Distant Annihilation. (Tarquin Collingwood Adventures Book 1) (14 page)

This orange bearded JFF man had not lost his bluster and confidence, despite nursing a gunshot wound to his leg. He was still defiant and cursed us refusing to answer. Aziz and Mueller between them beat our captive mercilessly. In fact they rejoiced at the beating they inflicted, regarding it as retribution for being held captive. When he’d had enough he revealed his name as Idris Tanveer Yaqub. On the occasions when he was still reluctant to answer, he was encouraged to do so by Aziz punching him in the face or shaking him about. He confirmed that they were members of the JFF. With further probing from his interrogators and more chastisement he divulged that Mesud had gone to meet some important visitors near the border with Persia in the area of the Bactria valley.

“Who are these visitors?” asked the Major in Azaki.

The answer that came back was obscurely, “Foreigners.”

I suppose if you’re an ignorant, semi civilised, native of this godforsaken country you hardly make nuanced distinctions about different nationalities.

“Tell us more, what are their names?” barked Aziz, as he menacingly held a knife close to Yakub’s face, which was now so heavily bruised and bloodied as to be barely recognisable.

“The Iranians and.....” he began in Azaki, barely able to speak, “...........Zhukov.........” he
mumbled and then louder, “....Zhukov.”

CHAPTER 17 - ADULATION AND ASCENT.

The name Zhukov struck me like a thunder bolt and only served to galvanise by my desire to get to the Bactria Valley and strike a blow against him and the Persians. I mounted my horse whilst Yaqub, who was sitting on the ground resting against a small rock, looked anxiously at his bloodied leg.

The others were busy making final preparations to leave camp as I approached the Major and said discreetly, “What are we going to do with him? We can’t take him prisoner.”

The Major looked thoughtfully and said, “But what is the alternative?”

I got out my Glock at which point Yaqub turned to look up in my direction and deduced what I was about. I pointed the gun at Yaqub at which he raised his hand and started begging for mercy. Everyone turned to look. I extended my arm and fired a couple of shots at him; they echoed momentarily, such were the acoustics of our camp. His body contorted and jolted as the bullets penetrated and he fell forward, his body crumpled in a motionless heap.

“That is the alternative,” says I decisively to the Major.

I took up the reins and turned my Gelding and trotted off so that my back was to the Major
, but as I did so I could see him looking at me in disbelief at my casual execution of our prisoner.

We made good progress to the Qursani Valley. I had little to say for most of the day as I was feeling emotionally drained. I had after all just killed four men and one of them with my bare hands. Ismail came up to me on his horse later in the day and expressed gratitude, as he saw me as his deliverer from what he believed would be certain death. He claimed that I was a great warrior and that whosoever should ride with me would be victorious. Ismail took my right hand when I was unawares and proceeded to take it to his lips
, before kissing it fervently thrice. I said not a word to his approbation and words of reverence to me, but merely smiled and nodded wearily. It was not because of any hubris on my part that I failed to disabuse him of his excessive adoration for me, but because I was too caught up in my own thoughts; and experience had taught me that when peoples of the East get a notion into their heads its a devil of a job getting them to change their minds. Mueller hadn’t said a word to me since we had left camp, which was fine by me, especially if it spared me another one of his insolent asides. There was no longer the contemptuous air about him. I suspected that he either found it difficult to come to terms with the fact that I, whom he held in disdain, had been the cause of his rescue or he was jealous of my glory, as Ismail would have it, in killing four of the enemy. Although there was nothing particularly glorious about the fourth killing – that of a wounded man whom as a prisoner I dispatched with a calmness and insouciance that began to trouble me in the hours since the killing. I consoled myself that it was the right thing to do. God only knows how many killings and other foul deeds Yaqub had been responsible for. The Major said not a word to me all day, and avoided my gaze. He may have been filled with revulsion at my dispatching of Yaqub, or just appalled at the unpalatable truth and logic of the need to do as I did. No Geneva Convention bound me – or indeed Queens Regulation.

