He threw the towel in the corner of a hut he called home and peeled the olive drab T-shirt now almost black with perspiration over his head. His naked torso revealed how seriously he took his workouts.
A tattoo of a snake curling down a tree trunk wrapped around a well-developed bicep of his right arm. A simple cross with a crown of thorns hanging in the cross beam covered his left.
Francis loved night runs through the jungle and village. The patrols cleared paths through the jungle to make it easier to move around especially at night. Francis enjoyed utilizing these paths, many of them running close to the Amazon River. The trails reminded him of running along the Schuylkill River back in Philly.
Captain Stratton, a Jesuit priest and chaplain for the unit, saw little need for letting down his workout routine because he was in the middle of a jungle. Stratton’s legs were further testimony to his running habit. The upper thighs stretching out of the issued running shorts were tanned and hard. Right now, the shorts were sticking to him from the sweat giving them more the look of wet swim trunks rather than runners shorts.
The Marine detachment was assigned to help the local people fight and protect their villages from the drug lords who were victimizing and enslaving the people. Captain Francis volunteered for this assignment. In doing so he gave up he opportunity to stay behind and work in the safer environment of parish or academic life. Ever since the death of his parents in these jungles he wanted to understand what they went through working with the people in these villages. Also, what drove them to stay amid the dangers that were always present.
No enlisted man or officer in the detail ever doubted Francis’s commitment as a Marine. The men saw him as a hard ass Marine first, priest second. Francis knew that was their opinion of him, but he knew himself, he was more priest than Marine. He hoped he would never be tested to prove otherwise.
Francis was one of those guys that had no clue of how good he looked. It never concerned him. Growing up with his grandparents he followed their habit of keeping everything plain. It was not their practice to draw attention. Keep your mind clean and your body strong were the two-main preaching of his grandmother. Once ordained, he followed a common Jesuit tradition of rarely dressing in clerical attire. When he was in the States, this caused more than a few problems when women would start flirting with him having no idea he was a priest. He wasn’t quick to pick up on their clues. His grandmother often told him his looks were going to be his biggest problem as a priest.
Even in the jungle he didn't wear the uniform in the manner he should. He felt he didn’t deserve the uniform in the same way the men who were risking their lives. It wasn’t unusual for a recruit to mistake Captain Francis as a civilian rather than a Marine officer. He became a Marine Chaplain because he wanted to work with those who put their life on the line. He wanted them to know that someone was there for them no matter what, but he doubted he could ever do what they did. Francis was trained to preserve life, they were trained to take it if necessary.
Francis was still dripping from the run and jungle humidity and trying his best to dry off when a woman carrying her baby charged through the poor excuse for a door.
Chapter 2
The woman wasn’t just any woman who burst through the door. Her name was Galina, the prize of the village and wife of Christian, one of the men who seemed to be well connected with one of the leading drug lords. She was also the mother of two children.
No one could argue against the fact that Galina was the most beautiful of the village women. She was twenty years old and for some reason, spared the ravages of the hard life in the rainforest. Her smile set off pearl teeth next to bronze skin. To Francis, she looked more like the women seen in Sao Paulo. They were women who still carried some of the traits of their rainforest DNA but refused to admit it while living more like Fifth Avenue models.
Galina had a sense of style that was not usually found in these little isolated villages. Missionaries, much like Francis parents, must have taken the time to show her pictures of girls in magazines. Galina could put together clothes donated from support agencies that found their way to the village in a way that seemed odd in this wet green world. This made her stand out over and above her beauty and more than one Marine was warned to keep his hands off. She was the only woman in the village that wore jeans and tonight she wore a pair that showed every curve and a white T-shirt that sported the logo of the Yankees. The white shirt set off the black hair that hung almost to her waist and partially covered the baby in her arms.
Galina was not only stunning in her beauty she was also a strong woman, able to do the work many of the men could no longer handle. The young men of the village were pressed into service by the ruling drug lord, Hector Fuentes, who had a special attraction to this village and Galina. This left the old men to support the village while the young men were used as drug runners and hired guns in Hector’s own private army.
Galina's husband, Christian, was one of Fuentes favorite workers. He was older than Galina and had a history with Fuentes that often made him cower under his orders. These demands took Christian away from his family, often overnight. This meant Galina their son and newborn daughter were alone in the village. For a woman like Galina to be alone with man like Hector roaming the village was not good.
Christian always seemed over eager to take care of Francis. He and Francis were close in age and Christian’s command of English was better than most, so he made a good companion when he was in the village. He also helped to break the ice between Francis and some of the villagers who were suspicious of his intentions.
Christian was also the only one in the village that could operate the two-way radio, the main communication with the outside world for the village. Christian operated the radio since he was a young boy and it was this skill that made him a valuable person to whoever needed information, especially Hector.
