He woke up again before dawn. The sky was still very dark, but in the east the stars had dimmed and on the horizon the mountains glowed faintly pink. It was hard to say if it was the first gold of the sun that gleamed on the mountains or the mountains themselves. Avalanches had always been a threat in their lives, along with the overseers at the meat-packing sheds, and tax collectors, and the soldiers, and sometimes Aloj found that he talked (inside himself, of course) to the mountains as if they were one of those others. "Hey, you, mountain," he would say as he stared at their snow-capped tops towering above the woods. "Hey, you---don't throw rocks and snow at us today. My mother is sick---we couldn't run away today." Sometimes he would scream out loud, hoping to trigger an avalanche, in order to get out of loading the cargo ships out in the harbor.426Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2fSnXepCiO
But the mountains never listened. They did just as they pleased, and, after a while, Aloj got to thinking that all the world was pretty much like the mountains and did just as it pleased, without regard for children, farmers, or even, maybe, soldiers and armies and presidents....
But now, all at once, he heard the sound of footsteps. He turned over in the tight tangle of arms and legs, and down the slope he saw a man walking. The captain.
Aloj watched him for a few seconds, then suddenly decided to get up. He didn't intend to speak to the captain---it was already clear in his mind that a 12-year-old soldier who didn't know which end of his rifle the bullets came out of did not approach a captain. In any case, there was nothing for him to day. Yesterday, there in the village square, he might have pleaded, argued, cursed if he'd been given the chance. Today, 24 hours later, he knew nothing he could've said would've made any difference then an surely not now. And he also knew, in some cloudy, obscure way, that Captain Maric had not made the war or made him a soldier. How he knew this he couldn't tell, but it seemed to have something to do with how he remembered those bonds that bound the Christ.
He realized that he couldn't go back to sleep now. He crept out from under the blanket, after moving Tokar's arm from across his chest, and carefully stood up. The others were all still asleep.
Down the slope the captain paused. He stood with his back to Aloj, his arms crossed on his chest, and he seemed to be looking at the mountains also.
Aloj hitched his pants up and stretched briefly. He was used to sleeping in his clothes, but not on open ground, and he was stiff and chilled. As he moved away from the rest of the boys, his foot came down on a round stone and it rolled out from under him.
The faint noise reached the captain. He whirled suddenly, and his hand flashed to the revolver at his side.
Aloj froze. He realized now---too late---that even here in the fortress one must never come up unexpectedly, silently, behind someone. Another man might've shot him where he stood.
Aloj forced himself to speak. "Pardon--Captain. Pardon..."
Captain Maric stared at him for a second longer, then seemed to consciously signal himself to relax. "Be careful," he said shortly. "Don't be too quiet. If you are walking up behind someone--as now---let him know you are there. Or he might just shoot you, because that's what he's trained to do. Shoot."
Aloj looked around. It was now light enough to see the soldiers who slept, or were rising, on all sides. And the guns, the guards at the gate. "Sir--even here?"
The captain smiled grimly. "Especially here. What is your name?"
"Baulij, Vojkan. They call me Aloj. I was---I came here yesterday."
The captain had relaxed a little, although his hand still rested on the butt of his revolver. "Ah, yes. You are from the village where we stopped yesterday." He nodded absently. He was already thinking of other things. "Yes, indeed. Baulij. So, then---carry on---"
"Sir"---and even as he heard his own voice Aloj wondered what he was going to say, and where he got to courage---"Sir---am I permitted to ask a question?"
The captain paused. "One."
"Sir---will we---will this army---win the war?"
For one moment the captain turned away, facing the HQ tent and the day and the duties. Then he turned back to Aloj.
"My cousin says--my cousin says there have been 442 wars in our country," said Aloj, stumbling to get it out before the captain turned away. "None of these wars helped. This is another. Will the war be won---this time?"
The captain stared at him. The slope was steep here, and Aloj was above the officer so that he had a curious feeling of being taller than the captain, although of course he was not. For a moment the captain's eyes were blank and black, like a photograph or a statue. Then something in them shifted, opened or closed, and Aloj had one momentary glimpse of something beyond the flat surface. It was horrifying.
"I don't---know," said Captain Maric, his voice barely "All I know is---I don't know. This country has suffered through Nazis, Communists, plagues, brutal winters. All suffer miserably. We must---survive."426Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4fnS9dhY8V
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