Sisimito II--Xibalba

by Henry W. Anderson

  “Private Teul T. reporting for duty, Sarge.”

  “What the fok are you two doing here?” I asked, baffled. They did not answer. They just stood there grinning.

  “Answer me, you two fokas,” I demanded, angrily.

  “Sarge!” blurted out Choco, then he continued most eloquently. “I am a soldier. I want to do my job. With due respect, Sarge, you must not try to stop me from doing that. Besides that, wi da famili.134 Yoo da mai kozn.135 Molly is now famili. Molly is now mai kozn too. I have a double duty to come on this mission.” He looked at Teul. “Teul is my, is mybombali’136 and my buddy. He is also a soldier. We are from the same Intake. We look after each other. He didn’t want me to come after you alone, just like how I couldn’t have you come out here on this mission without me. Alone. We are famili, Sarge, or my name isn’t Luciano Choco. If there is danger, I want to face it with you. I had to come, Sarge. I had to come. I am Ke’kchi and I am a soldier … and I am famili. Please don’t order me to go back as I won’t.”

  Even the jungle was quiet. The xirs had stopped their chirp-chirp. The kolol did not whistle. I could hear Rhys smiling behind me. I was already being torn apart by emotions and now here was Choco drowning me in a world I was not used to.

  “Did you really think no one else would come, Sarge?” asked Rhys.

  I stared at Choco and Teul, not knowing what to say or do. If I were a bakra,137 my face would have been so red it would have lit up the jungle around me. Far in the west I heard the cries of Ke’kchi! Ke’kchi! Ke’kchi! and for a moment I was almost lost. I must become the soldier again. I pulled myself together. I had explicitly told Pas that no one else was to come. That order had not been followed. If I told them to go back, Choco had already said he wouldn’t, and there would be nothing I could do about it; after all, the mission was not sanctioned by Command. I knew I really couldn’t tell them to go back, anyway, and I had to admit that Choco’s words had touched me deeply.

  “Did Corporal Pascascio have anything to do with this?”

  “No, Sarge. Definitely not.”

  “Does Corporal Pascascio know about this?”

  “No, Sarge. Definitely not.”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head, not knowing what to believe. “We’ll discuss this later,” I said gruffly, trying to cover my emotions.

  “Sarge!” they shouted together.

  I stared at them. They remained quite serious, still standing at attention, holding back their grins. “And fokin stand down,” I ordered. “Get ready to march.”

  “We’ll have breakfast first,” interrupted Taat. “It is the tradition and without that, there is nothing. It’s too dark to see the trail now anyhow.”

  I heard one of the men chuckle. “We leave at first light,” I ordered. “And you, Teul. I know you think you’re a smart ass. Fok around with me and you’ll regret it. Bombali my fok!”

  Sarge!” he shouted.

  “Good! I take it that’s fully understood.” I blew out my breath loudly. “We are no longer a fireteam. We’re a full section. With respect to

  rations, we’ll continue to use what we have, but sparingly, especially since we now have two extra mouths to feed.”

  “We brought some rations, Sarge.”

  I looked at Teul. “How much?”

  “Everything.”

  “What do you mean everything?’

  “Almost everything that you left behind. There’s no more space in out bergens. While Corporal Pas and the others were sleeping, Choco and I raided …”

  “Stop! I don’t want to hear another foking word, Teul.” I shook my head heatedly in exasperation as if trying to shake out everything I had heard. “Men! I will give you a full briefing when we reach Miramar Hill. Its summit is about three miles away and we shouldn’t take more than four hours. Remember that when I give you miles, it’s as the crow flies. It does not take into account the hills and valleys, creeks and gorges we have to cross. Do all your shitting, pissing … and jigging138 now. If you have to shit later, I won’t wait on you. You’ll have to catch up with us if Sisimito doesn’t catch up with you first.”

  “Sarge!”

  Oh fok! “What is it Private Teul? I’m not in any mood for your antics.” He stood scratching his head and I knew that some clowning was coming at my expense.

  “It’s just that we don’t use that word ‘jigging’ any more, Sarge. It’s outdated. Civilians say ‘jerk-off, but we in the military say ‘whack-off. With all due respect, Sarge, I just thought you should know it’s ‘whack-off you’re doing when you do it.”

