was slowly encroaching on the night's darkness, meaning that Sikes and Khadid no longer needed the night-vision binoculars. The stone hovels of the Taliban village were becoming easier to see.
Sikes reached down and grabbed his AK-47, looking at Shinwari. Do your blokes understand when and how to fire?
Yes, Sikes Bey, Shinwari replied. They are not to begin shooting until you go first. And when they do, they will aim carefully and fire on full automatic with short bursts.
Bluddy good, Sikes said. He aimed his AK-47 toward the center of the village, took a deep breath, then squeezed off two quick five-round squirts of the 7.62-millimeter ammo. Immediately, a loud blast of fusillades flashed out from the firing line of Arabs and Pashtuns. The bullets hit the rock houses, making sparks as they bounced and ricocheted off.
Then a series of detonations began as the ten Arabs situated in their position on the cliff just above the village began dropping the French hand grenades down among the dwellings. All in all, a total of sixty F-1s fell into the village, bouncing and rolling among the houses before detonating. The resultant explosions threw out shards of metal fragments and waves of battering concussion that rocked the poorly constructed rock shelters. These were held together with a minimum of mortar, and the walls began collapsing under the onslaught of the invisible force of the blasts. Roofs caved in on the occupants, exposing the interiors of their domiciles. The final grenades were tossed down to do their damage, and the hand-thrown barrage ended.
Now the attackers had living targets, and they continued to pour in volleys of the short bursts of automatic assault-rifle fire, paying no attention to whether they were shooting at women and children or not. Figures could be seen trying to rise from their blankets, only to collapse back under the hail of steel-jacketed slugs. Some managed to get to their feet, but were unable to go far before being pummeled by the incoming swarms of bullets.
Sikes Bey bellowed his next order in three languages. Hujuml! Hamla kawel! Attack!
Captain Naser Khadid, fired up by the excitement of the battle, added the Farsi word. Hamle!
The attackers swept down the steep slope, still firing, but without accuracy until they reached the floor of the valley. At that point, most of them instinctively slowed down to aim and fire off three or four well-aimed bursts. With that precaution taken, they ran onto the farther slope, struggling upward, keeping alert for any resistance. But they received no return fire and they reached the village without a single casualty.
The homes had all collapsed. Those that had not been taken down by the concussion from the detonations were destroyed when others crashed against them in a falling-domino effect. Sikes was at the forefront, carefully and slowly making his way across the jumbled rocks that had once provided shelters for the people.
Komak!
The cry for help in the Dari language sounded from a pile of rubble in the center of the village. Khusahal Shinwari listened carefully as the plea was repeated several more times. He moved toward the source; then a Taliban in a dusty, bloody robe suddenly stood up and fired his own AK-47. The rounds slammed into Shinwari, who was kicked back by the strike of the bullets an instant before collapsing to the ground. Immediately, a dozen Pashtun attackers blasted the Taliban killer, who took enough hits to fill a thirty-round banana magazine. The man twisted into two pieces from the ripping impacts, both hunks hitting the ground at the same time.
One of the Pashtuns went to Shinwari and knelt down.
Mer.
He says he's dead, Khadid said to Sikes.
Tell them others to be damn careful while they're poking around then, Sikes said.
As Khadid translated the orders, the ten Arabs who had been up on the ridge emerged from some boulders at the side of the village. Warrant Officer Hashiri walked up to Sikes with the detail and saluted. Reporting back, Captain Sikes Bey.
You lads did a kebir job with them grenades, the Englishman said.
We are pleased to be finding that out, Hashiri said. It was impossible to see below if we were accurate.
Sikes gestured to the destroyed dwellings. Well, have a look then.
Hashiri studied the fallen structures, then turned his eyes on the bloody, battered remains of Shinwari. What happened?
One of these Taliban yelled for help; then when Shinwari walked up, the bluddy snake shot him, Sikes explained. Tell the men to begin searching for survivors in the rubble, but be careful. There could be a couple o' more sneaky rotters waiting to start shooting.
Now Arabs and Pashtuns alike carefully probed the village. Sikes, with Khadid at his side, moved slowly through the wreckage looking at the pathetic dead. God! There was lots o' women and children, wasn't there?
Yes, Khadid said, looking at the corpses of a dead woman and baby lying on blankets under a mass of rocks. I think it is safe now to assume there are no survivors.
So we didn't get no pris'ners, hey? Well, no matter, Orakzai Mesher said not to worry, they was just a bunch of miserable Taliban hiding out. From the looks of 'em, they wasn't eating too good.
The Taliban are as much our enemies as the Afghans, Khadid pointed out. We hate them even more.
Usama Bin Laden and the al-Qaeda are going to be bluddy upset about this, Sikes said. But I suppose most of 'em are up in the caves around here somewhere, hey?
Eventually, we want to draw them out and deal them a death blow, the Iranian said. He chuckled. If for no other reason than to embarrass the Americans.
A lot o' Yank faces will turn red over that, Sikes said. He looked over at the men still combing through the remnants of the now-destroyed community. We're done here. I'll gather up the lads and we'll head back...well, to our new home, right? We're living up here in these fucking mountains now, ain't we? He whistled loudly to Warrant Officer Hashiri and waved. Hashiri yelled out orders. Although the Pashtuns didn't understand the words, they got the meaning when the Arabs began forming up.
Within ten minutes, the column, with four men bearing Shinwari's corpse on a hastily rigged litter, moved from the area toward the higher country.
.
PASHTUN STRONGHOLD
ORAKZAI'S CAVE
1400 HOURS
ARSALAAN Sikes Bey and Captain Naser Khadid sat on thick carpets with their host, Yama Orakzai Mesher. They sipped hot thick coffee and slowly consumed the inevitable samosas with paow stewed goat's feet. Sikes was not enjoying the latter dish, but followed Khadid's example and forced himself to at least nibble on what the Pashtuns considered a delicacy.
The death of my old comrade grieves me, Orakzai said. He and I fought in many battles together against the Soviets.
He perished answering a plea for help, Khadid said. Allah, in his benevolence and mercy, will reward his attempt to perform a kind act.
Waquian, Orakzai agreed, knowing that Shinwari was actually after a prisoner rather than acting out of concern for the Taliban fighter. But I have not only lost his presence in my life, I am lacking a trusted deputy. He picked up his bowl of stew and put it to his lips, tipping his head back to let the hot thick broth flow into his mouth. He swallowed and set the bowl down. My mujahideen told me the battle was a very quick one, yet it left the village entirely destroyed.
I could've made a better job of it with a mortar and heavy machine gun, Sikes said.
I think it clever the way you had grenades dropped from the cliff above to knock over the houses, Orakzai said.
When we scouted the place, I noticed they looked like they was about to fall over anyway, Sikes said. That's when I figured a little push might just make 'em tumble down. O'course, we couldn't go up there and knock 'em over, could we?
We tolerated the village because the people were going hungry, Orakzai explained. We knew they would all eventually perish from sickness and starvation within a couple of months at the most. I wished them slow, miserable deaths to avenge their mistreatment of my people during the time they ruled Afghanistan. When you arrived, I decided the miserable wretches would make an excellent practice target. He smiled. I suppose, in a way, I was being merciful to them.
Khadid saw a chance to put in a good word for the Iranian-sponsored Englishman. Sikes Bey's employment of
