Rashid was the only ANA soldier in the room. With the eyepatch and the blue uniform he stood out. ‘Okay, fellas,’ Scullion said. ‘You all have your jobs. Many of you will be cheered to learn that some senior officers, including yours truly, will be on the ground for this mission.’ He was leaning on the pointer with his sleeves rolled up. Luke reminded himself of an old truth about briefings: they are never brief. Yet Scullion could bring the weather in on time. ‘I will be travelling with a section of the Royal Western Fusiliers deployed here in a mentoring capacity. But you all have a mentoring role in this operation: be sure to show our local colleagues how to behave.’ Scullion seemed to absorb a cold look from Rashid. ‘And learn from them, too,’ he added. The hall shifted from one foot to the other and Rashid wiped his good eye.
‘Recent events in this theatre notwithstanding,’ Scullion said, ‘I believe our mission is absolutely clear. This will be a major development project for the Afghan people. Five dozen officers have worked for six months preparing the way. We bring clean water, we also bring culture. Now listen. This is Operation Eagle’s Summit. By necessity and by grand design, our job is to facilitate the onset of prosperity among the peasants. Putting aside our previous efforts to bomb them to kingdom come, we now rectify all political errors by giving them light and water. The operation’s code name is T2. Remember that. You are part of a convoy led by 13 Air Assault delivering a third turbine to the great dam at Kajaki. HET trucks will carry the blessed item in seven parts weighing thirty tons each. Assuredly, these vital organs will pump new blood to the valley. We’re talking fifty-one megawatts of new power. Got that? A great sufficiency of electrical power and enough water flowing through to irrigate 650,000 acres of arid land. Tune your PRRs to channel one for minute-by-minute instructions.’
The troops felt inspired. It was not the job they wanted but they were susceptible to the major’s speech. Inspiration is a con, thought Luke. It always has been a con. People who want blood will always encourage each other with talk of life-giving water. ‘The main convoy is set to avoid Route 611,’ Scullion said. ‘For that place be riddled with insurgents. They have been smashing us for months. Many of you enjoyed this routine in Helmand, being locked down, but this operation can’t fail. The logistics boys have established a route through the desert: Route Harriet. There are more than a hundred vehicles in the convoy. Canadian troops have delivered the parts here this morning from Kandahar. The Western Fusiliers have a role in the command group as part of 13 Air Assault Brigade. We will have attack helicopters providing overwatch, and, as well as the Canadians, we have the Dutch rolling with us and Yanks in the distance.’
A lieutenant in 3 Platoon raised his hand during questions. Luke knew him from the base: he was clever, modern, speeding up the ranks, a counter-insurgency nutter from County Louth. Nobody liked him. He took notes. He looked like a future boss. Luke listened to the guy and imagined he’d been designed by computers at the Dundalk Institute of Technology to get right up Scullion’s nose. ‘We wanted to destroy the dam in 2001,’ he said. ‘Now the Taliban wants to destroy it. So this op is real progress, trying to build things not destroy them. It’s like government-in-a-box.’
‘Just man your guns,’ Scullion said, almost sneering at the boy. Luke could see the major’s contradictions coming gently to the boil. ‘We’ve got a hundred miles of bandit country to cross out there. And the area to the south of the dam, the area called Kajaki Sofla, is crawling. We’re going to have a fight down there soldier, so keep your powder dry.’
‘But building partnerships,’ the soldier said. ‘The aim is to secure and serve the population. Understanding local circumstances. In the long run — just like we did in Iraq — we want to stop Afghanistan from being a sanctuary for transnational extremists. Right?’
‘We’ll see. If we can make it past their IEDs we can start to talk about partnership.’
Luke stood up. ‘Logistics?’ he said.
‘We’ll be dispersed along the convoy,’ said Scullion. ‘And part of 3 Platoon will go on Highway 633 to join a decoy convoy to throw them off. Our group, Captain Campbell, will be part of the main formation over the mountains to the dam. Your big job is mentoring. Show our ANA colleagues how it’s done. I want you at the front and I want you all eyes. We want safe passage to the dam for delivery tomorrow p.m.’
The soldiers filed out and Luke came to the front and was joined there by Rashid. ‘We need more, sir,’ said Luke. ‘We’re setting out. That’s clear. But what are the details? Who’s doing what?’ Scullion lowered his voice and he picked the book off the table and smiled at the emptying hall.
‘Zero pyrotechnics,’ Scullion said. ‘We’re rolling along and protecting the delivery of the turbine. Cool? No fucking drama, Campbell, and no fucking gang-bang and no big deal. Just roll along the road and keep your boys in or alongside the vehicles ready to shoot any fucken Terry daft enough to run at the iron horse as it passes by. Got that?’
‘Should there be any separation of duties?’
‘The decisions are coming from above on this, Luke. Let’s just get through the mountains. It’s a taxi run. There’s beer on the other side. Just stick to your group and keep the signaller listening.’
At that, the keen young lieutenant from Louth came back into
the hall to shake the major’s hand. Scullion had languages, but he didn’t have this soldier’s way of talking.
‘You boys are the decoy,’ is all he said.
‘We can spread the word as we pass through the villages,’ the lieutenant said with enthusiasm. ‘We’ve got terps. We can say that this is all for the good of the community.’
‘I wouldn’t bother,’ Scullion said. ‘Just roll up the fucking road like a good boy. Your job is not to dish out philosophy, okay? It’s to look like you’re delivering a fierce bit of kit to a dam.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘It’s electricity. It’s power. And I don’t give a fuck for the rest of that shit you’re spouting.’
‘Really?’
Luke stepped back to let Scullion lose his temper. He knew it was about more than the boy.
‘Yes, fucking really. Ask Rashid here. Let the American generals say what they like, Lieutenant. The people in these villages would sooner we were delivering fucking Mars bars. And even more than that: they’d sooner we’d let them deliver our no-use fucking arses to Allah. They have no great sympathy for our sympathy, and, believe me, Lieutenant, they would sooner strap a bomb to their firstborn child and throw him at you as thank you for your efforts in bringing them democracy.’
‘This is true, sir,’ said Rashid. ‘The people here do not know this American democracy you talk about.’
‘We’re doing a good thing,’ the lieutenant said.
‘How do you stick him?’ shouted Scullion, looking at the boys standing by the door of the hall. The major smirked and returned his gaze to the young man in front of him. ‘It’s all good. We’re the excellent fucken citizen that helps the poor old lady across
the road. No more, no less. So just keep your men in the convoy and they’ll be back in Shadows Nightclub drinking pints of piss-water in the time it takes you to spell counter-insurgency, sure they will. You with me, Nosey?’
‘This is truth the major speaks,’ Rashid said. ‘Oqab Tsuka, which means Operation Eagle’s Summit, the beginning of the new Kajaki. The people will have justice.’
‘No, Rashid,’ Scullion said. ‘They’ll have electricity. That’s all.’ The ANA captain turned and Luke saw him muttering something as he wiped the board.
THE CROSSING POINT
The convoy had travelled a few miles north when Luke looked down and told the boys to cut the chat. The engine was quiet; other vehicles rumbled and heaved to a stop. A bird screamed up in the trees that stood along the banks of a canal.