A contrast funny was our discipline posture in relation to the clothing and vertical position, always imposed by our captain. In the engineering platoon it was: He satiates hair, shirt out of the shorts, boots with the free attackers, finally, each one dress in agreement with the conjuncture. Our captain should be a lot annoyed with this, but he could not make anything. Besides, the personnel of the engineering said that if they annoyed them that they left, and that they called other, because that were to work and the conditions work were unworthy.
Informed of this, the high commands preferred to close the eyes. Unlike Quibala of the North where we were in the high of a mountain, here we were in an it is worth surrounded of mountains. The surrounding general view of the position of radio was a great mountain. My bed located the door close to. When he sat down, he always looked at the same landscape. A very narrow and depressing place.
However, my father sent me a small cassette tape recorder. A noncommissioned officer lent me a cassette with a music that didn't get tired of hearing. I think the melody was adapted exactly to the landscape.
Tell her to reap it in a sickle of leather
(War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions)
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
(Generals order their soldiers to kill)
And to gather it all in a bunch of heather
(And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten)
Then she'll be a true love of mine
(Simon & Garfunkel. Scarborough Fair.)
It is always, when listening this music, it comes me always to the memory this place. The hills and her vegetation.
He already had many books to read. Almost all of the second lieutenants and noncommissioned officers carried suitcases with books, so that the time that remained didn't go so unpleasant. In the generality they were consecrated authors' romances. He read them to the exhaustion.
An incident came to break the monotony. The farmer vein of Luanda intentionally to punish some of their workers... to the blow. This left us so rebelled that he pleased to kill us the man, if they were not the second lieutenants that they discouraged us.
The other day the farmer's dogs yelped in a strange way. A the one died in great agony. All died poisoned. Somebody gave them poisoned food, and it was never known who was the author or authors. It was without a doubt a revenge. I thought that our command would take severe measures against us. But no, they preferred the silence, faking that they didn't know about anything.
Image: courtesy of the noncommissioned officer Luís Filipe.
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