Chapter Ten
At ten in the morning, the sun retained its summer heat. I and four others swayed as we clung to the back of the wheeled BDR armored vehicle as it cut through the dirt road, raising dust behind it, with two armored vehicles trailing us. The DP tracked vehicle was beneath us, and I was on the second. We were heading toward the village of Kraden. As I felt the steel heat beneath me, the driver had opened the top hatch to let the air in, and the radio was playing a song in Kantaria, with a modern electronic music style. The lyrics went:
"Who will tell you that it's too late? Who will tell you things of great beauty? You cannot go alone... and in reflection, there was no mistake. Who will take you home tonight? Who will hold you when you fall? Who will answer you when you call? And who will care about your dream? Who will hear you when you scream?"
The song was playing, and those in the armored vehicle seemed to enjoy its tune, though I was sure they didn't understand the lyrics.
During the long journey, we passed houses that looked abandoned in the middle of nowhere, on the side of the semi-desert road, with dry tree remnants nearby.
"How many families must have lived here and been scattered by the injustice of time? How many boys must have played around that barren tree, which now seems like a relic from ages past?"
There were small, dilapidated shops along the road, run by children.
The remains of destroyed military vehicles lay on the roadside. In the midst of all this destruction and loss, you realize that your life and the lives of those around you have no meaning or value, like the desert grass on the roadside that not even the desert creatures eat, though it waits for the rainclouds that may never come. People lost in the surreal ugliness of reality.
On the roadside, you could see the remains of burned orchards, a testament to the scorched-earth strategy life has employed toward the hearts of men.
Or is it humanity that employed this strategy against life?
Those distant ruins, turned into piles of dust, contrasted with the desert grass in the flat land, surrounded by abandoned huts and withered orchards. This means that this land has a history, but what good is that now?
A few brown-skinned boys in tattered clothes watched us pass as if they were looking at creatures from another world. From their gazes, you could tell there was both fear and a familiar acceptance of such scenes.
We passed hills rising about fifty meters high, where we saw a heavy helicopter in the distance, with desert camouflage. Finally, we arrived at the village, where the inhabitants' homes were made of mud. The armored vehicles stopped one after the other, and those on board disembarked, including Subak. I clutched my weapon and jumped down in turn.
Subak said, "The Gaganians will accompany me; you stay here." He said something the Gaganians understood, and they followed him, along with two of his personal guards. I remained with a few of our unit, watching him move away with the group of Gaganian soldiers. Some civilians stood by, silently observing what was happening.
One of us said, "It seems our leader trusts the Gaganians with his life." Then Boris approached and said, "Adam, keep an eye on the rooftops." When I looked up, I noticed that some armed men from the village were watching our movements from a distance atop those mud huts. I looked at Boris and asked, "What might Subak be discussing with the village chief?"
"I'm not sure, but I suspect he wants to be serious about inquiring about the recent rebel movements." A man named Khakram said, "Maybe he wants to issue a warning to the village chief."
Boris replied, "That wouldn't be in his best interest. It's true the village chief opposes the rebels, but that doesn't mean he'll tolerate being threatened by external forces. Most likely, he'll ask him for more surveillance or to put more effort into tracking or limiting the movements of the rebels, who are hiding in the Kiftar terrain."
After about an hour, Subak and the others returned. We prepared to leave. I slung my rifle over my back and tried to climb up, thankful to Boris, who offered me his hand, making it easier for me to get on board, as the armored vehicle was quite high.
I saw Subak speaking with one of the assistant officers, then a recruit opened the armored vehicle door for him, located between the first and last pair of wheels on the side, where it split into two parts—one opening downward and the upper part opening to the side. We retraced our dusty path, passing by the remnants of some destroyed armored vehicles on the roadside, which resembled the ones we were riding.
One of the men sitting next to Boris said, "Looks like they didn't welcome the Union very well." Then he laughed. Boris noticed him and said, "Union?" I wasn't sure if the man hadn't heard Boris due to the noise or if he was just pretending, as he looked away into the distance.
When we arrived, Subak spoke with the Gaganian group leader, saluted him, and they got into their armored vehicles, departing. It was said that Subak had discussed the recent surge in rebel activity with the village chief and asked why no steps were being taken to curb it. But the village chief, Hoshyar Khider, said that his men's duty was limited to protecting the village only.
In front of us, the reconnaissance patrol had returned before us after securing the road, in case of an ambush, and Nikolai was among them. I spoke with him about what had happened, and while we sat at the dinner table, he said, "I don't understand how a smart sergeant like Subak can trust those Gaganians. He should have at least made a phone call since he's fluent in their language."
"He must have wanted to demonstrate the seriousness of the situation by meeting face to face."
Boris was sitting next to me, silently eating his dinner from his bowl. He seemed uninterested in joining the conversation. But I was certain of one thing: Boris, like me, was still preoccupied with what that volunteer had meant. In fact, we later decided to ask him about it. But in truth, he would die before we got the chance to do so.