Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
A DETACHMENT OF GUATEMALAN SOLDIERS
Here the author halted for one night.
Iwassittingwiththeofficers,whoweredrinking aguardiente ,smokingandspitting,when
suddenly some shots were heard. The few lights that were flickering in the village went out as
if by magic, and the soldiers made a wild scramble for their rifles. Nobody was keen on go-
ing out into the darkness, where they might at any moment fall into a mud-hole or something
worse, so they only moved out when they had been given orders to do so. After a while the
last soldier came back, but without prisoners, and at once began to tell a story that ought to
have qualified him for a generalship on the spot. Everybody listened to his vivid description
oftheperils andheroic minutes hehadlived. Itwaseasytoseethat everylistener admired the
fellow'svividimaginationandcolourfulwayofexpressinghimself,andIamcertainthateven
the would-be hero did not expect anybody to believe him. At the same time he was aware that
his story entertained and pleased, so he continued the narrative, expressing himself in the best
fancy language he could think of.
In this village an old vendetta existed, and the coronel told me that nobody had ever given
a murderer away, although even children had been killed in the street in broad daylight.
It was midnight before the first thought of sleeping was entertained. Officers and men
merely curled up on the dirty floor, some inside, where I was, others outside in the corridor.
Theofficershadblanketstocoverthemselveswith,butthemensimplysleptintheiruniforms.
 
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