General from the Jungle

by B. TRAVEN

  13

  General’s military training had been limited to the practical knowledge that can be dinned into any ordinary soldier in the army by means of a great many kicks, knocks, and bawlings-out in the course of a year. The arcane mysteries of higher strategy remained closed to him, for he had had no prospect of rising higher in the army than, at best, to the rank of sergeant, and as sergeant he would have had no responsibilities other than to see that the men in his platoon were dragged out of their bunks at the appointed time and lined up at the appointed place.

  The general, on the contrary, being the son of an old and respected family of half-Spanish, half-French ancestry, had attended the military academy with success, and there he had learned everything that army commanders from the Babylonians to Wellington had done, said, taught, planned, and recommended. Through this training he was gradually set apart from the common race of men and had climbed a fair number of steps nearer to the gods. This transformation from a mere mortal to one of the highest representatives of God on earth began on the first day of his entry to the military academy and proceeded precisely toward its apotheosis, according to long-established rules.

  The first of these rules was that he had to use a new and totally different manner of speaking, and the inflections of his speech had to be so altered that, as soon as he had merely unlatched his jaw, every common man would immediately recognize that he was the incarnation of his country’s honor and had been singled out by God to add one or more chapters to the triumphant and glorious history of the army.

  The preparation for such a sublime task naturally necessitated exertion, sacrifice, patience, and hard work.

  During the first few weeks after their entry into the military academy, the cadets who aspired someday to become generals had to parade at midnight, in the rooms of the older cadets, clad only in a nightshirt and carrying a lighted candle in one hand and, by displaying the object in question, to demonstrate how far they had progressed in the science of polishing an army boot.

  At lunch, when a glorious haunch of luscious roast meat was brought in and the anticipation of devouring it made their mouths water, a senior cadet would order them, in turn, to define what sand is.

  To an embryo general, sand is not what a mere civilian believes sand to be. Under a dictatorship things are not made so simple for a future army leader.

  To a dutiful, patriotic, keen, studious, aspiring, lousy cadet in his first year, sand is something entirely different. He must learn to appreciate, even in his tender youth, that to a cadet sand is a substance composed of varying quantities of minute geological formations, partly granular and partly crystalline in structure, but also in some cases manifesting itself in all possible and conceivable known and unknown geometrical shapes, originating, to deduce from its visibly apparent characteristics, in the erosion or continuous influence of atmospheric conditions upon the rocklike constituents of the terrestrial surface, consisting of loosely associated masses that, when spread out on a parade ground and suitably leveled, serves the unique but vital purpose of providing a surface on which a group of green, undeveloped, semi-equipped, badly polished, half-witted cadets always arrive late, fall in raggedly, practice marching, and, in a manner contrary to all regulations and always in the wrong direction, do section drill and at the same time learn to carry out some further manifestations of physical-motor reflexes with the ultimate object of finally beginning to realize that the legs of a lousy cadet are not to be used for the purpose of wiping his own nose or that of a cadet of a senior year, who always and at all times is to be regarded as his superior, but for pressing the knees firmly back, pulling in the stomach, pushing out the chest, and at the same time not standing there like a pregnant cow, and keeping the hands aligned with the outer—not the inner, for that might cause difficulties—seams of the trousers, and in observing traditional and customary forms, such as the last joint of the little finger must barely touch the military material of which the trousers are tailored, while the palm of the hand arches outward so that, seen from the front, a half-grown mouse of the common sort, muridae in scientific language, can be concealed inside, and the outstretched forefinger must be in light contact with the aforementioned and more fully described material without, however, directly touching it, while at the same time care must be taken by means of delicate intuition to ensure that both elbows are slightly crooked without appearing affected, and held not nearer, and also not farther, from the belt than permits the gentle passage between elbow and belt of the flat of the hand of an otherwise normally grown cadet officer, without necessitating any particular muscular and mental effort—that is, in correct and regulation military language: sand.

  To have to repeat this every single day except Sunday, while a most appetizing plate of food is lying in front of one, was a little joke inflicted by the older cadets upon the neophytes until the young generals-to-be could rattle off the whole sentence without a mistake and without hesitation at such speed that it was finished before the mess waiters cleared away the appetizing plateful to make room for the ensuing dessert.

  In the course of time, the general himself became a senior cadet and now practiced on the newcomers exactly what had been inflicted upon him, the mental powers of these future army chiefs not sufficing to invent anything new in this field or to appreciate how idiotically they were shaping their own lives.

  War against the hereditary enemy did not come, because the hereditary enemy knew how to get more out of the country by peaceful trading than he had ever been able to by war. In actual fact, no such thing as a hereditary enemy existed. The expression was only used now and again in order to prevent the taxpayers’ interest in the necessity for a strong defense program from waning. It was the hereditary enemy from whom all the heavy ordnance, machine guns, revolvers, bayonets, military equipment had to be bought, because at home the munitions industry was not sufficiently developed to be able itself to produce these desirable weapons and armaments.

