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Authors: Paolo Giordano
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Afghans. The soldiers chosen for the mission show up at the FOB three hours later, triumphantly greeted by whistles and applause, with a cow stretched out on its side tied to the roof.
The animal is butchered on a nylon tarp spread out on the ground behind the dormitories of the 131st, hung out overnight at ambient temperature, and roasted for lunch. Due to adverse winds, the smoke from the grill fills the mess hall, but instead of bothering the soldiers, the stench of burning meat fuels their excitement and their appetite. They shout that they want the meat cooked rare and the cooks are happy to oblige. The thick steaks come to the table nice and pink inside: planting a fork in them releases trickles of pale blood that pools on the bottom of the plastic dishes. The meat is tough and not too flavorful, but still more appetizing than the thawed turkey, which is now rotting in the garbage bins. The guys eat until theyâre bursting. A spontaneous ovation erupts for Colonel Ballesio, who stands on the bench, raises his glass, and recites a phrase that, given what happens later on, is destined to become famous in its way: âI tell you with a colonelâs certainty that this is the best meal youâll find anywhere in all of shitty Afghanistan.â
After lunch, the guys of the Third return to their tents to rest. Torsu and a few others head for the Wreck. Theyâve done their best to make it habitable: there are now folding tables with Ethernet cables hanging overhead, along with sticky rolls of flypaper full of dead sand flies. Michelozzi, who knows something about woodworking because of his fatherâs trade, has built a bar counter by nailing together the boards of some walkways. Itâs all it takes for the Wreck to attract people from the other tents, especially at night, even though there are almost never enough drinks to restock it.
Like most of his companions, First Corporal Major Angelo Torsu also keeps hard-copy pornographic material in the double bottom of his backpack, but he hasnât yet used it: since heâs been spending time with his virtual girlfriend he has something better available. Itâs because of her that heâs subscribed to a satellite connection that costs him a small fortune and attracts the envy of his fellow soldiers. But man, itâs worth it, since it means he can talk to her whenever he feels like it.
He sits down in a corner of the room and inserts the modem key. He waits for the signal light next to the name of Tersicore89 in his list of contacts to go from red to green.
THOR_SARDEGNA: r u there?
TERSICORE89: ciao my love
Thatâs one of the fantastic things about his new girlfriend: she greets him in certain ways that make the skin on the back of his neck tingle.
THOR_SARDEGNA: what were you doing?
TERSICORE89: iâm in bed . . .
THOR_SARDEGNA: but itâs at least ten thirty in the morning there!
TERSICORE89: itâs saturday! and i was out late last night
A twinge of jealousy clenches Torsuâs belly. He literally feels something shift inside.
THOR_SARDEGNA : who were you out with?
TERSICORE89: none of your business
He feels like closing the laptop screen, slamming it down. He doesnât like playing games. âBitch,â he writes.
TERSICORE89: movie with a girlfriend + a glass of wine. satisfied?
THOR_SARDEGNA : who cares
TERSICORE89: come on, stop it. howâs your mission going, soldier? i miss you like crazy. i looked up the place youâre at on google earth and printed the map. i hung it over the bed
With Tersicore89, Torsu has discovered that pure imagination has some indisputable advantages. First: when done at the computer, sex lasts as long as he wants, provided he restrains his hands as needed. Delaying ejaculation enables him to reach unprecedented and almost painful levels of arousalâoften he feels like heâs about to explode. Second: heâs able to picture a woman who is exceedingly
The animal is butchered on a nylon tarp spread out on the ground behind the dormitories of the 131st, hung out overnight at ambient temperature, and roasted for lunch. Due to adverse winds, the smoke from the grill fills the mess hall, but instead of bothering the soldiers, the stench of burning meat fuels their excitement and their appetite. They shout that they want the meat cooked rare and the cooks are happy to oblige. The thick steaks come to the table nice and pink inside: planting a fork in them releases trickles of pale blood that pools on the bottom of the plastic dishes. The meat is tough and not too flavorful, but still more appetizing than the thawed turkey, which is now rotting in the garbage bins. The guys eat until theyâre bursting. A spontaneous ovation erupts for Colonel Ballesio, who stands on the bench, raises his glass, and recites a phrase that, given what happens later on, is destined to become famous in its way: âI tell you with a colonelâs certainty that this is the best meal youâll find anywhere in all of shitty Afghanistan.â
After lunch, the guys of the Third return to their tents to rest. Torsu and a few others head for the Wreck. Theyâve done their best to make it habitable: there are now folding tables with Ethernet cables hanging overhead, along with sticky rolls of flypaper full of dead sand flies. Michelozzi, who knows something about woodworking because of his fatherâs trade, has built a bar counter by nailing together the boards of some walkways. Itâs all it takes for the Wreck to attract people from the other tents, especially at night, even though there are almost never enough drinks to restock it.
Like most of his companions, First Corporal Major Angelo Torsu also keeps hard-copy pornographic material in the double bottom of his backpack, but he hasnât yet used it: since heâs been spending time with his virtual girlfriend he has something better available. Itâs because of her that heâs subscribed to a satellite connection that costs him a small fortune and attracts the envy of his fellow soldiers. But man, itâs worth it, since it means he can talk to her whenever he feels like it.
He sits down in a corner of the room and inserts the modem key. He waits for the signal light next to the name of Tersicore89 in his list of contacts to go from red to green.
THOR_SARDEGNA: r u there?
TERSICORE89: ciao my love
Thatâs one of the fantastic things about his new girlfriend: she greets him in certain ways that make the skin on the back of his neck tingle.
THOR_SARDEGNA: what were you doing?
TERSICORE89: iâm in bed . . .
THOR_SARDEGNA: but itâs at least ten thirty in the morning there!
TERSICORE89: itâs saturday! and i was out late last night
A twinge of jealousy clenches Torsuâs belly. He literally feels something shift inside.
THOR_SARDEGNA : who were you out with?
TERSICORE89: none of your business
He feels like closing the laptop screen, slamming it down. He doesnât like playing games. âBitch,â he writes.
TERSICORE89: movie with a girlfriend + a glass of wine. satisfied?
THOR_SARDEGNA : who cares
TERSICORE89: come on, stop it. howâs your mission going, soldier? i miss you like crazy. i looked up the place youâre at on google earth and printed the map. i hung it over the bed
With Tersicore89, Torsu has discovered that pure imagination has some indisputable advantages. First: when done at the computer, sex lasts as long as he wants, provided he restrains his hands as needed. Delaying ejaculation enables him to reach unprecedented and almost painful levels of arousalâoften he feels like heâs about to explode. Second: heâs able to picture a woman who is exceedingly
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