Blood Lily Company - Afghanistan, year 1

LXXII

So. On the recruiting front, it's not good. Since the Icelanders arrived here, we lost four men (I'm not counting our officers): Higgins ex-Lullaby, Poll, Saint-Hélier and Gonzales. And we only got two. Well, the good thing is that the Koreans are real soldiers, with a good background in martial arts.

The exercises we did by platoon the next day, after sending the moron on his way, mainly served to get JD and Quenotte back in shape. Erk was still a little tired, too, but having no one to Heal now, I knew he would be in shape when JD and Quenotte were ready to go.

Mac asked us to take care of the purely military assessment of Song, the brothers said okay. Shorn was taking care of Kim.

We all had the pleasure - but it was to be expected - to discover real soldiers. Song had very good aim and was sparing in her use of bullets. No one would match Baby Jane, nor Lin or the brothers, but Song was leading the pack, just behind the Icelanders.

At veehema, which we all practiced together in the afternoon, it was quite funny. I can't remember the name of their martial art, but to see Kim attempt a hold, miss it, get a slap instead, and look outraged, that was pretty funny.

In fact, these two had had to unlearn a lot. Stand at attention and salute when the officers passed by, the stiffness, the unnecessary rules and regulations. They struggled with our seeming carelessness. And in the arena, they had to learn the low blows and other tricks of our very particular martial art, a mixture of krav-maga, tai chi, savate, karate, and so on and so on.

In fact, it is more difficult to unlearn habits, reflexes, than to learn something new. That's why Kitty, who had never done any martial art training, had learned veehema very quickly, while Kim and Song struggled to understand that there was no predetermined answer to an attack, a feint or other. And they, who had learned how to counter an attack in a certain way, couldn't understand that you could throw yourself straight at a knife to get within range of a carotid artery.

The two brothers looked at each other, and gave us a great demo. I love seeing them face to face, they are so graceful, it looks like they are dancing together, like their tango, and each of their moves looks so easy, which is characteristic of a movement performed to perfection.

We had been practicing veehema for a year now and we had learned to identify which martial art inspired which move. And while the Icelanders exchanged blows, feints, parries and dodges, the martial art used was called out loud.

And the two Lieutenants chained moves from krav-maga, savate, boxing, muai thai, qi gong, up to a magnificent armada pulada from Kris, a circular capoiera kick. Coming from a dancer like him, I was not surprised that he knew this martial art which is also a dance.

Erk blocked it by grabbing Kris by the ankle and pulling him to himself, and the Icelander found himself hanging upside down. He swung his free foot at his brother's head, who blocked it too, a smirk on his lips.

He didn't keep it long.

Kris struck. Unfortunately for Erk, Kris's attention was diverted by something, the giant shifted his stance and Kris missed his target. Poor Erk turned completely white, fell to his knees as he let go of his brother, who is flexible enough to catch himself up gently, then, with his hands over his groin, curled up into a ball, eyes closed, and fell on his side.

Kris rushed forward, his lips brimming with words of apology, his hands hovering over his brother's body, apparently not knowing where to rest. He ended up kneeling down and resting Erk's head in his lap, stroking his forehead as he continued his apologies.
- Doc is going to be mad at me... Fuck, Erik, I'm...
- No...
- No what ?
- Finished.
- Ah. Sorry anyway. I'm so fucking sorry, Erik.