The screams and moans of the wounded had worn him down, as though he had been the one screaming and moaning. Now that the men he had sent were out there doing their jobs, their lives were in their own hands.His eyes swept across the minefield. The two casualties, baking in their own blood like cookies under the strengthening morning sun. Jamie, making painfully slow progress on his belly across the field, the large shape of McCall behind him. 1 Platoon, stretched out around the clearing, many backs to the action, searching the woodland for enemy movement. A collection of drawn, anxious faces, chiefly those of the shocked 2 Section, fixed on the two rescue teams. And, most surprisingly, the small, skinny shape of Jack Binns, followed by Mal, ootching with skilful speed towards the body of Ben Broom.

Chapter Thirty-six

WHEN BINMAN HAD HEARD HIS OWN NAME, STANDING IN THE woods watching the casualties' blood pump into the soil, he'd thought Dave was gripping him. Because, as usual, he must be doing something wrong. It took a few moments to realize that he'd been selected to clear a mine path to the casualties.As he struggled to find his tape he thought to himself that he must have been chosen because Dave wouldn't mind losing him. Then he remembered that Jamie Dermott had also been chosen, and Dave would certainly mind losing Jamie. Only then did it occur to him that Dave had picked him to do this work because he might be good at it. And Mal, who was much quicker and better at everything, had been told to follow him! Mal was a fantastic medic but until they got to the casualties he could do nothing more than follow on his belly, maybe widening the mine path a bit, because, incredibly, Binns had been put at the front.By the time Binns was on his knees at the edge of the woodland, liberated from his Bergen, bayonet in hand, he felt lightheaded. He had been selected to do the most difficult job. Along with good-at-everything hot-s.h.i.t soldier Jamie Dermott. It was incredible.His best mate, Streaky Bacon, clasped his shoulder.'Good luck, Binman. I'm going to write a rap about this . . .'The seriousness of Streaky's face reminded Binns of the danger ahead. So did one of the casualties, who gave a sudden, sharp scream of pain.Binns didn't know Ben Broom well. But he knew he had to save his life. And if he failed, his failure would stay with him for ever. He closed his eyes and thought about what he had to do.Look, feel, prod. Go. He worked vigorously on his knees and was soon able to move forward onto his belly, until Dave gripped him for it. Go. He worked vigorously on his knees and was soon able to move forward onto his belly, until Dave gripped him for it.'Slower, Binns, for Chrissake!'Binman soon decided to keep the bayonet for prodding and use his fingers to feel the ground. It was weird to sc.r.a.pe his hands across the rough Afghan soil. He had helped his grandfather in his allotment at home in Dorset where the soil was nothing like this: it was dark and friable and always damp beneath the surface. This soil had been roasting in the cruel sun for years. There was no moisture. It felt thin and lifeless.The earth was gritty beneath his palms. He swept aside handfuls and let them fall gently. He dug his fingers into it until his nails were packed solid.He heard Dave instructing O'Sullivan and Kirk to do the same.'Sarge,' shouted O'Sullivan, 'can I pull these weeds up? It'll be easier to feel the soil.''No!' Dave roared back. 'We don't know how deep the root system goes.'Binns had already worked that one out. So far he hadn't encountered many weeds but he worked carefully around them when he did.It took hours and hours to move one inch. It took for ever. Binns concentrated so hard on his hands and the soil beneath them that days might have pa.s.sed. The rest of his body didn't exist. He had turned into sharp eyes and gentle hands. Every time one of the wounded let out a cry, he felt himself speeding up.'Ignore everything except your work, especially ignore the casualties!' shouted Dave. 'Don't hurry. Are you hurrying, Binman?'Binns shook his head but did not speak. He was squeezing the point of his bayonet into earth his fingers had loosened, and then easing his body forward a bit more. Then a bit more. And then a bit more.He heard Mal behind him.'He's working fast, Sarge, but he's being well careful.'To Binman, Mal said: 'You're doing a f.u.c.king good job. I just hope the Taliban don't move this way. Because I'm feeling exposed out here.'Binman heard Mal's words but he was working patiently now on a particularly resistant mound of earth. He sc.r.a.ped at it very, very gently. The earth did not want to move. Was it caked to something solid beneath? He tried a new tactic.'What the f.u.c.k are you doing?' asked Mal.'Blowing,' said Binns.'Oh. Thought you were just dripping your sweat on it.'Binman became aware how hot he was. His helmet was a metal oven and his head baked inside it. His body was manoeuvring under a hot blanket.'Binns, have you had any water yet?' bellowed Dave from the side of the clearing. He sounded further away now, but the casualties looked no closer.'He hasn't, Sarge!' shouted Mal.'Drink!' ordered Dave. 'Get your tube in your mouth and pause.'Binman was blowing harder now on the resistant earth. This time it turned to dust and puffed up into his face. His eyes filled with grit. He shut them and kept blowing. When all the loose earth had gone he found himself staring down a steep indent. Just visible at the bottom was something hard and probably metallic. He stopped. For the first time since he had started this long, slow journey on his belly, he was still.'Use your Camelbak,' Mal said.Binns did not move.'Oy! You going to puke?'Binns lay still, waves of heat rising from the hot soil around him.'Water!' Mal prompted him. 'Now!'Jack Binns tried to speak. But the inside of his mouth was coated with dry soil. His throat was dry. His eyes were dry. The only water was his own sweat, dripping down his face and off his chin.'Eh?' demanded Mal.'Something might be there.'Mal said: 'Might be. That's enough for me, mate!'Binns looked up then and managed to find the delivery tube of his Camelbak. He sucked on it long and hard. The water was almost cool and it cleaned out his mouth and as it trickled down his throat he realized he had been concentrating too hard to notice his deep, deep thirst. The joy of the water was so intense that he did not know how long Mal and Dave had been shouting at him.'Back! Go back!''I'm not going back.''You have to f.u.c.king go back to go round it,' Mal said, grabbing hold of his feet and dragging him.'I don't want to go back!' said Binns. But he was powerless as Mal pulled him a metre back along the path he had so neatly marked.Binns sat up then to get a better view of the mine and how he should go around it. He saw the bodies of the wounded ahead. He had felt as though he was making no progress at all but now he realized he was a little over halfway to Broom. One of Broom's legs disappeared into a pool of blood. Flies were gathering around it in swarms.Binns remembered the golden hour. You had to get your casualties to Bastion inside the golden hour. How many hours had he already been here carving this route with his hands? And now he had lost one metre of the few he had gained.Broom lay still. He was so quiet he might be dead.'He's still breathing,' said Mal.'Go left, Binman,' shouted voices. A few said: 'Try right!' Jack Binns thought of his mother's living room, how he and his mother and brother would watch TV game shows, shouting at the contestants what they should do.Another voice cut through the others.'Binns! Cut left and you'll link up with the path O'Sullivan cleared. Unfortunately it's marked out in peanuts. You can eat them if you like, as long as you mark it properly.'It was the boss. Binman swung his body to the left. The brief break had reminded him how hot he was and how dangerous the work. His heart thudded as he rounded the mine. Suppose it was enormous? Suppose he hadn't swung wide enough? If it exploded under him his innards would be ripped out. There would be a few moments when you knew you were dying. He shut his eyes. Yes, for a couple of seconds, you'd know it was happening. He would feel pain and sadness and loss because he was leaving it all behind. He'd think of his mother and Ally. Then it would all be over. Death would be a sort of blackness where nothing ever happened and he wouldn't know or care. Ally would cry at