A Bed for the Wretched – Chapter 17

A Bed for the Wretched – Chapter 17

Pando and Numo were sitting at the side of the meadow and, while puffing hot, bitter smoke from their home-made cigarettes, watched young fighters exercise. “Turn Left!” commanded a young man wearing long military trousers and a wide shirt with sleeves torn at the elbows. They turned smoothly and marched perfectly with a single step. Dust was raised, puffing through their torn boots, as they each took a step forward. They stood straight and looked ahead, marching in unison like they were in a trance. Echelon behind echelon, in straight rows, moving forward and stomping harder with each step. Further below, down by the tunnel over the road there was a cloud of dust. A few moments later, a jeep appeared from behind the curve. It rolled down to the meadow and stopped. Its engine was still rattling. A tall, thin man got off from the passenger side, stood as straight and as high as he could, and while bracing himself on the jeep’s front windshield with one hand, said: “Greetings!” Those marching in the line swiftly turned their heads toward the jeep. They marched with their arms straight, stretched down to their legs and with their eyes staring at the two DAG officers in the jeep. The driver, leaning on the steering wheel with his right elbow and swinging his left foot hanging outside of the jeep door, attempted to hit a stone three metres away with his spit. He plucked another reed of grass and began to chew it. After his mouth was filled with saliva, he stretched his neck like a goose swallowing hard, puckered his lips and spit hard through his teeth. The tall, thin man addressed the other officer in the jeep without looking at him and said: “They look great, don’t they? There are one thousand, two hundred of them, right?” “Right!” said the man. “Who was the idiot then who ordered them to return here? This is an entire brigade, right? And now, when we need them the most out there to fight, someone, someone insane ordered them to march back here and exercise in this meadow,” remarked the tall, thin man. The driver spat through his teeth again and slowly said: “The Leader, Comrade… the Leader ordered it...” The tall, thin man turned his head, looked at the driver and said: “You know everything, don’t you…” “I know that because I was there,” replied the driver. Four new echelons arrived at the meadow. They marched right up to the jeep. Immediately behind them more echelons appeared. At that point they began to sing. The tall, thin man then asked: “And what is this?” “A song!” replied the driver.

“I know it’s a song. I’m not deaf. What kind of a song is it?” asked the tall, thin man. “A military song, the kind they sing in a parade...” replied the driver. Numo leaned toward Pando and quietly said: “They are singing, do you hear them singing?” “Of course I hear them…” replied Pando. “This is a march the 18th Brigade sings…” said Numo. “The brigade that has many of our people (Macedonians) in it?” asked Pando. “Yes that one!” confirmed Numo. “Thump-thump-thump!” the fighters marched looking straight ahead. The commander, marching alongside them, greeted everyone. The tall, thin man stood at attention and saluted the fighters, giving them a military welcome. “Excellent! Excellent! Excellent!” said the tall, thin man in admiration of the marching men. “I sent these men to Vicho just today. Today... An entire brigade... Excellent! Bravo!... And what is this?” the tall, thin man asked the man standing next to him. “What?” asked the man next to him, covering his mouth with his hand and giggling. “Did you see that?” said the tall, thin man. “I saw it..., the young fighter just tripped, what can you do?” said the man standing next to the tall, thin man. “He must not trip or stumble. This is a line, right? He must, I say, not trip and stumble. I want the commander of the squad to report to me tonight. How can that idiot let his troops stumble in a march and take no action, ah?” said the tall, thin man. “With our commander in battle, with our Macedonian spirit, spirit, spirit! ...” roared the 18th DAG Brigade while marching along. The tall, thin man raised his eyebrows and addressed the driver: “Run over there and relay my order to stop singing.” “The driver stirred lazily and at that instantly the battalion commander yelled out: “Battalion! Halt! Turn left!” “Should I go?” asked the driver. “No need to!” said the tall, thin man, lazily walking away from the jeep. He walked with a slight limp from his left foot because his boots were too tight. He then muttered: “Again, that lazy bastard driver didn’t soak my boots in lard like I asked him to.” At the same time Numo said to Pando: “Let’s get out of here. I am sick of listening to this louse complaining!” The tall, thin man turned around and signaled the driver to follow him with the jeep. He then stopped and waited for the vehicle to reach him. He got on and said: “It would be more effective if I can say a few words to them from up here rather than from down there”. “Of course!” said the driver. “A voice can be heard further away from higher... and the wind will carry it even further…” The tall, thin man could not contain his anger and yelled out: “Listen, Kosta. You are getting on my nerves already with your stupid heckling. Am I making myself clear or not? You were assigned to me by Command to be my driver, were you not?” “Yes I was, as your driver, but not as your servant... Sir” replied the driver. “As my adjutant and not as my servant…” said the tall, thin man. “Forget about this adjutant business!” said the driver, spitting on the side, slowing the vehicle and adding: “I’ve had enough of this driving from hospital to hospital, from kitchen to kitchen and...” “Should I be considering this as disobedience?” interrupted the tall, thin man. “Should I? If so, then today I will send you to the front with the first column that leaves here. You should know that since my hand gun disappeared, you are not as gracious as you used to be. Imagine,” he addressed the passenger in the jeep, “taking your hand gun away and this guy here thinks I had the gun because it looked good on me... Stop here by the stone, do you hear?” ordered the tall, thin man. “I hear you… I’m not deaf…” replied the driver, stopping the jeep. Kosta was assigned to this person (the tall, thin man) for four months. The tall, thin man knows nothing of the front other than what he reads about it in the newspapers and learns from those who return from there. He is always clean and shaven, probably because he thinks it is easier to establish contact with people.

