Redemption (14 page)

The camp was rudimentary and mainly built from wood like some sort of tribal camp. Certain buildings were constructed and divided into several rooms and corridors to simulate settings for close quarter battle operations. Several targets were hung up in different rooms, showing bullet holes that indicated that several training scenarios had taken place. One part of the camp had been razed and served as a shooting range. The camp was plopped in an immense valley that surrounded and protected it, in a way. Danny noticed a boxing ring made of wood. He guessed there were several amateur boxers among them who sparred in their free time.

“Where do I sleep?” asked Namara.

“In the bunks with us. You have a bed and a closet. Nothing extravagant, but for the moment, you’re not sleeping. I prepared your baggage. The essentials you’ll need. You’re coming with me tonight into the jungle for a while. You’ll learn the rudiments of survival in this hell and become as efficient as possible.” Guerra tossed him a uniform that he slipped on. Guerra explained that he would always have a damp uniform from humidity.

“You’re going to have to learn how to spend most of your time wet here. We move around carrying the minimum, so you have two uniforms. One that’s damp for the day and another you keep dry to sleep in. That’s all.”

“Splendid,” said Namara.

“Indeed. We don’t carry any food or water. The jungle will give us all that we need. You’re going to learn how to live and move in the jungle as easy as a native. Here, take this gun.”

Namara thrust him a military-grade submachine gun, mounted on a grenade launcher under the barrel. It was painted the colours of the jungle as camouflage.

“Thanks. Is this what we’re going to use to hunt pigeons?” asked Namara.

“Yeah, among other things,” Guerra responded with a pointed glance. “The weapon you’re holding is an M16 submachine equipped with an M203 grenade launcher. It’s the weapon we use the most in the jungle. She fires at single-speed and automatic. And on that note, let’s go.”

The two men left on foot following the trail. The darkness was total apart from the starry sky that shone with a thousand flares.

“Generally, we avoid walking in jungle at full night, because nocturnal predators hunt at night and we can’t see them. That could lead to a few unwanted face-offs. But in our case, we don’t choose the moments where we must move so we must be comfortable in all situations,” said Guerra leading Namara with a regular pace. The latter couldn’t distinguish more than a black blob in front of him with a backpack.

“And how could you possibly walk in the jungle if you can’t see?” Namara demanded.

“Once you’re in the darkness, you’re eyes will adapt. Here we are, let’s do it!”

They veered off the path to bury themselves in the dense, black jungle. The only light was the starry sky that disappeared in the canopy once they left the path.

*     *     *

Namara’s training went well. With Guerra, he learned to orient himself without any navigation apparatus. He learned to construct elevated shelters from wood where he could sleep. That way, savage animals could stay under him where they belonged. In this way, he avoided being attacked in his sleep. From the first night, Namara quickly understood that he wasn’t alone in this jungle. He could constantly smell and hear noises of animals around them over the unknown bugs that wandered about their business emitting their weird noises. They hunted most of the time without their M16s. They lived like nomads, practicing their survival skills in situations where they had no equipment.

“I’m thirsty,” Namara declared, exasperated by the heat.

“So drink!”

“How… there’s nothing but fucking trees for miles around!”

Guerra took his machete, seized a liana vine that hung the length of the tree. He cut it in a bevel of a jerk. Potable water flowed out of the stem.

“It’s pure and there are lianas everywhere. Every time you’re thirsty, you only have to cut one in your path.”

The training unrolled in this way over several weeks. Guerra let Namara do his own attempts and he guided him. He was impressed by his speed and resistance. A friendship was born and they appreciated each other’s company.

“Why did Igor choose you?”

“I have no idea. The answer I got was that he saw me fight in New York.”

“Interesting… what kind of fighting?”

“The kind that kills.”

“The illegal fights… I didn’t think those really existed. So, you’re good at martial arts if I understand well, right?”

“Well, I don't know. The world is a vast place. I do my best.”

“What style do you practice?”

“Kung fu.”

“I’ve done a lot of boxing and jiu-jitsu. It’s very popular in Britain, so I used it to let off steam.”

