It rippled through the group, and once there was silence Fahad led the descent down the gorge. His team consisted of four other men including his younger brother, Samir – a young man with delicate feminine features. In contrast, Fahad was much taller and leaner. Standing still he appeared awkward. But in motion his body was elegant and nimble, one of the fastest soldiers on foot, able to trek across vast distances without a break, taking only mouthfuls of water from rivers he passed along the way. Fahad loved his three brothers, including Samir, but he held grave reservations about his abilities as a soldier.

Samir was in charge of the explosives, deciding for this mission to use kama, a stable mix that wouldn’t detonate by accident. It could only be set off by a charge from the inside. It could be dropped, or knocked, the carrier could fall over and stumble without killing the group. Samir spent much of his free time fashioning new kind of bombs, toying with different detonators, experimenting with timers, testing the destructive impact of packing nails around the explosives or ball-bearings, which were much harder to obtain. He had no appetite for hand-to-hand combat and he was no leader. Yet his bomb-making skills were invaluable. Even more advantageous, he had no scars to give away his trade, no fingers missing, no eye full of shrapnel. Perhaps deceived by his soft face, Soviet soldiers never suspected him and he was able to pass through checkpoints with ease whereas Fahad was always stopped and searched, as if it were possible to read in his expression the fury and destructiveness of his intentions. For this mission Fahad had wanted to leave him at home. Samir argued that he was the most experienced with the explosives and he was needed at the dam in order to make the charges, to adapt to the circumstances. After much disagreement, Fahad had given in. He still felt uneasy about the decision, a niggling feeling in his gut that wouldn’t go away.

Once the descent was completed, they would begin their approach a kilometre downstream from the dam, out of sight of the guard patrols. There was no way to defuse the mines but Fahad had cleared a path during the day, marking a safe route for them to follow in the dark. They moved slowly, in single file, unable to use torchlight, guided by the footsteps carefully dug into the ground as markers. As the ground slid under each step they were forced to stop and find their balance, unable to reach out and steady themselves for fear of grabbing a mine. It took almost an hour to reach the bottom of the gorge.