  I could see all the grins on the faces of my men, even though they were behind me, even though they were in the dark. “Thank you, Private Teul, and to show my appreciation for that bit of information, you will carry my bergen, as well as your own, to the summit of Miramar Hill.”

  “But Sarge …” began Teul.

  “Private!” I bellowed.

  “Sarge!” he roared.

  “And if you continue to be a clown, you’ll carry my bergen the rest of this tab, where ever the fok it takes us. Do I make myself fokin clear? And you, Choco. You brought him with you so you will stand the consequences of his insubordination as well. For your own sake, keep your bombali in line.”

  “Sarge!”

  “Let’s eat,” interrupted Taat, once again.

  By 0500 hours the sky had brightened and, after cleaning the camp site and burying the garbage, we were ready to leave. We found the trail easily, going generally northwestward, and resumed our tab. The mountains around West Rio Blanco Camp was about 1200 feet above sea level and Miramar Hill 2000 so we were leaving the thickest jungles with the tallest trees and moving to a height where the trees were less dense and the canopy not as high. The jungle floor shrubs were more numerous, however, but that didn’t really mean anything to us. The jungle was the jungle and we had to tab; so, we would tab. If we lost the trail in the increased undergrowth, it only meant that the macheting would be a little more difficult. The area was also a main catchment for the major rivers below, so there were many craggy streams and creeks. Furthermore, whenever we’d have to descend into valleys, it would be into the thicker lowland rainforest and, once again, we’d have to endure the extreme heat and humidity. There was nothing we could do about that.

  We were climbing the lower ranges of the Maya Mountains, had lost the trail, and had been moving generally upward for about a mile, the path taken often inclined at seventy or eighty degrees. At times, we avoided the steep slopes by walking more horizontally. I did initially feel a little guilty for having Teul carry my bergen, but I couldn’t retract my decision and I knew that he was aware of that. He was a young and tuff soldier. He would manage quite well and I soon lost any little feeling of remorse I had. Every time I looked at him, he grinned as if saying, I got this, Sarge. The foka wasn’t even sweating.

  About four hours later, we reached a rocky, somewhat wild, river, the same Rio Blanco River we had crossed before, but we didn’t have trouble fording as we were able to jump from one exposed rock to another. We had kept closely to the direction we wanted to travel and the river was the marker for us to turn east to Miramar Hill, so I called a halt and told the men to search for the old truck pass. Choc soon found it. The truck pass was still discernable and we did not have to do much machete work. We did not stay on it continuously, however, as it took wide deviations to avoid steep inclines. Most times we just kept going straight ahead.

  Even though Miramar Hill was just over two thousand feet, the climbing was difficult as it was often precipitous and we had to be careful not to twist our ankles in ruts formed by rain runoff. Generally, the southern foothills of the Maya Mountains were steep and rough with many broken rocks, caves and sinkholes. When we were on the truck pass, it was okay, but when we moved off we had to be very vigilant. We reached the summit and if it were not that our mission was urgent, I would have spent some time there. The summit was not densely overgr
own, having mainly low bushes and a few trees. There was evidence of trees having been chopped down and I supposed that was done by the loggers to have a rest spot and to enjoy the view of the coastal plain and Gulf of Honduras to the east, some twenty-five miles away.

  I asked Taat to bring the maps to the top of a rocky outgrowth I had climbed and which gave us a clear and complete view of the surrounding area. There was another truck pass from the summit going to the east and the map showed that truck pass proceeding to Jimmy Cut Camp. It was also an alternative route to San Jose Hawiia.

  Using the maps and what we saw around us, I was able to make a reasonable assessment of the area. To the northwest most of the mountains were at our level or just a little higher, about 2400 feet, until we came to the Little Quartz Ridge where the mountains went up to 2800 or above. The ridge was actually separate from the Maya Mountains with a summit running for nine miles on a southwest-northeast alignment. We were going west of the ridge, however, most of the mountains remaining at the height of those we were travelling. Some other time, I decided, I would climb Little Quartz Ridge, but, yes, that would have to be some other time. Travelling north-northwest would keep us out of the Main Divide of the Maya Mountains and at the lower elevations. I looked up into the sky, briefly.

