Prince of Afghanistan Read online

  OTHER NOVELS

  BY LOUIS NOWRA

  Into That Forest

  FOR ADULTS

  The Misery of Beauty

  Palu

  Red Nights

  Abaza

  Ice

  First published in 2015

  Copyright © Amanita Pty Ltd 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Email: [email protected]

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  A Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available from the National Library of Australia

  www.trove.nla.gov.au

  ISBN 978 1 74331 482 1

  eISBN 978 1 74343 291 4

  Teachers’ notes available from www.allenandunwin.com

  Cover and text design by Ruth Grüner

  Cover images from Sven Dirks (front, landscape), MarkMirror (back, sky) and iStockphoto; internal images from Master Sgt Andy Dunaway, US Air Force (page i) and from iStockphoto plus ninjaMonkeyStudio (vi), MivPiv (14, 156, 164), Elijahjohn (32), mbaysan (38), christophe.cerisier (46), michaelbwatkins (56), AHDesignConcepts (62, 74), Maximilian_Clarke (102), cassp (124), MarkMirror (142), DTStudios (170)

  Typeset by Ruth Grüner

  TO BASIL, A MINIATURE PRINCE

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  1

  I am falling from the sky. The cold air stings my face. After counting ten seconds I pull the rip cord, there’s a sudden lurch upwards as the parachute opens, and I drop more slowly. The aeroplane noise fades away and the only sound is the ’chute snapping in the wind. A surge of adrenalin runs through me, but I force myself to breathe more calmly. I see black parachutes against a greenish moon. I recognise Casey because he’s got his dog strapped to his chest. In the distance is the dark outline of the forest we will have to make our way through before reaching the target.

  The ground looms up and I brace myself for a landing. I hit the earth with a thump and a breeze catches my parachute, forcing me to run a few steps before I deliberately fall, dragging it down with me. After freeing myself from the straps, I bundle up the ’chute and start for the trees, where I bury it as quickly as possible in the soft ground under the pine needles.

  The others have landed and are joining up. Our radios are turned off and there are no voices, just the sounds of heavy boots moving quickly across the hard earth and grunts of effort. Like the others, I’m carrying an assault rifle and wearing body armour and night goggles. We must look like aliens in the green shimmering light as we gather on the treeline.

  I join Casey and his dog, Prince, and give him a grin and a thumbs-up. I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s the leader of the rescue mission, Major Perry, an American. In his forties, he’s as fit as a soldier half his age. He signals to me and Casey to make our way to the front of the team. There are probably no mines buried in the pine plantation, but Prince is leading the patrol just in case. His hearing is sharp enough to catch the very high-pitched whine produced when air moves over the thin wires of a booby trap. My job is to cover Casey and his dog in the raid.

  Prince is not straining but the line is taut as he sniffs his way forward ten metres in front of Casey. It would be nearly impossible for me to see him without the night goggles. He is a black-and-tan Doberman pinscher and the white patch on his throat has been dyed black, as have the pockets of tan, to make him even less visible. He moves, as he always does, with a delicate gait, almost like a prance, as if his paws are barely touching the ground. In the eerie green glow his sharp pointed ears make him look like the devil. He weaves through the trees, sniffing the earth and air.

  Although this is my first such mission, I’m not so much afraid as excited. The operation has happened quickly. A few weeks ago the Taliban kidnapped three doctors, two men and one woman, and they demanded $10 million ransom. In the video they sent, the hostages looked scared and exhausted. The latest phone intercepts have told us that the kidnappers are becoming tired of waiting for the money and are threatening to behead the doctors, one by one. The phone intercepts and drones have revealed the location. The team has been parachuted in, four kilometres from the target. We are to make our way through the pines, up a steep hill, raid the compound and liberate the doctors, and then head along a rocky escarpment to a small patch of level ground where the choppers can land to pick us up. The whole operation has to be done as quickly as possible because the one-kilometre hike to the pick-up site will be across open country where it will be easy to pick us off.

  I’ve only had twenty-four hours to prepare for the mission. Originally the team was to have had an American handler but his dog died of a snake bite and Casey and I were brought in at the last moment. I may be four years younger than Casey but I’m a good shot, much better than he is. When we hunted rabbits and wallabies together back home, he used to say I could shoot the balls off a mosquito at a hundred metres.

  Halfway through the forest, Prince pauses. Casey holds up his hand for the others to stop. The dog is peering and sniffing at something but he hasn’t frozen the way he does when he senses a buried mine. He sniffs the earth a few more times, then glances back at Casey and pulls on his lead, moving forward again. When I reach the spot where he stopped, I see the glowing green bones of a donkey’s skeleton.

  Glancing over my shoulder I see the other ten men are moving through the trees like black ghosts. The pine needles crunch underfoot and a fresh and clean smell fills my nostrils. It’s so different from the usual stinks in the villages and towns.

  As we near the clearing, my heart begins to pound. The whole raid depends upon surprise and perfect timing, not only to carry out the rescue itself but to reach the rendezvous point before dawn. From here we have to walk up a bare hill, hoping not to be seen. If anyone up there in the compound cared to look we’d be easy to spot, and that’d be the end of us all.

