The first part of the battle was over, only ghosts, and the dead remained silent.
The stretcher-bearers stopped looking for the dying, the wounded, the ones that had shown some life were all abandoned, a few officers in the far distance disputed this, but a new battle was ensuing, and the dead and dying, the unusable were considered a less priority (unable to walk, fight or shoot), thus, they were abandoned, and would get their due respect, if the battle was won.
Hence, I repeat, the unusable soldiers, were left where they lay to be buried or cared for another day.
In the first battle, several officers and sergeants were now walking aimlessly to and fro, in a temporary stupor, lost, in shock, all trying to find direction, their squads, and companies.
Sergeant Manuel Tito, and Major Perez-childhood friends, most always agreeable, even with their difference in rank, had both went from the first part to the second part of the battle, outside the city Junin, which even lead into the streets of the city at moments, skirmishes and so forth, Peruvian solders and civilians fighting the Chilean Army in the ongoing Pacific War.
They were both, 27-years of age, both had been raised near one another in the city of Junin, went to the same schools, climbed the same Andean hills, trees and mountains, chased each other down and along the Mantaro Rio, and perhaps there were a few differences in their youth as well as with their rank, being it so wide, one an officer the other a sergeant, but not to the point the Major overpowered his long time friend, or his long time friend, being scornful of his comrade over ranking him.
The General of the regiment gave the Major an order to move forward to the front, to take the enemy's position.
It was a trying day to say the least, and to force their troops-which were under fed, unpaid, lacking sleep-to push forward and then to attack-was merciless.
He knew the General didn't like him, but to this point the Major disputed his order saying in essence: it was suicide to do as he commanded.
In doing so, the General simply commented, "I'll relieve you of your command, and appoint your second in command to take charge, your Captain," Therefore, the Major agreed, perhaps out of pride and stubbornness, although he thought of shooting the General because of his insanity, and careless judgment, but he didn't.
And the remaining Peruvian troops went forward, as did his friend, the Sergeant.
The battle went on for several more hours, after the battle, the Major found his friends body, amongst the ants, creepy crawlers; his flesh torn open, as if rats had ripped at it, defiled it.
The Major looked about, then up in the sky, dumfounded in horror, he witnessed several condors, wide-winged (several feet) evil-eyed condors circling above him, nothing less than demonic-condors, thought the Major (the General in his large tent, reviewing the results of the battle over a bottle of whisky, coffee, and a healthy breakfast.
) The Major looked again at his childhood friend, his body mutilated by the overhead demonic beasts, knowing war in its general sense did not kill him, but the lack of compassion by its leaders did, by allowing these monstrous condors to reach his wounds.
He then noticed the medics coming to investigate, way to late, and then he noticed written in the sand by near his index finger: "The Beasts, they keep coming, hour after hour!" Written at the Café, "Mia Momma," in El Tambo, Peru; 9-19-2008
The stretcher-bearers stopped looking for the dying, the wounded, the ones that had shown some life were all abandoned, a few officers in the far distance disputed this, but a new battle was ensuing, and the dead and dying, the unusable were considered a less priority (unable to walk, fight or shoot), thus, they were abandoned, and would get their due respect, if the battle was won.
Hence, I repeat, the unusable soldiers, were left where they lay to be buried or cared for another day.
In the first battle, several officers and sergeants were now walking aimlessly to and fro, in a temporary stupor, lost, in shock, all trying to find direction, their squads, and companies.
Sergeant Manuel Tito, and Major Perez-childhood friends, most always agreeable, even with their difference in rank, had both went from the first part to the second part of the battle, outside the city Junin, which even lead into the streets of the city at moments, skirmishes and so forth, Peruvian solders and civilians fighting the Chilean Army in the ongoing Pacific War.
They were both, 27-years of age, both had been raised near one another in the city of Junin, went to the same schools, climbed the same Andean hills, trees and mountains, chased each other down and along the Mantaro Rio, and perhaps there were a few differences in their youth as well as with their rank, being it so wide, one an officer the other a sergeant, but not to the point the Major overpowered his long time friend, or his long time friend, being scornful of his comrade over ranking him.
The General of the regiment gave the Major an order to move forward to the front, to take the enemy's position.
It was a trying day to say the least, and to force their troops-which were under fed, unpaid, lacking sleep-to push forward and then to attack-was merciless.
He knew the General didn't like him, but to this point the Major disputed his order saying in essence: it was suicide to do as he commanded.
In doing so, the General simply commented, "I'll relieve you of your command, and appoint your second in command to take charge, your Captain," Therefore, the Major agreed, perhaps out of pride and stubbornness, although he thought of shooting the General because of his insanity, and careless judgment, but he didn't.
And the remaining Peruvian troops went forward, as did his friend, the Sergeant.
The battle went on for several more hours, after the battle, the Major found his friends body, amongst the ants, creepy crawlers; his flesh torn open, as if rats had ripped at it, defiled it.
The Major looked about, then up in the sky, dumfounded in horror, he witnessed several condors, wide-winged (several feet) evil-eyed condors circling above him, nothing less than demonic-condors, thought the Major (the General in his large tent, reviewing the results of the battle over a bottle of whisky, coffee, and a healthy breakfast.
) The Major looked again at his childhood friend, his body mutilated by the overhead demonic beasts, knowing war in its general sense did not kill him, but the lack of compassion by its leaders did, by allowing these monstrous condors to reach his wounds.
He then noticed the medics coming to investigate, way to late, and then he noticed written in the sand by near his index finger: "The Beasts, they keep coming, hour after hour!" Written at the Café, "Mia Momma," in El Tambo, Peru; 9-19-2008
SHARE
