“Too well, thank you, Chief Hunter,” I politely replied, and saw him smirk at my response.
He looked fresh and delicious; I probably looked like old ham next to him, but I didn’t care. Which was something of a revelation: it didn’t matter what I wore, or how much sleep I’d had or not had, he always looked at me as if his world began and ended with me. How could I not be affected by that? By the certainty of his love?
As we headed north into the dusty, barren landscape, bumping along a broken road, heading up into the foothills, the heat was already building and I was starting to sweat. We’d all be soaked and stinking by the time we stopped for the night – and I already knew that there wouldn’t be any showers.
I squinted into the harsh light, staring at the stark surroundings. Our road followed the side of a riverbed, and for a hundred yards in each direction, a strip of green vegetation broke up the bleakness of the lunar landscape.
Scattered in the scrubby fields, we saw several fortified farms with high walls, built from a mixture of mud and straw so they blended into the very dirt they were made from. Some were gathered into loose hamlets for company and protection, but most seemed to be abandoned. The only signs of life were a few skinny goats. If the owners were around, they were hiding from us.
I was still staring out of the window, when I felt Sebastian’s hand drifting up to rest casually on my thigh. I shifted my daypack slightly, so that his hand was hidden, and slowly lowered mine, allowing our fingers to entwine on my leg.
In the middle of that blighted country, bumping along a dirt road in 90-degree heat, I felt a moment of peace.
Our destination was the town of Nowzad; grim was too kind a word. It might have been prosperous once, with evidence of a market area, but now it looked like it had been blasted by the desert.
Broken shops hung open to the elements, shutters drooping loosely. Only one person seemed to exist in this ghost town – an elderly man selling a few potatoes and eggs from a rug outside an empty building. He waved as we went past and called out something to us. Maybe that was a hopeful sign.
I glanced at Sebastian.
“What did he say?”
I saw Grant’s head incline towards us, also waiting for the answer.
“Nothing I’d like to repeat, ma’am,” he said, running his thumb over the back of my hand.
I nudged my knee against his and held back a grin. Playing footsie with Sebastian and having Grant sitting in front of me, gave me an almost irrepressible urge to laugh. Among other things.
My light heartedness disappeared when I saw the place that was to be our home for the next month.
Our compound had been a police station at some point in its life, but used many times over by ISAF soldiers from both British and US forces. It was basic, to say the least. There was no fresh water, no electricity, and the men were to sleep in the old cells, up to a dozen per room. I was given a space the size of a closet: I could just about stretch out there – it certainly wouldn’t have done for anyone taller than me. I felt lucky to have a room to myself and that level of privacy. No one else did – not even Captain Grant.
I kept out of the Captain’s way while he was organizing the camp. Instead, I tapped out notes on my laptop and blew up my oh-so-comfortable mattress.
PFC Sullivan had given me enough material for my first article, and the dreary town of Nowzad would supply plenty more. Being stationed here was a very different prospect from the relative comfort and safety of Leatherneck. I couldn’t believe that our flimsy-looking mud walls would do much to protect us from an attack where rocket propelled grenades were used.