Chapter Nine
One sunny morning, a week after the incident, I saw Boris sitting alone on a crumbling wall, away from the camp. He was sitting with one foot on the small wall and the other on the ground, smoking a cigarette while gazing at the hills deep on the distant horizon. I stood nearby, and he noticed me, squinting due to the sunlight as he exhaled smoke. He nodded with his hand, inviting me to sit. I sat, leaving about a meter between us, and we silently watched some of the men doing jogging exercises. I was leaning forward, fingers interlocked.
He asked, "How's your hand?"
"Better... It still burns a little."
"If Raziel were here, he'd probably tell you to take off the bandage and expose it to the sun."
"Did he tell you that before?" But he stayed silent, offering no response. I also didn't know what to say, and the atmosphere was strangely still.
"I'm Adam."
"Boris."
After a moment, I finally said, "It seems the captain is planning to meet the village leader."
"It seems so," he replied before falling silent again.
In truth, I had many questions about many things, but it seemed Boris hadn't yet gotten over Raziel's loss. Then I heard Boris speak while looking towards the camp: "All of this is pointless."
"You mean the exercises?"
"Not just the exercises. All of this..."
He gestured toward the entire camp. I stayed quiet for a moment, trying to understand what he meant, but curiosity got the better of me.
"The Vengeance Battalion?"
"Yes, most of them... What's the point of all this? What's the meaning?"
"From what I understand, our presence here is beneficial... or so I think."
He turned to me with a sarcastic look and said, "Please, spare me your religious friend's view... He knows nothing."
I remained silent, for, in truth, I didn't know much either, apart from the picture Nikolai had painted for me. He had explained that, in 1978, a revolution had erupted in Gagan against the ruling regime, led by Moharan Amish, spearheaded by the leaders of the Atonist religion. The revolution eventually turned into a failed military coup. The military institution collapsed at the time, and Moharan sought help from Sukania and Opmania due to historical ties between these countries. Sukania and Gagan were both non-Slavic nations, sharing much in terms of ancestry. So, in 1981, Sukania intervened in Gagan for its national security, aiming to suppress the rebels. This had repercussions on Korobostia, the northern region, since most of its population followed monotheistic and Atonist beliefs, and they were religious kin, so to speak. Their strong desire for independence from Domonia also played a role. As usual, the Roshkan Union, or the Northern Bear, supported the Opmanian government, which was also an ally of Sukania.
I then said to Boris, "I understand we're here as ground support forces for the Gagan government and the Sukanian forces."
He laughed bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. "If Raziel heard you, he'd fall over laughing... You know, I used to believe the same thing... In fact, I was more zealous than your southern friend."
I stayed silent, not moving except for my eyes, which were fixed on the gravel beneath me. Boris was about to get up when I remembered something.
I asked, "What was Raziel's perspective on all this?"
He stood, gazing at the horizon for a moment, clearly not wanting to speak. As he started walking, I followed him with another question that had been on my mind for some time: "Alright... Then tell me about the Desert Dogs... the First Battalion and its disappearance. I've heard a lot of wild rumors about it."
He tossed away his cigarette after one last drag, exhaling slowly, as if reluctant to part with it. As we walked near a dry stream, he said, "In truth, Raziel was the one who confirmed it for me. It's said that the First Vengeance Battalion was sent to a remote area in the southern desert of Gagan five years ago. They were among the first forces to arrive from Domonia to support the suppression of the rebels. Initially, reports started coming in about missing soldiers during patrols, especially in rugged areas full of caves. There were alleged sightings of giant, half-bodied creatures with no faces. There were also stories of soldiers being killed by what they called the Desert Dogs. But as their numbers dwindled, contact with the battalion was suddenly lost overnight."
"Didn't they send reinforcements or something?"
"They failed several times. That part of the southern desert was once a site for nuclear experiments conducted by the Union before the tripartite aggression against Domonia and its subsequent division. Helicopters struggled with disruptions, and some systems failed due to excessive electromagnetic activity. Still, ground reinforcements finally reached the battalion's location... and all they found were abandoned weapons and an empty, lifeless camp."
"I find that hard to believe... Did Raziel tell you all this?"
"Yes..." He then stopped, looked at me, and added, "I want this to remain a secret... Or else..."
I nodded respectfully and said, "Of course!"
The next day, I shared what I'd heard with Nikolai, feeling somewhat amused by it. But he objected, refusing to believe it, claiming that some of the sympathetic volunteers had spread such rumors for religious reasons.
As for me, I also found Boris's tale hard to believe. It was said that the commander of the First Battalion was Sukanian and that he fought to the end against an Atonist rebel attack. Some rumors claimed the story had been fabricated to undermine volunteers' trust in their Sukanian leaders and to demoralize them.
That same day, shortly after lunch, the sound of an approaching helicopter filled the air. The noise grew louder than usual, as we often heard aircraft from time to time. But this time, when some of us went outside to investigate, Boris and I among them, the sound became more distinct as the helicopter drew closer and closer. In truth, it was the first time I felt that strange mix of danger as the desert-camouflaged helicopter descended, seemingly preparing to land in one of the open areas near the camp. Its rotors whipped up a cloud of dust and debris in our faces, and its deafening roar rang in my ears, especially mine. Finally, after it settled on the ground and the blades started to slow, the noise gradually diminished. Sobaqar, Makar, and some of the communications officers gathered around it. They seemed to be waiting for someone who had arrived on the helicopter. From the round windows on either side, it was clear that this was a military transport helicopter bearing the emblem of a lion holding a trident—indicating it was a Sukanian helicopter. After the dust had mostly settled, its side door opened, and a few soldiers with short rifles disembarked, followed by a heavyset man with a thick mustache, his coarse face almost flushed red. The guards with him were well-dressed, in expensive uniforms. He wore desert military attire with a light green camo pattern, a common style in Sukania.
He was a captain, and after glancing at us and his surroundings, he adjusted his black beret and approached Sobaqar while we saluted. He paid us no attention. Sobaqar greeted him warmly, embracing him, and Makar saluted before shaking his hand. They then entered the command room. None of us knew who this man was or why he had come, except for a man in his forties who had been watching since the beginning, clearly drunk. He muttered, "What the hell is a leader from the Shobkin (Cubs) Party doing here?"
Boris and I exchanged glances, but it seemed no one else paid him any attention, as most were focused on the four masked guards, fully clad in brown, who surrounded the helicopter. No one seemed to consider speaking to them.
At that moment, I spotted Nikolai, just as confused as the rest of us.
It was only two hours later that the captain emerged, accompanied by Sobaqar and Makar. As the captain headed towards the helicopter, the pilots, who had remained inside the entire time, restarted the engine. The captain and Sobaqar spoke closely for a moment before bidding each other farewell. Once the captain boarded the helicopter, the door closed, and the sound of the rotors grew louder. As soon as they gained enough momentum, the helicopter lifted off, slicing through the air, and departed into the sky just as mysteriously as it had arrived.
The next morning, a BP1 armored vehicle with a small turret for its size arrived. Alongside it was an eight-wheeled armored vehicle, both bearing the emblem of a horizontal sword shaped like a crescent with a sun in the middle. They had come to escort us, as Sobaqar was going to meet the leader of the village of Karadin. The convoy included fifteen soldiers from the Gagan government forces. They didn't look much different from us in terms of their basic uniforms. They were dark-skinned, and we couldn't understand their language. They wore oval-shaped helmets. Thirty of us infantrymen, including me, were set to accompany them, while fifteen others would set out at dawn to secure the valley route in the Kiftar Hills.