‘Came to me in a flash while we were out there today.’

The screen burst into life. The BBC News Home page: Outrage at killing sparks nationwide riots. Nine dead, hundreds injured. Tom lowered the laptop onto the shelf under the window, checked the signal strength, clicked Skype onto standby and tried to absorb the news from home.

‘Hey, listen up.’

Something about Dave’s tone told him he’d better pay attention. He turned away from the screen.

‘I’m serious. When this ends, it’s time to get out.’

It was the start of their second sweltering month at Bastion, tasked with babysitting an Afghan National Army mission to lift a Taliban chief as he broke cover and crossed from the Tribal Areas into Helmand for a shura, a tribal meeting. They wanted him alive, so no taking him out with a drone. But the shura kept getting postponed. So they waited, rehearsed and waited some more. Today should have been The Day. But when they’d hit the safe-house the guy was supposed to be in, it was deserted.

Tom, already down to his vest, glanced in the mirror. Dave, behind, signalled to him to pay attention.

‘You know, bin it while I’m ahead.’

He had confided in him about leaving a few days ago, starting a new life, getting on the troops-to-teachers programme. Tom had thought it was a wind-up. He gestured at the laptop, his mind elsewhere. ‘Can this wait? I’m kind of on standby here.’

Dave, ignoring him, popped a can of Monster and poured it down his throat. ‘After all, I’m great with kids, aren’t I?’

Only last week, on an exercise with the ANA, Dave had covered himself in glory by pulling an eight-year-old boy out of the rubble that had been his home and delivering him into the arms of his frantic parents. When they’d gone back to see the family, Dave had taken a basketball he’d liberated from the same US Marines that now made up the vast majority of troops in Helmand, fixed up a makeshift hoop for the kid and shown him the ropes. Within minutes he was surrounded by ten more eager players.

‘Yeah, it’s a great idea. Now can you fuck off for a bit while I talk to Mademoiselle?’