The radio was also the way Hector would send orders to Christian. The orders were coded in such a way that anyone listening would never understand what Hector really wanted. To the world listening in, it sounded like Christian was his foreman and all Hector was doing was lining up workers for the day. What he was really doing was gathering the next group of expendable carriers to move his drugs out of the jungle.
Chapter 3
It was obvious that Galina was upset. She would never burst into Francis’s hut in such an abrupt manner without a good reason. Even as uncivilized as some wanted to make the villagers appear, they were always the models of respect and manners. They respected one another’s privacy as much as they relied on each other’s cooperation.
Galina placed the baby on a stack of pallets that made a makeshift table paying little attention to the almost naked priest in front of her. Most women outside the jungle would use this opportunity to take all of Francis’s features in. For Galina it was more important to find a place to lay her baby Angelina down. The baby carried her mother’s beauty. In a few years there would be two remarkable and stunning women in this small patch of jungle. Angelina was the first baby he baptized when he came to the unit.
The advantage Galina had living with Christian was learning English. She could make herself understood with a little effort but right now, she rattled on excitedly in her native tongue which Francis still did not have a good grasp.
Francis could only move around his hut trying to grab a shirt and pants all while trying to listen and calm Galina. Trying to use body language as well as words Francis looked like he was playing a pick-up game of charades.
“Galina, stop. I don’t know what you are saying,” trying to calm her with an outstretched hand which she batted it away as a futile gesture.
She returned in English this time saying,
“Stop
“Confess…I must confess to you.”
Francis couldn’t even imagine what this woman would need to confess with such urgency.
Again, trying to calm her down he reached out, this time he didn’t touch her. The ba
by began to cry which seemed to distract her anxiety.
“What is wrong Galina?”
“I must confess then God will help Christian.”
Galina reached down on the table and pulled the baby Angelina close to her as if someone was going to snatch her from her arms. She knelt in front of Francis and made the best sign of the cross she could while holding the child.
Looking down at her, Francis could understand as a man, why so many men were attracted to her. Her hair was so shinny it caught the reflection of the one light in the hut. Her chiseled cheekbones and watery brown eyes stirred an urge in Francis that he was not comfortable with. He wanted to reach out and cup her face in his hands but, he knew he couldn’t.
When he was ordained, he never really grasped what he was giving up.
Francis, knew it was useless to argue with Galina from this point. Whatever she needed, she needed it now. The early missionaries convinced the people that bad things came from sin and if they wanted good things to happen in their life they had to be without sin. This kept the confession box busy and justified the exploitation of the people by some of the former missionaries.
“Captain Father, I sinned with another man. Please forgive me.”
In an uncharacteristic burst out of shock Francis said,
“Who?”
“Hector Fuentes. He comes to my home and sends Christian to the radio sometimes for days. When Christian is away he does things. He tells me he will kill Christian if I tell.”
“Galina, this man is hurting you. Do you understand? You are not sinning.”
“No Captain Father, God must forgive me so that I can pray to God to save Christian and my little boy and baby”
“Galina, God forgives you. Where is Christian now?"
“I don’t know, he went away with Hector two days ago. I have not seen him and now Hector wants Angelina. He says the baby belongs to him. She is Christian’s child. I know she is. Mothers know.”
Francis reached down and helped Galina to her feet. He moved books occupying the only chair in his hut and directed Galina and the baby to the chair. Francis offered her a warm bottle of water in hopes that it would help to calm her. Instead, Galina took the bottle and poured some of the clean water, a commodity this deep in the jungle, on a towel next to her and started to pat the fresh water on Angelina’s face.
Francis was never good around babies. He never had to be, they weren't part of his childhood and as a priest he figured his only encounter would be an occasional baptism. This baby was different. She pulled at Francis with her eyes as if she knew some secret. Francis, without thinking, reached over and took Angelina from Galina’s arms. The child’s skin was already the copper color of her mother’s and her hair now over her ears, was deep and dark with streaks of blue as the light hit the side of her head.
Francis cradled the baby in his arms and the two stared at each other as if they were trying to communicate but didn’t know what to say. Still holding the child, Francis turned to Galina who was now sitting with both hands covering her face in a shame.
“Galina, where do you think Christian is? Where did Hector send him?"
“I don’t know. Hector came to us two days ago and pulled Christian outside. He was beating on Christian and yelling about a letter. Hector grabbed our son who was trying to stop Hector. Hector picked up our son and then he told Christian he was taking Angelina also if he did not get the letter.
He lied to Christian and told him Angelina was his baby.
Christian, turned on Hector. He began yelling at Hector and at one point, raised his fist to Hector. Hector slapped Christian across his face then stomped on him when he was down. My son tried to hit Hector when Christian was down but he slapped him also.
Two of Hector’s men dragged them both away.
I have not seen Christian or our son since.
God needs to save them Captain Father.”
Chapter 4
Francis never expected to be a family counselor especially in the middle of the jungle. He figured the closest to family work would be if some Marine got one of the locals pregnant. This situation with Galina put him in the middle of a husband, drug lord, a mother and the little angel he was holding in his arms.
