Anthem
Chapter 7
After a few more crates are unloaded we pack into military issue Humvee's. It appears that any platoons or groups from the previous training camp have been discarded. I sit in the passenger seat. I'm handed a gun and briefly told how to turn off the safety and fire. I hold it clumsily, praying that I don't do something wrong and that I won't have the need to use it. A more experienced officer mans the machine gun turret mounted on the roof. The driver looks straight ahead and doesn't make conversation. He's in similar uniform to us but his glasses are tinted.
Things seem peaceful enough but signs of war scar the city. We pass burned out buildings, go through slums full of desperate looking women and children. We pass by an alley with rust colored stains blotched against the brick. The vehicle slows to a stop on Rue Ginoux and we're told to get out and go where the local commander directs us. The rest of the Humvee's quickly unload and we're guided to our barracks. It appears that the building once said something on the front, but the signs is covered with a large canvas tarp. We go past a few offices and disperse into separate rooms. We walk through a large closet with hooks for coats and bags, the room itself is about fifteen feet by fifteen feet. Like our previous barracks it's lined with bunk beds. At the foot of each is a low dresser with two drawers. There are no bathrooms or showers in this room but I vaguely remember passing labeled doors labeled Toilettes. This time we are assigned bunk mates. To my surprise I recognize the curled blonde hair of my previous bunk mate. One by one almost all the others from the barracks file in and are paired with their first bunking partner. Most of the older soldiers are gone. Assigned elsewhere in the building probably. The other difference in the order of beds. To my surprise Derrick and Murray are in the bunk across from us. Murray on top. Which means I'll be sleeping across from Derrick. The idea makes me extremely uncomfortable despite my good relationship with him. He gives a quick grin at me as he bends to put his things away. I look away and busy myself with my own things. Something next to my bed catches my eye. Crammed between the bed and the wall is a cork board dotted with push pins.
A bulletin board! I pick it up ans prop it against the wall. For some reason it gives the area a homey feel, so I leave it up. I swing my legs over to the other side of the bed and put my elbows on my knees, propping my head in my hands. I stare at the rough, blue grey carpeting on the floor and let my mind go blank. Its a nice escape from having to think about the past, present, and future. People start filing out of the room to look around the building or eat dinner. After everyone leaves I walk around the room. There's a large whiteboard on the back wall. I stare at it and recall my old school. I had stopped going after I'd managed to secure a job. My mind starts working things into place. I slowly step into the closet we had passed through to enter the room. I bend over and feel one of the low hooks. About the right height for a child to hang a backpack or coat.
Were we in a school?
I shove my hands in my pockets. Questions drift through my head as I walk through the halls aimlessly. Where did the students go? Are we legally allowed to be here? I'm thrown from my train of thought as someone slams into my left side. I let out a loud "Oof!" and stumble forward for a step. The person jogs past me and doesn't bother looking back. I follow them and begin to hear voices and the clinking of silverware on plates. A few turns later I see two open double doors at the end of the hall. Tables have been unfolded and people are eating dinner. It looks like I'm late. I think about just skipping but my stomach insists on seeing if there's any food left.
Large rectangular platters with raised sides are lined up across the tables. Each one contains a different dish. No one stops me so I take as much as I want. I sit at the end of a crowded table and eat my food in silence. A high ranking officer briefs us on our position and assigns rotating jobs to each room according to room number. Our room is assigned patrol duty at sundown. Tomorrow morning we have cleaning. We're also told that "Hot breakfast's will not be served in this facility". An angry rumble fills the auditorium. We're told that Meals Ready-to-Eat, or MRE's, will be given to us in the morning to be eaten on the go. Jobs begin immediately after dinner and our platoon exits the auditorium and goes back into the street. We step onto the main road. To our left sits a large river. Our right is lined with light colored stone buildings. The sun is just setting and it makes the buildings appear to glow. Spring seems much further along here. I don't see any snow but trash sits in the streets. Every few yards a tree comes up out of the pavement. We take a break just as we pass a bend that gives us a direct view of the Eiffel tower. The top of it lies in ruins, a twisted hunk of metal supported by four steel beams. Others stare at it just as perplexed as I am. This damage doesn't seem to have happened recently yet every evening on the news it is shown standing boldly against the skyline. A symbol of French culture and sophistication as opposed to the crude state of the rebels. At least according to the radio broadcasts. The officer moves away from the man he was talking to and back towards us.
"Roll out!" he shouts. Everyone continues forward. I hear a shout behind me. The man I saw speaking to the sergeant a few minutes ago shouts at the to move and points in the opposite direction into a side alley off the street. His uniform is different from ours. The grey camouflage and insignia is there but he ears a larger vest containing several more mags of ammunition and along with grenades there are several smoke grenades. I duck around the tree to follow him. The extreme confusion must register on my face because he puts an arm on my shoulder and leads me around through the alley and then points to a parking lot. I walk over slowly and hope my disorientation isn't as apparent as it feels. I see four soldier lined up in a row, their AK-47's aimed at the wall of the building. One of them glances over and comes over.
"Here's our 5th." He shouts back to the others. They don't change their position. I walk over and get in line with the rest of them. Five people stand across from us, about twenty five feet away, with their backs against the wall of the building. Each of them have a rough canvas bag over their head. Paper targets are pinned to their chests. The man next to me shoulders is gun, aiming down the sights. The man with the gas mask stands to our left. He removes the mask but I'm too overwhelmed too take in his face.
"Single shot to target on five." He dictates. He lifts his right hand and keeps the other behind his back.
"Ready!"
I hurriedly shoulder my gun, flicking off the safety. It shakes in my hand.