The Major explained that we would continue even after it got dark in order to get to the Qursani Valley tonight. It was akin to a forced march. Everyone was tired and weary after the encounter with the JFF and then a hard day in the saddle. My backside was unbearably sore and my sides ached. The horses did admirably well with only one stop in mid-afternoon for water and some fodder. We arrived in a sheltered spot with the Qursani Valley walls about half a mile on either side of us. It had got distinctly chilly after the sun went down and a wind had blown up. Ismail’s keenness to serve my needs was a blessing. Aziz took my horse after I had dismounted and I sat down on a small rock – painfully. Ismail erected my tent, unfurled my bedding and got me some water to wash. The fatigues of the day told on the face of everyone as we sat around the fire eating dinner later that evening with a minimal amount of conversation. Dinner consisted of a rice and pulse type kedgeree with a few vegetables. It tasted quite decent and the hot food as it went down my throat seemed to rejuvenate me somewhat. Towards the end of the meal Aziz asked me to recollect what had happened to me after I’d left camp. All I omitted to mention was my fear and self doubt. I noted that Aziz and Ismail were more effusive in their praise whilst the two Germans were more subdued. I was not seeking praise, nor indeed to boast. I dare say that if either of the two Germans had been out of the camp when the JFF arrived, they would have done the same.

Later when we had dispersed after dinner the Major came up to me and said, “You did well today, however tomorrow is another day. Do not be unduly flattered by the praise of Aziz and Ismail, they are natives whose loyalties will bow in whatever direction the wind is blowing. Experience informs me that the glory of one day will count for nothing the next.”

I went to bed and fell asleep almost immediately. I awoke to a chilly but sunny morning. I staggered out of my tent to see Ismail boiling up some water, he saw me and smiled.

“Tea?” he asked.

“Yes please,” I said as I gave out a half stifled yawn, “Why did you not wake me earlier?”

“The Major say we deserve longer in bed after yesterday.”

I returned inside my tent and suddenly a painful stiffness over took my sides and legs. After such a hard day in the saddle it was to be expected. I proceeded to do some stretching to loosen them up.
After breakfast we left camp. A short while later we saw from a distance a group of locals on the other side of the Valley, most likely a family, travelling on two horses a camel and a wagon moving in the opposite direction to us. It brought home the fact that we were now getting close to the Bactria Valley. I fondly recalled our 4WD Toyota as I reflected on the soreness of my body. But I could not reproach my Gelding who was compliant. On two occasions the tedium of the ride induced me to get him into a gallop and overtake everyone as if I were on some leisurely hack, much to the irritation of the Major. We arrived at the end of the Valley in late afternoon and camped by a large rocky outcrop, which served to significantly conceal us. The horses grazed nearby, whilst we snacked on dried fruits and coffee.

The Major gathered us before a map of the area. It showed the Qursani Valley and neighbouring to its right and slightly to the north the Bactria Valley, and the roads and the border between Persia and Azakistan. The Bactria Valley runs diagonally from the S.E to N.W and is 9 miles long and up to 5 miles at its widest point. Dominating the valley in its centre is Khazali’s Mound; it’s about 3 miles long, almost a mile at its widest and follows the lay of the valley floor and is up to 90 metres in height. The sides of Khazali’s Mound contain many indentations, some rather large; it is in one of these, on the side facing the S.W wall of the valley, that the base is located - which helps to partially conceal it. The only road in the Valley is the North West Pass – it travels through on the other side of Khazali’s Mound facing the N.E wall, before leaving the valley in a South Westerly direction through a natural gap in the southern wall known as Iskandar’s Mouth. The Major pointed on the map to indicate of where he was speaking and announced that, “Tonight we will make a reconnaissance trip to view the Installation we have come to destroy.”

It was 1700hrs and the sun would soon be setting. The Major decided that Mueller, Ismail and I would accompany him. The four of us wore whatever dark clothing we had, blackened up our faces and ensured we were armed and had some water, dates and nuts for some sustenance. The Major informed Aziz to expect us back at about 10pm. I was nervous but also excited. This was like Special Ops. We walked at a brisk pace and soon our camp was out of site. We left the Qursani Valley as we climbed over a wall of rocks on the other side of which was barren flat land leading to the high walls of the Bactria Valley about a mile ahead. The sun had now set and it was dark, providing us with cover. We looked around in all directions for signs of human life, but none were to be seen. I noticed large dark nimbus clouds moving towards us in the distance from the East. The four of us had barely said a word since we had left camp, for it spoke of our tension. We started crossing the flat expanse of land that separated the two Valleys at a jog. After a few minutes we made it to the other side, to discover that we had reached the base of the walls of the Bactria Valley. At last this Valley of which I had heard so much, and only seen on the map was a reality that could be touched.

