craning his neck over the throng. I assumed he must be an officer. “And leave that man alone! We know all about him.”
The man with bulbous eyes reluctantly released his grip on my lapels and moved away, cursing. “All right then. Fix this rifle now!”
“I can’t do it in a moving train. And anyway, I’m not on duty yet.”
“Huh! As if it’s none of your concern!”
Having aroused so much hostility, I shrank into a corner. The train passed through some paddy fields before at last pulling into Gayan Station. On the platform was another melee of soldiers, evidently waiting to go home. They were squatting and sprawled all over the platform in utter exhaustion. Some were wounded.
“That’s the night shift,” explained the little man. “Actually, they get better pay. I wanted to be on the night shift, but as luck would have it, I’m night-blind.”
We parted just before the ticket gate.
“Well, let’s do our best to stay alive,” I said. “I’m not interested in the pros and cons of the war. I’m just going to look after Number One.”
“Yes. That’s the best way.”
As I left the station, I could already see the black smoke of battle rising silently behind a hill on the far side of town. Muffled sounds of gunfire and shelling could be heard in the distance. I was going to be late anyway, but I had no idea what the penalty would be. So I ran through the little town – a virtual ruin due to repeated shelling – and sped towards the hill as fast as I could.
Panting, I raced up the slope of the hill. When I reached the top, I was presented with a sight that took my breath away. The entire landscape stretched out in front of me was one vast battlefield. Virtually the whole area – from the tops of the hills in the foreground to the mountains in the middle distance – was occupied by troops of the People’s Republic of Gabat. The fighting was taking place in lowland woods and forests that spread out to right and left of the foreground. Troops from both sides were locked in battle like the teeth of two combs. Minor skirmishes here and there broke up the shape of the combs, as each side tested the other’s endurance. Both Galibia and Gabat are poor countries, and they only appeared to have two or three tanks each. What’s more, being such precious commodities, these tanks weren’t taken too far forwards, but were being kept in the rear on both sides. The offensive was being maintained by the more expendable infantry.
I tried to forget my fear as I raced down the hill, towards what I thought was Position 23. But when I got there, the time recorder was nowhere to be seen.
“Er, I’m sorry to bother you,” I said to a pair of soldiers who were operating a bazooka in a crater. “Do you know a place near here where there are two big bodhi trees?”
“They were right here till a minute ago,” answered the one who had the barrel of the bazooka on his shoulder. “But they were blown up by a shell just now. This is the crater it left.”
“This area used to be the rearguard,” said the other soldier. “Now we’re retreating so fast, it’ll soon be the front line!”
I really hoped it wasn’t just because the rifles were faulty. I poked my head out of the crater and looked over to the west. A hundred yards away, I could see the burnt-out wreckage of a truck, with the time recorder in its shadow.
“There it is!”
I ran towards the truck, keeping my body low, as bullets skimmed and whizzed past my helmet from all directions.
I heard a ghastly whining sound as a shell hurtled towards me. Suddenly there was a dazzling flash of light, and a deafening roar as the shell exploded. I was thrown into the air and hurled onto the ground. When I eventually lifted my mud-caked face, I could see no trace of the wrecked truck, nor of the time recorder.
“My God! No time recorder!” If I’d arrived just moments earlier, I’d have been blown to bits along with it.
I looked at my watch. It was 09.13. There was no denying it – I was late. But now there was nothing to prove it. I felt slightly relieved. Now I could say there’d been no time recorder, and might even get away without a penalty.
That last shell had sparked off a salvo of firing, and shells were falling all around me. I ran to take shelter in a nearby wood. There, scores of soldiers were crouching amid dense undergrowth at the foot of the trees.
“Er, excuse me,” I said, approaching one who wore the stripes of a platoon leader. “Could you tell me where the Third Platoon of the Second Infantry Battalion is? I’ve been seconded to them, you see.”
“Ha! You’re late,” he replied with a smile. “We’re in the same Battalion. The Third Platoon was ordered to attack first thing this morning. They’ve just been wiped out.”
“W-wiped out?” I stood speechless for a moment. Then I quickly shook my head. “It’s not because I’m late that I survived. I’m a non-combatant. I work for a Japanese company, and I’ve just come to fix the rifles.”
“Oh, it’s you, is it? The chap who’s come to fix the rifles? In that case, you’re in the right place.” He pointed to a pile of rifles lying in the undergrowth. “They’re the ones that went wrong last night and this morning. Fix them immediately. I’m transferring you to our Platoon as from now. I’ll inform HQ of the change later.”
“All right.”
I immediately opened my toolbox and started repairing the rifles. No bullets or shells would penetrate these woods. I was safe here.
An orderly came with instructions from General Staff Headquarters. The Platoon Leader and all the men were to leave the wood immediately and charge the enemy. I was left alone in the wood, where I continued my work.
Things didn’t go well. It took me the whole morning just to fix four rifles. As soon as I’d fixed one, it was immediately taken off by a soldier. Other soldiers, meanwhile, kept bringing more faulty rifles back in with them. And so, the pile of rifles next to me just kept growing higher.
Noon approached. I was beginning to feel hungry, and decided it was time to open my lunch box. Just then, a platoon of soldiers came into the wood. They passed beside me, chatting noisily. One of them, tall and bearded, followed a little behind the rest. He stopped and stood in front of me.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“What do you think? I’m having my lunch,” I replied, removing the lid from the box.
“Really. Lucky you. Bring your own lunch, do you. Looks good, that.” He swallowed with a gulp. “Army catering’s shite. We can’t fight on that. You got a fag, then?”
I took a pack of cigarettes from my top pocket and passed it to him.
“I haven’t seen this brand before,” he said. “Hold on. These are Galibian cigarettes!”
I looked up in surprise.
The bearded soldier took a step backwards. “You – you’re Galibian!”
I leapt up with a yell and started to run. I’d been so immersed in my work that I hadn’t noticed. The Galibian army had retreated and I was now surrounded by the enemy.
“Stop!” he called out behind me. “Stop, or I’ll fire!”
My legs turned to jelly. I raised my arms and turned around. The Gabati soldier had picked one of the rifles from the pile and was pointing it at me.
“Let me go. I’m a non-combatant!”
The bearded Gabati shook his head. “No. I’m going to shoot you.”
“Sh-shoot me?” I said, shaking with fear. “I don’t want to die! Can’t you just take me prisoner?”
“We’d have nothing to feed you with. There’s no food. So we’ve been ordered to take no prisoners. All Galibians are to be shot!” He checked that the rifle was loaded before aiming the barrel at me once more.
“Say your prayers, mate!”
“Don’t shoot me!” I cried. “I’ll give you my lunch box!”
The bearded Gabati looked down at the lunch box and thought for a moment. Then he shook his head again. “No, no. My superior officer is a right greedy bastard. If he knew I’d let an enemy get away for such a tasty looking lunch box…” He shuddered. “He’d have me shot.”
“I’ve got a wife waiting at home,” I pleaded. “I don’t want to die!”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt,” the bearded Gabati said apologetically. “I’ll shoot you straight through the heart. I’ve got a good aim.”
