The Girl in Green Read Online Free PDF Page A

tall and narrow rectangle that was cut through the middle with a pin for a front sight. Through his sight, they came toward him as though framed by a doorway they would never enter.
    Some ran. Some were walking wounded, and hobbled. Others couldn’t walk at all, and were carried by those who would rather risk death than leave them behind.
    Morgan used binoculars to scan the approaching refugees.
    â€˜We’re to receive refugees and patch them up. We take POWs. We do not fire unless fired upon. And then we send them back when we get the pull-out order.’
    They came for hours. Arwood had never seen people look like this. He had never seen terror on people’s faces before.
    Because he was one of the first people they saw, he was among the first ones they’d talk to. It was shocking to him how many of them spoke English. The whole country seemed to be bilingual.
    One man carried a dead eighteen-month-old baby. Whoever had shot it in the chest had done so at such close range that there were powder burns on its T-shirt and nappy. It was limp, and looked like rubber.
    The situation was chaotic. Their lines were being overrun by people — hundreds at first, and thousands later — who gathered around the remnants of the oil refinery inside the American perimeter. Young soldiers started handing out their own Meals, Ready-to-Eat, and people ate like they had never seen food.
    Not all were refugees. Some were Iraqi conscripts and Republican Guard soldiers who’d surrendered. There were six of them behind Arwood, at a tent, and under guard. One was shirtless, wearing boots and beige standard-issue trousers. He was unshaven, and his head was pressed to the ground in either prayer or despondency or fatigue. Whatever it was, Arwood had no trouble interrupting him.
    â€˜Ben, watch this thing for me,’ he said, and then walked away from the machine gun to tap the guy on his shoulder.
    The Arab looked up, tears in his eyes.
    â€˜What the hell have you got to complain about?’ Arwood said. ‘Here you are, all safe and cozy, about to get some food and water, protected by all kinds of laws and nice guys looking out for your welfare. You should be the happiest sonofabitch in the Middle East. Meanwhile,’ Arwood said, and then flicked his butt into the cloudless sky, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask one of you fuckwits a question that’s been on my mind: What the hell is wrong with you people? I mean, seriously. Who shoots a baby? Who does that? Did you do that? Was that your idea? Do you think there’s a God that wants you to shoot a baby? What’s going on over there? What’s going on in your heads?’
    â€˜Saddam. He said the city is unclean. He is giving us 250 dinars to kill babies and women, and up to five thousand dinars for adult males. He said we can kill up to one hundred a day. That’s the limit.’ Then he said something in Arabic with the word ‘Allah’ in it, and that was when Arwood switched off.
    â€˜Ben,’ he said, hopping up over the sandbags, back to his position. ‘I’ve got to do something. I need you to cover for me. I could be a few hours.’
    â€˜What could you possibly need to do?’ Ben said.
    â€˜There’s a guy — an English guy. He went into town. He went there to take pictures before the attack. It was sort of my idea. I’ve got to go look for him.’
    â€˜Are you out of your mind?’
    â€˜Look, man, I’ll zip over, pick him up, and zip out. It’s Samawah. It’s not like it’s Moscow or anything.’
    â€˜You’ll be AWOL.’
    â€˜Honour before orders.’
    â€˜You’d better haul arse.’
    â€˜Save Ferris.’

4
    Less than two kilometres away to the north, Benton lay prone behind the pharmacy countertop with another random victim of the attack. The pharmacist was dead in the middle of the floor. A flying cinder block from a nearby explosion had