The morning wind

“Hey Leo, you there?”

That was enough to wake me from my deep trance. I had always been kind of a light sleeper; sometimes even the rain was enough to shake me. I used to envy people who could sleep through a typhoon, but ever since i joined the army, i started to value such a skill. I leaned over my bunk to see the entrance to the room. Of all eight beds, I was the only one, I had been given time to rest after what had happened yesterday, so everyone had woken up early and left me to sleep a bit longer — supposedly, at least. Staff Sergeant Diego stood by the entrance, clearly giving me a moment to get my senses before addressing me again. Light came in from a small crack between the wall and the roof to my left, indicating it was already morning; still no later than 9 AM by the angle of the light, which i am familiar with.

“The Lieutenant is looking for you, said  to report to the Headquarters tent immediately”

“What the hell, I just came back yesterday and he wants me outside again?”

“Hey, maybe he just want you to clarify your report.”

“I already did yesterday, that cunt certainly wants me to do something”

“Well you know, there’s not many hands around here, so maybe It's a small errand or something, I'll be on my post if you need anything.”

“Not many hands around here”...I am aware, this post, consisting of only a couple of dug out bunkers and trenches, has been understaffed for weeks and still the trucks with reinforcements haven’t arrived. Just when we’re about to get new guys, something happens somewhere on the front and those guys get called elsewhere. In this state it would only take a platoon or two to take this post, which makes me wonder what’s the point of this at all. There’s no way we could ever perform an assault ourselves. All we do for the time being is perimeter checks and recons, and if recent reports are correct, the Paraguayans on the other side are in the same situation, understaffed and tired. So if we can’t push and if they can’t either what’s the point of manning this place? Somewhere up the chain is either too stubborn to tell us to pull back or just simply doesn’t care about us. At very least supplies still arrive on the clock, so I guess we aren’t that forgotten by the higher ups.

“Alright, I'll be on my way. Hey..you know how’s David?”

Being part of Recon meant you were tasked to go into no-man’s-land more often than everyone else, and that was true for David and me. We were a good pair — we had met in basic and hung around ever since. He was the kind of guy you vibed with, so much so you got the feeling you’d be friends no matter what. Yesterday we were supposed to check an enemy trench northwest of our location. Usual stuff: figure out what the enemy was doing, maybe plink the head of some idiot who peeked too high out of his trench. I was the one navigating, as usual. David always mixed east with west so much that we often joked he would be the perfect lieutenant. But the dude had a sharp eye; he could spot a helmet and give me a range faster than I could figure out even the general direction he was talking about. Maybe that was what he was looking for while we marched — if only he had been looking down, maybe he would have spotted what he was about to put his boot on. I still remembered the image of bits of his leg landing in front of me.

I acted quickly to stop the bleeding while he tried to hold his scream. We were in a really bad spot to make a lot of noise; we weren’t in full view of the enemy trench but it was close enough that they could send a patrol our way to investigate the explosion. With all our gear David was almost impossible to lift, so I had to drag him through the mud all the way back to our post, which was around seven hundred meters from our location. I was so focused on dragging him that I didn’t even check if he was conscious — in part because I was too afraid he wouldn’t respond. I somehow managed to reach our trench and brought him to the infirmary immediately and, after what felt like an eternity, the doctor came out and said he was stable. Without wasting time the lieutenant asked me for a report and then I was sent to rest. I had been supposed to be dismissed for the day — things like that exhausted you mentally — but at the same time I wasn’t surprised the lieutenant didn’t want anyone slacking off in his post. We were understaffed after all; I just hoped it was something as simple as fixing the wire.

“David is doing fine. He lost his left leg but he’ll live. He’ll be shipped either today or tomorrow to the rear line. For the time being he’ll be sitting around the medical bunker if you want to say hi.”

Honestly, that was the last thing I wanted to do. I had been the one who chose the path to that trench and guys always forgot about formation and ended up taking points. I was just glad he would get to live, but an incredible sense of guilt came over me when I imagined what his life would be from then on. Cybernetic legs were as good as a real one today but something like that was clearly out of his pocket. I knew I should check on him, but the sight of him, looking at me from his bed, terrified me in a way I couldn’t fully explain.

