Forums / Roleplaying / A Long Day

This short story, not by me, but by a very close friend of mine, Ibrahim Mohanndes (Egyptian),was written a year ago. Since he is not a member of VU, and the story is simply kicking, I desided to post it. It's about a simple Egyptian soldier's experience during the Yom Kippur War of 1973.

A LONG DAY

 

            It’s hot, it’s always hot, it’s the sixth of October and it’s hot. I got used to the heat though; I am even used to the sounds, sights and smell of camp, things that were completely alien to me before I came here. It was almost noon, I was on duty, but that was okay, I liked to be on duty because it meant I was away from camp, especially now with all those Grunts from the second and third army, I mean, they’re bearable, but the Republican Guard is something else; every one says they need special training and all, but the truth is that we do the dying and they sweep up and claim the glory.

The troop did its regular scouting parties up and down the Barlev Line, an invincible line of defense running for miles, a great wall of sand dotted with forts every mile or so, and what a wall it is!  No wonder why we can never win.

By the time we reached our post, Ismael took out his pack to make tea while Zackary took out some bread and dried foul for our lunch, while the rest of us set up a small camp amidst the dunes overlooking the thin blue vein of water that separated two nations and caused so much grief for five long years.

“You think they’ll do it this time?” asked Ismael, squatting next to the small fire watching the water in the small tin kettle boil.

“Don’t be stupid” said Aly, impatiently.

“This is the hundredth time he said he’d do it and the third time our fearless leader mobilized the armies and the Republican Guard” said Ally angrily, “he’s bluffing as usual; in a week they’ll pull back, you’ll see.”

Despite being the officer of the troop on paper, Ismael was no leader. He was lightly built, wore huge glasses, liked to read a lot and had a meek personality that didn’t suit a man who should give orders. However, that didn’t hurt the troop at all, because men in these troops only obeyed Generals anyway; officers were more like conveyers of information, telling those in charge what the troop was up to, while telling the troop what those in charge want done .

”Hah” said Bassam in his loud boisterous voice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about” he said laughing his loud deep laugh, while wiping his sweaty brow with the back of a sapling sized arm. “One day we will cross over and show those cowards hiding behind that wall what we’re made of.”

“God willing.” said Hossam, a boy of seventeen and more pious than the Prophet himself.

“I hear you my friends, I hear you,” said Khaled, “but why should we care about the wars of politicians, and rich men?  All I want is to see my girl and the little ones again”, he said, his kind face shining as he showed us the picture of a small young woman and two little girls for the thousandth time. 

“Ah, put those skinny girls away” roared Bassam. “Now Amer’s girl is a woman through and through.  I sure do hope something does happen; when you’re cold and dead in the sand, she’ll need a real man and the Titan is nothing but man, ALL MAN!” roared Bassam, his massive body shaking wildly in fit of laughter, to a joke only he seemed to get.  

“You’re right, she does want a real man, not a six foot giant mama’s boy” I said, and my laugh broke the deathly silence of the desert.  

Even Ismael, who was now looking at the enemy position across the canal through a pair of ancient binoculars, gave a small but definite smile; we all knew how much Bassam loved his mom and how the four foot five inch lady wiped his nose and told him to be good on the day she dropped him off at the conscripts’ boot camp.

Bassam’s face grew redder than a tomato.

 “Are you talking about my mom again?” he hissed.

 “No, no, my friend” I said hastily, remembering what happened to Ahmed three months ago.  “I was just joking.  I love my mom as much as you do.  Just relax; we’re all friends here.”

“Well might be….” Bassam spouted angrily. 

Just then the radio sounded, and we all crowded around Ismael to listen as he deciphered the code and told us that we were to report back immediately, a very strange order, seeing as we haven’t even finished patrolling half of our track, but orders were orders, so we packed up and started back to the Third Army base.

All the way back, my mind wandered as usual, remembering my sweet Fatima with the curly black hair  and  beautiful smile, the sweet smell of hibiscus outside in the garden, and the sweet sound of the sea crashing against the shore, the crystal blue Mediterranean.  Khaled had it right, the truth is I want nothing more than to go home right now more than anything, but the orders came and I was conscripted with every other young man in my village who had a brother. It’s done that way so that one brother fights in the wars while the other takes care of the family. The training was savage, there was never enough to eat, there were no beds, and the equipment left much to be desired, but in only six months we became soldiers. And now we were reporting in with all the other troops for what promised to be another boring apology that the invasion won’t happen just like all the other times before.

We smelt the camp long before we saw it, sprawled in its defensively packed lines across the dunes; it was massive, an entire army, and an army that numbered at least 250 thousand men, with thousands of tanks dug in trenches that were invisible to all but those who knew they were there; those were the Republican Guard, the first line of defense, the so called Elite. Behind them were the endless rows of trenches where the conscript army that spent most of its day beneath the ground sleeping. Even farther back was the core of engineers with the heavy artillery.  I don’t know too much about them, our troop has never gone to the rear; we were always in the scouting detail. We arrived in the central plaza of the camp where the microphones roared, and to the shock of us all they announced the war cry, we would march to war.

