War Torn

Chapter Forty-one

DAVE STROLLED AROUND THE PERIMETER OF SIN CITY. DARK HAD already fallen. In fifteen minutes he was due to go to the OC’s tent to be interviewed about an insurgent who had died in a ditch months ago. The event seemed distant now, like something in his childhood.He breathed deeply, tilted his head and stared above him. He was in the habit of looking at the dazzling Afghan skies whenever he could. The same stars must be hanging over Wiltshire but here the air was so clear that there was real depth of vision and you could see thousands, millions more stars.He thought about the Taliban fighters, sitting in their compounds, smoking and talking and looking up at the same night sky. They had been staring at this incredible overhead display all their lives. It was, for them, a part of being at home, like the intense summer heat, the poppies, the mountains and the dust storms.He passed the boss with the woman from Intelligence. The woman was smoking, Gordon Weeks was talking. Dave could understand how, after such a day, the boss would want to spend some time with this woman if he liked her. Weeks was so intent on what he was saying that he didn’t even see Dave.‘Want one, Sarge?’ asked some lads from 2 Section who were also walking the perimeter in a small group, unusually silent. Their faces shone out of the dark when they lit their cigarettes.‘All right,’ said Dave.‘But, Sarge,’ came McKinley’s voice. ‘You don’t smoke.’‘I do tonight,’ Dave told him, inhaling deeply.‘Any news on Ben or Ryan, Sarge?’‘Ben’s doing better than Ryan. Although Ben took more shrapnel than we realized.’‘What about Ryan’s arm, Sarge?’‘Unfortunately they’ve had to take it off below the elbow.’The lads looked as though he had punched them.‘Is he going to make it?’ asked McKinley quietly. ‘He lost a lot of blood.’‘I don’t know. He might not.’‘How about the others?’‘They took a lump of shrapnel out of Angus McCall’s arm. Kev Swift from 3 Section had shrapnel too. But they’ll be back in a couple of days.’Dave strolled on. He was aware that his hand was shaking slightly as he smoked. He moved the cigarette into the other hand. That shook, too. He hated this involuntary movement and tried to still it but the tremor would not go away. He yawned. He wished he could just go to sleep. The stress of the day had left his body wrung out.