War Torn

Chapter Eight

BOSS WEEKS COLLECTED HIS MEAL IN THE COOKHOUSE THAT EVENING and, without giving himself a chance to think about it, joined the two female interpreters. His heart started beating faster and his senses were suddenly extra alert, symptoms he now associated with enemy contact.The women, who’d been talking intently to each other, looked up without welcome when he sat down.‘As salaam alai kum,’ Weeks said awkwardly.‘What?’ Jean stared at him.He tried to smile back. He didn’t dare look at Asma.‘As salaam alai kum,’ he repeated, more clearly this time. His food suddenly looked less appetizing.‘Oh-oh,’ Asma said. ‘We’ve got another Captain Boyle here.’‘Captain Boyle?’‘He was with A Company.’‘A marine?’‘Engineer. He had this book: Speak Pashtu in Six Weeks,’ Asma said. ‘He used it like a car instruction manual.’Weeks permitted himself to look at her, but only briefly. She really was stunning. Those large, almond-shaped eyes and slanting cheek bones. Why wasn’t every man in the place writing her poems and offering to clean her weapon?‘Kur-see,’ he said, pointing to the chair. ‘War!’ He pointed to the entrance. ‘Meez.’ He tapped the table.‘Oh Christ.’ Asma rolled her enormous eyes.Jean started to giggle.‘How long have you been learning it?’‘For months.’ Weeks gave a gesture of helplessness. ‘I still can’t complete a sentence.’‘Most people give up when they get to the sentence structure.’‘The alphabet alone makes me feel like coming out with a white flag. How did you two crack it?’They both looked as though they’d answered this question a thousand times before.‘I was in Kabul as a kid,’ Jean said. ‘My parents were aid workers out here until I was twelve. Asma came to the UK at about the same age.’Asma nodded. ‘My parents managed to slip through the Soviet net and, well, it’s a long story but we ended up in London. My mother never did learn much English. So I’ve been translating for her for most of my life.’‘Your family’s Pashtun?’‘Yes. We lived in Kandahar province.’‘Do you remember it?’‘Of course.’‘So does this feel at all like home?’She smiled sadly and shook her head.‘An FOB doesn’t feel like home. Even after a month.’‘How does your family feel about . . .?’‘Me doing this job?’ She looked even sadder and studied the table in front of her. She held an empty water glass in her long, slim fingers. She turned it around and around.‘I don’t have any contact with them,’ she said. ‘I married a man who wasn’t Pashtu, wasn’t even a Moslem. So they don’t consider me a member of the family any more.’Weeks felt a rush of emotion. She was married. But his disappointment didn’t overcome his compassion. To be exiled from any family must be hard, and the Pashtuns were a proud and close-knit people.Jean was watching him closely. ‘It’s worse than that. She’s ended up with no husband and no family.’‘Wouldn’t your family take you back when . . . when . . .?’‘When I divorced?’ Asma shook her head. ‘When you get to understand the Afghan people a little better, you’ll know there can only be one answer to that question.’He looked down awkwardly at his meal.‘Eat up!’ Jean said cheerfully. ‘I hear you’ve had one helluva day. You went out on a routine patrol and ended up with five Afghan bodies on your hands.’‘We had a very . . . interesting . . . patrol,’ he said carefully.‘You might need to go over the RoE with your men. From what I’ve heard, there are some questions to be answered.’‘We’ve discussed the matter fully and I’m satisfied that the Rules of Engagement were observed.’ He’d been aware of a certain amount of hesitation on Dave’s part in the debriefing, but had decided not to pursue it.‘I think Major Willingham will want to satisfy himself too,’ Jean said. Her smile was both bright and determined.Weeks felt his jaw muscles clench. He’d watched these two contravene every rule in the tactical questioning book. And now they were suggesting his men had ignored the RoE. He felt his face redden further. He cursed this stupid habit. He cursed his entire blood supply.‘Obviously, the police don’t get involved unless the OC is worried. But this is a small base and I’ve offered the major my help if he wants to look into it,’ said Jean.Weeks tried to suppress his anger. He was aware that she was still watching him intently. He was also aware of the steady and unnerving gaze of the beautiful Asma.‘My men only narrowly avoided being blown up by a double landmine. A goat took the blast instead. They were confirming that there had been no civilian casualties when they encountered the enemy. They faced the stark choice of firing or being fired upon.’Jean raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure you’ve been told all the details?’Weeks thought about that. Well, no, of course he couldn’t be sure that he’d heard the whole story. But he wasn’t going to admit that. ‘Their actions were entirely justifiable.’ He hoped he was right.