Chapter 6

The door banging open woke me, I was in deep sleep after my evening of fun with Asmaan. We had shagged for hours before falling asleep in each other’s arms. She was a hot bird that was for sure and was eager and willing.

I heard shouting and automatically rolled over and grabbed my Glock.

Asmaan reached out and took my wrist in her hand

“It’s Damsa, Rosie it’s only Damsa,” she said reassuringly. She got up off the bed mat and pulled her nightdress on, covering up the body that I had explored all night. A glance at my watch told me it was three in the morning.

I saw Damsa in the shadows and then a lamp flickered to life in the kitchen, and I saw she was alone.

Damsa said something to Asmaan in Pashto, and they both turned to me, the look told me all I need to know. The version of Pashto they spoke still bewildered me, but the tone was enough to warn me something was wrong.

“They are coming?” I said and glanced at the door for a second before grabbing my combat gear and starting to get dressed.

“They are searching the whole valley,” Damsa told me, “house by house they are searching”

“How many of them are there?” I asked but she shook her head and turned to Asmaan. Asmaan repeated the question in Pashto. I strapped on my webbing, Damsa took my water bottle and filled it for me. Then she filled a small bag with food that was left over from the evening meal.

“Oh, there are over one hundred men,” she said, “Rosie you have to go, or they will kill you...”

“And they will kill us,” Asmaan said and looked me in the eye.

I was soon lacing up my boots.

“How do you know how many there are Damsa?” I asked.

“One of the farmers at the top of the valley sent runners to warn us,” she said.

I put the Glock in its holster and then picked up the AK, glancing around to make sure I had left nothing behind, nothing that would drop the two girls in deep shit.

Asmaan came to me and kissed me hard on the lips.

“Take care Rosie and thank you “she smiled. Then she turned to Damsa

“Damsa go and check that the coast is clear.” Damsa did as she was told. I turned to see Asmaan pulling her burka over her head. I noticed the t-shirt and shorts on the floor. I picked them up and put them on the fire in the kitchen. I made sure they were well alight before I turned back to Asmaan.

“You need to make sure that there are no clues to me being here,” I told her as she made the bed.

“I will once you are gone,” she said, “once we know the coast is clear go out of the door and turn right. There is a tree around one hundred yards in front of you, head for that and you will see a pathway that leads up into the hills.”

She took me in her arms and held me for a few seconds. Then she pushed me away as the door opened. Damsa came in

“They are around half a mile away down the valley,” she said, and I could hear the fear in her voice.

Asmaan blew out the lamp and at the same time I made sure that the magazine was seated well in the AK, and I set the selector to semi-auto.

“Ladies I will be back,” I said and smiled at them.

“Rosie just go now and please be safe” Damsa said.

I stepped out of the door. I could see the headlights of trucks in the distance and the firing of weapons. I turned to the right and saw the tree, I jogged over to it, my eyes getting used to the darkness. I glanced back at the hut. There was no sign of the girls.

I could see the path that led up the hillside, and I started to walk out of the valley and out of the lives of Asmaan and Damsa. At first, I walked slowly, there was always the possibility the Taliban had put soldiers around the hills, guarding its perimeter. I kept my eyes peeled and my ears open.

Once I was a good mile from the little farm that had been my home for the last two nights, I started to up the pace.

I stretched my legs and made good ground, trying to put as much distance between me and the valley as possible. As I walked, I wondered why the Taliban were searching the Valley. Did they know I was there and if so, how?

It may just have been a coincidence that they had decided to search that valley on this night but eh cynic told me that it might not have been, I was sure that neither Damsa nor Asmaan had grassed on me but who knows who might have seen me sneaking into the barn and then being led into the house.

The walk out of the valley got steeper and harder, it reminded me of the Fan Dance. The fan dance is a fifteen-mile run complete with a full bergen that takes place at the end of the first week of the SAS selection course. It is used as the first major indicator of whether a candidate has the physical and mental aptitude to complete the selection. It is tough both mentally and physically.

The candidates go into the Brecon beacons and climb Pen y Fan’s west slope and then descend on the far side, known as Jacob’s Ladder. The rest of the route follows the old Roman road before going back on itself for the return leg. Candidates are allowed roughly four hours to complete the route regardless of the weather.

I had done it a dozen times before attending my selection course, me and five other lads from the paras had gone time after time to build up our stamina and strength.

If you fail the fan dance you are RTU’d returned to unit, and no one wanted that. On the day I did it thirty guys started and only twenty-five completed the exercise in time, and of that Twenty-five only ten made it into the regiment. Two lads had left a year or so later, the SAS is not for everyone and it’s not as glamorous as some may think.

Of the others, one had died during jungle training and two more had died on active service.

I kept walking until daylight came, and I had to find a hiding place. I found a small stand of rocks that would offer me protection. So, I settle in for the day. I ate some of the food that Damsa had packed for me, dices of cooked chicken and lamb, plus a couple of flat breads. I ate some of the food that Damsa had packed for me, dices of cooked chicken and lamb, plus a couple of flatbreads. I thought hard about the possibility of sleeping.

In the end, I decided that I needed sleep. If was going to get out of here I would need all the energy I could muster. I slept for a few hours and when I woke the sun was going down. I ate the rest of the food Damsa had given me and took a swig of water.

I did a reccie and saw nothing to worry me. I had a piss and then started walking again. I need to find a water source and perhaps some food.

After a couple of hours, I found a stream, so I drank the last of my water and then refilled the bottle. As I was refilling it, I heard a noise to my right. I dropped to the floor. A man was walking up toward the stream. He was dressed in the black robes of a Taliban soldier. He had an AK on a strap over his shoulder. He must have seen the stream or perhaps heard it as he changed direction and headed toward it.

He passed within three feet of me and didn’t see me, thank God. He stood just five yards from me, glancing up and down the stream. Then he knelt down and unclipped a water bottle from his belt.

I watched as he put his weapon down and dipped his hands into the water. He drank greedily and as he did, so I stood up. Leaving my gun on the ground but unsheathing my knife. The Fairbairn–Sykes fighting knife is a double-edged fighting knife resembling a dagger. It’s the standard issue for all the UK special forces guys and it’s a tool used for killing, nothing more nothing less.