“How long have you been a soldier?”

“As long as I can remember… the army is my family, in a way.”

“Do you like it here?”

“Yeah, I guess. The only thing that characterizes us, it’s that we are all adrenaline junkies. It’s the intensity of combat that stimulates us. More than that, it’s what we do best.”

They walked for several kilometres and the humidity was untenable. When the vegetation was too dense, they sliced their way through with a machete. Guerra took the moment to explain how to move a group in the jungle, guerrilla techniques used on enemy lines, camouflage techniques to use.

“We’ll train together at camp. You could teach me some fight techniques,” said Guerra.

“Of course, whenever you want.”

“We’re making good pace, let’s rest a bit. Here, sit on this rock here, you can rest your feet.”

Namara dropped his backpack on the ground and sat heavily on a brown mass. It yielded under his feet.

“Shit! What is this?”

Guerra knew exactly what happened. The brown mass wasn’t a rock, but in reality a nest of hundreds of giant ants – not dangerous, but biters all the same. He burst out laughing at seeing Namara’s bottom buried in the nest and the hundreds of ants beginning to climb down his legs and up his pants.

“Shitbucket! Little bug whores, what is this shit!?” he shouted, springing up with the speed of lightning. He jumped and leapt everywhere trying to beat out the ants that had infiltrated his uniform. Guerra was writhing with mirth. Tears ran down his face.

“You, you macaque fucker… you knew it was a nest and you
let
me!!” Namara shouted.

“Yeah, ‘cause it was fucking hilarious!” Guerra retorted, rolling on the ground.

“No, it absolutely was
not
… what a jerk-off! And, shit… it hurts, too!” said Namara, rising his uniform to rid himself of all the ants that tried to climb up. Guerra laughed again when he saw him undress to get the bugs off him. Namara was furious, but when he was rid of most of the bugs, he saw that Guerra laughed enough that he wondered if he wasn’t going to die with a face as red as that. Namara began to laugh seeing him that colour. After a few minutes, the two guffawed.

“You’re really the worst motherfucker I’ve ever met,” said Namara who was now completely nude with buttocks reddened by the ant bites.

*     *     *

After some time, Namara became excellent in the jungle. He began to feel at home. Upon return to the camp, he had started training with firearms. Guerra made him shoot with the M16, the MP5 submachine with and without silencers that they regularly used in antiterrorist operations for shooting precision. He shot a 9 mm calibre pistol every day. Guerra changed the type of gun to let him become skilful with different weapons. Namara and Guerra could shoot hundreds of bullets in one morning until after a certain time, shooting was seen as natural as breathing and eating. Namara had a particular ability for shooting that Guerra noted. Still, his targets were only so-so. After the firearm training, Guerra began to develop him with explosives, grenades, antipersonnel mines. He learned how to make bombs and how to defuse them as well. When Guerra judged that they were sufficiently trained, he climbed into the wooden ring to fight. The first time he had climbed into the ring with Namara, the latter had brought him to the mat quickly with little effort. Later, given that Guerra was a fighter on the ground, Namara gave him the possibility to fight on real terrain.

“You’re good, I must admit,” Guerra exclaimed breathlessly after a fight on the ground.

“Thanks… you’re a good fighter too, mate. You make it hard,” he said, rising.

“That’s not true, but it’s nice all the same. I’m beginning to understand why Igor bet on you. With a bit more training, you’ll be a great addition to the unit. But, it’ll have to be that you teach me some of your kung fu secrets so I can be better. You could have killed me several ways in the space of a few seconds when you were on the ground.”

“That’s a good bargain. I’d like to show you and to hurt you a bit as well,” said Namara with a smile.

“My pain makes you laugh, I know,” he said, breathlessly.

After several weeks, Guerra got to the heart of the subject in making him practice his firing in the buildings with targets. He told him scenarios in which he evaluated his entrees, his movements, his firing precision, his speed of execution. Then, he practiced entering with him, sweeping room by room and firing true projectiles often several centimetres apart. The other group members began to take part in the scenarios entering six in the rooms, all shooting real projectiles several centimetres apart from each other with maximal speed and precision. This most closely approached real combat situations. Namara’s training let him not think about what he did, but to only do what he practiced in the shooting range and following the cadence of others. Now, he had to consider that he intervened with five other men, acting together as a single individual. Communication between them, movement and coordination would have to be perfect.