  As captain, major, and colonel, he had at times had opportunities of testing the effectiveness and brilliance of the strategies of Hannibal, Alexander, Attila, and Napoleon against striking textile workers, refractory miners, and rebellious Indian peasants. It was proved, in all these campaigns, that the fundamentals of strategy and tactics as applied successfully by Hannibal and Napoleon were still wholly valid and that there was no reason to bother one’s head with new theories.

  The general would have considered it demeaning to have used against the rebel leader the same or similar tactics as he had employed in maneuvers against generals of his own caliber—soldiers by profession, as he called them. Against rebels he proceeded not as a general but as the head of a police detachment sent out to capture escaped criminals.

  The first thing that he planned to do, as soon as he had the rebels encircled, was to demand the unconditional surrender of their leaders and the handing over of all weapons within half an hour. As soon as that had happened, he would have the leaders hanged. From the remaining rebel swine, he would then pick out every fifth man and have him hanged, too. The rest of the mutineers, men, women, and brats, he would sell to coffee plantations, monterías, and fincas to defray the costs of this punitive expedition.

  An officer who has any consideration for his honor will never use against rebels any of the military measures in which he has been instructed and which can be effective only against organized military troops. The general would have felt himself unspeakably ridiculous had he regarded the rebel leader, even for a quarter of an hour, as a serious military opponent to be dealt with as a soldier. Rebels are not fought; rebels are simply hunted like hares, and the attack has to be organized like a sporting drive.

  General, on the contrary, possessing no honor, knowing none of Napoleon’s maxims, never thought for one minute of anything like a hunt. He took the general seriously enough. He took everything seriously: everything that, in his opinion, the general must have learned and everything that he must have discovered from experience du
ring a long military career. Above all, he took the soldiers seriously, for he knew that they could shoot better and more accurately than the muchachos, that they were better drilled, better organized, and carried out more quickly and more skillfully the orders they were given.

  And so, because he was never certain of a victory, because he was also not sure of winning the impending fight, he neglected none of those precautions he thought might help secure him the victory.

  When they were about eight miles away from the rebel camp, the general ordered his soldiers to halt and make camp for the night.

  He had decided not to attack immediately, as had been his original intention, but to wait until the next morning in order to carry out the hunt with greater thoroughness. The approach of night would have enabled too many of the quarry to escape into the bush or the mountains. But by postponing the attack until the morning, and with his troops well rested, he would have the whole day before him, and his sharpshooters would see to it that not a single one of these rebel hounds got away.

  After a handsome tent had been set up for him and he had had a long discussion with the cook as to what he should have for supper and what he fancied for breakfast, he left it to the junior officers to see to the rest. That was what they were there for, the young sprigs, to relieve him from such subordinate work. He had the battle to fight: that’s what a general was for. And because it was only a matter of hunting down filthy rebels and not of an organized, regular battle, he felt it his duty not to deprive the younger officers of the opportunity of displaying their abilities and of putting into practice for once all that they had learned at the military academy.

  These officers, convinced of the importance of their task and fully conscious that, even though fighting against their compatriots, they were nevertheless serving the fatherland, went briskly to work.

  They sent out three scouts to report on the rebels’ position. After they had done that, they again assembled the soldiers, who were already cooking their supper, and made them parade for rifle inspection. This was done ostensibly for the sake of military preparedness. In fact, it was done so that the general should get the impression that his officers were actually doing something that mattered. It looked important. Whenever an officer, high or low, does not know what to do next, he parades his men for an inspection. There is always something to inspect, and there is no need to think of anything new. Even when, on occasion, an intelligent man becomes an officer and would probably be quite capable of devising genuinely new methods, he takes good care not to employ them or even to mention them to other officers. In order not to appear ridiculous or otherwise attract attention, which would be unfavorable for their career, they strive not to exceed the mean level of intelligence of their comrades. For that would be both tactless and unsporting. Throughout the entire military world, wherever it be, every hiatus, of whatever sort, can always be successfully filled by inspections and marching. In no other profession can mistakes, deficiencies, and negligence, and particularly lack of intelligence, be concealed so easily and by such simple means. The usefulness, not only of a good soldier, but, above all, of an officer, even of a general, is everywhere measured and judged according to how little he is capable of independent thought and how little he makes use of his own brain. Muddled thinking becomes a virtue under a dictatorship, but in a democracy it is simply regarded as laziness.

  When the three scouts returned and came in to report, all the officers were sitting at dinner. The general, chewing with a full mouth and waving his knife, said, “Dismissed! You can tell me all that tomorrow when I’ve arranged for the trampling of those swine.”

  But this time he took one precaution. He summoned the duty officer and ordered him not to neglect the sentries; for these rogues and criminals might attempt to snatch another fifty rifles, and under the circumstances these could not be spared.

  General, too, sent out scouts. He, however, listened attentively to what they had to report—so attentively and closely that he entirely forgot his supper. Celso then said, “What’s your opinion, General? Couldn’t we take the rest of their rifles, now that they’re so near us?”

