April 30th 2010 – Arrival at Kandahar

The tri-star jet looked, and felt ancient. The boisterous behaviour at the start of the flight had quietened down a little. Lots of people were in a world of their own. Even the officers were in a contemplative silence. Tom was nervous. He was pretty sure everyone on the plane was. But no one really discussed it openly. They stuck to joking and messing around. Just with a bit less energy than usual. The three scousers were their usual irreverent selves. Biscuit was wrapped up in some book, but was exuding his customary calm.

Tom thought back to the discussion at their Catterick base before they’d left. He rewound the arguments in his head. What did he think about it? Tom hoped that there was more to it than just us versus them. He knew about 9/11 and that the terrorists who’d caused that had been trained in Afghanistan. But he had to admit he was a little hazy on how the Duke of Lancasters’ mission, was going to stop them coming back to train. Not unless the Brits stayed over there forever.

He scolded himself. He was doing too much thinking. Closing his eyes, Tom forced himself to concentrate on thoughts of his little daughter. That was much more pleasant. He tried to drown out the noise of the ancient engines and the visions of what was to come. Within a few minutes he’d succeeded, and he drifted off into an uneasy slumber.