Guerra noticed that Danny followed the others very well. He could see the transformation since his arrival. He had become a soldier in some months. As for the rest of his apprenticeship, he would have to learn on the battlefield.

He knew that Namara had never lived through the real fire of combat, but that couldn’t be delayed. He believed that he could shoot well, but he couldn’t be certain. One couldn’t know the abilities and reactions of a man that when he is in a situation of the sort where his life was truly in danger. He had learned it after all these years. He had met several beefy soldiers, bigger than him and more garrulous. Several were those who had cracked under real pressure for finally having to admit that they weren’t as good and hardened that they couldn’t let him hear. That amused Guerra to see the most arrogant retort before the humiliating evidence and he had seen several in his career. He liked Namara and he wished that all would go well, but he couldn’t predict that which would happen. Would he be always as good in his shots when his enemies fired as well in their direction and that he would hear the whistle of bullets around him? Could he stand the pressure? Few people could.

CHAPTER 16

Namara’s real integration into the heart of the group was the day when the last was in the wooden ring with Guerra to teach him a few hand-to-hand techniques. The two sweat buckets and practiced with their uniform pants, shirtless to beat the heat.

“Hey Namara… let’s fight, to see if I win, ok?” Guerra asked with enthusiasm.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“It is, it is! One fight only. Come on, we’re not fighting to kill, we’ll take the hits, ok?”

“Ok, but I warned you. You asked for it,” he said, shaking his head.

Namara put his hands up, palms toward the sky. He stood still and waited for Guerra to decide. The latter couldn’t stop leaping and jumping like a boxer.

“Stop jumping around like that, concentrate on your position!”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, put ‘em up,” he retorted with a smile.

Guerra pounced on him sending him a punch that Namara blocked with a smash. He repeated two open-handed hits in his face, which stunned Guerra. He fell to the ground. Meanwhile, other members of the team had stopped in their tasks to watch what was happening in the arena.

“You ok?” asked Namara.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You didn’t do what I taught you… you have to protect your centre overall and not hop around like a schoolboy! I think that’s enough for today.”

“No, one more time!” he called, getting to his feet.

“ok nutbag, you asked for it!” said Namara with a smirk, raising his guard.

Guerra had internalized Namara’s criticisms and concentrated on them this time. He closed his guard and stayed on his feet. He hit directly at Namara faster than the first time, but the latter blocked it and seized his arms. Guerra tried to give a kick that he stopped, digging his heel into his tibia. Guerra had no other option. He hit Namara with his free hand. Namara had set him a trap. When Guerra punched, he seized that too, now in control of both arms. He crossed them to trap him. He gave him a little elbow in the face. The hit bloodied his nose to show him that he could be easily killed in this situation. Namara finished the fight by letting him fall to the ground and letting go of the trapped arms. Guerra couldn’t do anything else but lie there from the pain. His feet rose from the earth and he landed on his back with a dull sound that resonated through the ring.

“Owww, fuck! Ok, that’s enough for today! We’re trying again tomorrow,” said Guerra, lying on the ground with a rivulet of blood flowing out of his nose.

“Ok, we’ll go again tomorrow if you want. You were more concentrated this time, it was better.”

The rest of the team had regrouped around the ring, unsettled by the spectacle they’d seen.

“What are you playing at, you little shit?” shouted Twinkie, removing his sweater, visibly aggressive.

“Enough, Twinkie! Let it go… don’t fuck with it,” Gonzo cautioned.

“No, it’s time to put this little fag in his place once and for all!”

“Twinkie, stop,” said Mike.

“There’s no problem, I wanted to fight, it’s all right,” said Guerra.

“No, nothing’s
right
! You have no reason to be here and you have the gall to challenge us! Common, asshole, man up and fight me!”