Francis walked over to Galina. It was hard for him not to reach out and hug her. He was surprised at how those emotions were working on him. The only woman he ever really hugged was his grandmother and he found the emotion now so foreign.
What surprised him even more was that he didn’t want to put the baby down.
Francis touched Galina on the shoulder remembering how she reacted with the last touch.
“Galina go home. If Christian comes home, he will be looking for you. You need to be there when he returns. I’ll ask the Marines to look for him. They know how to find Hector and his men.”
Francis knew his promises were empty, but he had to say something.
Galina stood up and stared at Francis. He knew she didn’t believe a word of what he said. She was too smart for that. She reached for the baby and took her back in her arms. As they left the hut the baby continued to look back at Francis.
Francis somehow knew those eyes would be with him for the rest of his life.
Francis decided that was enough counseling for the day. The benefits of the run were long gone. There was more tension in his body now than before the run. He pulled a warm beer from his stash in an old red and white cooler he brought from home. He moved to the stoop of his hut to listen to the jungle sounds as night settled in.
Chapter 5
The jungle sounds were absent tonight. A village dog barked. A few Marines gathered in a tent about ten yards away were singing a bad rendition of “Proud Mary.” The jungle chorus he was hoping for was silent.
Too quiet.
Francis stayed on the stoop until the beer was gone. The beer did little to relieve his thirst or his frustration. He wished he could change the situation for Galina and her family, but right now he was powerless. In the morning he would speak to a few of the Marines to stay alert for Christian and his boy. Maybe once the Marines gathered the hard evidence they were looking for on Fuentes, all of this would be over and Galina and her family could be whole again.
Francis stepped inside the same time a helicopter flew so low over the encampment that the rotor wash blew the flimsy mosquito cloth hanging over the windows of the hut.
“The night patrol is back early,” Francis said trying to break his own silence in the hut.
Immediately after the pass, the stinging odor of diesel fuel spilled in through the open windows. Francis turned to go back out the door when a blast blew him back and laid him out on the hut floor.
Chapter 6
Opening his eyes, he squinted from the light of the fire that surrounded him.
Making his way to the door he could hear a chopper making a return pass. He watched from his hands and knees as the helicopter spilled more diesel over the village. fFares launched from outside the village arched over and down into the oily mess exploding in flashes of fire when they touched the fuel.
Marines were running from tents, some dressed only in boxers, and T-shirts.
Screams began coming from the village as fire storms raced between huts. The huts went up in seconds as some were nothing more than jungle grass, old shipping crate lumber and branches pulled together.
Two more choppers came on the scene landing just beyond the fire perimeter.
Men armed with automatic weapons poured out of the helicopters. As the villagers ran from the flames, they were picked off by the attackers with no mercy shown to women, children or old men.
Bodies became obstacles as others tried to flee the flames and gunfire.
The silence only seconds ago was replaced with the roar of fire, screams and automatic weapon fire.
The Marines moved into a position to defend their encampment but were cut off by fire from any good defensive positions. A second wave of men turned their assault on the Marines
killing the soldiers with ease from the attacker’s position of cover.
Two Marines came running to Francis’s position.
Francis crawled outside hoping to stay below the smoke and not expose himself to the bullets flying everywhere.
A figure was running directly at Francis. Flames trailing behind the person as they ran.
There was someone else close behind.
As they came closer it was Galina in front caring the baby. The baby was wrapped tight in blankets shielding her from the flames crawling up the back of Galina.
Francis raised to his knees. The two Marines reached him at the same time.
In rapid succession, both Marines were hit and fell at Francis’s feet.
When Galina came close, Francis could make out the figure of Fuentes behind her.
Galina stumbled and the baby rolled towards Francis like a soccer ball passed on the field. Smoke rose around Galina’s body as Hector stood over her, one leg on either side of her.
Francis reached for the sidearm of the dead Marine beside him.
Hector saw what Francis was doing.
Francis pulled the gun from the Marine’s side and raised it at Hector.
Hector looked directly at Francis and then leveled one shot into Galina’s head.
Francis watched her body bounce up then rest smoldering on the damp jungle floor.
He dropped back in horror. He wanted to pull the trigger but couldn’t.
Chapter 7
Francis scrambled on his knees and retrieved the baby, crying and still wrapped tight.
Francis scooped the baby and rolled back in enough time to see Fuentes charging at him with a knife.
Hector kicked the gun away from Francis and with one swing of his arm sliced the knife across Francis stomach. Francis felt the heat of his own blood spilling over his side.
Hector reached down and grabbed the bundle that was the child and threw it off to the side landing it in smoldering wood the remains of a makeshift chapel. Francis tried to get up and crawl to the child but a kick in the chin by Hector’s boot knocked him unconscious.
Necessary Sin Page 3