Chapter 4

Don’s Airfield, North West Province, South Africa. 12 June, 19:00 (GMT +2)

The yellow moon broke away from the horizon and climbed higher into the sky. As it climbed it became whiter, casting a bright silver glow over the dark bush. With the increased light more and more detail of the night became visible. Soon a shadow floated across our vision and melted with the camel-thorn tree slightly to the right of the cabin. The female owl had joined her mate.

“That was awesome,” Roxy whispered, clutching my hand. I thought she wanted to cut off my blood circulation.

“See, not calling death, as your grandma used to say. Just a normal bird of prey going about her life with her mate,” I said, and Darya broke her silence.

“So magnificent. So graceful ... and free...” Her carefully chosen words would hit home later that evening.

“Like the eagles your dad wants to feed me to, bit by bit.”

“Why does he want to feed you to the eagles?” Darya asked and turned her face to me, her dark hair like a halo around her face in the moonlight.

“He told me to expect to be killed, slowly, then fed to the eagles if I so much as try to hurt you.”

“We are friends, you, and Roxy, and me. You laugh, we laugh. You are happy, we’re happy. You cry, we cry. If you jump off a bridge ... well, we’ll miss you,” Giggle. Then she looked over at Roxy and Roxy smiled.

“Never mind her daddy-oh, we are big girls in a big, big world. We will kill you ourselves,” Roxy giggled.

“I believe you.”

“But we are friends. And friends stick together.”

“Yes, Roxy is right. It was the first time I met someone who did not want to get inside my pants the first time we were alone. Except Ash. But he has just eyes for Angie.” Darya mused. “Drat!”

She sat back on the couch and pulled her legs up and placed her feet under her and grabbed my other hand.

“So, I’m just second place?” I asked.

“No! Maybe. Oh, I don’t know!” she stammered. “I don’t know what you are. I don’t know ... anything.”

Roxy stepped in, “So, here we sit, in the silence of the night. Just know, Ronny, we both like you very much for the reason Darya told you. You are a good friend.”

I sighed. “And here I thought you two were trying to gain my friendship for...”, but I quit, not wanting to say the wrong thing at the wrong time in the presence of these beautiful young women, and then finished in another direction: “ ... the best coffee in the country I make...”

Darya sat up and Roxy followed her, both still holding my hands.

“Ronny, we both like you a lot. If you like one of us more than the other, so be it. If you like Roxy more than me, I will abide by it, but I’ll still be your friend,” Darya said, and I detected a note of sadness in her voice.

“Same goes for me,” Roxy added, “If you like Darya more, so be it. I’ll abide by it, but I’ll still be your friend.”

“Girls, girls, girls. Let’s enjoy our friendship for now. Don’t make me choose between you ... Because I can’t. If I could, I would marry you both, but we know that is out of the question. So, let us just enjoy one another’s friendship till after we go sort out Somalia, and take it from there.”

“You would marry us both!” Darya exclaimed. Roxy’s eyes were like saucers, her mouth half open, but she said nothing.

“If I only could, yes.”

“And you don’t even know, which one of us is better in bed!”

“Girls, it’s not about the sex, it’s about the companionship, the laughter, the joy, the fun, and getting through the tough times together. That is what makes happy couples.”

There was silence on the patio. The crickets sang their song and far in the distance a jackal called. I swear I heard the yelping of a hyaena somewhere. Two hands were still holding my hands.

“We should keep him...” Darya mused after a while.

“I agree, half of him is better than two of the creeps I used to know...” Roxy replied.

“Hey, you two. I’m still here,” I chuckled, “you two remind me of a joke I used to tell.”

“And...?” Roxy asked.

“I was sleeping in a tent on a warm summer night, when I woke up to two big things standing over me. Two massive mosquitos. The one asks the other one: ‘Shall we eat him here, or take him outside?’ The other one replied: ‘No. We eat him here. If we take him outside, the big ones will take him away from us’...”

Now, why did I get a double whack on the head, one from each girl? “Ouch!”

“Okay, let’s go test your coffee making skills,” Darya instructed, unfurled herself from the couch, got up, and not letting go of my hand, pulled me up as well. Strong girl for such a small frame. No wonder she can handle a Norma Magnum!

While the coffee maker was making sizzling and blooping noises on the kitchen counter, we all sat down at the small breakfast nook table. This time the girls sat opposite me, facing me. The bright kitchen lights made our eyes blink at first, after the darkness outside, but they started to adjust to the brightness.

“Tomorrow morning early, we fly out to Somalia...” Darya said softly, almost as if it was a regret. Her eyes searched my face. Roxy just looked down at her hands. I detected fear of the unknown inside these two pretty girls.

“You’ll be there before me. Get us some good digs to hide out in that third world country,” I said.

“Yeah...” Roxy sighed. “At least I will be safe inside the compound. I’m worried about my sister here. She’ll be joining the boots out in the field. And being a girl, has to wrap up her head with just the eyes showing. All in that heat.”

“I’m used to it. It can’t be different from Iran, or Iraq. They are all dusty, smelly, and terrorist-infected wastelands.” Darya responded.