  Major Perry joins me and whispers, in that slow southern drawl of his, for me and Casey to take up our positions. We join the ragged line of soldiers, silently marching up the slope.

  The night goggles bathe everything in lime green. It’s as if I’m walking on the bottom of the sea. It’s hard to keep my footing on the shifting shale. The air is cold, but even so I can feel the beads of sweat dripping from my underarms. There’s so much at stake and everything has to go right.

  I look up and I’m surprised at how shiny the waxing moon is. It seems as bright as a searchlight. I instinctively crouch as I move up the slope. I can only hope the kidnappers are asleep up there.

  The slope eases and I can see a mudbrick compound has been built into the side of a hill. As it comes into view we begin to move into our assigned positions. At least there are no ligh
ts visible, which means they still haven’t seen us.

  Two soldiers attach plastic explosives to the wooden gate. I take up my spot further along the mud wall, away from the blast. The Americans will go in first. Casey and I are to search for the hostages in the rear buildings. Casey pulls out a piece of checked shirt which belonged to one of the doctors and gives it to Prince to sniff. At the same time Casey strokes Prince’s withers to let him know something is about to happen and to be calm. Major Perry raises his hand. I feel myself tense and realise I’m licking my dry lips.

  Major Perry drops his hand and a moment later the earth rocks. At the same time there’s a piercing white light, the sounds of crashing metal and wood and the yell of It’s on! Closely following Casey and Prince, I rush into the compound, jumping over the smouldering ruins of the gate.

  The noise and light is unbelievable; grenade blasts, gunfire, screams and shouts, like the noisiest light show and rock concert ever. There’s no time to be afraid. I know what to do as Casey orders Prince to sit. I rip off a piece of plastic sheeting from one of the compound windows and Casey runs to it with Prince in his arms, then hurls him through the narrow gap. Atta boy! Go! he yells. We have practised this many times and Prince knows what to do, but this will be his first time in a real battle – as it is mine.

  From inside come cries of fear and ferocious barking as he terrorises the occupants, exactly as he has been taught. I run around to the side with Casey, rip a blanket away from a doorway and rush in. I can hear Prince barking in the next room and when I enter it I see two bare-chested Taliban pinned against the wall, screeching and shouting at him, holding their hands in front of their groins to protect themselves. On the floor! On the floor! I yell in Pashto above the noise. They obey me immediately. Time is of the essence so I leave Casey and Prince to look after the situation while I clear the next room – but then the dog races past me. Prince! Back! Prince! I hear Casey crying out. I jump to the side of the doorframe, take a deep breath and leap into the room to see a white woman cringing and screaming in fear, while Prince snarls and springs at an armed man wearing a black turban, who has his rifle raised to shoot. I have a split second to aim. There’s a loud crack and the slight bump of my rifle against my shoulder. The man slaps his head as if he has forgotten something and slumps to the floor. I’m stunned and stand rooted to the spot, paralysed by what I have done. I have never shot a man before.

  The sound of crying jolts me out of my shock and I see two white men and a white woman pressed up against the far wall: the three hostages. It’s all right, it’s all right, we’re getting you out of here! I shout over the noise and point them in the direction I’ve come. Out that way! In the chaos I spot Prince sniffing the dead body and hear Casey calling him, Come on, boy, let’s go! Prince runs back into the other room as I follow the hostages outside, stumbling past Casey, who’s finishing handcuffing the two insurgents with hard plastic bands, wrestling their arms behind their backs, forcing them to lie on their stomachs.

  I join the hostages outside, with Casey and Prince bringing up the rear. It’s bedlam. Explosions, heaving earth, and tracer lights zipping everywhere. Two Afghan women in burqas are huddled with their children against a wall, screaming and crying. They shouldn’t be here. We had been told there were no families in the compound. Bullets rip up the ground around me. Frag out! someone yells and I instinctively drop to the ground, as do Casey and Prince. Rooms explode one after another. There is a brief pause and then cries of Clear! Clear!

  Black smoke is pouring out of the windows and doorways and billowing into the sky. Another huge blast rocks the compound and talc-like dust rains down on me. A Taliban soldier bursts out of a burning room, a rocket strapped to his back. He reaches for the trigger on his grenade launcher. An American soldier, a few metres away from me, falls to one knee and fires a rocket-propelled grenade at the insurgent, who explodes in a bright flash. Bolts of fire shoot out of his backpack, as if he’s a giant sparkler.

  A calm Major Perry jogs over to me as if he’s merely on a training exercise, and, not even raising his voice, says to the hostages who are crouching in a squatting position behind me and Casey, We’re getting you out of here. Then he shouts an order to four of his men to come across the yard to us. Ma’am, sirs, drawls the Major, go with them. The three doctors, dazed by their sudden rescue and the firefight, obediently hurry after the American soldiers. You two Aussies, he orders us, oversee the dust-off and leave on the second chopper.

  Casey and I join the hostages, who are panting with terror and effort, trying to keep up with their rescuers. Where are we going? asks one of the doctors, his eyes scanning the night sky for helicopters. I point to the ridge, then glance at my watch. It’s not too bad, we’re only a few minutes behind schedule, but soon we’re going to run out of darkness. The sun will rise in about twenty minutes and that means we have to make the target area in fifteen.

