Luis Leante - See How Much I Love You

‘Guillermo,’ said the corporal, choking on his words, ‘they’re going to execute me, aren’t they? From what you say, the reason I’m still here is that they need the planes for other things, and not to fly out a…’

‘Traitor?’ said Guillermo with spontaneous malice.

‘Is that what you think too?’

‘It’s what everyone is saying. And you haven’t shown me any proof to the contrary.’

‘What for? Would you believe me?’

‘Try.’

Santiago approached the desk, crumpled the sheet of paper into a ball and threw it into the latrine. Guillermo watched his every move. Then he added:

‘They’re sending us away. No one wants a war with Morocco. Some people say they’ve secretly sold the province to Hasan and Mauritania.’

‘I don’t care about any of that. You’ll be discharged in a month, and go back home, whereas I…’

‘You’ll go back too. As soon as you explain everything, they’ll let you go.’

Corporal San Román went quiet, trying not to show the doubts that afflicted him. The din of a plane landing on the runway obliterated the silence of the barracks. Outside, a red sky blended with the line of the horizon, ablaze with mirages.

‘Look, Santi, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I need to ask you anyway, for my peace of mind.’

Corporal San Román tensed up once more. He glared at his friend; he wasn’t giving in. Guillermo looked away, but didn’t back down either.

‘At the barracks they say you’re with the traitors; that you’re a terrorist. I’m not saying I think that, but I’d like to hear it from you.’

Santiago felt he had no strength left to have an argument. He slid down, his back against the wall, until he was sitting on the floor. He covered his face with both hands. What he felt wasn’t awkwardness so much as shame.

‘I swear to you, Guillermo, that I didn’t know a thing. I swear it on my mother’s grave.’

‘And I believe you, Santi, I do. But from the moment they arrested you they haven’t let me speak to you. I’m fed up with working myself into the ground for you.’

‘Then don’t; it’s not worth it. They’re going to execute me anyway.’

‘Enough of that nonsense: no one’s going to execute you. As soon as you explain, they’ll discharge you; if the worst comes to the worst, they’ll open a file on you, but that’ll be all.’

‘They’ll want to know everything, names and so on…’

‘But you’re telling me you didn’t know a thing, so there’s nothing to be afraid of.’

‘I swear, I didn’t know. I thought that the bag only had dirty clothes in it.’

Guillermo stared at his friend accusingly. Even in the dim light, Corporal San Román could guess, just by looking at him, what was going through Guillermo’s mind.

‘Santi, those ‘dirty clothes’, as you call them, weighed more than fifteen kilos.’

‘So what? Do you think I don’t know? I thought there might be an old carburettor, or a connecting rod in there. I knew that kind of thing isn’t really allowed, but people do it. You do it, everyone does it. Carburettors, boots, all kinds of junk.’

‘Yes, Santi, but that junk was grenades, detonators and who knows what else. At the barracks they say someone could have blown up the Parador Nacional5 with all that.’

‘But I wasn’t planning to blow anything up. I was only doing someone a favour, the same as all the other times; only a favour.’

‘Who, that girl? Were you doing that girl a favour?’

Corporal San Román sprang to his feet. He clenched his fists and stood still in front of Guillermo. His jaw was clamped shut and his teeth could almost be heard grinding together.

‘That’s none of your business. Don’t interfere in my affairs, okay? I’ve told you before. I’m old enough to do as I damn well please and to see whoever I choose.’

Guillermo stood up, visibly hurt, and walked to the window. The whole thing made him miserable. He turned his back on Santiago to look at the first stars in the sky. Outside the air was fresh and pure. The beauty of the landscape contrasted sharply with his distress. He breathed deeply and felt relieved, though only for a moment.

‘Look, Santi, I’ve made a huge effort to come and see you. You can’t imagine how difficult it is. We’re confined to the barracks while we’re waiting for news. It was just lucky that I found out you wouldn’t be transferred for another two weeks; that’s why I’ve come over.’

Again they fell silent. It seemed as though Guillermo lacked the strength to go on talking. If he hadn’t known his friend so well, he would have said Santiago was crying. But Santiago San Román had never, ever cried, least of all in front of someone else. Guillermo felt thoroughly confused when he saw Santiago pick himself up in the shadows, walk over and hug him like a helpless child. He froze, not knowing what to say, until he felt Santiago’s tears against his face and could do nothing but reciprocate the gesture, holding his friend in his arms to console him as though he were a small child. He was even more startled to hear his friend’s revelation, in a voice choked with emotion:

‘I’m scared, Guillermo, I swear. I never thought I would say anything like this, but it’s the truth.’

Guillermo tried to remain emotionally detached. In the encroaching darkness he even considered the idea that it wasn’t really Corporal San Román who’d blurted out that confession. They sat on the mattress while Santiago tried to calm down.

‘I need you to do me a big favour, Guillermo. No one else can help me.’

The legionnaire braced himself, apprehensive of what might come next. He didn’t dare to reply.

‘I need you to help me get out of here. You’ve got to help me, Guillermo. It may be a long time until they take me to Canarias. If the Generalísimo is dead, things are going to get sticky.’

‘Things have been sticky for a while.’

‘Exactly. No one will give a damn if some shitty corporal breaks out from a shitty barrack. It’s very simple, Guillermo. You won’t get more than a month in jail. And that way you won’t have to fight against those Moroccans.’

‘You have no right to ask me that.’

‘I know, but if you asked me I wouldn’t hesitate for a second. It’s very easy, my friend, and I’m the only one in danger — if they catch me.’

‘You’re crazy, San Román,’ addressing him by his surname in an attempt to keep his distance and not get drawn into the situation. ‘If they catch you they will execute you.’

‘I’m at the end of my tether here. What I’m asking is that you sweet-talk the quartermaster into sending you on guard duty here. In the afternoon they take me for a walk to the end of the runway, where the planes turn around. I only need you to give me a two hundred yard start before you start shooting. With two hundred yards I can make it to the depot over there and get a Land Rover. After that it’s up to me.’

‘You’re crazy: they’ll catch you before you can jump-start it.’

‘They won’t. I’ll take one of Territorial Police’s vehicles. The Saharawis always leave the keys under the passenger’s seat. It’s a habit of theirs, I know it for a fact. You needn’t worry; just give me two hundred metres before you start shooting. I’d do it on my own, but it’s too risky. I might get one of those expert hunters from La Marcha, and they’d take me out clean.’

Guillermo didn’t reply. His palms were sweating just from thinking about it. The lights from the hangar slanted in through the window. He stood up and started pacing up and down the six metres of the guardroom. Now, there were no planes taking off.

‘Forget it,’ Corporal San Román said eventually. ‘It’s stupid. If they’re going to take me to a military court, the less they have against me the better. Besides, I don’t want to deprive you of the pleasure of shooting Moroccans. I haven’t eaten all day, you know? A man talks all kinds of nonsense on an empty stomach.’