She attached the 300 millimeter telephoto lens to her camera and leaned forward, ignoring the pain in her ankle. With one elbow braced against the rough wall of the cave, she steeled herself for the next inevitable explosion. She shot off a couple of frames, missed the tank’s firing, and cursed under her breath. That tank turned and moved on, under heavy but probably useless fire from the Mujahedeen. She hadn’t noticed any shoulder-fired missiles amongst the group they had joined with at the camp.

Two more tanks passed, but before the third there was an explosion in the road as a mine ineffectually went off. The tank turned slowly, like a monster in a horror movie. This time she caught the tank as it fired, and then decided she’d had enough of perching on a rock ledge and wondering how far shells could reach.

She set the camera down and took out her notebook. She felt dazed from their all-night walk, but didn’t think she could sleep. The situation had a strange unreality to it, like watching a movie on video late at night.

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