Thirst: A Novel of the Iran-Iraq War (7 page)

‘I said, it’s just like you say. Yes, it could be an old story too.’

‘So, to return to the matter in hand, what would you like to see? Those young men and the corpse, or the film of them?’

‘Neither!’

‘I can’t hear you, speak up!’

‘I said whatever you wish.’

‘The planes are coming. I told you they would. The anti-aircraft fire has started. Switch off the engine, soldier! Get out of the jeep quickly and walk away, Katib! Move! Give me your hand, man! Take your spectacles off your nose for a moment and lie down prone on your front. In the ditch. Burrow down into the earth if you can! Lie down, lie down. Dig in. Like that soldier’s doing over there. Bastards! I hope they won’t bomb those silos … not today, at least … They’ve no idea their own prisoners are being housed in the silos. They probably think they’re aircraft shelters or storage depots. No!… not today at any price … You there, soldier! Lie on your back and tell me what height they’re coming in at!’

‘There’s no sign of them, sir! I can’t see them.’

‘What about that engine noise? Can’t you hear it?’

‘It’s way off … very far away. Too high. They must be flying very high.’

‘Why did the anti-aircraft guns open up, then?’

‘Our jets have taken off, sir.’

‘How many?’

‘Six units. I think they’re off to intercept them.’

‘I think so, too. Lie down, on your front. Lie down! You too, Katib, you too!’

‘They’ve gone, sir. And the anti-aircraft fire has stopped.’

‘They’ve gone, yes, Katib. So, now you’ve experienced what the enemy is like at first hand. What do you think now? Is there any room left for your ethical qualms? Let’s get back in the jeep, soldier.’

‘Prisoners … we had a few captives in the trench. They killed one. With a bullet through his temple. He was young,
tall, and healthy; they killed him and threw his body out of the trench. He was heavy. He rolled and rolled and rolled all the way down to the bottom of the hill. On and on he rolled till I couldn’t see him anymore. He was lost, lost. I didn’t want to … I didn’t want to … and now, the other one … there’s another wounded man too, and he’s even younger … I don’t want anything to happen to him. I tried to … What truce? We’ve been on the offensive or defensive for centuries … No caliph on this side of Mesopotamia had any peace for fear of constant uprisings. Rebels sprouted out of the ground like grass, raised a flag and rode westwards behind their commander, towards us. Their destination was Baghdad, home to the caliph at the time. Their base was in Ahwaz. They stayed there, rested, replenished their forces and started out for Baghdad again. The heart of the caliphate. The caliph was the target. Until eventually they fulfilled their plan. Ultimately, those fire-worshipping Zoroastrians planned to force-feed us the same thing we’d rammed down their throats. Yes, Major? What manner of thinking is this? I mean this way of looking at the enemy? Yes, Major?’

‘Are you sure you’re in your right mind, Katib?’

‘Only the flies … the flies won’t let me. I can put up with the candle smoke and the smell of damp … and all manner of deprivation and discomfort … but these flies. The flies mating, the trench and the wounded captive and now this … this thought that has forced me to live in the past. Think in the past. The dwellers of the Gobi desert were under our control. Whenever necessary we dispatched them to ride in and topple the government in Khorasan and seize control
of the throne. The Samanids! They were mindful of their distinguished heritage and proceeded to foster culture and produce scientists and translators and analysts. But because they started putting down roots, we destroyed them from within, so effectively that the last in line blinded his heir before going insane. As I’ve said, the Samanids harboured a nostalgia for old Iran and built a city of seven interlinked castles, in the manner of Ctesiphon. This displeased us, so we decided to set our proxy army of desert dwellers on them. Because the Samanid court had become a hotbed of petty quarrels and covert and overt animosities and internecine feuding, each faction raised a banner and a clerk and a commander and an army against Baghdad. It was during one such conflict that the desert-dwelling emirs rose up against their own king, meaning that they became heretics. The emirs’ uprising did not achieve its aim of killing the king and seizing the throne. But it did prompt the son of the Samanid ruler to usurp his father, who was arrested, imprisoned in an ancient castle and then murdered. At the same time, an order was issued to slaughter all those who were heretics, in their thousands … it must have been during that conflict that the poet laureate of the time was blinded, perhaps after a false accusation or on some other groundless pretext!’

‘Such as?’