“I thought Afghanistan takes the cake?” I ventured.

“Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Afghanistan. You can’t tell one from the other. Even their names end the same.” Darya mused. And she looked down at her hands on the breakfast nook top.

“You’re both worried about what waits out there, ain’t you?” I asked.

“Been there; done it; seen the fake movies; and got the scars to prove it...” Darya said, still staring at her hands.

“Cheer up girl. We just need to survive a week or so.” I tried to lift Darya’s mood.

“She won’t show them to you, Ron, but I’ve seen her scars. They are real. Very, very, real. She might look and pretend to be the ice princess, but I assure you she’s not.” Roxy almost whispered, and a tear trickled down her cheek.

For a while there was silence in the kitchen. I thought I knew the feeling of not knowing what to expect in a foreign, alien, and hostile country, but Darya had been there and lived it. I know she was frightened, scared of what awaits her in the field. I got up and went around the breakfast nook and stood between the two girls. I placed my arms around both and hugged them close to me.

After a while, Darya broke the embrace and stood up. She turned away from us.

“You want to see what the ‘stans’ are? What they do to girls?” Without turning, Darya took the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it in one smooth motion over her head. Her long black hair cascaded from under the rolled-up t-shirt, down over her back, but not before I caught a glimpse of criss-crossing scar discolouration tissue lining her back. She pulled her hair aside and let it drop down the front of her chest to cover her small breasts. I gasped and could not move, frozen to the spot.

“This is what happens if you make one tiny little mistake...” She spoke without turning. Then she dropped the t-shirt onto the breakfast nook, and placing her hands over both of her tiny breasts, she slowly turned around. All along her sides and some places on her tummy and across one breast was scar tissue from a severe whipping.

I recoiled, then caught myself, but I was boiling inside! A hot feeling of simultaneous helplessness and anger overcame me.

“Ash had seen my back, but not the rest of me. Even my buttocks. That is why I hate a certain religion that does this to women, in the name of their god!” she hissed.

I was appalled. I knew of some of this happened, but I’ve never seen the results.

“Ronny, just don’t let what I’ve shown you cloud your mind in doing your job. Don’t let it interfere with your judgement and logic.” She whispered.

“Each, of my missiles will carry a logo... Revenge for Darya! Each of the 30-millimetre canon shells I fire, will scream out; ’Deus hoc vult’!” (God wills it!)

“Don’t! I can live with this. I am free now. Free of the Islamic ways ... I have made my peace.” Darya said, her eyes a little moist, her face calm and serene. Almost relaxed.

“You are beautiful, Darya,” I said.

“No! I’m not! I will never be ... can never be a normal woman. I can’t wear a bikini swimsuit. Every time I undress, people would cringe from the monster that I appear to be.” Silent tears trickle down her face. “I have no beauty...”

“Inside and outside! You are beautiful, Darya, inside and out!” I exclaimed. Then I reached out my arms, inviting her for a hug. “You have so much beauty that a man that truly appreciates you and loves you will cherish those scars. Those scars are not on your soul. They’re not in your heart ... Each one screams out that you were stronger than whoever tried to hurt you. Scars don’t form on the dying. A scar means you survived! Besides, what you showed me are just discolourations of your skin.”

She froze. Then she just looked at me.

“Come let me hug you and tell you how beautiful you are...”

“No! Let me dress first. You just want to feel my tits!” she laughed, and in a blur, her t-shirt was back on.

“I don’t have to feel your tits to know they are beautiful and firm. Besides, I felt them pressing into my side when we cuddled,” I chuckled.

She looked at me with a soft light in her dark eyes, her lips slightly parted, then she blushed.

I held out my hand to her, and she took it, and together we went back to the breakfast nook. Roxy sat with her hands supporting her head, elbows on the table-top, tears streaming down her face.

“I told you...” Roxy choked out between sobs. “You two are made for each other, and I love you both!”

“You are part of this crazy friendship, Roxy. Don’t step aside. Keep the trilogy of this friendship and companionship going,” I said. Then, still holding Darya’s hand, placed my other arm across Roxy’s shoulders. Tear-stained eyes looked up at me, but a slight smile was forming on her lips.

Darya jumped in, “What he said!”

“Thank you, Ronny, Darya...” She breathed.

“Come, let me get us each some feel-good juice!” I said and reached for the coffee mugs in the glass-fronted kitchen cupboard. “Let tomorrow bring its own bucket of shit. We’ll be ready, no matter what.”

War is an ugly, messy business, because humans are the messy, ugly things that tread this earth. I knew that all in this group, even Ash, TC, and the Angels, all were in turmoil about the future. Some of us might not come back. That was the reality. Go Google; “Dangerous animals in Somalia.” The answer is: “Humans are the most dangerous species in Somalia!” And I suppose, in the rest of world as well!

Now! Tell me. How do you pour three mugs of hot coffee, with two beautiful girls holding on to you from each side, resting their heads on your shoulders? Answer: Carefully!

