The Shaman
First Post
Gonzalez listens to Marcel without comment and the Spaniard follows his instructions, slowly but methodically. Marcel joins him, pulling canteens and water bags off the dead fells, piling up weapons – French MAS-36s and heavy old Lebels, Masuers with German, Spanish, and Czech stamps, a couple of British Enfields and American M1s, another German MP-40 machine pistol. On a number of the fellaghas, the medic finds dressings and bandages – rolled strips of clean cloth seem to constitute the primary medical supplies for the ALN, though two standard French Army wound kits are turned up as well. It all goes into the medical kit.
Eventually they reach Martinez’s body. Lifting the body over his shoulder, Gonzalez carries the dead Moroccan back to the base of the hill and carefully lays him out on the ground. The same is done for Gustav Berg. Gonzalez removes his smock and places it over the faces of the two legionnaires.
“Marcel?” Dinter is sitting on the ground near Duval and Vidal. “Could you help me over there?”
____
Normand sees Pyotr’s wave and alerts Sgt. Duval, who motions the Russian back to the legionnaires’ position. The wounded fellagha continues to clutch at his damaged leg, but he’s no longer watching the legionnaire, his eyes closed as he lies on the ground bleeding out.
The barrel of the gun is still hot to the touch as Pyotr carefully shoulders the weapon and makes his way back to the base of the hill where the legionnaires are congregated.
Eventually they reach Martinez’s body. Lifting the body over his shoulder, Gonzalez carries the dead Moroccan back to the base of the hill and carefully lays him out on the ground. The same is done for Gustav Berg. Gonzalez removes his smock and places it over the faces of the two legionnaires.
“Marcel?” Dinter is sitting on the ground near Duval and Vidal. “Could you help me over there?”
____
Normand sees Pyotr’s wave and alerts Sgt. Duval, who motions the Russian back to the legionnaires’ position. The wounded fellagha continues to clutch at his damaged leg, but he’s no longer watching the legionnaire, his eyes closed as he lies on the ground bleeding out.
The barrel of the gun is still hot to the touch as Pyotr carefully shoulders the weapon and makes his way back to the base of the hill where the legionnaires are congregated.