PROLOGUE

(Christmas Eve 1986)

The cold wind blew around my closely cropped head as the flames rose up. I picked up the photograph that had taken pride of place in my Samawian room for the last few years and dropped it in to the fire. The picture had been taken on the day that we had been brought together as the Samawian Special Task Force. I was smiling in the centre of the shot; only a few of the others were still alive.

We had all suffered serious injuries and taken incredible risks in the line of duty and even when we had just been fucking about out drinking, or on one of our climbing and skydiving trips.

I looked back at the faces as the picture blackened with the heat: Freddie and Henry (shit – I had almost forgotten those guys) had been killed on that very first mission at the rebel headquarters.

Benni’s cheeky grin was at the side of the picture. The man had suffered a broken heart after his girlfriend’s family had died and had run like a man insane with his machine gun blazing, to his certain death before we could stop him.

Sniper fire had taken Juan’s life.

 Louis, Paul and Jonathan had all perished in the explosion during that catastrophic mission in Cabilo.

Michael, Joseph and Billy were all alive and well two days earlier when I had left them at the base in Moyana, as was Will Boato our commanding officer.

As the cold winter wind blew once more, I reached down to pick up a photograph that had fallen onto the garden path. The picture showed me smiling next to Joe at the summit of Mount Nabinda. We had all had so many laughs and taken so many risks – none of it seemed to make sense any more. Maybe without the mementoes I could start to forget.