The Human Body Read Online Free PDF Page B

fantasy. The last to leave was Colonel Caracciolo, whose words, as he climbed into the helicopter and looked over the barren landscape, said it all: “Another shitty place I won’t miss.” Colonel Ballesio’s confident, well-rested division took over the place and it will be a good number of days before the base is operating normally. Just in time for the new rotation.
    Seated at his desk, Egitto is dozing—undoubtedly the work he’s been best at for some time—when a soldier sticks his head into the infirmary.
    â€œDoctor?”
    Egitto jumps. “What is it?”
    â€œThe colonel informs you that the relief medic will arrive tomorrow. A helicopter will take you back to Herat.”
    The young man is still half in and half out, his face indistinct in the shadows.
    â€œHas Sergeant Anselmo recovered?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œSergeant Anselmo. He’s the one assigned to replace me.”
    As far as he’d been told, the sergeant had the flu with respiratory complications; until a few days ago he’d been in the field hospital in Herat with his nose and mouth squeezed into a soft oxygen mask.
    The soldier raises his hands, intimidated. “I don’t know, sir. They just told me to inform you that the relief medic will be here and that the helicopter—”
    â€œWill take me to Herat. Right, I got it.”
    â€œExactly, sir. The day after tomorrow.”
    â€œThank you.”
    The soldier lingers in the doorway.
    â€œAnything else?”
    â€œCongratulations, Lieutenant.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œYou’re going home.”
    He disappears; the tent’s flap swings back and forth a few seconds, alternately exposing and obscuring the harsh light outside. Egitto leans his forehead on his folded arms and tries to go back to sleep. Before the week is over, if all goes as it should, he’ll be in Torino. Thinking about it, he experiences a sudden sense of suffocation.
    His nap ruined, he decides to get up and go out. He walks along the east fence and across the fortified area of the corps of engineers, where the tents are placed so close together you have to hunch your shoulders to get through them. He climbs a ladder leaning against the fortification. The man stationed on guard duty salutes, then steps aside to make room for him.
    â€œAre you the doc?”
    â€œYep, that’s me.”
    Egitto puts a hand to his forehead to shade his eyes from the light.
    â€œWant my binoculars?”
    â€œNo, that’s okay.”
    â€œNo, here—take my binoculars. You can see better.” The soldier slips the glasses off his neck. He’s very young and eager to be of service. “They have a manual focus. You have to turn the little wheel. Here, I’ll do it.”
    Egitto lets him focus them; then he slowly explores the flat, open expanse that lies exposed to the early afternoon sun. In the distance the light creates mirages of small shimmering pools. The mountain is scorching hot and seems determined to display its innocence at all costs: hard to believe that it harbors a myriad of caves and ravines from which the enemy constantly watches the FOB, even at this very moment. But Egitto knows it too well to let himself be fooled or to forget.
    He aims the binoculars in the direction of the Afghan truck drivers’ encampment. He spots them sitting in the shade of the tarpaulins they’ve carelessly hung between the vehicles, crouched with their backs against the wheels, knees to their chests. They’re capable of staying in that position for hours, sipping hot tea. They transported matériel from Herat to the FOB and now they don’t dare head back for fear of reprisals. They’re confined to that one area they consider safe: they can’t leave but they can’t stay there forever either. As far as the lieutenant knows, they’ve never washed. They survive on a few jerry cans of water a day, enough to quench