The fact of the matter, of course, was that the more experienced soldiers had already long since been issued their guns and had been trained to use them. This was clear to Aloj as he watched them now file into the tent on the left and emerge carrying rifles. Davor and Vladisar carried their weapons as if the steel sprouted from the palms of their hands; there was a polish to their movements, almost a grace, as they lined up again.402Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡetZpMhXZQw
Sergeant Oluja signaled to the new recruits. "Forward." His eyes bored into their faces. "After me." He led the way into the arms tent.
Inside it was much darker, and Aloj could barely see. There was some kind of counter or table and behind it stacked wooden crates or boxes. Two or three men in officer's uniforms were behind the table, and they turned as the new boys gathered before them.
Oluja grunted, "Baulij."
Aloj stepped forward. An officer from behind the table leaned over and picked up something from a box on the floor.
Aloj stared at the rifle that was being held out to him.
"Take it!"
His hands came up like wooden levers, and he felt the weight of the rifle fall into them. He managed to close his fingers in time so he didn't drop it. Dazed, he fell back in line and stood staring down at it. It was the strangest-looking gun he'd ever seen. It looked like the skeleton of a gun---a short barrel with a raised sight, a grooved case underneath that curved forward, a metal hand grip, a leather sling with buckles, and a stock that was only a metal shaft with something shaped like a tiny steel foot at the end. There were levers and knobs he didn't recognize.
"That is an AK-47," said Sergeant Oluja. "We captured a shipment of Russian arms last month, but we do not have enough ammunition from them. You new ones will use them because you don't know how to shoot anyway."
Aloj stared at the sergeant but said nothing. After a moment he let the mouth of the rifle barrel tilt downward. If the thing went off somehow, he thought, at least it wouldn't kill anyone. Then, inside himself, he heard a voice say, "But that's what it's for---killing someone....."402Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlF7BuRz7fI
One by one the others received their rifles. All of them were AK-47s, like Aloj's, but some of them had different stocks. Different too were the boys' way of accepting and holding them. Tokar took his as if he had been handling guns all his life---he hadn't---but Tokar acted awkward and clumsy, and Aloj knew he had not only handled guns before, but had even fired them. HIs father had been a high-ranking officer in the Koslovian Office of State Security before the regime fell, the country collapsed, and the BCD recruited him. Some of the other boys seemed excited, looking down at their rifles as if at an interesting new toy.402Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe9kfSwt4hg
"Shoulder arms---like this," said Sergeant Oluja impatiently. "Return to the line."
All of the new recruits turned, utterly forgetting what little they had learned about marching and immediately clashed into a tangled mass with rifle barrels whacking and clattering. Aloj got a sharp crack on the butt from Tokar's gun as Tokar swung in a half circle trying to get his rifle free so he could balance it against his shoulder. Aloj had his gun partway up to his shoulder when the curved piece of the stock caught on his shirt and pulled it up to his armpits.
"God in heaven!" bawled Sergeant Oluja. "I'm to fight a war with this?!" He ripped Aloj's gun out of his hands, freed his shirt, and jammed the rifle into place against his right shoulder. The others fumbled into position. "Out! To the line!" They scrambled through the tent flap, which hit Aloj in the face, and back to their places in line.402Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGBqIu0oCGx
"Thank God they don't have any ammunition," muttered Davor. Aloj fell in between him and Vladisar.402Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMbd6y4KQm0
"Pigs," said Vladisar.
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