He uses his rich vocabulary and star-like status to influence people. That’s why they turned him into a politician. The previous driver, it was said, did not even last a month with him. The first opportunity he got, he boarded a truck carrying fighters returning from a hospital in Suk and went to the front. When Kosta found out from the commander of the second mechanized column in Korcha that he would be driving a DAG officer, he said: “Comrade, commander! Please don’t do this to me. My friends will laugh at me…” “Why? Why would your friends be laughing at you?” asked the commander. “Because I am the driver of a ten ton truck which transports cannon shells, land mines, anti-tank mines, grenades, tens of thousands of rifle shells and who knows what other kinds of dangerous stuff. I don’t want to drive and wander around from camp to camp, from hospital to hospital and listen to the sniveling of someone who has not been outside of their office... Please commander, don’t do this to me... What have I done to you, to shame me like this? And believe me when I say this, I don’t know how to drive a jeep. The steering wheel slips from my fingers... Who ever heard of Kosta, I mean me, driving around some sniveler, eh?” pleaded Kosta. “The order is already signed, Kosta, don’t argue with me. It is done!” replied the commander. “I understand!” said Kosta, raising his hand to wave goodbye, and after standing there for a moment said: “I understand, but I want to let you know, Comrade Commander, that I will not be a good driver...” “It’s a military order, do you understand?” asked the commander. “I understand perfectly but I am telling you that I am not that kind of a driver. Comrade Commander, do you know why Sotir is in jail?” and without waiting for an answer Kosta continued: “Because he could not stand the sniveler he was driving. He turned him into a servant. Polish my boots Sotir, polish my belt Sotir, gel this Sotir, get that Sotir, boil me some eggs Sotir, I told you I wanted them soft boiled not hard boiled. Sotir had had enough of the idiot so he dumped boiling water onto his lap when the tea kettle accidentally fell out of his hand… That sniveler did this to Sotir and now I hear he is in prison in Nivitsi emptying buckets of shit from the prison lavatories. Is this my destiny too Commander?” “If you are a fool like him, you can go even further. Be smart, that way you won’t have to deal with any buckets...” replied the commander. “I may not have to carry bucket loads of shit but I will have to drive a giant asshole around. Iovan, my dear commander, we are both from the same village and we are friends. Why are you are sending me there against my will? Of all the drivers out there, why pick me? How have I wronged you, eh?” pleaded Kosta. Iovan, Kosta’s commander, came up to Kosta, tapped him on the shoulder, looked him in the eye and said: “My dear Kosta, please hear me out and you won’t be disappointed. By taking this job you will not have to drive that stupid, dangerous ten ton truck during the dark of night on dangerous roads. You have already done your part, it is now time for you to take a rest, sit in the shade once in a while and sleep in a clean bed…” “And you think you are rewarding me by doing this? How many times did I beg you to send me to the front line in battle, and you kept telling me to be quiet because I was needed here and that drivers were needed and that the struggle needed more drivers…” said Kosta, pausing for a moment, and then resumed talking: “And now you are re-assigning me to that beleaguered jeep to roam the Albanian roads so that people can make fun of me? Do you know what one of the wounded fighters said to me while leaving the hospital and returning to the front? I will tell you what he said. He said, ‘You with the truck, going tut-tut here, tut-tut there watch out you don’t kill a chicken somewhere on the road and eat its feathers and all and let your ass grow some more.’ He said, ‘I want to see how you will fair up there, up there at the front and not driving from Korcha to the border and from the border back to Korcha.