We stopped to catch our breath. I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow as Ismail and the Major conferred and then the Major lead us looking for the path that would take us up the sides of the walls from where we could get our first view inside the Valley. Just then I noticed that the wind had got up and I looked towards the clouds that I had seen earlier to our east and saw that they were getting closer. There was no silvery light on them - now that the sun had gone completely. It was already quite cold and I knew it would get even colder as the heat that the sun had left behind diminished into the night. After walking along the base of the Valley wall for a moment the Major found his path and we rose up the sides where the rocks and the lay of the land permitted. I call it a path – but that does it more credit than it deserves. It was simply where one could negotiate a route through and up the outer wall of the Valley. The Major and Ismail led, I came after them with Mueller bringing up the rear. In the dark it was easy to stumble and trip, without the additional vigilance one had to exercise for enemy patrols. When we did talk it was only when necessary and with whispered voices. Just then there was a sudden gust of wind and a chill went through me and I felt something on my face – it was a drop of rain. The route we took twisted and turned and was arduous in the dark. There were occasions when we would have to climb two or three feet in one step; this slowed us down and we would help each other with a hand up and a push from behind. We didn’t use torches lest they betray our presence. Even allowing for our eyes to adjust to the light I stumbled more than once and caught my foot and cursed. I consoled myself that it would all be worth it. There was now a gentle drizzle of rain and the prospect of getting completely soaked presented itself. I looked down after awhile to see how far we had ascended from the floor and then looked back at the dark silhouette of the Qursani Valley in the distance and the surrounding country. In the night with the rain and cold it was a bleak and sombre setting. I paid little attention to where we were going – my main preoccupation being not to slip, stumble or suffer any other misfortune in the dark. And so it came as a surprise when we came up against a wall of rock and boulders which contained a gap in the Valley wall into which we turned as we walked parallel to it, to come out a couple of metres on the other side to gaze upon the Bactria Valley. We had made it to the top!

We all felt a sense of muted elation. The ridge where we stood was a few metres wide; on the inner side of the Valley, the ground off the ridge initially gently sloped down and then although dark, one could see an outline of a wall of rock where the ridge jutted out and the side of steep walls betrayed vertical drops. Beyond and down into the Valley floor it was flat, dark and silent, where we could see the North West Pass, utterly devoid of traffic on this inhospitable night. This was the southerly point of the Valley where it was at its narrowest; across we could see the walls on the other side - a black silhouette sitting there immovable.

Just then there was the most appalling crash and roar; so loud I jumped - and then a bright flash of light – it was thunder and lightening. I put my hood up and everyone recoiled as a furious downpour began. It was so profuse that we had to shout in order to be heard.

“Over there
!” the Major shouted and gesticulated to our left.

He began running and we all followed him along the ridge. I looked ahead and saw a hole in the rock about two metres wide - it was a cave. We entered it. I switched on my torch in the pitch black. The floor was littered with the odd boulder and rock. We stood a metre or so inside the mouth of the cave where the sound of the rain receded. I removed my hood. “Allaaaaah,” exclaimed Ismail like a joyful schoolboy, using that all encompassing exclamation used by Mohammadans of invoking the name of their god, as he shook off the excess rain from his wet khaki jacket which he wore over his native traditional dress.

Just then we heard a groan and the sound of something moving towards the rear of the cave. We all turned abruptly, alert to danger. The Major and I shone our torches. Partially concealed by a boulder, it was something cloaked on the ground prostrate. Mueller trained his gun, the Major held up his hand exhorting him to hold his fire. Then the cloak was thrown back and the face of a man appeared, blinking from his slumber.

CHAPTER 18 – SURVEILLANCE AND AMBUSH.