|
| half Ghan - Chapter 1 |  |
.jpg)
half Ghan‒Luigi Kleinsasser
Based on real events “half Ghan” is the adventure story of a disadvantaged, half-caste, Australian aboriginal boy
who overcame the racism and bigotry of the time and grew up to be the soldier who
played a pivotal role in the Gulf Wars in Iraq.
who overcame the racism and bigotry of the time and grew up to be the soldier who
played a pivotal role in the Gulf Wars in Iraq.
LEGAL NOTICE
All of the characters, organizations and events in this novel are used fictitiously.
Names of the characters in this novel should be considered
Names of the characters in this novel should be considered
fictional and have no relation to actual persons,
living or dead.
living or dead.
This copy is intended for the use of the original purchaser only.
No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form
whatsoever without the express, written permission of
the author − Luigi Kleinsasser.
luigi@luigiwho.com
Other works by Luigi Kleinsasser:
NOVELS
Back to Belize
El Gran Mariachi
Seven Shaggy-Dog Stories from Australia
SELF-HELP
Training Manual for sales-people ‒ Why Do Only Some People Buy
English lessons for Spanish-Speakers ‒ inglés llano (Plain English)
Chapter One – Baghdad, Iraq, March, 2003
The woman paused at the entrance to the alley, took a few quick steps backwards and peered cautiously around the corner of the bank building into the darkness beyond. She could see nothing.
There was a sudden movement in the shadows − the figure of a man stepped away from the wall and into the moonlight. Her heart skipped a beat then pounded noisily behind her breast. She gulped air, choked back a sob of fear and on rubbery legs willed herself forward.
Walking as swiftly as she could towards him, she almost tripped in her haste. Then, concealed within the darkness of the pre-dawn gloom, deep within the alley between the bank and the restaurant, the man and woman embraced hungrily.
He pulled her to him and with a throaty sigh she thrust her groin against his thigh. Seemingly suspended from an invisible thread the silver moon hung directly above them but then, for a fleeting moment disappeared, as the clouds, portentous of long-promised yet unrealized rain, swirled angrily around it.
At the prospective lovers’ feet, ruffled by the gentle breeze, layers of sticky plastic bags and discarded newspapers seemed to be pacing, impatiently awaiting the arrival of the morning street cleaners. A large, open dumpster further along the alley reeked of decaying restaurant garbage. And while the location may have lacked any atmosphere of romance, under the circumstances it had seemed to be the safest place for their first clandestine rendezvous.
Ghan Maddieson, an Australian geologist attached to the University of Baghdad in Iraq had spent the past few months attempting to seduce the young University Liaison Officer into this forbidden meeting. If she, Zabiba Badel, had even the slightest inkling of Ghan’s intentions she would never have ventured out into the night.
But, both curiosity and the exciting prospect of a secret love had completely aroused and disarmed her, blinding her to the potential consequences.
In anticipation of their first kiss Zabiba tilted her face upwards and opened her full, moist lips ever so slightly. She slowly closed her eyes but before their lips could touch there was the blinding flash of a rocket slamming into the top floor of the bank. As it exploded, completely demolishing the bank’s upper level, the couple directly below was showered with a hail of debris.
Broken bricks, shards of glass, a confetti of wood-splinters and a cloud of concrete dust rained down upon them. The concussion from the blast threw them both to the ground where Zabiba lay stunned and bleeding from the ears. Only Ghan’s legs protruded from under the pile of rubble that covered him; the rancid smell of burnt explosive hung heavily in the air.
As Ghan gradually regained consciousness he coughed and gagged, choking on the foul dust that covered his face. He gasped for air but inhaled only smoke. He retched. Kicking and pushing, he struggled free of the loose bricks and pieces of fractured timber that had confined him, shook his head, wiped the dust from his eyes and peered into the gloom for any trace of Zabiba.
There were explosions all around but even through the intermittent flashes of brilliance as rockets and artillery shells smashed into the surrounding buildings he could see nothing – the clouds above had stolen the moonlight.
Ghan’s body was still numb from that first blast but he could feel a warm wetness on his face – a slight ooze of blood from the superficial head wounds caused by the shattered flying bricks; maybe he was bleeding elsewhere; he felt his abdomen and chest for wetness. Nothing. He moved his legs – no pain.
Kneeling now, he scanned the alley. No movement. Then, a loud groan followed by gentle sobbing. Zabiba!
Following Zabiba’s soft moaning, Ghan, on all fours, picked his way through the wreckage as he tried to locate her. His senses were dulled from the rocket blast so, amid the swirling dust and smoke which obscured everything in the alley he crawled over the rubble towards where he thought she might be. He’d pause, shake his head, listen, wait for a momentary silence between explosions and crawl a little further. A loud cough from Zabiba allowed him to pinpoint her position and he scrambled quickly to her side.
She was lying on her back in an area relatively clear of debris. He pulled her into his lap cradling her head in his arms. As he gently stroked her face and cleared the dust from around her eyes he became aware of the trickle of blood from her ears, slowly congealing.
Ghan whispered hoarsely, “Zabiba! Can you hear me?”
She moaned, “What happened. Ooh, my ears! My ears are pounding and whirring. Where are we? What happened?”
“Rocket attack. The Americans will be here soon. We have to leave quickly and find a safe place.”
“Americans? What Americans?” Zabiba was incredulous.
“The whole damned American Army’s moving into position right now to place Baghdad under siege. Do you hurt anywhere?” Ghan gently ran his hands over her arms and legs then softly probed her stomach and chest searching for signs of bleeding or breakage. Nothing untoward.