  “We could indeed.” General nodded. “And their general is certainly expecting it. And just because he does expect that of us, we won’t do it. That’s one reason. The other reason is that the soldiers couldn’t then attack us. We need a healthy fight. To encourage the muchachos and for practice.”

  Then he had all his captains summoned, discussed the plan with them that he had thought out, and then gave his orders.

  The general had determined to be back at his main camp late on the evening of the following day. That he would return victorious he never doubted for a moment, particularly since it was not a question of a victory but of a hunt. One doesn’t speak of a victory at a shoot, only of the size of the bag.

  And because the general wished to be in his base camp that evening, where he at least had a proper roof over his head and there was a bedstead instead of this miserably narrow camp bed whose side supports made bruises and holes in his fat body, he broke camp at an early hour, and by sunrise his troops were before the camp of the muchachos.

  Together with his adjutant and his bugler he took up position on a small hill, while his soldiers, creeping through the underbrush and tall grass, skillfully encircled the enemy camp in such a manner that not a cat could have escaped.

  Everything went as arranged. “Now, you can see what fools these miserable swine are, Lieutenant,” he said to his adjutant. “They’ve neither posted sentries nor taken any other precautions. And the War Ministry expects me to take such rabble seriously. It’s enough to make one laugh. Look, Lieutenant, you can see with your own eyes that the whole collection of bandits are intent only on guzzling. Another ten minutes, and we’ll see them hop. They haven’t even manned the machine gun they stole from us. One could snatch it from them with a lasso if one took the trouble.”

  The general’s remarks were quite true. The muchachos were squatting around their fires. They were so engrossed in their cooking that they crouched there, bent over, and scarcely looked up. Now and again, and here and there, one would walk from one group to another to fetch something or to see what the others were doing. They all seemed to have their eyes still glued shut, so sleepy was the camp.

  “How many men do you think there are, Lieutenant?” asked the general.

  “Maybe a hundred, sir, or even a hundred and twenty or thirty. It’s difficult to say.”

  “There might also be nearly two hundred?”

  “Quite possible, sir. There are hollows in the ground, tall grass, bushes, hillocks, so that one can’t see the the whole area. Dozens of them are certainly still asleep; I can see a lot of them lying around, still rolled up in their blankets and rags.”

  “I can see them, too, Lieutenant. I only want to make sure I’ve got the whole gang collected here, and that I won’t have to make another expedition against them. This eternal scrambling about in the back of beyond and getting uneatable food in dirty ranchos does no good to my poor old bones. I don’t mind confessing it. I could retire, but I need the money. I have too many expenses. And if I retire, what am I then? Nothing. A civilian, like any peddler going to the market in Balun Canan.”

  The general looked at his pocket watch. Then he took up his field glasses and studied the terrain. “There come the first signals from Lieutenant Manero. He’s in position and ready. And over there’s a flash from Sergeant Junco’s mirror. He’s taken up position, too. In five minutes the hunt starts.”

  The general lit a cigarette. He squatted on the ground. He had left his horse in the rear, at the foot of the hill, to avoid its being hit by any stray bullets. The hill was high enough for the general, even while squatting, to be able to survey the whole area.

  “How stupidly those scoundrels are behaving,” he said with a grin to his adjutant. “You can see that they haven’t thought for a moment of putting a machine gun here, or even a lookout post. It would have been bad
for us, and cost unnecessary casualties, if those bandits had thought of this hill.”

  He saw that several hundred yards to the right and left of the hill his troops were also taking up position. He had made them follow a detour, because here the ground was high and their approach could easily have been seen by the rebels. When he now received the signal that these troops, too, were ready and the circle thus fully closed, he drew his revolver and fired three shots into the air. These three shots were a signal to the troops for a general attack to begin. Simultaneously he ordered his bugler to sound the advance.

  Scarcely had the shot and the bugler’s notes rung out than a machine gun immediately began to pump bullets into the camp.

  The assault had begun, and it was clear that there had been not a single mistake in the excellently organized disposition of the troops.

  But now something extraordinary occurred—something that the general, in his long and glorious career as a soldier, had never seen before. It was something that not only provoked the general’s amazement but also caused the first sign of confusion among his officers and men. In the beginning, this confusion was only manifested by a slight hesitation in the advance.

  The general, holding his binoculars to his eyes, had expected, like all the other officers, that at the first burst from the machine gun the camp of the muchachos would spring to life as if struck by lightning. But the camp, as a whole, remained quiet. A few muchachos seemed to lean toward one another, and a few others, also obviously hit by bullets, fell over and lay motionless. Here and there one or two muchachos ran about doubled up, as if to rouse those who seemed to be asleep. Apart from these few flitting figures, not a movement was to be seen.

  While the machine gun continued to chatter away, raking the camp in order to soften it up for the main attack, the soldiers with fixed bayonets, crouching low, slowly advanced on the camp from all sides, gradually tightening the ring.