All you drivers have are hands, a fat ass and not a gram of brain in your heads’. He said, ‘Your asses are tired from sitting down and your hands are deformed and look like the hands of monkeys, from turning your steering wheels’. This, my friend, to me was equivalent to spitting on my face and now you are telling me that I deserve to drive a jeep? That I need to fart around driving some louse? This is how you care for me, eh? This is how you reward me? Well, you know that I pulled you out of a burning bunker, right? And you were quick to commit me to becoming a driver and now here I am! Stuck in this situation! And do you know, every day I feel my intestines in my throat from the shaking? You sit here, commander, sharpen your pencil and write orders about who should be transferred where!” concluded Kosta. Iovan sat down on his chair, lit a cigarette and said: “You are fatigued Kosta, and I also think you are insane.” “Oh, now I am insane, am I…?” replied Kosta. “Stop talking! You have your orders! Do your duty as ordered! Goodbye.” ordered the Commander. “Will we see each other again?” asked Kosta. “Who knows... It is war... I, myself will be going to the front soon. I managed to get myself transferred there. In fact I am being shifted out from this duty. They suggested that I stay with the column, but I asked to be sent to the front line. They approved it. I am going tonight with the first group of trucks. That’s why I am sending you there... Stay a few months and than ask to be transferred. And don’t go nuts; you never know who you will be driving. He may be of low rank or possibly of high rank... Watch out... Now say goodbye and go.” ordered the commander. They hugged each other, shook hands with a strong hand grip and saluted each other military style. Before closing the door behind him, Kosta heard: “Wait, I almost forgot!” “What is it?” asked Kosta. “Do you know how to soft boil an egg?” jokingly replied the commander. They both laughed out loud and Kosta left. One week later Kosta and Iovan met again at the hospital in Elbasan. Kosta, as the driver of the tall, thin man and Iovan as a wounded patient in a hospital bed. “Well,” whispered Iovan, “I got here.” “Is it a bad wound?” asked Kosta. “I have a deep gash in my large muscle. Good thing the bone was not hit. I will be here about a month and then I will be going back. And you how are you?” inquired Iovan. “Well, I am driving a sniveler...” replied Kosta. “Belt, boots, eggs?...” laughed Iovan with a look of pain on his face. “For God’s sake, enough… I do that too... but in a lousy way. I do everything wrong. He started flipping out and one of these days he will have a nervous breakdown. I am on the money with this guy. Just hang on there and soon I will be joining you at the frontline. Today I am taking him

to Suk. Tomorrow, on our return, I will talk him into coming back here. I will bring you some cigarettes or tobacco,” replied Kosta. “Listen, Kosta. Last week, when we passed by Prenies, guess who I saw?” interrupted Iovan and before giving Kosta a chance to ask who he saw, he continued: “I saw Numo, I couldn’t believe it. I saw Numo!” “Numo Who?. Wait, wait... Was it Numo from the Damov family?” asked Kosta. “Yes, that Numo!” replied Iovan. “Come on, don’t toy with me now?!” remarked Kosta. “I am telling you, I saw him from the truck. He was limping and carrying a crutch. The truck drove right by him and I heard him yell. I recognized his voice. It was him, I am sure. You know how loud his voice is… And he was singing!...” replied Iovan. “Wait a minute, Iovan. I often go to Prenies and I would like to see Numo. So, how do I recognize him? You say he has one leg? It seems to me that I have seen a one-legged man many times. He is the one that hates him (the tall, thin man) and wants no part of him. See that man over there, talking to the nurse? Well, if he manages to convince her to have a date with him, we will be here for most of the night. Once he sets his sights on someone, he is like a dog with a bone, he won’t let go. Well, take care of yourself my friend… And frankly, to tell you the truth, they should have shot your head off, not just your thick ass muscle… for doing this to me. Goodbye Iovan. Now I will go and look for Numo,” said Kosta before leaving. While driving past the lined up echelons, Kosta kept thinking about Numo Damovski, about him being alive and close by in Prenies. How was he going to approach him given that his superior (the tall, thin man) was not at all fond of him. He needed at least half an hour of free time, but as of now he had no idea how he was going to manage it. “Drive like you are in a parade!” commanded the tall, thin man. “Yes Comrade…” replied Kosta, adding, “I have never driven in a parade before, so how should I drive?” “Raise and straighten your ugly head, look ahead, look dignified and stop shaking the jeep!” replied the tall, thin man. “Kosta raised himself up and began to push and relax the accelerator causing the jeep to hop and jerk to a point where the tall, thin man could no longer maintain his balance and composure. “Stop!” the tall, thin man ordered Kosta, getting off the jeep. After walking away about ten metres Kosta asked: “Does this mean you won’t need me for an hour or two?” “No! You are not going anywhere!” replied the tall, thin man and added: “We are leaving for Elbasan right now!” Kosta leaned his right hand on the steering wheel while waving with his left foot hanging out of his jeep. He sat there quietly listening to the tall, thin man giving a speech which to him sounded like: “And so on and so on... a lame rooster singing and scratching in the same old compost pile... and so on and so on… Amen!” When he was done, the tall, thin man and the other passenger climbed into the jeep, at which point Kosta said: “Your speech was tops!” “I can do better,” replied the tall, thin man, “but what do you say to a bunch of idiot kids?” “Idiot kids? Did you say idiot kids?” asked Kosta, adding, “a little earlier you admired them, like the soldiers they are, and wanted to send them back to the front line…” “Skasmos re pusti! (Shut up you homo!) If I hear you talk to me like that again, it will not be the front line for you, it will be the madhouse! Katalaves? (Do you understand?) Skazmos! (Shut up!). Now, start the engine and drive back to Elbasan,” the tall, thin man angrily interrupted. Kosta turned the key and the engine started coughing and stopped. He turned the key again and the same thing happened. “What’s wrong with you? You were working fine a minute ago!” Kosta remarked, talking to the jeep. “I told those idiots in Grazhdano (a village in Prespa where DAG Headquarters was located) that we can’t win the war with old American jeeps. I told them twice!” said the tall, thin man and turned towards the soldiers he had just called kids.