His own body was beginning to tingle as it recovered from the concussive effects of the rocket-blast. As his senses returned and his mind cleared he realized it might be too late for his hastily-laid plan to succeed. Baghdad was under attack and the Americans would soon occupy the city.
“Siege? What do you mean?” Zabiba was genuinely alarmed. “How could you know this? The news reports have said consistently there are no American forces north of our border with Kuwait and anyway the Russian Ambassador has provided President Hussein with America’s battle plan. The G.R.U., the Russian Intelligence Service, says the Americans cannot attack for another month, at least! Our engineers have no plans to demolish the bridges until then!”
“Ah, I think the proof is in the pudding, My Dear.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Boom!” He leaned back. “Fair enough?” Ghan’s tone of voice dripped with irony. “Stone the crows! What do you think is happening right now? Poof!” He clapped his hands and separated them upwards to signify a cloud of explosive smoke but his antics were lost in the darkness.
“But . . . but, I thought they were still in Kuwait. Posturing. Just inside the border. Saddam says they’re no threat. The Americans. Saddam has determined that they are only bluffing to prove something to the United Nations with their demands for sanctions. The news, the Government news broadcasts say it’s nothing. . . . and anyway Saddam is nothing short of a military genius. We will be ready for them . . . .”
Ghan cut her off, “We have to get out of here. Do you hurt anywhere?” He eased her into a sitting position, rose to his feet and pulled her up to his side. “Can you stand?”
Her knees buckled and as she started to slide downwards she gasped, “Oh!”
“Easy! Take it easy now.” Ghan steadied her until she regained her balance.
* * * * *
Ghan Maddieson was considerably older than Zabiba, the woman he had planned to seduce if necessary and then kidnap. He had no desire to use force so it was imperative that she trust him and be prepared to do his bidding.
He’d spent months since his arrival in Iraq, slowly fostering a friendship which had turned into a mutual attraction until finally she’d agreed to this secret assignation. Since his arrival in Iraq a few months earlier he’d lived a life of deceit and lies and his devious plan had almost come to fruition. However, this premature American attack on Baghdad could ruin everything. Why wasn’t he warned?
What Zabiba had expected of Ghan wasn’t clear, even to her. She knew he was much older than she but then, she’d never enjoyed younger lovers – “boys” – she’d always been in the company of older, more powerful men. She knew she wanted to be wined and dined and dizzily seduced − against her better judgment of course − and this alley hardly seemed to be the right venue to start such a romantic pursuit of perpetual love and happiness, but maybe it could lead to better things.
In any case, it would have been impossible for her to publicly have a relationship with another university faculty member considering her position and all the rules they were expected to live and work under. So, this pre-dawn tryst with Ghan had certainly seemed to present an exhilarating diversion.
She had wondered what it was about him that attracted her so? Why did she feel so different in his presence?
The first time she saw him when he arrived at the admissions office of the University she experienced an electricity surge through her body and for a fleeting moment her legs had grown weak. She was sure she’d concealed her reaction to his presence but felt almost clumsy and awkward when he spoke to her. He was quiet but witty and smart, although there was something else, some intangible that drew her to him. She’d managed to ward off his early flirtations even though they frustrated her and drove her mad with lust.
And then, for no apparent reason he drew back and disappeared for days at a time. But all at once his attitude had changed again – it seemed as though there was some dramatic urgency, some burgeoning desire that drove him to pursue her relentlessly; an animal need to be with her. It was then she felt in control once again and that whet her appetite even more! His invitation to a clandestine rendezvous had excited her, but now, with this battle going on all around them . . . .
Ghan had arranged for an accomplice to be waiting with a car to rush them to the border but it was highly unlikely that the man would show up now or ever. It would be impossible to use the roads south or west of Baghdad; they couldn’t move towards the American lines – much too dangerous – and to remain in the city would be tantamount to suicide.
“We’ve got to get out of this place,” Ghan yelled above the noise of the shelling. “Follow me!”
“No!” Zabiba shouted back. “We must go to the University. There’s a bomb shelter below the cafeteria with a secure phone line and radio. We have a Republican Guard detachment stationed there. They’ll surround the university and repel the Americans. Saddam will need to know where I am.” She stumbled on the loose debris and again clutched at Ghan for support.
“Like Bloody Hell! It’s too dangerous to go that way,” he shouted. “The American Infantry will come in from the south and the east. We’ll have to go north, away from the center of the city.” Then he added his lie, “We can come back when the barrage lifts. Come on.”
He had no intention of returning to Baghdad; nor Iraq. Ever. He grabbed Zabiba’s hand and half-dragged, half-led her out into the street at the far end of the alley where they melted into the psychedelic flashings as the bombing tormented the night.
The sun still hadn’t emerged from its eastern refuge to herald the new dawn yet the sky continued to glow lighter than day as buildings burned and flares fell from on high. Phosphorescent machine-gun tracer rounds cut their paths into the city and smacked dully against any solid structure, tearing up everything else. Even as the American artillery’s continued pounding levelled sections of the city the low rumble of approaching bombers and the higher pitched scream of fighter jets could be clearly heard.
So, the aerial bombing and strafing was imminent and would be followed swiftly by the coalition occupation forces.
“Ghan! Why can’t we try to get to the bomb shelter at the University?” Zabiba begged, her face now distraught. She repeated her previous assurance, “We have a detachment of Saddam’s Republican Guard there. With them we’ll be safe from attack.”
Determined now, Ghan looked down at her and firmly announced, “Zabiba, the Americans will need to take the airport as quickly as possible and that’s too close to the University. You wouldn’t be safe there if the Americans enter the city and I won’t be safe if they don’t. Remember, I’m not Iraqi. I’m a foreigner and all infidels will pay for what happens here today. Trust me.”
Go to FORUMS at luigiwho.com
|
