Carney's War Read online

  ***

  Members of various local political groups were showing a European trade delegation round the London Borough of Waltham Forest. Jeff Katz was prominent among the delegates of the smaller parties. One of the Labour councillors was probing him over his support for the view that the education system should bring back grammar schools and the fact that he considered the growth of the academies signalled a move in that direction.

  “So you have some sympathies with our policies then, Jeff?”

  “No, I wouldn’t go that far,” Jeff replied.

  “That means you are probably just a raw capitalist without any moral backbone,” the Labour representative continued.

  “You’re right I am a capitalist with a small ‘c’; just as I am a communist with a small ‘c’; a Christian with a small ‘c’; a Muslim with a small ‘m’; and a Jew with a small ‘j’. In other words I understand that there is good and bad in a lot of things; it’s called empathy. Where does that put you my little Socialist mandarin?”

  “Well today I am put here as a mentor for this delegation.”

  One of the German delegates interrupted. “We see your local governance and are very much impressed.”

  “I don’t know why,” Jeff responded. “It’s no thanks to the Labour Party.”

  The German seemed surprised at his comment and stared at Jeff momentarily.

  “And why are you so impressed?” asked the Labour councillor.

  “Well the transport network is being updated, your recycling capacity has improved, there are more cycle routes…”

  “Well at least the local gangs are getting around OK?” Jeff muttered under his breath.

  “Shall we move on?” proffered the Labour man.

  Later on that day Jeff and Khalil met at the Justice Party HQ and discussed the European delegation.

  “Well actually they seemed very pleasant,” said Jeff.

  “Yes; maybe you should look at the positives where some of these people are concerned,” replied Khalil.

  “What do you mean, Khalil?” Jeff replied.

  “To be fair I have always believed that the European interest is in creating good governance; not in domination of others. By that I suppose I mean the Germans. They do get a hard press but it was the Austrians who caused most of the problems the Germans got blamed for in the first place. No one ever mentions Austria. But Hitler was actually Austrian and it was the Austrians and Serbians who started the First World War. And the First World War led directly to the Second of course; so you could say they were responsible for that as well. All the Germans did was allow Hitler and his friends to gain a foothold, but they hardly voted him in with any enthusiasm; he only ever got around thirty per cent of the vote.”

  “Where did you learn all this, Khalil?” asked Jeff. He knew all that Khalil was saying was historical fact, but he wanted to hear it from a younger person. “Reassuring proof that they still teach this stuff,” Jeff thought to himself.

  “Schoolboy history - and a module at college on modern politics. You could even blame the Austrian education system for Hitler getting hacked off with not getting into art school in Vienna. Many think that if he had there wouldn’t have been a problem. Imagine that, no Holocaust! That’s why I think you’re right about the way our young people are being treated; if you deny them an education by charging too much they may turn to extremism and crime. I think Germans in particular are now aware of that; our own wonderful leaders seem to have lost sight of the facts.”

  “Any other observations?” Jeff had a slightly jaded look on his face, but was still interested in Khalil’s views.

  “Not really but you should recognize the economic angle here; many eastern Europeans have nothing to lose after the terrible deprivation following the Cold War. That still colours European politics – these people are hard working Jeff. Don’t forget that.”

  “All I know, Khalil, is that central Europe by its very nature cannot deliver democracy; Germans, Austrians, whatever. They are all flawed as nations.”

  “But aren’t we a flawed nation? Look at the corruption,” replied Khalil.

  “Absolutely, we have a terrible violent history and our current establishment is a joke. But no country has given asylum to people like the British have, or the United States for that matter. We cannot throw it away to the central Europeans. All they have ever ended up doing is committing war crimes, some of them quite recently. It’s only fifteen years since Srebrenica for Christ’s sake. How can we let such people into Europe?”

  “I think generally we are on the same hymn sheet, Jeff. All I’m saying is - be careful. You don’t want to upset the wrong people.”

  ***

  That night things changed. Helicopters were landing and Cam revealed to Joe that the operations officers had told him there was going to be some activity. As it was they were awakened by large-scale activity at 3.00am with the sound of explosions and shooting at 5.00am, which sounded like it was next door.

  “Shouldn’t we get up, mate? I mean we can’t just sit in our cots,” Joe said respectfully to Cam.

  “Don’t worry about it, mate. It will soon be over. We had all this shit in Iraq - mortars at all hours. Ever heard of the Cob?” Cam replied.

  “No; but I should at least go and see if they need some help in the sangars. They did say that junior NCOs would be liable for stag.”

  “If you want, mate, I’m not stopping you. But no one has asked me to put you on the sangar here. And anyway we are not being attacked. This is going on further away than you think. I checked earlier with the ops room.”

  Joe was flummoxed. The fighting continued as dawn broke and he hadn’t slept a wink. He also felt slightly fraudulent. They were trained not just to fight but to do guard duty - at the very least.

