Andrew O'Hagan - The Illuminations

‘The Real IRA will do that for free,’ Flannigan said. ‘Though I think we’d rather hand you over to the Fundie Jundies. They will eat you and your Ford fuck-up live on the interwebs for everybody to watch.’

Lennox burped and made a face.

‘Stop crying, bitch,’ Dooley said. ‘You’ll get a funeral. They’ll say: “The ginger cunt was much missed by his comrades. Much saddened by his death but pleased as fuck to see the end of the plank’s shite car. They were also delighted never to hear another word about his moose back home who was stinging him for cash-money every week. Duracell dobber got her up the duff and the

whole family of lazy tink bastards screwed the benefits system for ever more. The End.”’

‘A beautiful story,’ Flannigan said.

‘Very moving,’ Lennox said.

Luke folded the form and got to his feet. He pulled on a brown T-shirt and screwed up his face at Lennox. ‘I thought you had a child?’ he said. ‘How can you be responsible for a fucken child when you’re such a chozzie bitch?’

‘Happens all the time,’ said Lennox, removing the magazine from his pants and grinning. ‘It’s nature, innit?’

Captain Rashid of the ANA was sitting in the other corner with a small book in his hand. Half of the banter went over his head. ‘Roll another fat one, Rashid,’ Dooley said, looking over. ‘Another giant bifta for the tea-break.’

Rashid just smiled at him. Luke thought there was something un-adult about the Afghan soldiers, disorganised, smiling at nothing, not really caring. The only thing they really knew was fear, the threat of reprimand, the anger of their commanders. And Luke found it hard to imagine what such men said to themselves. Rashid only had one eye but they imagined he’d put it out for the boys if they said it was routine. ‘He’s not your average arse-licker,’ Flannigan said. ‘There’s something extra going on with him. He listens. I think he believes in the surge more than all our officers put together.’

‘He’s like a child,’ Luke said. ‘He does what he’s told.’

‘You don’t like him, Captain, do you?’

‘No, I don’t. He plays at being loyal.’

‘Ah, he’s all right,’ Flannigan said.

Later, Scullion was up-top on the vehicle behind. The sun really seemed to pulse that day and give out harm. They were

over the mountains and an emerald-green lake had appeared on the other side. Ibex were drinking at the water’s edge and several old men waited by the halted vehicles, men with few teeth but much knowledge, Scullion reckoned. What were they waiting for, the future, the past, ammo, or money? The major had no authority and his attention was parched by the heat and the dust. When they waved at the convoy and held out their hands, Scullion couldn’t rightly see if they were holding pomegranates or grenades.

He climbed into the Vector and grabbed a book from the dashboard. He had been avoiding Luke but now he smiled over at the captain, one of his old smiles. ‘I think we should cheer things up around here,’ he said. ‘You know where we are? Near one of the ancient sites.’

‘Does it have a strip joint?’ Lennox said.

‘Wind it in, bumboy,’ the major said. ‘I’m talking about ancient ruins. Get your ginger nut into thinking mode, soldier.’ Scullion threw the book to Luke and moved to expel the whole day’s tension. ‘This’ll be a good one, Captain. You’ll get a buzz. Ever since Trinity I’ve wanted to see these places out here. Footprints. There are certain things war and wives can’t put down. And one of them is curiosity.’

‘Tappeh-ye Mondi Gak,’ Luke read. It was too humid to think and Luke was feeling miserable about the argument. He knew the major wasn’t fit but Luke was shopping for a quick resolution, something to tide them over until the mission was done and he could think straight. Scullion was off his head but at least he seemed proactive, wanting to do something, and Luke reasoned it might be better not to fight him. There was no point stewing in the sun and mulling over what they’d said.

‘Come on,’ Scullion added after a moment. ‘We can’t sit here. I’m going down to see what’s what with the ordnance crew. If the work’s going to take hours we’re off on our holidays. Pack your bags, girls.’

The major trooped off and Luke tried to swallow his doubts. Flannigan looked at him for assurance and he just shrugged. ‘It’s madness to leave the convoy,’ Luke said, ‘but what the hell, Flange.’

‘He’s the boss,’ said Flannigan.

‘Well,’ Dooley said. ‘Let the madness commence. The major’s right. We’re fifty miles from the dam and a fuckload of bullets. Things are in dog order round here, sir, and I for one can’t sit boiling my spuds off waiting for a pack of greasers to sort out the vehicles up front. If we’re here for hours, let’s follow Emperor Mong into the land of Ali Baba. You never know. We might find a Coca-Cola out there.’

Scullion’s insistence was a feature of the weather that day and not open to change. He came back with the news that a big IED scan was under way and that the Royal Engineers were fixing the axle on the truck carrying the crane. They wouldn’t be moving for three hours. Scullion called in Bawn and Kilbride, two privates from the next vehicle, and ordered them to man the Vector. ‘Leave your shit here,’ he told Flannigan and company, but Luke insisted they take their rifles and two radios.

‘I don’t want guns,’ Scullion said. ‘This is a cultural outing.’

‘Nice distinction, Major,’ Luke said. ‘But either we take our assault weapons or we’re not moving an inch away from this convoy.’

‘I’ll remind you, I’m in charge,’ Scullion said.

‘You’ll be wanting to protect your section, then,’ Luke said.

The two men stared at each other for a moment and then Scullion smiled.

‘All right, girls,’ he said. ‘We’re taking a trip. Look lively and bring your bang-sticks like the good soldier says.’

Scullion commandeered a jeep and steered it off the line. He drove onto a patch of desert and Rashid came with extra water. When Luke said there might be flak about them absconding from the convoy, Flannigan pointed to other servicemen wandering free. A team of Canadians and Dutch were already setting up a makeshift volleyball net. ‘The line is two kilometres long, Captain,’ Flannigan said. ‘Jesus, it’s fine. Remember in Basra we used to go sightseeing all the time. The boys get sick waiting.’ A second jeep carried two of the Royal Caledonian boys and a couple of the Canadians and Scullion waved the vehicle alongside. He hadn’t been so keyed up at any time since the platoon left Camp Bastion.

‘What’s with the wheels?’ asked Lennox.

‘They’re the bomb,’ Luke said.

‘Seriously the bomb,’ Flannigan said.

‘White motherfucken Land Cruisers,’ said Lennox. He rolled his tongue and spat on the ground. ‘Brand new.’

‘Bought for the ANA by the Americans,’ Luke said.

‘No way.’

‘Yes way.’

‘Holy mother of Jesus,’ Flannigan said.

The major had his hand on a map. Rashid was rolling another joint and kept indicating places of interest. At one point, Rashid wetted his hand with saliva and dampened the area under his eyepatch. Scullion saw it and it made his stomach heave. It was a new thing: Rashid now did that to him, made him anxious, revolted.

But as usual with the regiment, events moved faster than thoughts, and the quartet of 1st Royal Western Fusiliers, Flannigan, Dooley, Lennox and Campbell, climbed into the back and all felt rewarded when the air-conditioning kicked in and went turbo and seemed to blow the heat and the dust from their brains.

Dooley put his rifle on the floor and pulled out a CD. ‘Stick this mother on,’ he said, handing it over. Scullion looked round when the music filled the car and he grinned the grin of a middle-aged man finding freedom again in the sound of a metal band at full pelt.