‘For being too good-looking, reciting beautifully, or for the crime of playing instruments well … or even for seeing beautifully. For seeing beautifully, and for observing beauty. Do you know what we did to the women of Bukhara when we conquered the city? They were the most
beautiful women of grand Khorasan! And do you know what we did to the people of Sistan? The victorious commander ordered the dead to be piled up and blankets spread over the heap, which was duly done. Then he ascended the hill of corpses step by step and stood on top in prayer. And it has been said that he had a clear voice and a tall frame, large teeth and a wide mouth … but a coppersmith’s son surfaced in response to that pile some time later and set out on a journey to Baghdad to assassinate the caliph of the period. A city which the Iranians themselves had had a hand in building – unlike Damascus, which was built by the Romans. And their treason against themselves has been a blessing to us from God, for all eternity.’

‘Soldier, where are we?’

‘We’re passing the prison camp, sir.’

‘Passing? Turn around and drive back to my office.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Stop here, soldier! Run ahead of us and prepare some coffee, so the katib and I can stroll along after you at our leisure and find it ready when we arrive. I want you to feel at home here, Katib. It’s safe here. We’re under the protection of the International Red Cross. As you see, we’ve run up its flag above that tower. So we can walk along unhurriedly and calmly, and you’ll have time to reflect and I will be able to focus my mind on my responsibilities and my work. Now, what were we talking about?’

‘We were ranging far and wide. From Sistan to Khorasan, from Khorasan to Rey, Sepahan, Ahwaz, and from Ahwaz to Baghdad and back again. We were discussing the downfall of Saman, the Samanid dynasty, the power
and the wisdom of caliphs, the deployment of the men from the Gobi desert, and finally we talked about Baghdad and the empire of our caliphs, which was ultimately defeated by the Ajams with the help of the Turks, after some eight centuries.’

‘I actually meant our discussion from Thursday, after office hours. I didn’t want to interrupt your fine speech … but certainly, if there’s time I’d be interested in hearing those tales from you, in their historical order. So, before we come back to the topic in hand, please make a mental note that you have to tell me about two things. First, the treason of the Ajams, and second, the conquest of Sistan and the conqueror of Sistan and the rise of the coppersmith’s son … and then, those women of Bukhara and that poet laureate … and … ah … well, the whole lot, basically … but let’s go to my office now, drink the coffee the soldier has brewed for us, and talk turkey about what really happened. The murder of a prisoner at the hands of two fellow inmates, and a pamphlet left by the victim and the backgrounds of all those three, paying special attention to the time they spent together in prison. Please, after you!’

AND NOW … SOMEWHERE
a finger presses a button, a hand flicks a switch, and from a gaping metal maw a monster is released, soaring up under the dome of a sky that is blue, or maybe leaden, or perhaps cloudy and a bit rainy. But where is it bound for, this monster that flies yet which has no wings? No one knew the answer to this for sure, not even the owner of that hand or finger. By contrast, there were many who became aware of its sudden descent, but they don’t exist anymore to tell the tale. The wide muzzle of that metal barrel still smells of hell. But you … my son, Jamoo! Now be attentive! Open your mouth, grip my finger with your tongue between your lips and suck! Quick, before this life-giving sustenance goes to waste. It must be a bit salty, but it will save you from being overcome by faintness. Suck well, suck my finger, boy, harder, use more force. Just like a hungry child drinking from his mother’s breast. Drink before you lose consciousness. Drink! I want you to come to your senses and convey a message for me. Drink, with all your might! Whatever’s left over, I’ll give to our captive. I don’t want him to die either. Keep your wits about you! After drinking you must send a message. And if you’re still dumb and dim and dense even after that, I’ll bring you back to your senses with a slap! And if all else fails, then I’ll expend a bullet on you even though I really don’t want you to die. Quite the opposite, I want you
to live. You must live. You’re still too young to fade away. So … tell me now, do you feel any better? Can you transmit the message? Now,
anta
!
Tashrab, tashrab!
^*
See how eagerly he sucks, the rogue! Do you remember now? You couldn’t wait for the lioness to come and find you! She would have come. She will come still. But for the time being just obey the order. Dial the code for headquarters. Now! Say ‘Yes, sir’. Say ‘Yes, sir’, quick!

‘Yes … yes, commander!’

‘Good, brave boy. Now transmit!’

‘What’s the message, commander?’

‘A sea … a sea … the desert … is a sea!
^†
Done?’

‘Yes … yes, sir, but …’

‘But this, but that …’

‘Should I transmit that too?’

‘No – of course not! Now tell me, how do you feel?’

‘Better, sir.’

