Distant Annihilation. (Tarquin Collingwood Adventures Book 1) by Azam Hossain

appeared a moment earlier. It drove slowly towards us; its roof rack was holding cargo covered by tarpaulin. The vehicle stopped when it got to us and two men got out. One was a local man with turban like headgear a shirt and baggy trousers. He had a pock marked face and had a swarthy look about him - god only knows from where von Weizsacker found such a roguish looking individual. From the other side of the vehicle a fair skinned stocky European man appeared, wearing trousers and a Khaki jacket.
    Von Weizsacker turned around to see them dismount and then turned back to us and said, “May I introduce our companions on this mission, Aziz our cook and driver and my Sergeant - Lothar Mueller.”
    Once the introductions were over we made our preparations before setting out. I resolved that I should do some target practice to acquaint myself with my weapon. Every good soldier knows the maxim “look after your weapon and it will look after you.” I took my Glock 19 pistol and ammunition to a quiet part of the quarry, where I carefully loaded the pistol and took aim at part of the wall and fired. I could judge my marksmanship by the puff of dust where the bullet hit the rock. I fired the gun holding it with just my right hand and then holding it with both hands – single shots and then several shots in quick succession. The acoustics of the area caused each bullet I fired to echo momentarily around us. Initially, I was concerned that I might attract unwanted attention, before realising that we were probably miles from anyone.
     
    I returned to the vehicles where the six of us gathered around the front of the Toyota as Major Von Weizsacker briefed us, maps unfurled over the bonnet.
    “We are now here,” he began pointing to a depression just off the main road leading northwest out of Kushanbay towards the province of Fa ryab, “We will travel along this road - the Faryab highway up to this point.”
    He was indicating an area just inside the border of the province of Faryab where it began to get mountainous and the road climbed up snaking its way around the side of mountains. “From here we will be too conspicuous to continue by road, especially as they are patrolled by Mesud’s men and there are also bandits to contend with. So at this point here just off the Faryab Highway we vill take this dirt track from where we vill transfer from 4 wheels to 4 legs,” he turned and smiled at me, “I understand you are from a cavalry regiment?”
    “Err yes........but we only ride on ceremonial occasions. The 9 th Berkshire Hussars last used horses in combat in the First World War,” I explained.
    The Major resumed, “We will switch to horses here with all our equipment and then ride over some mountain passes and through the Qursani Valley and then from there by foot to the Bactria Valley here,” his finger indicating our progress, “and then to our target for the.........how you say.........the culmination of our trip, where success or defeat await us.”
     
    A cold wind blew suddenly and brought me out in goose bumps. I looked around at the others and judging by their faces I deduced stoicism and grim determination. Perhaps, I consoled myself, they were also wary of the challenge and dangers before us. It occurred to me that if we failed and perished the whole thing would be hushed up and the attempt to blow up the site would never be acknowledged by our governments. My body may end up in an unmarked grave assuming it did not end up as carrion. I was not afraid of death. It was the ignominy of no funeral, my body being defiled and no burial site where my family could come to mourn that bothered me. Such an outcome was too horrid to be borne. No I resolved! I would have to succeed: or at the very least live one way or another and in so doing I would have to be ruthless, selfish and kill whatever got in my way. There were I decided, no rules of engagement by which I was to be bound. Kill or be killed!
     
    I suddenly had a bit