  With the weight of our body armour and knapsacks, the physical effort is so taxing that no one talks. My lungs seem near bursting and it’s all I can do not to slip on the rocks and shale. Prince runs alongside Casey with that steady, effortless canter of his. I can hear more blasts behind us as the Americans methodically blow up the rest of the compound.

  On reaching the ridge we run onto a small patch of flat earth as a helicopter comes closer, the sound of its high-pitched rotor blades echoing around the hills. The Americans push the doctors to the edge of the landing ground, which is just large enough to take one chopper at a time, and order them to turn their backs. The chopper descends, sending dirt and grit everywhere and blasting the backs of the flinching doctors, who, unlike us, have no body armour.

  As soon as the chopper lands the soldiers push the hostages towards it and bundle them in. Everything has to be done as fast as possible, in case of mortar or rocket attack. The four Americans scramble in after the doctors and the helicopter dusts-off in a blizzard of dust and pebbles. I watch it rise into the pale sky. Good dog, good dog, I hear Casey murmuring to Prince as he strokes his neck. In the distance I see the Americans hurrying up to the ridge from the burning compound just in time for the second helicopter, which is hovering above us. The mission is going perfectly.

  I jump as bullets kick dust up around my feet. Two Taliban are coming up the ridge, chasing after the second team and shooting at them. There’s another blast of grit and pebbles as the chopper lands. The Americans come into view, racing to the landing spot. I peer into the green darkness – where is Casey? I see a running figure and recognise that it’s him hurrying back to cover the Americans as they come upon the ridge. Prince is loping after him when Casey seems to trip and fall. He’s been hit.

  I set off, sprinting like a madman to him, my heart pounding as if it’s going to burst out of my rib cage. The two Taliban are coming up onto the ridge. I stop and shoot at one. The bullet hits him in the chest and he falls to the earth. I turn to see the second already kneeling and aiming his grenade launcher. Out of the corner of my eye I see Casey suddenly sit up and point his rifle; there is the crack of his gun and the Taliban falls sideways, firing as he does so. I flinch. The grenade flies over my head and hits the chopper. There is a blinding light and a roar like the earth splitting open. Hundreds of needles slam into my body. The heat from the explosion burns my mouth. The air is sucked out of my lungs.

  When I wake up, I see a shattered green-and-black world. I shake my head, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. It’s like looking through a spiderweb or a kaleidoscope of jumbled pieces. Then it dawns on me; my night goggles have been shattered by shrapnel. I tear them off and I find myself blinking at the intense white-and-orange light of the helicopter burning fiercely, its shell a furnace of melting metal, with acrid smoke and the stink of petrol in the air. The grenade must have made a direct hit on the petrol tank. No way could any of the Americans have survived. It’s as if they have been vaporised.

  What jolts me next is the sudden realisation that I can’t hear a sound. The explosion
must have deafened me. Everything is silent. But I have to keep going. I stumble along the ridge to Casey, dreading what I will find.

  There are no signs of wounds or blood on his body. I rip off his night goggles. His eyes are open, and bright with the reflection of the burning wreck – but his throat has a bleeding hole the size of a tencent coin. He seems to recognise me and smiles, then his eyes begin to close. Don’t close your eyes! Don’t close your eyes! I’m screaming as I shake him. But there’s no reaction. Since I’ve been here I’ve heard every soldier say that no man should die alone. I kneel beside him and hold his hand. Come on, live. Casey, you gotta live! I plead. But his eyes close and his body goes limp. I take several deep breaths to calm myself. It’s then I spot three more Taliban coming up the ridge. I have to leave Casey and save myself.

  I run back to the landing spot only to see Prince on the opposite side of the fiery wreck, trotting off into the flickering shadows. I call out to him but he pays no attention. When I catch up with him and seize him by the collar he spins around, baring his teeth and is about to launch himself at me when he realises who it is. He steps away, panting and yawning; I know this is his way of trying to calm himself. He shakes his head and sits staring at the ground, seemingly unaware of the dangers around him. I lift him up by the collar but he sinks down again as if incredibly tired. The Taliban soldiers are coming closer. I’m desperate. I shout at Prince and shake him but he continues to stare at the ground. Prince! Come! I yell in his ear, but still he doesn’t react. He must be in shock. Then I see why: there’s a giant clump of blood matting his right flank. He’s been shot.

  I’m shaking with panic. I have to save myself but I can’t leave him to lie here or be killed. But how to get him moving? I jump in front of him and lift his head so he’s facing me. His eyes are blank. This is terrible. I don’t know what to do. Then I remember something Casey told me. I spit into Prince’s face, but he doesn’t react. Get up! Get up! I yell at him. I’m frantic with fear and spit into his face again. Prince shakes his head and jumps up, baring his teeth at me. Tiny spurts of earth jump up around me. There’s no time to do anything but run. I grab him by the collar and push him in front of me. Come on, I feel myself shouting, and we head off up the hill into the darkness.