"I lost my eye when I was 22, so I've had a fake for 21 years. It was in Peshawar, which was after the Sieges of Lahore and Rawalpindi. We'd broken the Pakistanis first at Lahore, hence the Siege, and then when they tried to regroup we broke them finally in Rawalpindi. Peshawar was just a mopping-up operation - the 31st, along with the rest of the Battalion, so that's 32nd to 35th, had to pacify the town. This was a pretty brutal time."
The regimental flag of the 31st flies over a mosque. The gray wolf, as always, is howling towards the Red Star. Seven men stand in front to guard it, alert but uninterested, playing word games as they await trouble. Their uniforms are drab and filthy, matching their faces perfectly. One of them is in the shade, sprawled up against a wall, sleeping peacefully. It's too hot to think about anything else.
"News of what had happened at the two Sieges had already gotten out, and as a result we were definitely seen as invaders. We were invaders, so at least they were honest with us. They told us to be nice to them, but there had been a lot of escapees from Rawalpindi. They knew perfectly well the sort of thing we were capable of."
200 naked men delve into the earth, creating a huge pit under the pressure of barking dogs and rifle butts. When the pit is dug, everyone is ordered out. They comply. They are told to toss their hand spades in a pile. They comply. They are ordered back into the pit. They comply. They are cut down by three machine guns. In Peshawar, two Soviet soldiers stand under an awning. "They had to dig a hole . . ." "like they were seeking coal!" They laugh.
"So the orders were official, and Lt. Bira had signed off on them personally. The people of Peshawar, as befits newly-liberated people, were to be treated with utmost respect and kindness."
A boy walks up to the sleeping man, who wakes up on his approach. The other men react, but he waves them off. Anastas stands up slowly and says hello, and the boy nods. Anastas asks him if he speaks Russian, and he nods again. Anastas takes out a piece of candy and gives it to him, calls him Private, and gives him a little salute. The boy returns it.
"You wonder why I don't like kids? Kids are awful."
The child has a pencil and book in his hand. Thinking he wants help with his writing, Anastas leans down to write his name. As sudden as a crash of thunder, the little boy stabs Anastas in the right eye with the pencil, and runs away. He collapses back to the ground, screaming, and yells for his men to catch him.
"I've never given birth, obviously, but I've scratched my cornea, passed a kidney stone, been shot numerous times, had a nail driven into my heel, and drowned under water. This hurt more than all of them. The nail in the heel was second, though."
He grabs the pencil, and with a mighty wrench pulls it from his socket. The eye comes with it. It's trash now - he tosses it aside. He stands up and returns into the building. He comes out with a metal squirt gun and follows, walking quickly, barely controlling his rage.
"I would say that this was the first time that I'd killed in anger, really. At the time it felt awful, but eventually it went numb. It never felt good, though."
The soldiers have caught the child. They know what happens next and are grateful they have fireproof uniforms. The child is tossed to the ground and tries to scramble away. He isn't nearly fast enough to avoid the jet of napalm that follows him. The fire that consumes him is smoky and disgusting, and not until he's a skeleton does he stop struggling to get away or get the fire off. Or stop screaming. They leave the body there.
"The Lieutenant never even mentioned it. It was part of the zeitgeist, you know."
The regimental flag of the 31st flies over a mosque. The gray wolf, as always, is howling towards the Red Star. Seven men stand in front to guard it, alert but uninterested, playing word games as they await trouble. Their uniforms are drab and filthy, matching their faces perfectly. One of them is in the shade, sprawled up against a wall, sleeping peacefully. It's too hot to think about anything else.
"News of what had happened at the two Sieges had already gotten out, and as a result we were definitely seen as invaders. We were invaders, so at least they were honest with us. They told us to be nice to them, but there had been a lot of escapees from Rawalpindi. They knew perfectly well the sort of thing we were capable of."
200 naked men delve into the earth, creating a huge pit under the pressure of barking dogs and rifle butts. When the pit is dug, everyone is ordered out. They comply. They are told to toss their hand spades in a pile. They comply. They are ordered back into the pit. They comply. They are cut down by three machine guns. In Peshawar, two Soviet soldiers stand under an awning. "They had to dig a hole . . ." "like they were seeking coal!" They laugh.
"So the orders were official, and Lt. Bira had signed off on them personally. The people of Peshawar, as befits newly-liberated people, were to be treated with utmost respect and kindness."
A boy walks up to the sleeping man, who wakes up on his approach. The other men react, but he waves them off. Anastas stands up slowly and says hello, and the boy nods. Anastas asks him if he speaks Russian, and he nods again. Anastas takes out a piece of candy and gives it to him, calls him Private, and gives him a little salute. The boy returns it.
"You wonder why I don't like kids? Kids are awful."
The child has a pencil and book in his hand. Thinking he wants help with his writing, Anastas leans down to write his name. As sudden as a crash of thunder, the little boy stabs Anastas in the right eye with the pencil, and runs away. He collapses back to the ground, screaming, and yells for his men to catch him.
"I've never given birth, obviously, but I've scratched my cornea, passed a kidney stone, been shot numerous times, had a nail driven into my heel, and drowned under water. This hurt more than all of them. The nail in the heel was second, though."
He grabs the pencil, and with a mighty wrench pulls it from his socket. The eye comes with it. It's trash now - he tosses it aside. He stands up and returns into the building. He comes out with a metal squirt gun and follows, walking quickly, barely controlling his rage.
"I would say that this was the first time that I'd killed in anger, really. At the time it felt awful, but eventually it went numb. It never felt good, though."
The soldiers have caught the child. They know what happens next and are grateful they have fireproof uniforms. The child is tossed to the ground and tries to scramble away. He isn't nearly fast enough to avoid the jet of napalm that follows him. The fire that consumes him is smoky and disgusting, and not until he's a skeleton does he stop struggling to get away or get the fire off. Or stop screaming. They leave the body there.
"The Lieutenant never even mentioned it. It was part of the zeitgeist, you know."