In a night as hot and humid as the day which preceded it, Zé da Costa was laying back on the front plate of the tank he rode. As he looked at the stars deep into the sky, a swarm of mosquitoes buzzing around a working light hung from a nearby vehicle approached. Only in the jungle do mosquitoes swim, he thought. He turned his back to the enemy lines, a few miles ahead, and sat on the ground behind the tank. In spite of what he just thought, da Costa looked around to find nothing really like a jungle. The constant offensives back and forth through the area during the war had left the ground clear, and artillery fire even cleared huge areas just enough for tanks to feasibly advance over something other than a road.
Not too far away now, in a vast clearing not fifty feet away from him, most of his unit was throwing a little party. Their leave was almost over, and very soon they would be spearheading a new offensive (The Last Offensive, their superiors called it in their supposedly inspiring speeches). They were having some fun, and many soldiers on leave from other units were also there. All in all, Zé could see comrades sleeping in a drunken stupor, couples of all kinds making out, others dancing to the tune of some really old music from some record that had stayed in the family forever and a gorgeous lady walking up to him. She was rather short, not too thin, but she had a perfect shape. Her eyes seemed to dare where eagles wouldn't, so sharp and resolved. Her thin nose perhaps too low, her lips maybe too tight, and her long, black curled hair was possibly the one perfect thing about her until you touched it to discover how rough it was yet how greasy it seemed to be. Only the aggregate of the parts made her one splendid beauty. She carried a bottle of beer. Soon enough, she was sitting uncomfortably close.
So why don't you join the fun? She said, with a malicious glitter in her eyes, as she offered him the bottle.
I've never liked beer. He kinda smiled. I can't dance. And, I guess I am a bit homesick. Hesitant, he tried to look at her, but constantly had to look to the ground or elsewhere. This made her smile.
Why so nervous, comrade? Let me see those tender eyes again... A reluctant Zé let her grab his chin as she was leaning towards him. You should shave the beard though. She was staring straight into his eyes. It was impossible to look away, but then she closed in even more. Those tight lips loosened and those merciless eyes relaxed as they were closing. Zé could only back away.
I'm sorry, comrade. I won't. He was firm but uncomfortable with his words.
A waste of a good man, I'm sure. Her voice was soft, between disappointed and playful. Is there a girl back home? I'd understand... Unexpectedly, Zé laughed for an instant. It was a second of a loud, frank laugh which caught her aback. Perhaps for the first time in a very long time, she was surprised.
Not even that, comrade. The happy face he wore vanished, and he almost hasitated when he followed: It is not women that I'm into.
Ah! As I said, a waste of a good man! Or of two good men, I'm sure.
Oh, the best man you would know. He's wonderful. Now he seemed just sad, as he was.
Don't be ashamed, comrade. We are all just the same. That is what we are fighting for, it is in our Charter! All citizens are equal, regardless of gender or sexual orientation, it says. You will be back in his arms soon enough. You could still have some fun, as I will. Then she motioned to leave for the party again, but he held her in her place.
Can we talk some more?
Well, sure. What about?
You choose.
Hmm... What about tanks? Do you drive this one?
Hah! Funny thing you asked. Now Zé was clearly comfortable, in his element. I'm actually the commander. But yes! I used to drive it. The commander was injured and my comrades chose me to replace him.
Wow, and do you feel ready?
Well, we have trained hard for some time, and I believe my replacement on the gears will do as good a job as the rest of the crew. Fortunately for us, the fighting has cleared a good stretch of land, so when the attack begins we won't need to rely on roads. Once we have crossed enemy lines, though, we will have to take them. Hopefully that will mean they're without supplies, so we won't have to worry about them. What do you do?
I'm on the Infantry. As far as I know, I'll be the one keeping the breach open and taking what you leave behind. Zé was surprised as she looked at the ground with a note of envy in her voice. Nice to meet you... Now on her feet, she looked at him, silently asking for his name.
José, but everyone calls me Zé. And you?
Berta. Roberta, but everybody calls me Berta. Goodbye.
Farewell.
Zé watched her go, and after a while he himself went to the zone where most guys seemed to be dancing very close to each other. Tomorrow morning, Zé would wake up would be woken by sunlight by a tree near the tanks, hugging a stranger from behind. It felt warm, it felt good, but he also felt a needle of pain stinging in his heart. It was over now. Some officer was taking a look at the mess from afar. He would begin waking people up, and there was a lot of work to do. Zé shook the man he was hugging, imagined he was Rui and kissed him goodbye before rapidly buttoning up his clothes as he walked fast towards his tent. A dizzy, sleepy soldier who just woke up saw the officer and soon enough rushed to his own tent.
