Blood Lily Company - Afghanistan, year 1

XXIV

So, we were smearing our third or fourth bike each, we were starting to be the same color as the bikes, on the face, hands and the old t-shirts over our uniform sweaters – we are in November, I think, and it's starting to get nippy at times – and I was seeing Erk putting his arm back in his sling most of the time. He was getting tired.

It was calm, and then suddenly it wasn't anymore. Tito was on guard duty at the first ditch, Erk's Ditch, as it's called, and told me about the guy's arrival.

Tito had heard some pebbles roll and a horse snort. On alert – and thanking the horse – he warned Mike, in the Ops room, who alerted the others. He saw the horseman arrive. The guy was riding a big black horse. A handsome stallion, Baby Jane told us when she saw it.

He had a strange look: safari jacket, sand-colored pants and yellow leather lace-up boots, a beige and white scarf on his head and a bandolier across his chest. He reminded me of Lawrence of Arabia, I'm not sure why... He was carrying an ancient submachine gun and Tito saw, wrapped around the barrel, an ivory-grain rosary.

In English, the guy asked to speak to our boss, Tito replied that he could speak to him. The guy stared him down. But since he had sunglasses that hid his eyes and that the rest of his face was masked by the scarf, Tito assumed he was being stared down. The guy told him he wanted to talk to the boss again, and Tito said the same again.
- The real boss, said the guy. The tall blond.

"Ah", Tito thought "another one who relies on physical characteristics to know who's who". And then the Albanian remembered Erk's remark, when he had welcomed the R&R. Remark I had told him about, hoping he could shed light on it, but nada. Zilch. Zero.

In argot, via the throat mic, he warned that the visitor wanted to speak to the Viking, whom he believed to be the leader.

And we heard Lin yell:
- Michelangelo and Picasso, in my office!
- Who's Picasso, who's Michelangelo, in your opinion, Erk? I asked as I stood up to obey.
- You're Picasso, you already have your head upside down, he replied, touching my scar.

My head is shaved, and my hair slowly growing back. I may have to leave them long to hide the bullet mark.

So, we joined Lin in her office and she sent us to clean up and arm and armor ourselves.

We all got set up the same way, bulletproof/tactical vest, heavy helmet, sweater and jacket, sunglasses, dried blood keffiyeh, Behemoth on the thigh and EMA 7 across the chest, in port arms position.

We were a squad of eight, Lin, Kris, Erk, Curly, Bloody Mary, Dio, Baby Jane and myself, on two files. Obeying Kris's orders, we marched to Erk's Ditch. We looked mighty good, Tito told me later.

When we got there, we lined up in two ranks of four and stood at attention. In his drill sergeant voice, Kris, behind his giant of a brother, said: "At ease" and with a beautiful ensemble and that wonderful noise made by soldiers making the same gesture together, we obeyed.

The rider looked at us, surprised. His head didn't move, but I imagine his eyes must have shifted from on to the other. We could tell his attention was on the giant. He sat up in his saddle.
- Stop dealing with the Roses & Rifles.

Erk raised an eyebrow behind his Aviators. Lin, behind me, huffed very lightly. We stayed still, attentive, and he finally turned his horse around and walked away, turning his back to us, looking real cool. If we still had had the bastard Lieutenant, the guy would have been shot dead.

We waited until he was gone, then Kris marched us back to base.

Back to the inner courtyard, Lin went back to her office, we went to drop our weapons and equipments in the armory, except for the Behemoth, of course. Even Erk and I carried them, and we faced nothing more dangerous than trial bikes.