new command, hopefully at least to a condition that was close to the discipline and skills of the twenty Arabs he had brought with him from Chehaar Garrison. He knew he had a hell of a tough job ahead, but at least he could count on the Iranian SF officer Naser Khadid, his adjutant Jandol Kakar, and his interpreter Malyar Lodhi for guidance if and when he hit any rough spots.
Sikes had no illusions about being able to instill a bashing on the square discipline into the Pashtun mujahideen's collective psyches. This was against their nature, and in their culture such a thing would be seen as unnecessary and peculiar as putting puhtee caps on their goats. They considered the saluting, standing at attention, and stomping of boots as some weird ritual the foreigners felt they must do. However, Sikes knew there was one kind of systemic method he could apply to the Pashtuns, and that was crew drill.
He started with the mortarmen, using the Soviet M-1937 mortars. These 82-millimeter heavy weapons were perfect for developing the teamwork necessary for their effective application. There were four of them available, and Sikes was happy to learn all the Pashtun mortarmen knew how to use the sights and aiming stakes to properly align the tubes on the same azimuth at spaced intervals. This was the means of assuring that battery fire on a target or area would be accurate and effective. The problem was that when it came to firing, as far as the weapons crews were concerned, it was a matter of first come, first served for the different jobs in manning the mortars. The Pashtuns would run with their best friends toward the same weapons and grab the sights and bipods. The slower guys ended up with the least desirable jobs of handling tubes and weighty base plates.
Sikes began his training with a strict organization. He broke down the twenty-one mortarmen available into crews of four for each weapon. That meant he had five left over as supernumeraries to handle the donkeys that carried the boxes of shells. Each crew would consist of a gunner, who would carry the sight and use it to align on the aiming stakes; an assistant gunner, who would be the one to drop the shell down into the mortar during firing, and carry the tube and bipods; and two ammo men, who would carry the base plate as well a set of aiming stakes each. They would also be the ones to prepare the shells for firing and pass them off to the assistant gunner during fire missions.
The way Sikes got the Pashtuns to carry on crew drill was to have them run to an indicated spot to set up the mortars. The two ammo men would lug the heavy base plate into position, and immediately, the assistant gunner would attach the tube and bipod. At that point, the gunner attached the sight to the weapon, while the ammo men ran out to set up the aiming stakes. The gunner would then sight in on the stakes, telling the ammo men which direction to move until both sets were aligned one behind the other. When that was done, the gunner would leap up and yell, Chamtu, the Pashto word for Ready.
When everyone understood the procedures, Sikes had them rotate the jobs until all had several opportunities to perform at each crew position. Then he began timing them, making a contest of the drills. Before long, the Pashtuns worked hard to have their mortar properly laid and ready, and the competition became so hot and heavy that any member of a crew who stumbled or made a mistake was loudly but good-naturedly jeered by his buddies. Even Jandol Kakar and Malyar Lodhi joined a couple of the crews to participate in the practice drills. Everyone was having a good time, yet they all were still being shaped up into damn good heavy-weapons teams.
Naser Khadid, who had carefully observed the drill, complimented Sikes. You have these fellows keen to be the best. Well done, Sikes Pasha. I do believe you are going to be quite successful in this endeavor.
Right, Sikes said. Wot about that bluddy commission for me as major in the Iranian Army?
I have put in the request, Khadid assured him, along with my strongest personal recommendation.
We'll have to see, Sikes said. He decided to spring an impromptu drill on the men. Turning from the Iranian officer, he suddenly hollered, Fire mission!
The crews flew into action, each man keenly aware of his duties within his team.
WITH the mortarmen evolved into an efficient and standardized organization, Sikes turned his attention to the machine gunners. He had them perform the same applicable drills on the Dashika 12.7-millimeter machine guns with gunners, assistant gunners, and ammo bearers. Shaping this bunch up was a much easier task than with the mortars since the machine gunners had watched the mortarmen acquire their different skills. When their English field commander got around to them, the Pashtuns were more than ready to get with the program. Contests in speed also encouraged them to try to be the best of their group.
BOTH the machine guns and the mortars had some problems with parts that were either missing or broken, and it was at this time that Sikes became acquainted with the most important logistical and maintenance members of the Pashtun communities: the blacksmiths.
These craftsmen were traditionalists, passing the skills of their trade down from father to son through countless generations. The peshane, although using only the most basic of tools such as hammers, tongs, anvils, and hand bellows, manufactured cutting tools, pots, ladles, and other items necessary for the day-to-day life of the community. This also included such implements as crescent wrenches and pliers. This work was done using smoldering charcoal arranged within fire rings on the floors of their small shops.
They could also turn out gun parts through the use of sand molds. Although bolts were a bit too much for them, these peshane could manufacture operating slides with handles, flash suppressers, iron sights, butt plates, and other simple parts. After items were cast and cooled, hand files were used to further shape them for proper fit. The craftsmen could also turn out crude, albeit efficient, smoothbore single-shot rifles and pistols. All the metal needed for these operations was melted down in homemade furnaces, which, though slow and cumbersome, could produce the molten steel for pouring into the molds.
Sikes had the machine gunners and mortarmen check all their weapons and see if any missing or broken parts could be taken care of by the smithies. Since the weapons had not been fired in months, most all were in good shape; thus, the only things needing attention were a broken carrying handle on one of the Dashikas and a couple of adjustment knobs for the heavy mortars.
HOWEVER, Arsalaan Sikes Pasha had more to worry about than his military responsibilities. There was also his marriage to deal with. At times, he wondered what his parents back in Manchester would think if they knew he had married a thirteen-year-old girl.
Banafsha was a complete enigma to Sikes. Although she looked her age now, he knew that within a couple of years she would be like the rest of the shedze, women, and begin to age fast. He had taken notice of the females he knew to be in their early twenties, and all had lines around their eyes and hard-set mouths that resulted from their lives of hard work and many births. The hair of a few was streaked with the first signs of graying. Banafsha's hands were already calloused, with the fingernails short and worn down from the grasping, handling, lifting, and other activities of her daily chores. The Englishman had to admit she was more than a satisfactory wife. She was always up before he awoke, having the cook fire going and the cave interior warm and lit. The food she prepared, while still a bit exotic and strange to Sikes, was tasty and filling.
He had begun to feel an affection toward the girl, and wanted her to enjoy their sex life as much as possible. Some passion on her part would increase his own pleasure. Sikes was no great lover by any stretch of the imagination; he had never had a steady girlfriend and all his sexual experiences had been with prostitutes. But he had read manuals on marriage, and knew that women liked what is called foreplay with all its show of affection, tenderness, and a slow approach to sexual intercourse. He did his best, cooing to her in English, since he didn't know any love phrases in Pashtun and wasn't about to ask any of the men what he should be saying to his woman. He realized she didn't understand the words, but he hoped the tone of his voice would please her. Sikes also caressed her gently, in his campaign of arousing her passions, but it was useless. No matter what he did, she was the same as on their wedding night: submissive, quiet, and cold as she waited for him to have his way with her.
It was strange, but Arsalaan Sikes was beginning to have more of a sense of loneliness than before he had taken a wife. The lack of real affection in the relationship was hard to bear for this living product of Western society.
.
12 MAY
1430 HOURS
A signal from the lookout post was passed down to Orakzai's headquarters. Those people in the stronghold who saw the waving of the old Soviet flag by the guard on duty burst out in loud shouts of happiness, running around the area to inform others of the good news.
The men on the latest opium run were only a short distance away and rapidly approaching the stronghold.
