Damned patrol. Why haven’t we been provided with any auto-matic weapon support? Why on earth have we been sent into this area in broad daylight? ... No! Don’t think about it! Otherwise the wound will start hurting again.
Where is Rachel? Four o’clock has already struck. Please, Rachel, come quickly...
* * *
There she is, fresh, smiling. Devil knows how she manages it, always smiling like that. Habit? No. You never get used to things like this. It is professional armor. "I wear a white coat. I am a nurse. I must stay calm!"
"How did you sleep?" smiles Rachel.
"I didn’t sleep at all!"
"You are a naughty-naughty-naughty boy," she tells me off.
"Yes, rna."
"As a punishment, Mama will now give you two injections." "There is no room left on my legs."
"Mama will find a place."
In earlier days men fell in love with women who could cook and knit socks. Then it was respectable virgins who could play the piano and converse in French. What has made me fall in love with Rachel is her skill at giving injections.
"And now my baby will be really, really gooooood and sleep."
"If I do, will you stop giving me injections?"
"No! The injections will be your reward."
"But I can’t go to sleep. Really I can’t."
"Then I’ll sing you a lullaby, OK?"
"Right."
"What would the little one like to hear?"
"Something nice that has nothing to do with the war."
"Good. I’ll sing the song about the green eyes."
"Oh no! Not that one!"
"What’s the problem?"
"Doesn’t matter. Give me a kiss instead."
"What do you want with a kiss from an old woman?"
"Give me a kiss!"
Very carefully she bends the tube that goes into my nose to one side, and her little mouth touches my lips.