her teeth and my tongue searches for hers. Our tongues embrace and start talking to each other.
"Leave me alone," says her tongue. "If we get caught, you’ll go to prison."
"Silly little thing," my tongue answers. "In the arrest cells it is warm and dry. In the trenches, cold and wet. The guards will bring me beer from the mess. You will come and see me and another squad leader will take my place at the front."
"There will be a scandal," says her tongue.
"Little woman," my tongue answers, "in Iraq-Elmadi there are no scandals. There is only death and shattered limbs..."
"You must not die!" her arms cry and wrap around me.
"We will all die," my hand answers. "All of us. And because we don’t want to die, we will hide in the waterlogged trenches, we will crawl through the mud and be worse off than any animal in the field."
"Forget about all that..." her body begs.
"I want to forget about it," my hand answers. "Outside cold and death are waiting and you are so sweet and tender ..." The second bed squeaks. A sleepy girl’s voice asks: "Are you there, Shulah?" Shulah stiffens with fear next to me.
"Yes," she murmurs.
"Was it nice?"
"Lovely."
The bed squeaks again and soon we can hear deep, quiet
breathing.
I kiss Shulah until we are both suffocating, I squeeze her body until her bones crack, and for a moment we forget the world outside, this awful, ugly world, and a beautiful, foaming life force takes hold of us, and explodes, showering us in loving warmth.
Then a deep sadness overcomes us. We lie motionless next to each other, her cheek against mine, her breath caressing my neck. I would so much like to remain like this till the end of the world, till the end of horror. But I know that I will get up in one hour, that I will lead twenty-three innocent young men to the slaughter and that none of us will return without wounds of body or soul.
* * *
Tiny raindrops, gentle, thin ...