The current Galibian government seized power following a successful coup last year. Now, they’re bending over backwards to win public support.
“Really? That must attract a lot of people,” said my wife as she buttered some toast. “There are a lot of jobless homeowners nowadays, aren’t there. Even the unemployed have their own homes these days. So if they can commute from home instead of staying in the barracks, I should think a lot of people would be interested in signing up. I mean, instead of getting posted to the front, they can go home every night, can’t they.”
“People get
“An hour on the fast train.”
Galibia is currently embroiled in a border conflict with its neighbour, the People’s Republic of Gabat. The dispute revolves around a small Galibian town called Gayan, at the end of the railway line.
“What kind of terms are they offering?” asked my wife. She can’t read a word of Galibian.
“Pretty good ones,” I replied, glancing through the ad. “The basic salary is 120,000 Galibian dollars. Then there’s an outfit allowance of 25,000 dollars, paid on signing up. Pay rises and bonuses are given twice a year when winning the war, once when losing. There’s also 5,000 dollars in ‘fight money’ for each battle you take part in. They even give prizes for fighting spirit. Sickness benefits and health insurance are covered. Well, that goes without saying. There’s no unemployment insurance, of course. I mean, what would everyone do if the war ended?! Oh and look. They even pay travel expenses. In full. Lunch is provided. Hey! And you get two days off per week! Even paid holidays. Part-timers welcome, it says.”
“Goodness!” My wife sighed, her eyes growing steadily wider. “So you could get much more than you do now. What qualifications would you need?”
“Hold on! You’re not asking me to sign up, are you?!” I said with a laugh. I looked back at the ad. “All ages welcome, no experience required, it says. Oh. Applicants with a driving licence get priority treatment. Other particulars to be arranged by personal interview. In other words, the more qualifications you have, the more pay you get.”
“Well, I’m sure you’d do very well there, honey. After all, you’re an expert on guns, aren’t you.”
“Yes, I suppose I am,” I said, forcing a smile. “But if they’re recruiting so many soldiers, they’re sure to need more guns, aren’t they. Then the Army Ministry will order more from our company. So rather than actually going to war myself, it would be much easier to wait here for those orders, wouldn’t it.”
“Well, yes, I suppose that would be easier. For you.” A familiar look came over my wife’s face. I braced myself for the usual onslaught. “Thankfully, things are cheap here, so we can just get by on your salary, plus the overseas allowance.”
By “things are cheap,” what she really meant was that there weren’t any luxury goods for her to buy.
The customary moans were now imminent – when could we go home, when could we have children without worrying, and so on. I quickly left the table.
“Right. I’m off to work.”
“Work” is actually a five-minute walk away. From our one-room rented apartment, along the main road, to the office building that houses the Galibian Branch of Sanko Industries. I’m the Branch Manager. My staff consists of a single secretary, a local man called Purasarto.
As I walked in, Purasarto came up to me with a memo. “I’ve just had a call from the Army Ministry,” he said. “It’s about the five hundred rifles we delivered recently. They say they don’t work properly.”
I stopped dead in front of my desk. “What, all five hundred?”
“It seems so. But they only realized they were faulty when they tried to use them at Gayan. As a result, we’re losing the war.”
“Oh my God.” I slumped down at the desk and put my head in my hands. “So the General must be pretty mad, then?”
“Hopping! He wants to see you right away.”
I got up with a groan from the chair I’d just occupied. “There’s nothing for it. I’ll go now.”
“Er…” Purasarto added nervously. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“I want to quit. They’ve been advertising for day soldiers in the newspaper, and I’d like to apply.”
“Well, I can understand that. You’ve got your own home, and three children to feed. I’m sure you could do with the money. But you can’t leave just like that. I’m sorry. What, I suppose it’s the idea of commuting that attracts you, is it?”
“Yes. And the pay would be much higher than what I’m getting here.”
“But if you go to war, you might die. Have you thought of that?”
“I have,” Purasarto answered with a smile. “But we all have to die some time.”
The Galibians’ lack of concern for human life was rather worrying.
“You can’t quit now. Wait till I find a replacement.”
If most Galibian men were signing up as day soldiers, only the women would be left.
I hopped into one of those tricycle-taxis, like the ones found all over Southeast Asia. Just three blocks along the main road stood the Galibian Army Ministry. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I showed my pass at Reception and went through to the General’s office. He was bellowing into the telephone, his face resembling some kind of mad fiend. When he saw me, he replaced the receiver neatly and stood up, ready to sink his teeth in.
“Thanks to your rifles, three battalions have been wiped out! What are you going to do about it?! Give us our money back!”
“Calm down, please!” I called out in desperation. “I’m sure those rifles were checked most rigorously before being shipped out. What exactly is wrong with them?”
“What
“Please don’t joke. If you do that, my company will go bankrupt and I’ll be out on the street,” I shrieked. “Anyway, could you show me one of these faulty rifles?”
“Here’s one. It’s just come back from Gayan.” The General plucked a rifle from his desk and angrily tossed it towards me.
I dismantled the rifle and carefully examined the faulty part. “Ah. Well, this will be easy to repair,” I said with some relief. “The screw in the trigger spring axle has come loose. That means that, even though gas is released when the first shot is fired, the bolt doesn’t return automatically. All we have to do is tighten the screw.”
“So that screw was loose on all five hundred rifles?” the General asked, rather more calmly.
“Yes, I’m really sorry. You’ll have to recall all five hundred.”
“IMPOSSIBLE!!!” the General roared once more. “We’re at war, for God’s sake! Those rifles are being used in fighting as we speak! Call it what you like! If we can’t shoot consecutively, we’ll lose the war!”
“So, well, what do you want me to do about it?” I asked timidly.
“Go to Gayan,” the General replied, with a look of menace. “Wait at the battle zone, and when a rifle stops working, repair it on the spot!”
A shiver went through me. “I’m J-J-Japanese! I can’t go to a w-war zone. If I did, I’d be a combatant – I’d be taking part in the war!”
The General pursed his lips. “You’re already taking part in the war, aren’t you? You’re supplying weapons to our country. What bigger part could you be taking?”
“But what if I get hit by a bullet and die?” I whined. “You’d have forced a Japanese citizen to die in a war. It could spark an in ternational crisis.”
“Our governments would hush it up. Don’t worry. We’ll send your remains home.”
“Remains?! That’s what I’m worried about!!”
“Oh? You mean you’re scared of war?” The General stared me in the face, as if surprised. “Haven’t the Japanese always been war animals, even after the last one ended? I thought you were always ready to give up your lives for your Emperor, or your company, with your famous
