The Ghosts of War
By Rick Fischer
The sky was clouded. Lieutenant Sánchez was looking for a place to spend the night. His platoon was to patrol the area for the next week.
About a mile up the mountain there was a house overlooking a dirt path. He looked through his binoculars. The house seemed abandoned, the jungle was swallowing it back. The eaves of the roof on the back of the house protruded long enough for them to sleep out there. "We could spend the night down there," he said hesitantly. "We won't get wet when it starts raining" answered sergeant García. "I'll go ahead with a squad and clear the house of booby traps before it's too dark. You displace around the house and place sentries while we set up camp" said Sánchez. "Yes, mi Teniente" responded García. Sanchez didn't mind getting soaked by the rain as he slept, but the men could use the morale boost of a couple of dry nights.
The house, surprisingly, was explosive-free. After the camp was set up, Sanchez saw one of the conscripts talking to a girl in farmer outfit. She must have been about fourteen years old. "Shit! They shouldn't be talking. Actually, she shouldn't have even fucking seen him." The local civilians were all collaborators of at least one of the illegal armed groups crisscrossing the area until proven otherwise. "Are you staying around the house?" Said the peasant girl as Sánchez was approaching them. Sánchez sent the private off. "No, just passing". "If you hear birds in the middle of the night, don't go looking". Said the girl casually. Then she excused herself. It was getting dark.
Right before dark, they had time to eat the day's ration. He went to sleep afterward. The second guard was his, that was normally the worst. He liked to think he led by example, so he always took it. He heard the rustling outside the tent. "mi Teniente you awake?" "Yeah" "No novelties for the moment, sir". Said the sergeant. Sánchez changed his fatigues and started his guard.
Everything was pretty uneventful until about 4 am when he heard the rustling of wings and clucking of birds coming from inside the house. The sound was very similar to a cock-fight. "There was no fucking chicken around here," thought Sánchez. Turning-on a flashlight would reveal their position horrendously, endangering the lives of the entire platoon. Being in the 70s in a south-American army meant no night vision goggles. Shit, even in the current year, it still means no NVG with the exception of some special forces groups. He took the safety of his G3 rifle off and approached the house.
He saw light coming from inside the house. A yellow flickering light like a candle. Coming from inside one of the back-rooms, through one of the windows. "What the hell is going on here!" He thought. The sound of a camera's flash startled him even further. He hit the ground as soon as he heard it. It took him a couple of seconds to recognize the sound for what it was. "A camera? What the fuck is going on in there?". He approached the room. Between a crack in the wooden walls, he could peep inside the room. The pool of blood was the first thing he noticed. Then he saw the bodies, the mutilated dead-bodies of what used to be a family of five.
He saw two other people there: a man and a woman. Both with vests that said "National Office of the Attorney General". The man was taking photos with a camera and the woman was writing on papers by the candlelight. Sanchez felt the stab of adrenalin in his gut. The sweat was pearling his forehead. "I am seeing things. There is no fucking way there is a crime scene there. I must be seeing shit". He thought as he was double timing back to the tent.
"Sergeant!" He whispered in his tent. "Is it four already, sir?" "No, come take a look at this! Now! See that light over there?" Whispered Sanchez, with haste. "Yessir, I see it. Who the hell broke the lights-off!?" Whispered the Sergeant back in frustration. "But you do see the light?" Whispered Sanchez now more puzzled. "The hell I see it! These kids want to get us killed, sir." "I don't think it's the recruits sergeant. Do you mind going in and taking a look? Sergeant García". "Well of course not sir. But what do you mean?" Answered the sergeant while getting his gear. "I'm not sure of what I saw there, just go take a look please, sergeant". Said Sánchez still not believing his eyes.
The next thing Sanchez heard was the speeding footsteps of the sergeant and the rustling of the gear. He had never seen a man run so fast. "Mi Teniente they're dead! They are fucking dead!" Whined García covered in sweat as he approached the tent. "So you did see them. How come there are doing a crime scene investigation in the middle of the-" "No, mi Teniente the guys from the Attorney's Office, they are dead too!" said García almost in tears.
Sanchez only got to see their backs, he didn't get a look at the woman's throat. And how after it had been sliced, her tongue had been pulled out through the opening. And how the man's skull had been stabbed to a pulp with a machete. "We need to get the fuck out of here, sir," said García. "We're gonna get wet when i-". "Sir with respect, I don't give a fuck about getting wet, sir". "Corporal Uyoa!" Sounded off the sergeant. "Get the men to pick up the camp! Right now! and get a runner to tell the sentries to come back here, we're moving!" Said the sergeant, as Sanchez started plotting a course on the map.
At the break of dawn, the platoon had picked up the gear and was about to start moving on further up the mountain. The rain was pouring. Sanchez saw the peasant girl from the day before, walking downhill covered in a canvas made waterproof with tar. "Hey! Senorita!" Yelled Sánchez. "Yes, lieutenant? Had a good night?" Said the girl, with a smile. "What the hell happened in that house?" Said Sanchez still appalled. "Last year Los masetos killed the family that used to live in that house. And, after they started the investigation, the District Attorney and her assistant." Said the girl still smiling. "Yeah, thank you Preciosa". Said Sanchez and the girl went on their way.
"Mi Teniente, why can't we stay in the house we are gonna get wet tonight again, sir". Said one of the younger recruits as they were marching up the mountain. "Private, why don't you ask sergeant García?" Answered Sánchez with a smile on his face. "Yeah, Sarge why can't we stay-" "You shut the fuck up private! That's none of your goddamn business! There is no fucking way in hell I'm ever going anywhere near that house!"
the end
so, folks, I'm back to the plataform after raging like a pussy and alienating my very small audience. Hope you enjoy the reading. All comments are wellcome.