C'EST LA GUERRE. (5)

Obviously most psychiatrists also have switched sides. I think about it when I see all these young Hare Krishna, jumping madly .. would be easy to apply a treatment that will remove them of their trend to magical dimension and to deal with real life, ie, to the politicization of everything, by all religions.

I'm about to go crazy by their continuous dancing and the damn syllable "om" which they pronounce characteristically in unison. The damp vaults of the prison, become a sort of gigantic loudspeaker very suitable for these resonances. The Martians must have had intracranial pressure similar to mine, just before of their brains explode.. (Mars Attacks!) That the jailers dance and sing, it's really maddening for the prisoners. I try intensely to concentrate on the first Latin declension ... Nominative, rosa. Vocative, rosa. Accusative, rosam. Genitive ... But it´s impossible.. I can not avoid to sound the flow of those who have seen the light. Besides the Latin class leads me to think of the terrifying teacher ...

Crazy by chants, desperate to not return to hear them, I abandoned my unhealthy cell because I had managed to hypnotize almost to the jailer who brought me dinner: I told him about the wonders of God through the shaved skull and that I would be barber for a lifetime. So of pure joy he came out without closing. Then I start to shout them (Hare Krisna):

 — I am light, I am light ... follow me ....! —

This absurd lack of modesty on my part it is not such. Simply, this is an attempt to escape from prison and again come back home, thanks to  hallucinatory tactics quite sure with these people. I follow shouting:

— I am light, follow me ...!  brothers and sons, follow the light!  — Those who could identify me as prisoner, knew that I was an applied student of latin, full of fervor and ideas of God. So they joined the much more logical (to them) and natural miracle given the environment and my already many fans with that of the light.

Some of them changed from "om" to "mmm" and most, very excited, followed me. Moreover, to dance and to run at the same time is a way to get around fast enough. We began to flee.. going out into the blackness of the night. I sighed deeply the pure and fresh air of the night and more still its silence and stillness..

I stumbled several times (I am light) and most of my followers too. The enemy that was on our backs starts a rapid fire of mortar to prevent the escape (and desertion). Shortly afterwards, also from our positions, ie, the enemy that we had in front starts a large fire to no man's land where we are. There are deaths and injuries and I keep screaming that I am the light and I've seen the way and our goal. Refugees in craters, a little later we made a banner with their saffron robes and some canes that we find there. We use the blood of a wounded man to "edit" the message in the banner. In the rush, the message is very simple but safe for my soldiers who defend the position: Real Democracy.¡

That is just the motto of our Army.

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After an interminable time under two fires, I organized a sort of procession as a last resort to reach my own lines. We left quickly the craters and we form a group. I place the banner bearers on the head group and I set my-self under it gesticulating, trying to draw the most attention shouting towards the lines:

— Ceasefire¡, ceasefire¡... —

Were a moments of great tension and danger. Even I could call by their names to defenders that I recognize in the positions. Indeed the soldier who shoots us furiously with a heavy machine gun, owes me some money. Finally we had to do something like the Olympic triple jump, in the last meters of our procession, let us fall into the trenches which are friendly, home, but almost killed us. Mysteriously, the enemy behind our backs has stopped his fire too. Probably because the noise, undermines attention to the shows. All defender soldiers greet us and hug us crying of joy:

— Real Democracy¡ real Democracy¡... ...Non religious...! — All full of enthusiasm and joy.

I felt very good to see that I had returned to mine without any noteworthy mishap. And I mentally took note that the more difficult war situation is being under two fires: the friend and the enemy.

I ordered shortly after that wounded ones might be evacuated to the rear and unharmed are taken to the emergency psychiatric service of our Army, for their healing and possible subsequent incorporation into our depleted ranks. It was quite difficult to separate the Hare-Krishna from me, because they wanted to see the light like I had promised them. I say them that they will see more lights than in Christmas time, each on its own, if they are receptive to it. An excellent argument for them, really. But I didn´t convince them and there was no choice, but to appoint an escort that evacuated them at gunpoint.

The next day, my superiors (few) summoned me. They´re looking very serious and severe and communicate me the agenda: the Neanderthal Man was not Homo Sapiens. This clarification by our superiority is generated by the philosophical systems of the enemy who abuse to say that Neanderthal was conscious and above all, responsible for everything that happens. So  Neanderthal man does not belong to sapiens species as Cromagnon man. Moreover, -- my superiors continued -- it is not necessary that you do the statutory report about your capture and escape because you tends to politicize everything, even a routine report. And all that which is politicized, is useless.

— Also I am glad to see  of everyone of you...— I thought to myself.

I leave the command post as if I had received a Neanderthalensis stone blow. Or a wound of unsterilized bayonet.