  Whilst working that day the helicopters flew in and out a number of times, which would have been fine if it wasn’t for the fact that they were churning up a lot of sand and dust so that he and Cam were getting sand-blasted a lot more than normal. All kinds seemed to be arriving including Sea Kings, Chinooks and even a Hewi that looked like it had been left over from the Vietnam War. Every time they landed Joe got on the wall; the area was more “kinetic” than normal following the previous night’s battle. Once on the wall he scanned the area through the sight on his rifle. He saw three men walking on the only clear road he could see down towards the market. They looked remarkably calm given the fighting that had taken place a few hours before. Two of the men came closer to the camp - they looked like Dickers. He couldn’t do anything under the rules of engagement as the men may well have been innocents.

  There had been quite a bit of “Fast Air” as well, with two attack aircraft being deployed and hitting targets further down the valley. That afternoon Joe heard an explosion not more than one kilometre from the camp. Cam didn’t even comment; they just got on with the task in hand. It had been an IED’d vehicle. They would now be tasked with checking any forensics and it was Cam’s job to sort out the Intel side of things. Joe, as a corporal, would just get on with any tasks he was given. One would be to get an Ammunition Technical Officer briefed about the area weapons forensics. The IED’d vehicle would need certifying free from explosives although the ATO would probably handle that.

  Once the Mastiff had been towed back into camp it was apparent that some of the ammo cases were a bit bashed. The axle had been smashed, but no one inside was severely hurt. However, Joe could only imagine what the force of such an explosion would do to the occupants of a smaller and less protected vehicle.

  He started to get a visual migraine; his left eye had gone blurred. He knew he hadn’t been drinking enough water. But stress and lack of sleep had played a part.

  “Jesus,” he thought. “I haven’t even earned the right to call myself a soldier. Not yet anyway – I’m struggling with this heat.”

  In their two weeks at the FOB the only real tribulation, apart from hearing the fighting, had been trying to avoid sunstroke. They had no
t been involved in any activity even though they had heard plenty of it. However, Joe and Cam had also had to put up with a mad officer shooting his 9mm pistol at night within the camp and a small animal that had eaten into their chocolate rations.

  The day after the firefight Joe had a look around the D&V area at the top of the camp near the HLZ and the ammunition point. The fear of diarrhoea and vomiting was very real despite the use of camping bags and the bags were burned in open pits located just over the wall at the front of the base: however, the stinking smoke would drift back across the base with the prevailing winds, through their tent, through the open gym and then into the cookhouse. If unfortunate enough to go down with D&V (mainly due to the many flies that had enjoyed the spectacle of an open field of burning excrement) then you would find yourself sleeping in the isolation of the D&V area and that meant living in a mud wall for a few days at the top of the base near the HLZ; not great if you really needed your sleep for a couple of days. It looked to Joe and Cam like the kind of place left over from mediæval days – one where they would put lepers. But from that level one could at least see how beautiful the valley was, something which challenged the immediacy of the last few day’s activities.

  Their flight out of the base finally came in on the following Sunday at midday. While waiting they watched the Household Cavalry trying to get a small UAV airborne without success and heard another IED initiate down the valley. Dust swirled around as the Chinook made it’s descent onto the HLZ. The men on the ground covered their faces, gritted their eyes against the burning sand and after loading a few items of equipment they walked the short distance up the tail boards. As the Chinook lifted out of the base it twisted sharply and flew low over the compounds. Climbing away from the area the gunner jumped up and looked through his sights. Some of the infantrymen on board seemed to sit up as well; they must have taken a few AK rounds while flying low. It was a common enough occurrence in that part of Helmand Province.

  Joe and Cam had a few weeks before the tour was over, squeezing some more visits to bases to collect items for analysis back at the forensics laboratory at Camp Bastion. It was October and the daytime temperatures were hovering around a perfect and steady thirty degrees.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “The question remains; how is the UK actually divided? Is it divided along regional lines, by ethnicity, by religion or even by opinion?” Jeff Katz was chairing a meeting of the main party members, twenty in all, and Khalil had offered to take the minutes and listen to the arguments at the same time. Jeff was speaking.

  “The current political establishment has a one-dimensional way of looking at a three-dimensional problem, not just within this country, but also in Iraq and Afghanistan. It’s a Labour government that has started these wars in a curiously partisan and Stalinist manner. However, in reality, it’s the whole of the neo-Liberal establishment that is responsible over a long period of time and it’s that which has brought suicide bombers to our shores. You couldn’t slip a piece of paper between the Labour and Conservative parties over that one, but there is no evidence that these wars will improve the situation for anyone, especially the people who actually live in those regions. Safe to say that getting on for half a million Iraqis would still be alive if neither of these two parties had supported the invasion of Iraq in 2003; and that’s a war crime in anyone’s book except the British and US governments, the BBC and the Murdoch Empire.”

  An older man, slightly bent, but with a clear voice and forthright manner interrupted Jeff. His name was Conrad. “Some of these so-called ‘leaders’ now masquerade as ‘peace-makers’ – and that’s something that will churn the stomach of even the most ardent apologist for the wars we have been in. This country has been damaged forever by their activities and we no longer have true representative democracy because people no longer believe in any of the three main parties. We have government by default. It is a con; we only vote for the people we hate the least and we therefore have no real choice. We are now ruled by a corporate, political elite where lobbyists decide policy; for example, the military industrial structure, including the defence companies, hold sway over government policy on procurement, and the amount of taxpayers’ money that is wasted in that arena alone is phenomenal.