“Yeah... I’ll do it when I have the time,” I said gloomily to Diego. As he left the room I noticed just how tired I was. I’d had a terrible day yesterday and, as such, a terrible night despite being exhausted. The last thing I wanted to do was get out of bed. I wished I could just stay there, under those sheets, for a year, but it was morning already and the lieutenant was calling me. It was time to get up — there was no other way around it.

I gathered the strength to get up from my bunk, put on my BDU, and left the dugout that resembled a barrack. I started moving between the trenches. Passing the armory I heard the armorers were busier than usual, usually salvaging whatever metal they could gather to fortify positions or repair the roofing. I wanted to check what Nahuel, the armorer, was up to, but I had to be somewhere else. I also had to walk past the infirmary, where we gathered the wounded. I stopped as I contemplated going in to check on the health of my friend, but I just stood there gazing at the door; my body froze as if behind that door lay my final judgment. He deserved a proper goodbye, to see me one last time and maybe say something to clear my conscience. But what if he didn’t? What if he would never forgive me? It had been my fault after all. That sight — of him bedridden following my direction — terrified me to the point of freezing my body.

“Farewell David, I’m sorry,” I said quietly, and I just walked away. Every part of my head knew what I had done was not right, with the feeling that I’d regret this decision for the rest of my life, but the fear wouldn’t let me move. Soldiers such as us were conditioned not to fear death, to think and to act under its sight, with it watching behind every corner, every shadow under the trees. Those who did not fear death usually feared something worse — something unique to each one of us.

I finally arrived at the command bunker, where the officers hung around and, of course, Lieutenant Crespo, who might as well own this post.

“Leo, finally. How are you holding up?” As if it mattered. If you called me to wake me up and report, it meant you were going to send me outside the wire again, one way or another.

“As best as I can, sir,” I said while looking him in the eye. I hadn’t had the chance to look at myself in the mirror that day, but I was sure my face showed signs of exhaustion all over it. It probably wouldn’t change what he was about to say, but it was worth a try.

“I know what happened yesterday and you have my condolences, but I need you to head out again to check those trenches. Other friendly positions report increased activity and we need to make sure they’re not preparing for an assault.”

“Sir, with all due respect — are you serious? You sent me yesterday and we walked into a minefield. We barely came back alive, and you want me to head out again? Now?”

“We don’t have anyone else around. You’re the only one here who could do this mission properly.”

And that was pretty much right. Besides David and me, everyone in this post mostly consisted of reservists — guys who were reaching their fifties, not in their best physical condition and, last but not least, with no experience in the field. David and I had been deployed at the beginning of the conflict, when the Paraguayans marched into the province of Misiones trying to cut it off from Argentina. We had also participated in the first river crossings across the Paraná, hunting HVTs and providing spotting for drones and fire support; we knew how to move in enemy territory. But I had to admit I had a bit of a problem with authority and I certainly showed it. Sooner or later I was going to piss off the wrong officer and get sent either to a post where it rained grenades every day or a post where literally nothing happened just to be tortured by boredom. Clearly I’d been sent to the latter.

Still, although I knew my skills were above average here, I wasn’t a lone wolf. I knew the importance of moving in a group and I sure as hell wasn’t going outside without an extra pair of eyes with me.

“And? You can’t just send me alone, and you can’t spare anyone else since we barely have enough to man the guard posts. I’m not going out there on my own — I’m telling you this right here.”

“We’ve got that resolved. I’ve found you a partner. It wasn’t easy to arrange, but I’m sure you’ll put them to good use.”

What? As far as I knew, we weren’t supposed to receive troops that day — the only thing that probably came today was the resupply truck.

“It’s charging up in the armory; should be ready to be deployed in an hour.”

Charging up? Well, shit... that could only mean one thing.

It was a fucking T-DOLL.