Read Online The Illuminations by Andrew O’Hagan - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrew O’Hagan
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his side chattering in his big Cork accent about the mess of the checkpoint and the fact that nobody was ready for what was coming. He couldn’t believe the state of them with their blue uniforms half-on and filthy. ‘Fucken idiots,’ he said. ‘Did no one tell you there was a kilometre-long fucken convoy driving through here? Eh? What are ye, a bunch of red-arsed motherfuckers? Totally disorganisational. Waiting for Saint Patrick’s Day or what?’
Luke motioned with his rifle for the policemen in the booth to move aside. One of the policemen had a boot on one foot and a sandal on the other. The guy’s lip was scarred. ‘Fucken shape of him,’ Luke said to Dooley, ‘one flip-flop and one ammo boot.’
‘Cocknosh,’ Dooley said.
Dooley then began shouting at the men as if only increased volume would help them understand. ‘What the fuck are you doing changing into civvies?’ They were babbling and the interpreter was translating at speed but Luke put up a hand and turned back to Dooley.
‘Of course, they didn’t know we were coming,’ he said. ‘Nobody would tell them. Why would anybody tell them anything?’ A plastic basin of stew and dates was on the desk, a heap of okra. Next to that a slab of uncooked meat and two old Russian pistols. Under the desk there was a red-striped cement bag of dried marijuana.
One of the policemen waved his hands and pointed to the basin and said, ‘Karoot Maust.’
‘He offers you food,’ the interpreter said.
‘Nobody would tell them anything,’ repeated Luke.
‘Nobody?’ Dooley said. ‘But they’re ANP.’
‘Afghan Non-Players,’ muttered Luke. ‘These stoners are Tippex Commandos for the fucken Taliban.’ He tapped his radio again and made contact with Major Scullion, who was with Rashid and the ANA kandak further down the line. They sent an ANA sergeant to the checkpoint who immediately began slapping the two guys.
‘We are shamed,’ he said.
‘Forget it,’ Luke said. ‘Just get them out the fucken way.’ He had gone through the drawers and thrown several rolls of money up on the desk. ‘They are bandits. And worse, I imagine. We saw them changing into uniform as the vehicles approached.’
‘We’re from the 1st Royal Western,’ Dooley said, ‘and we’ll bang your fucken brains out.’ He then walked backwards with the cement bag swinging in his free hand. He threw the bag intothe captain’s vehicle. Private Lennox looked out with a huge grin on his face. ‘See what just fell from the choccy tree,’ he shouted down to Dooley.
THE WATCHES
It was slow all the way but eventually they were in the desert. The mountains in the distance were blue, and when the sun began to drop, pink clouds shrouded the tops of the trees. There must be places even here, Flannigan thought, where life isn’t just a horror show. Private Lennox was still going on about the checkpoint and why the whole country was a mess. ‘It’s all just thieving bastards so it is and them that’s not thieving bastards are trying to bomb the fuck out of you.’
‘Well, you should feel right at home,’ Flannigan said. ‘You love a bit of thieving, you and the rest of the fucken tinks you grew up with in the Emerald Toilet.’
‘Don’t speak bad against the Irish,’ Dooley said.
‘Aye. You joined the regiment, mate,’ Lennox said. ‘And why’s that? ’Cause yer daddy once got his wee arse spanked in Portadown?’
‘No, you plank. Because I quite fancied spending my afternoons in foreign places beating up on no-hopers like you, Lennox.’
‘That’s violence, that,’ Lennox said.
Pampas grass. Sweet tea and sandbags. Brown-eyed children smiling by the road. It all seemed so real to Luke. The carnations on tall stalks were straining past the sun and an old lady came up to a stationary WMIK with a helmet full of figs. She tapped the wheel of the vehicle and he saw the helmet was stamped Twentynine Palms, CA . She was selling the figs and her smile seemed more like a knot. The
Luke motioned with his rifle for the policemen in the booth to move aside. One of the policemen had a boot on one foot and a sandal on the other. The guy’s lip was scarred. ‘Fucken shape of him,’ Luke said to Dooley, ‘one flip-flop and one ammo boot.’
‘Cocknosh,’ Dooley said.
Dooley then began shouting at the men as if only increased volume would help them understand. ‘What the fuck are you doing changing into civvies?’ They were babbling and the interpreter was translating at speed but Luke put up a hand and turned back to Dooley.
‘Of course, they didn’t know we were coming,’ he said. ‘Nobody would tell them. Why would anybody tell them anything?’ A plastic basin of stew and dates was on the desk, a heap of okra. Next to that a slab of uncooked meat and two old Russian pistols. Under the desk there was a red-striped cement bag of dried marijuana.
One of the policemen waved his hands and pointed to the basin and said, ‘Karoot Maust.’
‘He offers you food,’ the interpreter said.
‘Nobody would tell them anything,’ repeated Luke.
‘Nobody?’ Dooley said. ‘But they’re ANP.’
‘Afghan Non-Players,’ muttered Luke. ‘These stoners are Tippex Commandos for the fucken Taliban.’ He tapped his radio again and made contact with Major Scullion, who was with Rashid and the ANA kandak further down the line. They sent an ANA sergeant to the checkpoint who immediately began slapping the two guys.
‘We are shamed,’ he said.
‘Forget it,’ Luke said. ‘Just get them out the fucken way.’ He had gone through the drawers and thrown several rolls of money up on the desk. ‘They are bandits. And worse, I imagine. We saw them changing into uniform as the vehicles approached.’
‘We’re from the 1st Royal Western,’ Dooley said, ‘and we’ll bang your fucken brains out.’ He then walked backwards with the cement bag swinging in his free hand. He threw the bag intothe captain’s vehicle. Private Lennox looked out with a huge grin on his face. ‘See what just fell from the choccy tree,’ he shouted down to Dooley.
THE WATCHES
It was slow all the way but eventually they were in the desert. The mountains in the distance were blue, and when the sun began to drop, pink clouds shrouded the tops of the trees. There must be places even here, Flannigan thought, where life isn’t just a horror show. Private Lennox was still going on about the checkpoint and why the whole country was a mess. ‘It’s all just thieving bastards so it is and them that’s not thieving bastards are trying to bomb the fuck out of you.’
‘Well, you should feel right at home,’ Flannigan said. ‘You love a bit of thieving, you and the rest of the fucken tinks you grew up with in the Emerald Toilet.’
‘Don’t speak bad against the Irish,’ Dooley said.
‘Aye. You joined the regiment, mate,’ Lennox said. ‘And why’s that? ’Cause yer daddy once got his wee arse spanked in Portadown?’
‘No, you plank. Because I quite fancied spending my afternoons in foreign places beating up on no-hopers like you, Lennox.’
‘That’s violence, that,’ Lennox said.
Pampas grass. Sweet tea and sandbags. Brown-eyed children smiling by the road. It all seemed so real to Luke. The carnations on tall stalks were straining past the sun and an old lady came up to a stationary WMIK with a helmet full of figs. She tapped the wheel of the vehicle and he saw the helmet was stamped Twentynine Palms, CA . She was selling the figs and her smile seemed more like a knot. The
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