  “Ten forty-five,” said Taat. I nodded.

  “Correct,” agreed Rhys, incredulously, looking at his watch.

  “Come around men.” When everyone was grouped, I began. “We’ll return to the trail we left as we climbed to the summit and continue northwestward to Edwards Central. We’ll have to cross Rio Blanco again as the trail continues on the west side of the river. That shouldn’t be a problem. It is about four miles to Edwards Central and will take us roughly six hours, hopefully less, so we should be there about 1700. Whether we’ll camp there or not, I will make that decision at that time. From Edwards Central, we continue north. The trail branches shortly after. We take the western trail to Union Camp and then to Burgos. From there we cross the lower Maya Mountains to Vaca Plateau. Those mountains range between two thousand and twenty-four hundred feet, not as high as the Main Divide. There are no trails or truck passes in that area until we get into the Vaca Plateau itself. The camps I mentioned were set up in the logging days and they do not exist anymore. Finding any remains of them is very important, however, as they provide important markers. Where do we go from there? I haven’t decided, but it will be generally north until we rescue Molly. I do not expect that we will return by this route, but, again, I have not decided as yet.

  “Why am I taking this route? This is the route the packs of kitams and hach-k’ek’ens, and the Kechelaj Komon are taking as they travel deeper into Sisimito’s domain, into these unknown and virgin areas of the jungle. That is where they are taking Molly.” The men shuffled uneasily. “Their tracts are well hidden, but I have been able to see them from time to time. Choc and Taat have seen them as well, so we’re headed in the correct direction. How long this mission will take? I do not know. We do need to work within a time frame, however, so I am going to use two weeks … fourteen days. I expect that we will march from sun up to sun down. Any questions so far?” There was none.

  “We left Santa Cruz hurriedly and so your specific duties were not given to you. I will correct that now. 2IC Robertson. You will be in charge of the maps. Please get them from Taat. Robertson has offered to take the position of Medic and I have agreed. He has been active in the local Red Cross and he holds Red Cross certificates. He even trains volunteers. If and when the opportunity presents itself, learn from him. Taat will help him with jungle medicines as needed. Anything, even something you usually overlook and so may want to overlook, don’t. Make him aware of it. Robertson, you will also do a log entry at the end of each day so that the mission is documented for HQ.

  “Private Rhys. You will monitor and distribute the rations and you will be at the rear of our single file.”

  “Aha!”

  “What the fok is it, Teul?

  “Well, Sarge. I think putting Rhys at the rear is a very good military decision.”

  “Teul! I have warned you,” I cautioned him. I shook my head. All the men, except Rhys, look at him expectantly and it was immediately obvious that whatever Teul was going to say he would have the men’s backing. Perhaps, that was a good thing. If it were, I could use him to further solidify the section. Yet, I had to keep him under control and that could be foking difficult. “Why is that, Teul?”

  “Well, I was told that early in his Intake, Sarge, when the drill sergeant shouted at Rhys to Fall In the rear of the column, Rhys ‘fall in’, but not into the rear of the column, but with his rear.”

  I bit down on my teeth while the men put their hands over their mouths holding back their laughter, their eyes bursting with amusement. What am I going to do with this piece of fok? “Is that all, Teul?”

  “No Sarge. Not at all. And this is what I was told. I am only repeating what I was told. Because of Rhys and this rear-thing, the whole Intake was seriously affected. They began wondering if they were in serious danger of being attacked from the rear and so every man in the Intake picked a buddy to be his rear-guard. The drill-sergeant didn’t know what to do. You can imagine the confusion: rank, file, and column mixed up. Multiple rear guards. Ahn di stoari neba don deh.139 Before …”

  “Teul,” I interrupted, quietly, but my tone advised him not to proceed. “Do you want to carry Rhys’s bergen as well?”

  “Sarge! No Sarge!” he shouted, came to attention, then to ‘at easy’.

  “I hope Rhys takes care of you later … from the rear. I’ll even give both of you leave to go into the jungle.” There were guffaws from the men.

  “Aha!” exclaimed Robertson.

  “Sarge,” Teul shouted.

