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Message: <blockquote data-quote="The Shaman" data-source="post: 3011010" data-attributes="member: 26473">Syrovy fishes the cigarette case out of his pocket and holds it open for Pyotr. The case is beautifully decorated with arabesque, intricately interwoven geometric designs and what appears to be Arabic calligraphy chased into the silver. The Hungarian offers Pyotr a light.“Trinxeraire,” Ortu mutters at Normand’s expression of Legion pride. Sánchez responds by hitting the big Sardinian with a rock. “You speak Catalan like a rital,” the Spaniard growls – “a wop.” Ortu shrugs as he replaces the box magazine on the machine gun.“Sergent,” the captain interrupts, “how many of your men speak Arabic?”Kat looks around at the groupe. “Me, David, Karel, and Manolo,” the section leader replies. “And Barzini,” he adds, the newest replacement an afterthought.“Normand’s picked some up,” Nedjar adds, “and Marcel is fluent,” tilting his head toward the medic.“Mon capitaine, my accent is quite noticeable to the Algerians, I’m told” Syrovy interjects. Nedjar agrees – “Karel sounds like a Syrian. So does Kat, but not as much.”“Nedjar, you speak Kabyle?” Capt. Martini asks. The Algerian nods. “And Hebrew and Tetauni, mon capitaine,” he adds.“What about Pamuk?” Ortu asks. “He speaks Turkish, you ignorant wretch,” Sánchez replies. “Well, he’s a Muslim,” Ortu counters. The Spaniard answers by hitting him with another rock.The captain takes another sip from his canteen then spins the cap shut. “Most of the platoons have two or three Arabic speakers, and here we have one groupe with six. Plus our medic. That’s good to know.”I'm going to give Marcel and Raffaele a chance to join the discussion before we move on.</blockquote>

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