I was shocked.  Aly’s mouth opened wide, the long silence broken by a sudden and tremendous cheer. Then, everyone went to their duties, the officers went to get their orders, the Republican Guard took its positions, the artillery was getting ready to fire, the engineers were in such a flurry of activity that I didn’t know what they were doing, but nor did I need to know, we Grunts had our own preparations gathering ammo, grenades, while in a bag we packed cans of sardines, foul, dry bread, and lots of water.         Hossam had been upset the whole time.  It was Ramadan and we weren’t allowed to fast in the army and he had been complaining the whole month saying that we would all go to hell because we were fighting in Ramadan with full stomachs.

The gear we carried weighed a total of seventy pounds thanks mostly to the AK47’s heavy ammo. Ismael came back with our orders.  We were going to be part of the first wave riding in rubber boats to guard a group of engineers that were going to bring down the massive Barlev Line.  Somehow, all we needed to know was that we had to make an impossible charge against a wall of sand 300 feet high rising at an angle of 70 degrees across a canal that could be covered with oil and set ablaze, not to mention the thousands of soldiers defending the wall from their forts along the mighty wall.

No sooner had we gotten our orders than we were driven to the beachheads. For an hour now, planes had been going overhead attacking enemy positions. There were thousands of boats. In only twenty minutes since the orders were given, eight thousand men were on the water.

 “They must have been planning it for months” exclaimed Aly in a tone of utter joy.  

“What are you doing?” demanded Ismael.  “Hurry up!  We have our orders” he said waving an his AK47 to and fro.

His pack seemed way too big for him; we were sure he would break beneath it.  Fire!  Enemy artillery began firing almost at the same time ours did. The canal was being rained upon by lead pointed death in a hell of thunder and explosions, and despair cut deep into our hearts.

“How?” said Aly,  “how are we going to cross that?”

“Hah” roared Bassam, “ what do you think those snobby fly boys are doing there, you pessimistic fool”.

I was shocked, not only due to the fact that Bassam had the audacity to call someone else a “fool”, but more so because he was right. When the enemy fired hoping to destroy us in the narrow canal, they gave away their positions. That’s why they allowed us to make such a ruckus and have us attack immediately, I thought, maybe our war leader isn’t so much a fool after all, but still there is that accursed wall of sand, blood and bones of our brothers who fell upon it countless times like water and rock.  I despaired, wanting nothing more than to go home to my lovely wife and quiet existence by the crystal blue sea. How strange I thought, we are marching into the jaws of death, and all I could think of was a woman’s smile; I laughed, I cackled, and laughed some more, I laughed till my cheeks hurt.

“What are you doing?” asked Khaled, with a frown to mark his confusion; he shared the same face with every other man in the troop.

“Ah, it’s nothing boys,” I said with a sigh, “I was just thinking what a nice a day it was.”

At that Bassam cracked up laughing, followed by another set of eighteen laughs; we’re mad I thought, mad men going to war, and I laughed some more.

It only took ten minutes for the planes to stop the enemy artillery, while our own guns stopped any anti aircraft guns from causing any trouble. By the time we were in our blow-up plastic boats we were already half way across the canal, when suddenly a fume of black smoke was seen rising behind the hated wall. All of us had heard of how the enemy had cleverly put oil pipes at the bottom of the canal, ready at a moment’s notice to transform the blue vein of canal water into an inferno to roast would-be invaders.

“We might get out of this one yet?” said Khaled in a faint voice only I heard.

“Half way there,” cheered Ismael.

 No sooner had he said that than a boat that was 20 feet away wa*beep* directly by an RPG sending limbs flying. Machine guns were firing from atop the defenses, from the little forts in the sand wall. Our answer to them was to shower them with finger-sized AK rounds and our own rocket propelled grenades. We continued to fire as we approached, with occasional enemy bullet*beep*ting their targets and bringing down men from other boats. One bullet hit Bassam, only to make him roar in anger, take his RPG and fire at the fort were the bullet came from; it was a great shot, turning the fairly well-camouflaged keep into a pillar of smoke, a silent grave of dead men.

“Are you ok?” asked Khaled, who was our troop’s medic.

“Never better,” he said with abroad smile as Khaled patched his arm, “it’s just a keepsake to go home with.”

The first boats landed their men firing rounds at the enemy above them while other teams were already climbing the steep 70 degree wall with rope ladders behind them for those following. Our boat landed on shore soon after. We hopped out knowing exactly what to do; we ran to the nearest engineer corps and formed a defensive ring, all the while firing at the enemy, and what had promised to be a normal quiet day was now filled with sound of fire and thunder, and a rain of steel and blood; conditions only met when men go to war. The engineers took out their equipment, what looked like a hose and a pump.

