Blood Lily Company - Afghanistan, year 1

XXXIV

Once at base, Erk sent us to the showers and, frankly, we would have gone without his permission. Seriously, four days without a shower, without being able to wash, just having the possibility, in the morning – and yet, not always – to change underwear, and, sometimes, supreme luxury, t-shirt, without being able to shave, it's hard. That's why this is the maximum length of our patrols. And we boys can pee standing up. I pity the girls.

Oh, we have washable wipes that we put in the washing machine when we come back from patrol, along with our fatigues, t-shirts and underwear before going to the shower, but frankly, it can't replace a real warm – hot – shower. It's a very useful thing, developed for the French Army: cotton squares the size of a handkerchief, impregnated with a quick-dry washing solution, in a double waterproof pouch: one side for the clean squares, one side for the used ones. It's super convenient, takes some of the dirt off and – almost – eliminates odors. But, again, it doesn't replace a shower. A shower at the end of a patrol is heaven. Lin lets us take our time, just so we can feel truly clean. Like I said, we're never rationed on hot water here.

Before joining us, while Kris was taking care of our stuff, Erk had escorted Alyss to Doc, explaining what happened, then he went to Lin to report back. I later learned that the little miss had been set up in the guest room, which Sanchez had used.

Then the giant joined us, stark naked, Behemoth in hand, like all of us. The gun won't get damaged by water, which is good. In the showers there are open lockers where we normally leave our things. They don't get much use. Erk usually, like us, puts the holster of his handgun, the contents of his pockets and his St George medal there. Coming back from patrol, we just undress outside, leaving our clothes in a pile there, pockets emptied. It's our officer who brings them to the laundry before coming to wash. With Lin, the higher rank doesn't mean more privilege, just more work. I think it's cool for the average soldier.

Since Lin wants us always prepared to defend ourselves, even in the showers, she had hooks put under each shower head, where the water spray won't reach. We hang our guns on it by the trigger guard – I know, not great – that way, we're ready.

I keep telling myself that if a guy manages to surprise us here naked, one, he will have a hell of a surprise and two, we will be in deep shit: that will mean that he'd have killed all the others, since the living quarters are really the most protected. But at the same time, that gives us good habits.

We had an amazing couscous for dinner. Cook is definitely the best! It felt like a feast, even for Alyss who still looked a little pale. She was at the table with Lin and the Lieutenants. But frankly, I'd rather not be in her shoes: they were, casually, grilling her and leading a hell of an interrogation session.

I was looking at the giant. When he got to the showers, I stole a glance at his right side, because I couldn't remember any mark there. But I saw something, the trail of a bullet that had bit the flesh and slid along the rib underneath. It was, oddly, rather beautiful. It looked like a comet.

At dessert, Tito sighed deeply, quietly enough, but as I was sitting next to him, I heard the slight noise. I looked at my little buddy. He too was staring at the Viking. Then he got up, his dirty plate and cutlery in hand, and went to prepare for KP duty, plates washing after dinner, our chore for tonight. Taking advantage that the other washers were still eating, I joined him in the kitchen.
- Are you OK, Tito?

He nodded first, then shook his head and averted his face. I grabbed his chin and turned him towards me. Cook motioned me to go to the pantry with him. I pushed him in front of me, carefully closing the door and took him by the shoulders.
- What's wrong, big boy?

He gave a sort of choked laugh and then his shoulders were shaking with sobs. I took him in my arms, hugging him, consoling him. There is nothing to say. I know why he is crying. All I can do is be there when he cries, rub his back in comfort and give a handkerchief – and not my panties – when he's done.
- You know, little buddy, that...
- That's not it, Tudic. It's his panic attack, his fear, his pain. I was in pain for him, I wanted revenge, I wanted to kill those who had hurt him so much... and I also wanted to hug him, me, the runt of the Company, I wanted to take the giant in my arms, to cradle him against me, to reassure him, tell him that all was well and...
- Dear God, you're completely hooked...
- Yes, and it's hopeless...