"Oh really?" I ask with a smile. My blood lust has dissipated. I only feel contempt for him. He takes on twenty men and drives off.
There are still twenty-five of us. If we stand around here five min-utes more, we’ll all be ill. I am totally exhausted. But I know that if half of us get ill, then I can only occupy the position with the other half. That means double watch duty and doubled risk.
"Walk!" I shout.
No one moves. "You! You! And you!" I push them forwards. One of them lies on the ground. "Get up!" I shout at him and fire a bullet into the ground. He gets up. We walk. Our frozen limbs gradually warm up.
"Sing!" I command.
I begin with an indecent French song they taught me. I don’t have a good ear. Even on normal days I am no gifted singer. Now my voice sounds like the howling of a jackal with a sore throat. Unimportant! First one, then a second, then a third join in.
* * *
With my blonde
I sleep well, I sleep well...
* >1 *
We laugh and walk. Our clothes are soaked through and the road is slippery, but slowly our mood improves.
A vehicle comes up behind us. I wave my pistol around and shoot in the air - as an introduction to the negotiations. But it is no longer fun.
"Are you crazy?" It is Jamus’s voice, who has returned from the hospital with our truck.
The men climb on. I sit down next to the driver.
* * *
Rain, rain, rain.
The military bus is overloaded. Early in the morning, before dawn, we will take over the position. For the first time our Moroccans will be at the front. For the first time I will be in command during an operation. We were able to give them a few hours’ instruction with the rifle, and one with the machine gun. But not a single hour of field or night exercises. According to instructions we first have to drill them on the parade ground. Apparently that is more important for the army leadership.