without reducing his speed. It seems he has experience with such maneuvers.
"Damned bastard, dirty son of a bitch!" I swear. "Eight months ago you didn’t dare use this road. You bumped along the "secure road" and were happy to see a sock hat. Now you feel like a hero, you ass! Now you don’t care that half a company is standing around here. Main thing is, that they are soon back in their stinking position to defend you. If only the Arabs had cut off your ears and stuffed them into your filthy mouth ..."
The rain increases. The driver becomes for me a symbol of the hated "HQ." Those who are lying in their warm beds and who despise us: who destroyed the spirit of our unit and forced the hated military discipline on us, who grew fat on the blood of our comrades even before it was cold. They should be taught a lesson, these ungrateful...
I draw my pistol. The men fall silent. In the sudden quiet my click-ing off of the safety catch sounds like a metallic blow.
I am a soldier. And I know that it is my duty to shoot at those who abandon a wounded comrade. In the squad leader course I was taught to shoot a subordinate if he refuses to advance or if he deserts before the enemy. I knew that such a situation could arise and that then I would have to use a weapon, perhaps even have to become a murderer, to uphold the rules on which our lives depend. That is an unpleasant duty. But this time I feel the blood lust rising in me. It takes control of me. I know that I will use the weapon if I need to.
In the distance another pair of lights is approaching. I notice that people around me are holding their breath. A truck comes toward us. The driver can see me, but does not reduce his speed. I blow my whistle. The headlights illuminate my pistol hand. The driver brakes hard.
"You will take a wounded man to the hospital in Bilu!"
"But that is not my direction. I am driving to Gedera."
I point the pistol at his chest.
"OK, OK," he stutters. "Put him on."
"Climb in!" I order the men. They climb onto the load area.
"I am not taking any passengers. Just the wounded man," the driver objects.