one.
“In combat, a soldier must be able to load all six chambers in less than a minute’s time. You must practice this again and again. Now each may begin to load his own gun,” he said.
They were slow and clumsy and felt doomed. Peña walked among them as they went through the process, and he made several men unload a chamber and repeat theloading. When he was satisfied that each of the guns was properly armed, he took his knife and made a slash mark on the trunk of a tree. Then he stood six or seven meters away from the tree, raised his own gun and fired six rapid shots. Six holes appeared in the trunk of the tree. Several of the holes were touching and there were no more than two finger-widths between any of them.
“Xavier Miró. Now, you try,” the sergeant said.
Xavier took his place facing the tree, his face pale. When he lifted the gun, his hand was trembling.
“You must hold the gun firmly yet apply only the lightest pressure on the trigger. Think of a butterfly landing on a leaf. Think of a fingertip barely teasing a woman.”
Words did not work with Xavier. His finger jerked against the trigger six times, the gun bucked and tossed in his nerveless hand, and the balls sprayed into the undergrowth.
Jordi Arnau was next and didn’t do a great deal better. One of the balls landed in the trunk of the tree, perhaps by accident.
“Alvarez.”
Josep went to face the target tree. When he extended his arm the hatred he already felt for the gun made his arm rigid, but he heard the sergeant’s words again in his mind and thought of Teresa as he caressed the trigger. With each report, smoke and fire and sparks sprang from the barrel as if Josep were God, as if his hand hurled lightning to go with the thunder. Four new holes appeared in the group that had been made in the tree by Sergeant Peña’s shooting. Two other holes were located no more than three centimeters from the grouping.
Josep stood, unmoving.
He was amazed and shamed by the sudden knowledge that there was a bulge in his trousers that could be observed by the other youths, but no one laughed.
Most disturbing of all: when Josep looked at Sergeant Peña, he saw that the man was studying him with watchful interest.
14
Widening the Range
“The thing I remember the clearest about being a soldier was the other soldiers,” Nivaldo told Josep one evening in the grocery. “When we were fighting with people who were trying to kill us, I became very close to my companions, even the ones I didn’t really like.”
Josep could count Manel Calderon and Guillem Parera as his good friends, and he liked most of the others in the group of hunters well enough, but there were several of the youths with whom he had no desire to become close.
Like Jordi Arnau.
Teresa, who had become moody and querulous of late, had used Jordi to let Josep know where her desires lay: “Jordi Arnau and Maria del Mar Orriols are marrying soon.”
“I know,” Josep said.
“Marimar told me they are able to marry because presently Jordi will be a soldier. Like you.”
“It isn’t certain any of us will be soldiers. We must be selected. The reason Jordi and Marimar must marry quickly is that she is pregnant.”
“She told me.”
“Jordi has been boasting of it to everyone. He is very stupid.”
“She is too good for him. But if he is not selected for the army, what shall they do?”
He shrugged grimly. Pregnancy wasn’t a disgrace; many of the brides who walked down the aisle of the village church did so with heavy bellies. Padre FelipeLopez, the village priest, did not aggravate such situations with recriminations; he would rather give a quick blessing and spend most of his time with his devoted and close friend, Josep’s neighbor, Quim Torras.
But though a couple joined in a “necessary” marriage suffered few recriminations, it was madness to try to support a new family with no work to be had, and Josep knew that for the trainees in the hunting group, the
“In combat, a soldier must be able to load all six chambers in less than a minute’s time. You must practice this again and again. Now each may begin to load his own gun,” he said.
They were slow and clumsy and felt doomed. Peña walked among them as they went through the process, and he made several men unload a chamber and repeat theloading. When he was satisfied that each of the guns was properly armed, he took his knife and made a slash mark on the trunk of a tree. Then he stood six or seven meters away from the tree, raised his own gun and fired six rapid shots. Six holes appeared in the trunk of the tree. Several of the holes were touching and there were no more than two finger-widths between any of them.
“Xavier Miró. Now, you try,” the sergeant said.
Xavier took his place facing the tree, his face pale. When he lifted the gun, his hand was trembling.
“You must hold the gun firmly yet apply only the lightest pressure on the trigger. Think of a butterfly landing on a leaf. Think of a fingertip barely teasing a woman.”
Words did not work with Xavier. His finger jerked against the trigger six times, the gun bucked and tossed in his nerveless hand, and the balls sprayed into the undergrowth.
Jordi Arnau was next and didn’t do a great deal better. One of the balls landed in the trunk of the tree, perhaps by accident.
“Alvarez.”
Josep went to face the target tree. When he extended his arm the hatred he already felt for the gun made his arm rigid, but he heard the sergeant’s words again in his mind and thought of Teresa as he caressed the trigger. With each report, smoke and fire and sparks sprang from the barrel as if Josep were God, as if his hand hurled lightning to go with the thunder. Four new holes appeared in the group that had been made in the tree by Sergeant Peña’s shooting. Two other holes were located no more than three centimeters from the grouping.
Josep stood, unmoving.
He was amazed and shamed by the sudden knowledge that there was a bulge in his trousers that could be observed by the other youths, but no one laughed.
Most disturbing of all: when Josep looked at Sergeant Peña, he saw that the man was studying him with watchful interest.
14
Widening the Range
“The thing I remember the clearest about being a soldier was the other soldiers,” Nivaldo told Josep one evening in the grocery. “When we were fighting with people who were trying to kill us, I became very close to my companions, even the ones I didn’t really like.”
Josep could count Manel Calderon and Guillem Parera as his good friends, and he liked most of the others in the group of hunters well enough, but there were several of the youths with whom he had no desire to become close.
Like Jordi Arnau.
Teresa, who had become moody and querulous of late, had used Jordi to let Josep know where her desires lay: “Jordi Arnau and Maria del Mar Orriols are marrying soon.”
“I know,” Josep said.
“Marimar told me they are able to marry because presently Jordi will be a soldier. Like you.”
“It isn’t certain any of us will be soldiers. We must be selected. The reason Jordi and Marimar must marry quickly is that she is pregnant.”
“She told me.”
“Jordi has been boasting of it to everyone. He is very stupid.”
“She is too good for him. But if he is not selected for the army, what shall they do?”
He shrugged grimly. Pregnancy wasn’t a disgrace; many of the brides who walked down the aisle of the village church did so with heavy bellies. Padre FelipeLopez, the village priest, did not aggravate such situations with recriminations; he would rather give a quick blessing and spend most of his time with his devoted and close friend, Josep’s neighbor, Quim Torras.
But though a couple joined in a “necessary” marriage suffered few recriminations, it was madness to try to support a new family with no work to be had, and Josep knew that for the trainees in the hunting group, the
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