2 PLATOON WAS ALREADY IN CONTACT. THE ENEMY WAS NOT EXPECTING attack on another flank: a few were lying along the top of walls. When they realized that there were soldiers on both sides they evaporated, but not before Binns had killed one of them with his rifle.‘Shit, oh, shit,’ said Binns when he saw the body of a Taliban fighter roll off a wall and fall to the street. ‘Shit, was that me?’Jamie looked at him hard because Binns had been involved in numerous fire fights over the last few months.‘So have you been missing them until now, Binman?’Binns coloured.‘I never was sure before that it was me.’‘Go!’ roared the boss behind them, aware that they had a good opportunity to advance if the enemy was reorganizing.Covered by 2 Section, 1 Section ran forward to the shelter of an adjoining wall while engineers laid a bar-mine.‘You’ve been inside, boss, you know the layout here,’ said Finn while they waited.‘I know the layout of the rooms nearest the door,’ agreed Boss Weeks. ‘I’m not sure how helpful that is.’As rapid fire continued on the other side of the compound, the engineers retreated and a small hole appeared in the massive walls.‘We’re attacking at state red,’ the boss reminded them.Sol took a grenade from his pouch and threw it into the room and Mal pulled him back by his webbing. There was a pause followed by a roar, then smoke, dust and shrapnel. Mal scrambled in behind it with the shotgun. There was no sign of anyone in the room, alive or dead. He put down thirteen rounds and then sank onto one knee and let Jamie, immediately behind, fire over him.The others piled in through the hole and, behind them, the boss and then 2 Section. They spread out, moving from room to room, double tapping into every corner. They were outflanking the enemy now, who were still fighting 2 Platoon across the compound. The Taliban, recognizing their poor position, threw down machine-gun fire in no particular direction before melting into the walls.Jack Binns found himself at a doorway and approached it gingerly. How did you know what would be waiting in there for you? A bunch of grandmas having a cup of tea, deaf to the fighting like so many Afghan civilians? Or a wild fundamentalist with a grenade? Each called for a completely different response.He burst in through the door, twisting to see all around it at once, wanting to fire but not daring to, at least not until he knew for sure about the grandmas.The room was empty, to his relief. Suddenly a man jumped through a doorway on the other side. He was carrying a machine gun and behind him were more dark figures.Jack Binns looked into the thin, bearded face of a Taliban fighter. He stared into the man’s startled eyes. He wanted to run away. All his instincts, every reflex, told him to remove himself from this danger. If he had still been standing, hesitating, at the doorway, then he would have done exactly that, but he was so far inside the room he’d be shot from behind if he ran. In a fraction of a second he knew he had to kill this man and kill him instantly, or he would die.It seemed to Binns that minutes passed between the appearance of the insurgent and the sound of his own weapon firing. And in that time he did not remove his eyes from those of his opponent. The communication was so intense that he felt he had been talking to his opponent instead of killing him. He watched as blood emerged across the front of the man’s clothes.He continued to fire: when the first man fell he left the second without cover. He looked into another set of brown eyes and, as he watched their owner stagger, a cool, rational compartment in his mind told him that a stoppage in his rifle would mean the end of his life now.He fired more as that same rational part of his mind warned him that the two men behind were not only ready for him but ready together. Fuck! He couldn’t shoot them both at once!Binns told himself calmly that he was about to die but he might as well keep firing. To his astonishment, both men fell at the same moment. One shouted something. It sounded like: ‘Oh, Mum, I’m sorry!’ Binns assumed it was some Pashtu phrase that sounded like English.A voice in his ear said: ‘Good, Binman, very good.’It was Finn.Jack Binns wanted to ask Finn how long he had been there but he couldn’t speak.‘You got three out of four!’Finn threw a few more rounds into the bodies to make sure they were dead and then stepped over them. ‘You needed me for the fourth, though. Glad I got the English bastard.’Binns felt sweat drip down his face and neck and run in rivers along his backbone. The last body lay across the doorway. He knew that he could not touch it or step over it. Finn pushed it aside with his foot.‘Did you catch the Brummie accent? I’m glad I killed him, the fucking heap of traitor shit.’Binns was starting to shake now. He stared at the bodies scattered across the floor, the faces of the men who only minutes earlier had been alive with all their thoughts, feelings, complexities and inner secrets. He had taken that away from them now, there was nothing left.‘Get yourself together, Binman,’ Finn said sharply. ‘Come on. So you’ve killed a few blokes, we’ve got a lot more to do here.’Binns didn’t move.Someone came in behind him. Binns jumped nervously and turned to fire again.‘Hey, don’t shoot me!’ Sol was surveying the bodies. ‘You’ve done some good work, Binman.’Jack Binns wanted to say: I couldn’t run away or I’d have been killed; that’s the only reason I did it. But he remained silent.‘This fucker’s English,’ Finn told Sol. ‘Can you believe it? I mean, I could have been at school with him.’‘Thought you didn’t spend a lot of time at school, Finny.’Sol bent down and searched the bag that had been slung across the man’s shoulder. He pulled out a mobile phone, a Pakistani passport and a British passport.‘Someone’s going to be very interested in that,’ Finn said.But Sol was already moving on.‘Let’s go. They’re bringing in more men.’‘Think my mate Martyn’s still here?’ asked Finn hopefully.‘We won’t know if we don’t look.’Sol pushed Binns roughly ahead of him.‘Stay focused,’ he ordered. ‘Stay on the job.’Binns stumbled forward wordlessly.