  I shook my head and turned to Rhys. “You are 3IC. Yes, we have a 3IC, men. You’re responsible for the night duty roster and any duty roster we may need. Feel free to use Teul as much as you want.”

  “But, Sarge …”

  “Private Teul! No more fokin interruptions. That’s an order.”

  “Sarge!”

  “Men, the rations you carry in your bergen will not last. Also, unlike your usual patrols, they are not yours. They are for the whole section. As I said, Rhys will monitor the rations. We will have breakfast, a snack at mid-day, and supper. If it is possible to shoot something to eat, we’ll do that. Rhys. You can put Teul on half-rations, if you wish. Or no rations.”

  “Sarge!” protested Teul. I ignored him.

  “Taat. You are responsible for tracking, cooking, and camp organization.

  “Choc. You will also be responsible for tracking. You will also organize the machete detail.

  “Private Choco. You will supply us with game meat to supplement the rations. Work with Rhys on how the rations are going. We cook only at night. Take Choc with you as he has a shot gun which is better for hunting. No one goes anywhere solo. You are not to use your rifle for game

  meat, unless extremely necessary. As I said, it is better to use the shot gun for hunting rather than the rifle.

  “Private Teul. You will do reconnaissance, as necessary. Choose who you wish to go with you. Again, you are never to go alone. You will also make sure you are fully aware of what’s around us as we travel. In other words, keep your fokin eyes open, your fokin nose open, your fokin ears open, and your fokin mouth shut.”

  “Sarge!” he shouted.

  “You, Teul, will also help Taat with leaving every camp area clean. If anyone is unable to carry his bergen, you will help him.” There were short chuckles from the men.

  “Sarge!” he shouted again. I looked at him, expecting to see his grin. He knew better and withheld it.

  “We will walk in single file, in the following order. Choc, Taat, Choco, Robertson, Teul, me, Rhys. Rifles will be alternated as we usually do. We will all be very vigilant. Now, let’s eat. Rhys!”

  “On it, Sarge.”

 
Most of the trees had brush around their trunks so I leaned against my bergen. observing my men. I wondered if they really knew what they had gotten themselves into. I supposed they had chosen not to reminisce on what had happened at Santa Cruz nor think of the dangers they would face when the Kechelaj Komon and the Kechelaj Jupuq attacked, keeping their only thought to that of helping a fellow soldier to get his woman back. At times, it may have seemed that they weren’t constantly aware, but they were always cognizant of what was happening around them. Even when they engaged in some clowning, they were always alert, ready to react, ready to defend, ready to kill, if necessary.

  Choco and Teul were young men and had joined the army about three years ago, having decided that they preferred the army to the kool. They were from the same Intake and had become close friends. For a brief moment, I thought of Bas and me, but I put the thought aside as it hurt too much. The young soldiers were both from Toledo; Choco, my cousin, was Ke’kchi Maya and Teul was Mopan Maya. Our Maya Elders were worried about us losing our culture, changing our way of life. It was possible we’d be able to maintain aspects of our culture, but our way of life definitely was going to change. I was a soldier, although my way of becoming a soldier was probably different from any other soldier. I didn’t see myself going back to the kool; perhaps when I was older, retired from everything else. I always felt a little guilty thinking that way when I thought of Taat and how dedicated he was to our way of life. Yet, I couldn’t disagree with Choco and Teul. Maybe they actually were the closer ones to our ancestors, carrying the famed Maya Warrior blood in their veins. Maybe they wanted to explore the many kingdoms that surrounded them, and that was the only way they could do it.

  Choco was from Golden Stream, a village about twenty miles northeast of Santa Cruz. The village was three years old and began with about twenty-two families who had moved there from Santa Cruz and Pueblo Viejo. They chose that name because the village was located next to the beautiful, golden, crystal-clear river of that name. That river never ran dry in the dry season and there were many natural pools north of the village. I remembered taking a senorita to one of them as Tóolok wanted to play a little, but that was in a different time. I had pretty much lost track of my relatives once I had joined the army and it was not until during his Intake that Choco reminded me he was my cousin. He must have looked at his new village and, irrespective of the golden river, decided that life there was not for him.