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Message: <blockquote data-quote="The Shaman" data-source="post: 2970886" data-attributes="member: 26473">The Arab man, roughly jerked to his feet and pushed toward the paras’ line by the big grenadier, glances back fearfully at Normand, then at his son still kneeling on the ground. Another hard shove and he stumbles, forcing his attention to the sandy, rocky streambed and the waiting muzzles of the legionnaires’ weapons.Sgt. Müller rises from a crouch as Normand approaches with the prisoner. “I’ll take him, Mador. Get back up there with Kat,” he orders. The German sergent reaches out and grabs the man by the scruff of the neck as he calls for two of Sgt. Szabo’s men to bring a length of parachute cord.Away up the oued, Nedjar glances up as Pyotr describes the vulture, then down at the tracks in the dirt. “The Arabs had an extra bridle – maybe one of their donkeys got away or died.” He looks about. “Kat wants us back with the rest of the section,” he continues, scratching his beard thoughtfully as he looks up at the dry hills.Capitaine Martini looks at Normand, then at Marcel. “A few more candy bars and we’ll need to drop Mador with a cargo ’chute,” he offers with a slight smile that makes his pencil mustache rise at the ends. Once Sgt. Müller takes charge of the father, the Italian turns to the boy, taking a knee beside him.<Arabic>“Put your hands down, son,”</Arabic> Capt. Martini says kindly but firmly. Marcel notices immediately that the captain’s Arabic is clean, his accent clear. The boy’s hands droop tentatively, then hang loosely at his sides as he stares at the ground.<Arabic>“Son, I must ask you some questions, and I require your honest answers,”</Arabic> Capt. Martini continues calmly. <Arabic>“If you are truthful with me, I promise that no harm will come to you or your father. Do you undersand?”</Arabic>The boy says nothing, continuing to stare at the ground. The captain lets the question hang in the air for what seems like several minutes, sitting as still and quiet as a statue. Normand slips up behind the other legionnaires who form a silent backdrop to the interrogation.<Arabic>“I will not expect you to betray your father’s trust,”</Arabic> the captain says patiently. The Arab boy glances up at Capt. Martini – Marcel and Normand can see anger and fear and confusion in the boy’s eyes. Meeting the captain’s gaze, the young man gives a small nod.The Italian asks the boy his name, and his douar – Hamid, from Sifez, come the low, sullen replies. <Arabic>“How did you hurt your arm, Hamid?”</Arabic> the captain asks. I fell, the boy replies, offering no details. <Arabic>“You fell in the dark?”</Arabic> Capt. Martini continues. The boy says nothing, shifting his weight slightly as he kneels on the streambed.<Arabic>“It is a half-day’s walk from Sifez to the marabout of Abd-el-Hamou, Hamid?”</Arabic> The boy’s head twitches, and he shifts his weight again, resolutely staring at the ground. Capitaine Martini reaches out and pats him on the knee, then rises.Pyotr, Nedjar, and Pamuk return as the boy is guided away to the rear – another legionnaire from the headquarter’s platoon, a wiry, red-faced sergent named Morelli, leads away the two mules as the officers gather and confer. Second Platoon takes over the lead and Third Platoon rotates to the rear of the column. The legionnaires wait to fall in line as the company moves out.</blockquote>

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