"Aim!" I put my eyes up to the scope. The man in front of me stands straight. His body leans against the wall. Dirt and blood cover his shirt and the bag over his face. I move my eyes instead to the small paper target. I adjust my shoulder to make the shot but there's a slight quake in my scope. I feel the rumbling of a tank passing by us, I tell myself that's the real reason I'm shaking.
"Fire!"
Things seem peaceful enough but signs of war scar the city. We pass burned out buildings, go through slums full of desperate looking women and children. We pass by an alley with rust colored stains blotched against the brick. The vehicle slows to a stop on Rue Ginoux and we're told to get out and go where the local commander directs us. The rest of the Humvee's quickly unload and we're guided to our barracks. It appears that the building once said something on the front, but the signs is covered with a large canvas tarp. We go past a few offices and disperse into separate rooms. We walk through a large closet with hooks for coats and bags, the room itself is about fifteen feet by fifteen feet. Like our previous barracks it's lined with bunk beds. At the foot of each is a low dresser with two drawers. There are no bathrooms or showers in this room but I vaguely remember passing labeled doors labeled Toilettes. This time we are assigned bunk mates. To my surprise I recognize the curled blonde hair of my previous bunk mate. One by one almost all the others from the barracks file in and are paired with their first bunking partner. Most of the older soldiers are gone. Assigned elsewhere in the building probably. The other difference in the order of beds. To my surprise Derrick and Murray are in the bunk across from us. Murray on top. Which means I'll be sleeping across from Derrick. The idea makes me extremely uncomfortable despite my good relationship with him. He gives a quick grin at me as he bends to put his things away. I look away and busy myself with my own things. Something next to my bed catches my eye. Crammed between the bed and the wall is a cork board dotted with push pins.
A bulletin board! I pick it up ans prop it against the wall. For some reason it gives the area a homey feel, so I leave it up. I swing my legs over to the other side of the bed and put my elbows on my knees, propping my head in my hands. I stare at the rough, blue grey carpeting on the floor and let my mind go blank. Its a nice escape from having to think about the past, present, and future. People start filing out of the room to look around the building or eat dinner. After everyone leaves I walk around the room. There's a large whiteboard on the back wall. I stare at it and recall my old school. I had stopped going after I'd managed to secure a job. My mind starts working things into place. I slowly step into the closet we had passed through to enter the room. I bend over and feel one of the low hooks. About the right height for a child to hang a backpack or coat.
Were we in a school?
I shove my hands in my pockets. Questions drift through my head as I walk through the halls aimlessly. Where did the students go? Are we legally allowed to be here? I'm thrown from my train of thought as someone slams into my left side. I let out a loud "Oof!" and stumble forward for a step. The person jogs past me and doesn't bother looking back. I follow them and begin to hear voices and the clinking of silverware on plates. A few turns later I see two open double doors at the end of the hall. Tables have been unfolded and people are eating dinner. It looks like I'm late. I think about just skipping but my stomach insists on seeing if there's any food left.
Large rectangular platters with raised sides are lined up across the tables. Each one contains a different dish. No one stops me so I take as much as I want. I sit at the end of a crowded table and eat my food in silence. A high ranking officer briefs us on our position and assigns rotating jobs to each room according to room number. Our room is assigned patrol duty at sundown. Tomorrow morning we have cleaning. We're also told that "Hot breakfast's will not be served in this facility". An angry rumble fills the auditorium. We're told that Meals Ready-to-Eat, or MRE's, will be given to us in the morning to be eaten on the go. Jobs begin immediately after dinner and our platoon exits the auditorium and goes back into the street. We step onto the main road. To our left sits a large river. Our right is lined with light colored stone buildings. The sun is just setting and it makes the buildings appear to glow. Spring seems much further along here. I don't see any snow but trash sits in the streets. Every few yards a tree comes up out of the pavement. We take a break just as we pass a bend that gives us a direct view of the Eiffel tower. The top of it lies in ruins, a twisted hunk of metal supported by four steel beams. Others stare at it just as perplexed as I am. This damage doesn't seem to have happened recently yet every evening on the news it is shown standing boldly against the skyline. A symbol of French culture and sophistication as opposed to the crude state of the rebels. At least according to the radio broadcasts. The officer moves away from the man he was talking to and back towards us.
"Roll out!" he shouts. Everyone continues forward. I hear a shout behind me. The man I saw speaking to the sergeant a few minutes ago shouts at the to move and points in the opposite direction into a side alley off the street. His uniform is different from ours. The grey camouflage and insignia is there but he ears a larger vest containing several more mags of ammunition and along with grenades there are several smoke grenades. I duck around the tree to follow him. The extreme confusion must register on my face because he puts an arm on my shoulder and leads me around through the alley and then points to a parking lot. I walk over slowly and hope my disorientation isn't as apparent as it feels. I see four soldier lined up in a row, their AK-47's aimed at the wall of the building. One of them glances over and comes over.
"Here's our 5th." He shouts back to the others. They don't change their position. I walk over and get in line with the rest of them. Five people stand across from us, about twenty five feet away, with their backs against the wall of the building. Each of them have a rough canvas bag over their head. Paper targets are pinned to their chests. The man next to me shoulders is gun, aiming down the sights. The man with the gas mask stands to our left. He removes the mask but I'm too overwhelmed too take in his face.
"Single shot to target on five." He dictates. He lifts his right hand and keeps the other behind his back.
"Ready!"
I hurriedly shoulder my gun, flicking off the safety. It shakes in my hand.
"Aim!" I put my eyes up to the scope. The man in front of me stands straight. His body leans against the wall. Dirt and blood cover his shirt and the bag over his face. I move my eyes instead to the small paper target. I adjust my shoulder to make the shot but there's a slight quake in my scope. I feel the rumbling of a tank passing by us, I tell myself that's the real reason I'm shaking.
"Fire!"