The two girls left long before ten PM. Reluctant to go, saying goodnight took a long while. Starting at the door to the cabin on the patio and progressing all the way to the bakkie parked under the shade-cloth carpark, next to my borrowed quadbike.

“We’ll see you at breakfast; It will be early. I know Don has scheduled the take off at 06:00,” Roxy said, but Darya was quiet.

“I’ll be there,” I said.

“Well, it’s time to go...” Darya sighed. “Thank you, Ronny, for a wonderful and inspiring evening.”

“Yeah, you taught me not to be afraid of owls!” Roxy giggled.

“Good night, my friends. Sleep well,” I mused.

Roxy turned to open the drivers’ door of the bakkie. Then, in the open door she turned back and kissed me on the cheek.

“Kiss a girl goodnight...” Darya said and snaked her arms around my neck. The kiss was on my cheek, but a little longer than just a friendly goodnight kiss.

Roxy pulled out and turned into the gravel dirt road. Off they went with hands waving out windows. The eventful evening had come to an end.

I watched until long after the red taillights of the bakkie disappeared around the tree lined curve in the road. What is happening here? Am I falling for TWO girls: one fair skinned Tajikistan girl, and one tan coloured local girl, both with night dark eyes and jet-black hair falling like waterfalls to their waists?

Ronny, Ronny, you twit! Those girls ain’t Angels. They call themselves Angels, but they are deadly soldiers, yet frightened of the future, and so full of passion! ’Ronny, you better take your vitamins, you’re going to need them!’ I thought to myself as I went back into the cabin.

Don’s airport North West Province. 13 June, 05:20 (GMT +2)

The sharp smell of burned paraffin hung in the still morning air. The white, orange, and blue, Hercules LM100J stood sparkling under the bright overhead floodlights on the main apron. The back ramp and ramp door were closed; only the left-hand nose side door, and the twin back sliding doors were open.

The wing lights, illuminating the wing leading edges and side of the aircraft under the wings, the red and green navigational lights, taxi lights and strobes were on. A dull red glow could just be perceived from out of the cockpit. The four huge six-bladed props were spinning, reflecting the light from the taxi lights onto the concrete of the apron. At the top of the vertical stabilizer the backward shining white floodlight shone brightly. The red beacon light on the belly of the aircraft painted dull flashing colours in circular patterns on the dark grey concrete apron. The big bird was ready to take flight.

Inside the aircraft, members dressed in desert camo uniforms sat strapped into their seats, feeling the tremor of the vibration of the aircraft pulsing through their bodies. All kit was stowed and tied down. Some were taking the opportunity to snooze awhile. This will be a long flight, five hours, and ten minutes long.

A few ground crew members conducted last minute checks. The ground crew chief, dressed in his orange and yellow reflector jacket, stood to the left of the cockpit and well within sight of the pilot in command. A long audio cable connected his headset to the side of the aircraft.

“We must go,” Darya softly said, standing just far enough away from the aircraft to be heard above the drone of the four Rolls-Royce AE 2100D3 turboprop engines.

“There’s a time to come, and a time to go. Our time to go has now come...” Roxy added philosophically.

“You girls must be good and watch out for one another,” I said, holding both the girls. “Go kick some butt. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Now kiss us goodbye and let us go. I hate long goodbyes,” Darya complained. I reached over and kissed each one. The kiss this time was on the lips. Both girls hugged me tightly as if not wanting to let go of me, but we broke the embrace, as it was time for them to board.

“Cheers, Guy!” Darya said.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow afternoon, Ron,” Roxy said, turned and walk up to the back roll-up door of the aircraft. Darya stood for a few moments longer. Then she brought up her arm, hand in a fist, and punched me in the chest.

“Enjoy your lonesome flight in that crazy Mirage of yours! At least I have a girlfriend to talk to on my flight,” She chuckled. Then she turned and went to the aircraft, but not before I caught the moistness in her eyes.

She looked good in her desert camo uniform, the camo headscarf hiding her black hair, bundled up in a tight bun at the back of her head. Later, much later, when they land in Somalia, she will drop the scarf to fully cover her head. Roxy would do the same.

The camo field dress top, covering Darya to her thighs, will hide that she is a woman. Eyes will not look to find a woman. The battle jacket with the pearl handled Colt 45, and the M26 hand grenades, lashed down in easy reach, will take attention away from the body beneath. The Heckler Koch MP5 hanging on its sling over her shoulder, will deter any unwanted scrutiny. All in all, the picture you see before you screams: “KEEP AWAY! I’m The BAD ASS!”

I stood watching till long after the open hatches were closed and locked. The sound of the Hercules engines reached a crescendo, and she crept forward. I turned to walk off the apron. Angie stood there, hands folded behind her back.

“You three will be together tomorrow afternoon,” she said, just looking at me with a soft glow in her green eyes. Then she lifted her arm and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Just get through the rest of today and tomorrow morning. Keep yourself busy with preparing yourself for your upcoming adventure and focus on what you need to go do. Come, let’s go grab breakfast ... almost ... somewhere in the future ... son-in-law!” Giggle.