The Scarlet Bastards - A Company Soldier

The Scarlet Bastards - A Company Soldier - Part V

We crossed the frigid meandering Nivalis Vadum by early morning, and before us, camped in the lee of a low hill dappled with snow, was a collection of threadbare light blue UN tents, a herd of camels and donkeys, scores of shivering wide-eyed colonists and a contubernium of jawans – great bearded Pathans under the command of a towering one-eyed havildar. As MacShaka rode up, the havildar snapped to attention and saluted.

"Huzūra!" he snapped with a gap-toothed smile. "I deliver these 107 colonists to your capable hands!"

MacShaka bade his camel to koosh, then slid out of the saddle. He thumbed towards a ragged collection of tents 200 meters away, "When did they roll in?"

The havildar smiled. "I believe they are from Elaver Vallis since they began following us not long after we passed that way. I also believe they are some of Askar Musabeyev's Kazakhs and they are very disappointed you have arrived, Huzūra."

MacShaka grunted then spat. Clapping his hands against the cold he gazed upon the distant shabby thugs as they sat around a cooking fire smoking a hookah. "Aye," MacShaka snapped, "I'll bet they are. A fu' purse never lacks friends. Only Askar would play such a gallus sumph right in front of the Legion. Fuckin' wolf licking his lips at the chickens in front of the hunter." Inspired, MacShaka grabbed me by the arm and with Sittina and Muneer in tow, led me to the hovering Kazakhs.

"Askar!" he shouted as he stomped up through the slush, righteous fury beating down upon the Kazakhs as they smoked and feigned innocence, "stand up, ye mawkit shit!"

Smiles all around, then a particularly filthy yet tiny specimen stood; a grinning Achilles in a round, rabbit fur borik cap; a grease-stained chapan coat; and suede salwar trousers thick with filth. "Huzūra!" he replied with a toothless grin. "Quayirly Tan!"

"Good fuckin' morning, yerself, ye dour bugger. Explain yerself out here!" MacShaka replied as he came to a halt before the bantam warrior, hands on hips and glowering like an Easter Island statue. 

Askar raised his hands in defence. "My friend, we are here for a hunt, nothing more. I am told that there is a particularly large herd of Irish Elk in the campus these days." He patted the scarred pulse rifle by his side before looking MacShaka in the eye and smiling. "If sister-in-laws were friendly, there would be much food."

"Dinnae ye hung the pettit lip wi' me, Askar," MacShaka snapped as he took a step closer. "I'll no' hae you carryin' on yer capers wi' colonists about. So pack up yer greetin' faced shits and fuck off!"

Askar smiled, MacShaka glowered, and Sittina and Muneer snickered softly. I was, of course, riveted by the drama playing out, and after a pause, Askar bade us a final 'good day', then threw out a series of barking orders to move his folks away from MacShaka's ire. We quickly returned to the refugees and the waiting havildar.

"Havildar," MacShaka said as he received a salute, "I am most grateful for the opportunity you present." None could mistake the sarcasm as MacShaka glared at the chaotic camp with its dirty, dishevelled occupants – Moldavians mostly, with a handful of Tajiks, Pashtos, and Uzbeks brought in from the Afghan refugee camps for colour. "You are relieved. Have a safe return to your castrum."

"Huzūra!" the havildar replied as he saluted again. He quickly turned, bellowed orders to his contubernium, and in minutes, they were on their way. The silence that followed as the colonists stared cow-eyed at us and their surroundings was embarrassing, for it reminded me of my own reactions.

"Up!" MacShaka snapped as he walked up to one of the ragged tents and kicked out a pole. "On yer feet, ye fiddle faced tinkers! Pack up yer camp, ye haverin' bizos! We leave in 30 minutes!" He turned to the rest of us. "Eat a meal then help these idiots get packed."