‘All right, then, take out a piece of gauze, I mean a sterilized cloth, from the pocket of my backpack and bind my finger, not too tight. You can do it with your hand and teeth. Quick! I can’t take my eyes off the damned hills in front of us. Let me see what you’re doing. You can suck on it a bit more before binding it. Then I have some questions that you should be able to answer. Like what’s your name,
where were you born, your parents’ names … I want you to be as alert as you were the first night. Quick!’

‘Yes, commander, but … why are you doing this, sir?’

‘Bind it, the first thing to do is to tie it tight so it doesn’t get infected. If it’s infected I’ll have to amputate it.’

‘I’ve bound it … aha … and now another knot. Well?’

‘I didn’t want to be left alone. Now there are two … no, three of us. Isn’t that better? And I’ve no use for a mute transmitter. Do you remember anything now?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Tell me, quickly.’

‘A dove.’

‘Go on.’

‘We had doves in our house.’

‘All right, was it you, your father, or …’

‘My brother, yes, my brother.’

‘His name … your brother’s name?’

‘Wait, let me think … on the edge of the roof … the doves sat on the edge of the roof …’

‘Well … right … how fascinating! Tell me more – but take your time. Don’t let your strength ebb away.’

‘Wait a moment, did you give us your own blood?’

‘Stop asking questions, boy! Haven’t you realized yet that you’re in the army and you mustn’t question your commander? Think of the dove, your doves. I like birds, and doves better than most. God’s angels appear on Earth in the form of doves. I used to like cockerels better in my adolescence. Cockfighting … I squeezed a drop of blood into my gamecock’s throat and threw him into the pit. You haven’t seen them fight, have you?’

‘A drop of your own blood?’

‘There you go asking questions again! Try thinking for a change … anyway, I came to like doves some time ago. A dove! I’ve told you a person can turn into a dove, right? Yes … you must remember. The first of them turned into a dove in Baghdad. Not very far from here … it isn’t more than a few hours from Ahwaz to Baghdad if all the transport’s running smoothly. He had set out from Ahwaz, too, with a large army. Check how our prisoner friend is doing?’

‘Looks like he’s sleeping.’

‘Shake him, check that he’s not dead.’

‘He’s breathing, still breathing. But … it looks like he’s fainted.’

‘Let him sleep, he must be tired. Look, can you lie down in my position here on your front and keep your eyes trained on that accursed hill so I can get up and stretch my legs for a bit?’

‘My hand, it’s tied to his. Could you possibly …’

‘Yes, let me do something about that. I’m afraid I’ll have to tie both of the young man’s hands behind his back. It’s a golden rule that you should never trust the enemy, even if he’s incapacitated. Well, now he’s lying on his belly, let him sleep. Let me see if you can solve this riddle while I’m taking a stroll.’

‘What riddle’s that?’

‘Let me get my feet out of these boots before I tell you. I mustn’t let the sound of my footsteps … ah, that’s better! I meant the riddle of how humans turn into doves!’

The scouts’ frontline trench can’t have been very wide or long. A mere slit in the hillside; only just large enough for
a person to fit into. Like a dagger slipping into its sheath, say. So if our commander was able to relieve his legs from numbness by taking just a few short, light steps, it was because his body was emaciated and he was not very tall to begin with. Even that tight ditch was a blessing for him, allowing him to take three or four steps forward and back and every now and then adjust the focus on the binoculars his trench-mate was looking through, as a pretext for keeping the young man from succumbing to sleep. For every night, no matter how interminable and uncomfortable, eventually gives way to day, when everything becomes clear. The arc of gunfire behind them had ceased for some time now. And on the other side, the flames and smoke beyond the far hill had also died down. The sound of alarms had abated as well, along with the din of ambulance sirens and armoured personnel carrier engines. Many plumes of smoke rose slowly and dispersed. The aircraft of both sides had done their job and were gone now; all that was left behind was the ambiguity surrounding both hills and the doubt of the soldiers occupying them. The distance between the two hills was not great. Barely wider than a narrow strait. Water … water was down there. A water tank nestling under the brow of the hill, behind an earthen rampart. So far, five men – yes, five – had gone to fetch water and not come back. They had crawled towards the tank as best they could, but they had been unable to make it back and each dead man was a burden of torment weighing down on the soul of this young man who did not want to retell the calamity, either to anyone else or to himself. Even his good humour, and his ordering around
and browbeating of the young radio operator were thin dust-layers that he deliberately sprinkled on his internal scars.