“What are they doing?” I asked to anyone and no one in particular.

 “What are we doing?” demanded Aly, “we should be climbing that wall and

 taking it already.”

“Don’t be stupid” said Ismael “we would just be in the same predicament as those guys; just do your job and fire and guard.”

So we all took aim and fired. Ismael was right, of course, none of the men scaling the wall got any farther up than 40 feet; the wall was too steep and the sand too brittle, so time and time again, they came sliding down.

Then it was ready; what the engineers were actually doing was readying massive hoses, and sure enough, in a moment’s notice, all the men backed off and the pumps shot out a torrent of canal water, and the sand was useless.  We watched and in only an hour the wall that caused us so much grief had fallen, the unlucky defenders on the top washed away and buried beneath the sand. Then, we charged. The first wave of soldiers bottlenecked into the gap, their war cry both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. We, however, escorted the engineers to a second part of the wall to bring it down in several other places as well. The sounds of gunfire were not as close now, and Aly was furious. Boats were pouring in on our side of the canal now and on the other side more engineers seemed to be building a floating bridge that was already over half way done.

“They sure do work fast,” said Ismael, “but something isn’t right.  Where are they?”

“Where are who?” asked Hossam.

“We took their greatest defensive line, and they still haven’t retaliated?” he asked skeptically.  “We all know they are a worthy and cunning enemy, something isn’t right.”

Then just like that, we got a radio call.  New orders! The enemy had brought a relief force, and retaken a strategic stronghold; we were part of the second wave and we were told simply “take it back.” So we massed with the hundreds of others who would charge the enemy fortifications.

 

            “Six hours my friend,” yelled Khaled, “We just exceeded the life expectancy of charging the wall by five hours and fifty-eight minutes” he laughed, and Bassam joined him, a blood stain forming that still seemed wet and fresh on his arm.

We were on the other side of the Barlev line, hiding behind a dune, a whistle blew and a great warcry erupted, followed by a few “Allahu Akbars”, Hossam being one of them yelling the loudest.  Then, those mortars fired their deadly *beep*nal, and Bassam and all others with RPGs lined up instantly and fired a barrage grenades at the entrenched enemy.  Black smoke had covered the concrete walled trench, so we couldn’t see it, but we charged anyway. Although I was crying out at the top of my lungs, I had never been more afraid, but no one shot back?  Maybe they all died in the barrage earlier I had hoped against hope, but no sooner had that occurred then bullets whizzed by and I saw the bodies of those from the first wave piled up, mangled in grotesque positions, their flesh seared, their blood quenching the ever thirsty sands. I saw men fall like leaves in autumn; Aly’s arm was taken off as an RPG flew by grazing him. Still, we charged on.  Hossam who was directly in front of me was peppered with bullets first in the neck, which brought him to halt.  I bumped into him.  He shook violently as what seemed to be an entire magazine was emptied into him. Then, it all stopped; those left hid in fox holes or fiend death. I could hear Aly and others who were wounded crying out for help. Still, even in that hell when I was about to despair, I saw Fatima’s warm smile; and then just like that, as if we were of the same mind, Ismael, a man I didn’t know, carrying a flamethrower, and I, got up and charged. What are we doing, a part of me asked, we’re going to get killed I thought, as I ran forward. Bullets were whizzing by in what seemed like slow motion; we are invincible, I thought, no one can touch me. We were ten feet away when Ismael and I threw a grenade each, to hear the distraught voices of the enemy within, followed by a satisfying BOOM!

The man with the flame thrower followed the other defenders inside still recovering from the shock of the explosion, and they were cruelly greeted by a breath of fire. He was a dragon in human form spouting incinerating fire and all in his path cried out in agony and died the cruelest of deaths. The charge, I saw, had regained its momentum. We flooded into the trenched fort; there were a few men who begged parley; I wasn’t thinking so I shot and they fell, eyes glazed, their faces in an expression of shock and disbelief at their untimely end. A man ran at me, knife in hand, crying out in voice filled with both madness and fear; I raised my heavy weapon and bashed him in the head, again, and again, and again, till his blood and gore lay strewn upon the concrete floor of the stronghold. We won, I thought. And just then, the earth shook, and with banners flying and in perfect formation, the daunting sight of the enemy’s massive tanks came into view. Again the world shook as they fired, No, I thought “No” I yelled to no one in particular “no, it isn’t fair.”  I cried out in dismay, and just then our greatest fighters came into view, tanks and truck loads of the Republican Guard came into view in vast numbers, the thunderous sound of their caterpillars and cannon fire was as sweet as music to our ears; in a matter of minutes the enemy was in full retreat. I lived, I thought happily, I will go home after this to my beautiful wife and quiet garden.  I saw some thing moving from the corner of my eye. I feel the cold steel tickling my heart; he is looking at me with such hateful eyes. Why I wonder? I don’t even know him. Oh, if only I could have seen her one last time.