Home Run

Smoke and fire, and the building ravaged, and toy doll figures laid out in crazy posture under the galloping spread of black smoke and brilliant flames of the fire.

He saw the Transit burst forward. He wondered when in hell Charlie had taken the launcher from the crates in the back of the Tra nsit… He had seen the flash of the brass cartridge cases. He knew where it would come from. He knew where the stopping fire would come from.

He thought the van might have made 25 yards. It was lurching forward, as if the driver was trying to hit the higher gears too fast. The Transit might have made 25 yards when the machine-gun behind the sandbags opened fire, belting the Transit. The van swerved, he saw that, he followed the swerve through the glasses. The van straightened. He was cold. He was not willing the escape of the van and nor was he cheering for the death of the van. He was the witness and he was watching. The Transit had swerved and it had straightened and it had swerved again. It was across the road. It was against the pole that carried the telephone line from the Customs post back into the interior. The hammer of the drum, the belt of the machine-gun, and the target was stationary, crippled.

There was a shouting in his ear. It was the Turkish soldier, insistent but courteous. He held out his hand for his binoculars.

There was little more for him to see. There was the bright orange glow of the ultimate explosion. He watched a dream's destruction. He thanked the officer, who was lost in concentration on the scene unfolding across the valley, and he turned and walked back towards his car. He thought that if he hurried he would still be in time to catch the flight from Van. He turned only once. When he had opened the door of the hire car he looked behind him. The sun was a high white orb, its brilliance shed by the rising pillar of smoke. Park drove away.

He drove back along the straight road to Dogubeyezit, and past the sheep flocks, and past the shrill patches of scarlet. A job done, a man going home.