A Long Way Gone_ Memoirs of a Boy Soldier - Ishmael Beah [53]
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IT MUST HAVE BEEN a Sunday morning when the corporal told us to take the day off training. He tapped the palm of his hand with the flat edge of his bayonet. “If you are religious, I mean a Christian, worship your Lord today, because you might not have another chance. Dismissed.”
We went to the square wearing our army shorts and the crapes that had been given to us. We started a soccer game, and as we played, the lieutenant came out to sit on the verandah of his house. We stopped the game and saluted him. “Carry on with the game. Right now I want to see my soldiers play soccer.” He sat on the stoop and began reading Julius Caesar.
When we were done with soccer, we decided to go to the river for a swim. It was a sunny day, and as we ran down to the river, I felt the cool breeze drying the sweat on my body. We played swimming games for a few minutes, then divided into two teams for an ambush game. The first group to capture all the members of the other group would win.
“Let’s go, soldiers, the holiday is over,” the corporal called out from the banks of the river. We stopped our playing and followed him to the village. As we jogged to catch up with him, we jokingly tripped and pushed each other into the bushes.
At the village we were asked to quickly service our AK-47s. As we cleaned our guns, backpacks and waist packs were distributed among us. Two crates of ammunition were set out, one containing loaded magazines, the other loose bullets. The corporal commanded us to take as much ammunition as we could carry. “Don’t take too much, though. We want you to be able to run fast,” he said. As I loaded my backpack and waist pack, I looked up and saw that some of the older soldiers were doing the same. My hand began to shake and my heart beat faster. All the other boys, except for Alhaji, were having fun, because they thought they were gearing up for more drills, but I knew we weren’t going for training, and Alhaji leaned on the wall of the building clutching his gun like a mother would hold her baby. He knew it, too.
“Stand up on your feet, soldiers,” the corporal said. He had left us briefly to change. He was fully dressed in army uniform and carried a backpack and a waist pack full of ammunition. He held a G3 weapon and his helmet under his arms. We stood in line for inspection. All of the boys wore army shorts and green T-shirts. The corporal handed us green head ties and said, “If you see anyone without a head tie of this color or a helmet like mine, shoot him.” He screamed the last two words. Now it was clear to all that we weren’t going for training. As we tied our head cloths, Sheku, standing next to me, fell backward. He had taken too much ammunition. The corporal emptied some of the magazines from his backpack and stood him up. Sheku’s forehead was sweating and his lips trembled. The corporal patted him on the head and continued talking. “The other men”—he pointed to the older soldiers—“will carry spare boxes of ammunition, so do not overload yourselves. Now relax, we will be on our way in a few minutes.”
The corporal walked away. We sat down on the ground, and everyone seemed to wander into their own thoughts. The daily bird-songs were gone, replaced now by the raising of firing levers as the older soldiers readied themselves. Sheku and Josiah sat next to me, their eyes watery and dull. All I could do was rub their heads to assure them it might be okay. I got up and walked over to Alhaji and the rest of my friends. We made a pact that no matter what, we would try and stay together.
A young soldier came by with a plastic bag full of some kind of tablets. They looked like capsules, but they were plain white. He handed them to each of us with a cup of water. “The corporal said it will boost your energy,” the soldier announced with a secretive smile on his face. As soon as we had taken the tablets, it was time to leave. The adult soldiers led the way. Some carried ammunition boxes, the length