But the lines were already dismissed and they had left the meadows and were heading for their tents. “Eh, pedia! Pedia! (Hey, boys! boys!) he yelled out loud but no one turned. The tall, thin man yelled several more time but without success. Then he turned and screamed at Kosta: “How many times have I told you to look after the jeep, eh?” Kosta shrugged his shoulders and quietly said: “Well, a little push may get it started again…” Both officers got off the jeep and started pushing it. The jeep slowly moved forward, jumped over some bumps and Kosta turned the key. The engine turned, coughed several times and quit again. “Push harder, harder…” yelled Kosta while keeping his feet under the seat. “A little harder, push harder, we need more speed, more speed! Faster! Faster!” At that moment he turned the key and shifted into second gear, and just as the engine began to hum Kosta turned it off. “I told you comrades to push harder, we need to go faster. You heard the engine start when you pushed hard, right? Now do it again and this time push even harder…” The jeep rolled onto the road and they stopped pushing. The tall, thin man brushed the dust off his hat, wiped the sweat off his brows, spit to the side and began to curse and swear. He then said: “I should have transferred you yesterday like I thought, but then I said to myself ‘let him stay’. The moment we arrive in Elbasan I will telephone the Second Column commander and ask him to send me another driver. And you, Kosta, are going to the front!” Kosta turned, spread his arms wide open and slowly, squeezing every word, said: “Screw UNDRA for sending us this junk… Why are they enslaving our people, I don’t know. This is a tin can and not a jeep worthy of officers!” “What are we going to do now, eh?” asked the tall, thin man. “Come back and try pushing again,” said Kosta. “Push the jeep up the hill and then we will turn it around let it roll downhill and pick up speed on its own...” “You want us to push you all the way up there?” asked the other officer whose name Kosta had not heard, and whose face he had only seen for the first time yesterday in the Elbasan hospital. “You have fattened your asses here in Albania, you parasites, it’s about time you do some real work,” Kosta said to himself, getting upset while watching the two wiping their sweat with clean, white handkerchiefs. “All you do is travel, eat and lie to people with your stupid slogans. My wish is to see how you would do at the front...” Kosta said to himself again. “Come comrades; push if you want to get to Elbasan during daytime today. I am sure the engine will start. Let us get some height and the jeep will roll down on its own. Ready? Push now!” Kosta called out and then stepped on the brake. “Again, a little bit more!” But as soon as Kosta released the brake the jeep rolled back to its original position on the road and stopped. They pushed again but Kosta had to lean on the brake so that the jeep would not roll back. They pushed hard but all they did was make marks on the road with their sliding boots. The other officer stopped pushing, stood up and said: “Screw this! I just split my pants, look!” The tall, thin man wiped his hands and, as if it was nothing, said: “Don’t worry; you will get new pants in Elbasan. Come and push a bit more now, maybe this devil will start.” Step by step, they pushed hard and the jeep inched its way uphill on the Prevol hillside. “Now let us turn the jeep around and attack the downhill comrades!!! shouted Kosta, holding his feet under the seat. “A little more, a little more and victory will be ours...” said Kosta while laughing quietly. “Enough!” said the tall, thin man. “Kosta, get off the jeep, come down here and see if you can repair the engine. My comrade here and I will go and see the commander in Prenies. After you repair it, come and pick us up. Do it as soon as possible!” “Go comrades, I will do my best to fix it as soon as possible,” replied Kosta.