Mahmoud Dowlatabadi - Thirst

‘Yes, I understand you perfectly.’

‘So let’s return to our main subject, shall we, which is contemporary history. Current affairs, so to speak. We need your pen today. In the here and now. The past was what concerned our predecessors, but what concerns us is the present. The here and now. This very instant. Because it is quite possible that some Ajam †aircraft might just have taken off, and by chance, chosen to target this road along which I, you and this soldier here are travelling to reach our destination. What I mean is, we’ve now entered a war zone and from this point on anything could happen to us! We’re in danger, do you understand? It’s perfectly possible for a plane with a devil’s apprentice of a pilot at the controls to slip under our radar by flying in at a low altitude and to suddenly appear above our heads. Those types of sorties are usually considered suicide missions. It is almost impossible for the plane and the pilot to return home unless by a miracle. It was one of those missions that destroyed our important barracks up in the north with a huge payload of TNT. Displaying utter recklessness, the devilish pilot dropped his bombs on our barracks from the lowest possible altitude and then pulled his aircraft up like a djinn and high-tailed it out of there. I heard on the foreign news that the dreadful force of the explosion had shattered the windshield of his plane and burst the pilot’s eardrums, and that he had been killed instantly! But the other son-of-a-devil, the co-pilot I mean, was able to regain control and bring the plane, which otherwise would surely have crashed, back to the nearest airbase and land it successfully. But such unorthodox tactics are not confined to bombing raids. Sometimes they do it simply to show off their firepower and piloting skill and courage. Sometimes they’ll just empty their machine-gun magazine and soar upwards. But although it’s just meant as a demonstration of their military might, there’s nothing to stop one of those machine-gun rounds hitting a moving target purely by chance. Like us, for instance, just driving along like we are right now. That’s the reason why not every departure also means a return. I’m sure you bade your wife and family farewell when you heard the jeep’s horn outside. Am I right? You said goodbye to your family, correct? Yes? I can’t hear you, speak up.’

‘Yes, I said my goodbyes.’

‘So you understand what I mean by contemporary history? This is it. When the soles of our feet are roasting on a griddle, we can’t think of our barefoot ancestors who ran around aimlessly on hot desert sands, hollering, to God knows what purpose! Right now we must tend to the burning soles of the populace! You are one of us, and this soldier here has been sworn to silence. So I’ll take the liberty of speaking frankly. Let me tell you, then, that on battlefields all over the country, we are facing endless waves of enemy troops, wave after wave! We kill and kill and kill. But no matter how many we mow down, they never stop coming. It’s easy to imagine that we’ve made not the slightest impact on their troop numbers. These waves of soldiers turn all the normal principles of war on their head. We try and maintain the principles of a classic battlefield army, whereas they … well, it seems like their strategy amounts to nothing but this: to dispense with all the traditional rules and principles in favour of martyring themselves.’

‘Major, will you let me cite an example from history for you?’

‘Go ahead! Speak louder so I can hear you. All this noise … and the sound of the jeep’s engine … please continue!’

‘It’s a complete 180-degree turn in history, a volte-face ! The method of warfare you’re describing reminds me precisely of our own when we attacked and overran Persia! They had a classic army ranged against us, and we employed unorthodox tactics. If you can picture that period in your mind’s eye, then your idea of people running about on hot desert sands would take on a new complexion, believe me. If that period had only been imprinted firmly on our collective memory, then you wouldn’t be so surprised at the notion of waves of human beings so fanatical and furious that they can turn the principles of traditional warfare on their head and turn themselves into cannon fodder. For that reason I believe it’s essential for me to create a work that recalls the insane courage that our ancestors displayed in combat. A work that could bear comparison with what was written in Iran’s Khorasan province a thousand years ago, all in praise of heroes and warriors of old, though of course it would be impossible in this day and age to create an epic of such proportions. But we can do our best both to delve into the meaning of victory and conquest, and to discover how to defend ourselves now. Especially by studying the manner in which the Abbasids defended themselves with the help of some Iranian families against Iranian rebels. I’m minded to write such an epic, pure and simple. I can only look at history from this point of view. And if this work does come to fruition, I’m sure that our homeland, president and people will be pleased with it.’

‘Katib … Katib … Katib … why not just think of the topic at hand as being a chapter of the same book you are busy crafting right now? Each story has a chapter of its own. This incident could have come from the past too, couldn’t it?’

‘Yes, indeed it could. As long as there is war, there are also atrocities!’

‘I didn’t hear what you said! Now there’s the roar of aircraft engines too. Say it again!’

‘I said, it’s just like you say. Yes, it could be an old story too.’

‘So, to return to the matter in hand, what would you like to see? Those young men and the corpse, or the film of them?’

‘Neither!’

‘I can’t hear you, speak up!’

‘I said whatever you wish.’

‘The planes are coming. I told you they would. The anti-aircraft fire has started. Switch off the engine, soldier! Get out of the jeep quickly and walk away, Katib! Move! Give me your hand, man! Take your spectacles off your nose for a moment and lie down prone on your front. In the ditch. Burrow down into the earth if you can! Lie down, lie down. Dig in. Like that soldier’s doing over there. Bastards! I hope they won’t bomb those silos … not today, at least … They’ve no idea their own prisoners are being housed in the silos. They probably think they’re aircraft shelters or storage depots. No!.. not today at any price … You there, soldier! Lie on your back and tell me what height they’re coming in at!’

‘There’s no sign of them, sir! I can’t see them.’

‘What about that engine noise? Can’t you hear it?’

‘It’s way off … very far away. Too high. They must be flying very high.’

‘Why did the anti-aircraft guns open up, then?’

‘Our jets have taken off, sir.’

‘How many?’

‘Six units. I think they’re off to intercept them.’

‘I think so, too. Lie down, on your front. Lie down! You too, Katib, you too!’

‘They’ve gone, sir. And the anti-aircraft fire has stopped.’

‘They’ve gone, yes, Katib. So, now you’ve experienced what the enemy is like at first hand. What do you think now? Is there any room left for your ethical qualms? Let’s get back in the jeep, soldier.’

‘Prisoners … we had a few captives in the trench. They killed one. With a bullet through his temple. He was young, tall, and healthy; they killed him and threw his body out of the trench. He was heavy. He rolled and rolled and rolled all the way down to the bottom of the hill. On and on he rolled till I couldn’t see him anymore. He was lost, lost. I didn’t want to … I didn’t want to … and now, the other one … there’s another wounded man too, and he’s even younger … I don’t want anything to happen to him. I tried to … What truce? We’ve been on the offensive or defensive for centuries … No caliph on this side of Mesopotamia had any peace for fear of constant uprisings. Rebels sprouted out of the ground like grass, raised a flag and rode westwards behind their commander, towards us. Their destination was Baghdad, home to the caliph at the time. Their base was in Ahwaz. They stayed there, rested, replenished their forces and started out for Baghdad again. The heart of the caliphate. The caliph was the target. Until eventually they fulfilled their plan. Ultimately, those fire-worshipping Zoroastrians planned to force-feed us the same thing we’d rammed down their throats. Yes, Major? What manner of thinking is this? I mean this way of looking at the enemy? Yes, Major?’