10/27/2004

The betrayal

We walked into the jungle, and we spent a lot of time with each other. As happens with any other group of people living together, we got to know the habits of the others. We did not get to know ourselves, we just got to know how we behaved. And as usually happens in groups, I liked some, and I disliked others.

A fellow called Saensi became the person I hung around with the most. He was an Israeli, and had scars all across his back. He had been in the army, he had fought in narrow streets, and after breaking free, had discovered that the only thing he could was fight. He had been a soldier too long, and had become a soldier. So he came out here, and he killed along with us, but killed like a machine, killed like an exterminator would kill insects - without emotion, in silence, and efficiently.

I rather liked Saensi. He did not say a lot, and did not believe in meaningless chatter. He spoke about boring things, but spoke without force, so you could listen easily to him. We chatted as we walked into the bush, and a simple companionship developed.

I didn't yet know it, but Saensi would betray me. Let me tell that story, the story of a man I called my friend, and how he would turn against me.

We walked into a village, and the few villagers put us up. We ate their food and drank their water, and they sat and watched us in resignation. When night merged into the darkness of the jungle, we entered their huts and lay down to sleep. In the morning, we woke up, and there were no villagers there. Three of our men were also no longer there.

We stood up, wondering what had happened, everyone holding guns and dressing up at the same time. I would not call it fear that I saw in the faces of the men, it would better be described as nervous puzzlement.

Saensi was not there either. As we moved, there was accompanying movement in the bushes. Then a yell from the bushes, and the familiar harsh metallic sounds of heavy automatic guns. There was accompanying thuds of bullets hitting objects.

We all ran, a few of us managing to put some shots in the general direction of where the ambush was. I saw at least two of our men fall, but did not stop to look further. I simply held tight to my AK and ran into the bushes. Beside me, other men were puffing and running, one stopped behind a tree and started shooting back. I ran on.

The man in front of me stumbled, fell to his knee, stood up again and continued to run. The back of his shirt turned red quickly, he fell again, stood up again, ran a few more steps and collapsed to the floor. I ran around him, and did not look. He called out as I ran away, and I imagined his arm outstretched towards me.

10 minutes later, I stopped where two other of our men had grouped up. We positioned ourselves and waited. We radioed about, and managed to get one more person in. When night fell, we navigated back towards the village, and saw Saensi and some other guy burying corpses. We walked in, and they came towards us, arms outstretched to greet us.

They told us they had woken up as it was still dark, and seen lights in the bushes. They had known there would be an ambush, and figured out that trying to wake up everybody would certainly lead to discovery and a gunbattle, and so had decided to simply walk away.

After I heard this story, I turned to look at saensy, anger in my face, my hands shivering, and a particular cold dread in my soul. He did not look at me, but looked down at the ground, and kept his gaze fixed there. He was drawing a picture in the sand, a picture of a small girl skipping rope, drawing his daughter, another one of his boring topics.

I hated him, I felt betrayed, I felt anger, but most of all, I felt fear.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I like it! but, how do you feel about posting more often? Let's keep the story going, O.K.
YGW
by the way, some of your so-called friends, sounds alot like some of mine. backstabbers
Would you have done any different than this man? I mean afterall, aren't mercernaries trained to feel no emotions, no feelings, or mercy?

3:38 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

What did your therapist tell you to get in touch with your feelings? Get back to writing about killing hookers and little kids. This shit is boring.

1:08 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home