4/17/2004

Xavier is crying and dying

About a week ago, someone from our group killed somebody. I didn't even notice this, because there was always a lot of random firefights happening without any serious consequences. It turns out that this person who was shot was the son of the chief of the village we were staying in.

When we arrived at the village, the people in the village knew that they were at war with us, but we did not know so. All the same, they gave us a house to stay in, presents and made us feel comfortable. We didn't realise that there was some type of grudge against us, because frankly the dead boy was just some passer-bye to us.

Xavier went out to pee yesterday night, and I was sitting here surfing with my laptop (I have to mention that I charge it with an electricity thingy in our GM truck), when the entire youth of the village gathered up behind the hut, wanting to sorround it, set it on fire and keep us inside with gunshots.

However, they did not notice that Xavier was outside, and when they saw him, someone shot at him. This was a shot from quite a distance, and he was hit, but not fatally. I continued surfing, posted my last entry with my gun in position, and wanted to leave the room.

Xavier fell in, and splashed blood across the room. The villagers shot him with a hunting gun, which shoots out hundreds (or maybe tens) of small steel balls. Xaviers arm was pierced in tens of places, and the bone looked to be cracked at some point. His mouth was tight, and gasps were escaping his mouth. For one second, we simply looked at him, shocked. Nobody said anything.

Then training kicked in. We swapped the pistols we were holding for our machine guns, frantically digging through our gear. We aligned ourselves against the window, and tried to loook out into the darkness.

There was a spark over on the right, and a wooden stick rose into the air, hurtling towards the thatch of our roof. We started firing into the bushes where the fire was coming from, and suddenly, there were flaming sticks coming from everywhere.

Then roars of locally produced guns. Raw gunpowder packed in front of metal pellets or rusty nails. I saw the cement wall crack.

Xavier lay on the floor, jerking his head from left to right, and not saying a word.

--- I'll tell part two tommorow, I have to go eat right now ----

4/15/2004

Oh my god, something is wrong

Someone is yelling in the bushes, and I'm hearing gunfire. Talk to y'all sooooooooooooooooooooooon!

This is no war!

It is a camping trip with 5 good friends sitting around and buying local beer. I came out here to fight, and I am fighting against boredom.

We are now 5 people:

1. Johnny (me)
2. Xavier (Radio man)
3. Bobo (dunno what he is, soldier?)
4. Rich (mechanic)
5. Johnson (driver)

Whooooooooo! I'm stil a bit drunk from yesterday night. We left the bush, and are now in a small "hotel" in a small town.

Yesterday, we hired 3 local girls to entertain us. They sat around and gossiped with each other, and every once in a while, one would wander off for a few minutes with a man to the single room, and then come back to resume the discussion like there had been no interruption.

The head of the village came to us yesterday, and brought us a small chicken. He came to us 5 armed men, with his son holding the fowl, and said in English

"I'd like to offer you my cock".

And we started giggling like girls. I've noticed a lot of gayness developing amongst the other men. Thank goodness there are no bulletholes around.

So we still are absolutely in the dark about what the other team is doing. We have decided to drive the 1500 km out to where the others are to be, and find out what happened to our mission.

4/05/2004

Almost all our soldiers are gone

Something is happening that we have not figured out yet. We have not heard from the other team in more than a week now, the rebel army that we were to work with has left us, our commander is dead. We are about 15 men and 10 boys left over from the hundreds we had just two weeks ago.

People are getting sick. The most disturbing thing is the stink that is coming from something here. I think it is the river. We threw vj, our ex-commander into the river, and it carried him away. Nobody was in the mood to bury him.

I do not think we are in any state to fight a war. I've been trying to get through to the other team, but they are neither replying their mails nor picking up their phone.

I'll wait exactly 24 more hours, and I'll advice the men that we should leave this place. We still have 2 pick-ups left, and it might be a bit tight on them, but we'll make it.

4/04/2004

VJ died today

and we are sitting out here with nobody calling us. it is gettin wierd. this place has started stinking. of rotting