War Torn (38 page)

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 passionately.

‘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 superstitions 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 mass 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 assent 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.’

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.
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 fucking 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.