  These same characters have sold weapons systems to those who have become our enemies and it’s their friends that dictate policy. We now need to break this vicious cycle. Don’t believe the Tories will do this if and when they get back into power; they are traditionally the party that plays these dangerous games and they are not about to change. We have to attack and challenge these politicians openly.”

  Khalil had managed to keep up and was recording the proceedings. In reality it was just a briefing session, more of a seminar than any attempt at spinning policy. But he was still expected to do the minutes and also give his own opinions, even if they didn’t amount to much. ‘How could anyone hold opinions on such an open-ended debate?’ Deep down he was bored by the arguments, which seemed to say more about the vacuity of the middle classes than anything else. They obviously felt the need to discuss these “issues” as they saw fit. The fact was that everyone knew how awful most politicians were anyway, so they didn’t need to discuss it at any length. ‘So why do they beat themselves up over it?’

  He reasoned that Britain was divided just as it had always been along regional and ethnic lines: celtic fringes and Irish and Commonwealth immigrants. They had all served in war and peace and nothing had really changed in that sense.

  When the talk was over Jeff asked if there was any other business and Khalil added: “Can we include the following: that we’re not like the other parties, do not rely on focus groups, and that we rely on a legal basis for our arguments? This should therefore help get the message across to the electorate that the laws of the land should not include the European Human Rights Act.”

  When he chatted afterwards with Jeff the latter had a question for him. “Khalil, we would like it if you came along to a meeting with some more of our American friends; they are senators and advisers who are over here to meet some of the ‘fringe’ parties on the centre right of the UK political spectrum.”

  Khalil wasn’t happy with the implications of what Jeff was saying. “Look Jeff, I’m not big on Republicans. Not since the days of our own posturing politicians, you know the ones with the big cheesy smiles and white teeth. It’s the reason why I am involved with your party in the first place; so I don’t see those kinds of smiles.”

  “I understand all that and believe me I am not happy myself with the situation, but that’s just it. This is business, political business. It’s no different to when you have to entertain clients you don’t like.”

  “Put like that I suppose I cannot refuse. But the rhetoric is something I may have to forego; as soon as I hear the phrase ‘are you with us or against us?’ I am out of there.”

  “Well Khalil, I hope that doesn’t arise, but I will look out for any clichés and be on my guard. It may seem chummier if I refer to you as ‘K’; and you can call me ‘J’. It sounds better than using first names; a bit more special.”

  “That would actually make me vomit, Jeff. In effect you would be calling me ‘Special K’, which is about as bad as it gets. It’s also very American.”

  “Point taken; I hadn’t thought that one through. But anyway; you will come along to the meeting then?”

  “I suppose I will have to. And don’t worry – I won’t cause a scene and start going on about ‘Jihad’ and ‘Death to America’. At least not unless I get really pissed that is.”

  Jeff for once saw the funny side and laughed. “By the way, Khalil, I think there are a few things I should say where our party is concerned. Our whole angle or ‘selling point’ is that the real power these days is with the corporations, not the government. So we have a lot to do with para-statal type companies; big ‘transnationals’, that’s where we are looking for funding. Media companies, energy outfits, house-builders, even defence companies
. Let’s face it; if they all get fed up with the mainstream politicians then everything would grind to a halt. And we have more clout than you think, Khalil.”

  “OK Jeff; I will remember that,” replied Khalil politely.

  When Khalil got back to the flat Saira accosted him.

  “So you’ve been cavorting with those political types again?”

  “Yeah; I’m guilty as charged. But he seems very clever, this Jeff Katz chap. I don’t know exactly what to make of him. He’s right about some things; the problem with the middle classes here is that they believe what the mainstream politicians tell them. They don’t realize they’re being manipulated all the time.”

  “I could have told you that, Khalil. Anyway it sounds like I have a politician for a fiancé now.” Saira turned on her heel and went back down the corridor. She never failed to turn him on.

  ***

  “So what was it like in Musa Q’aleh?” enquired Jack. Both Joe and Cam had decided not to talk to anyone about what had happened in Musa Q’aleh. The idea wasn’t just to wind Jack up; they didn’t really know what to say and just wanted to get on with the rest of the tour.

  “It was water and slaughter, water and slaughter! There’s no other word for it, mate,” replied Joe.

  “And you had to wash your own chukies, mate,” replied Cam.

  They had been working that day in Camp Shorabak with one of the Afghan teams and had found themselves in an awkward position of being locked out of Camp Bastion. There had been regular “lockdowns”, which was standard procedure in the event that a potential insurgent was suspected of having crept into the camp. Gates linked all the various camps at Camp Bastion and these were locked when the alarm was raised. If you were in one of the other linked camps then it would be impossible to get back into the main one until every part of the camps had been checked. For Cam’s team that had meant either staying all night where they were or accepting the offer of a lift with a small convoy from the Yorkshire Regiment who were going out on the perimeter roads to drive to the main gate.