13-09-2019, 07:44 AM
Whatever Gets You through the Night Pt. 11
"I was staying at a Marriott, with Jesus and John Wayne.
I was waiting for a chariot; they were waiting for a train.
And the sky was full of carrion. 'I'll take the mezuma.'
Said Jesus to Marion, 'That's the 3:10 to Yuma.
My ride's here.'"
-Warren Zevon, "My Ride's Here"
Sargento Hernando Ramirez listened to Generalissimo Armando Santori drone on about the fine job he'd done ordering others to mold them into Ultimados. It was a closed ceremony in Fort Ernesto's gymnasium, and Violeta sat with the other four men's families, smiling at Hernando. He flashed her a brief smile back.
Santori would stress the word "men" when he spoke of how proud he was of his new Special Forces troops. It was unnecessary. The Generalissimo only begrudgingly allowed women to join the military. Hernando knew of female soldiers who were qualified for El Squadra, but Santori would always find one reason or another to reject their applications. Or, if she appealed and made it around his head, her training exercises would get harder and more strenuous until she quit, or he found another excuse to toss her out. Some of the trainees, including himself, had asked their instructors to give them the greater challenges that the Generalissimo ordered for female recruits, believing that it would make them better Ultimados. It would be many years before he would become someone who could change the current Generalissimo's unspoken policies on the matter.
An MP stepped in the door and gave Santori a signal to cut it short. He cleared his throat and stood to full height.
"And now, gentlemen, a special guest would like a few words."
Ramirez detected an undercurrent of jealousy. It was quickly dismissed as everyone stood when the band began to play "Glory to San Finzione." When the singer came in was when HE stepped through the door.
The great man, his hair and beard prematurely gray from the things he'd seen and done for His People, walking into the gymnasium and crossing the green carpet toward the stage and waiting podium. The man who avenged his parents, took back his country from Hitler, and turned the nation's fortunes so well that Hernando's own grandparents emigrated from Spain to start their restaurant in the place they fell in love with on their honeymoon. Grandparents who told him of the times that he and Contessa Sofia would dine there. Until the country lost her, and Grandpapa Count stopped going out of the castle for meals.
When his grandmother was upset, sometimes she'd tell less kind stories of how boorish the other members of La Familia de San Finzione had been; that they were such pigs that she was hardly surprised that many of his children and grandchildren had died the way they tended. But never did his grandmother or anyone else seem to have a bad word to say about him; Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione.
He walked proudly to the microphone, as if he owned the building. Which, being Count, he did. Ramirez recalled the words of some Arabic tourists when he'd worked the restaurant as a teenager. A word he'd learned from them entered his mind: Baraka. It didn't have an easy translation. "Power" and "majesty" were inadequate terms for it. "Charisma" didn't quite fit either, because places as well as people could have it. They'd explained it to him as "the sense of awe and grandeur that one feels while visiting powerful holy places or in the presence of important, influential people." It was Baraka that his Count made him feel as he approached. Had he made eye contact? Ramirez had been too busy standing to attention with the others to be certain.
The Count approached the microphone. Everyone sat back down and waited for him to begin speaking. First, he spoke the name of each man aloud, including Ramirez's own. He then adjusted the lectern so that he could see both the audience in the bleachers and the men on stage with him. The room was silent as wood scbangd on wood. The new recruits started to get up to help their Count, but he gave them a gesture that said "I've got this, and finally finished facing it the way he wanted.
"Thank you all. I apologize, I have spoken at a number of graduations and I have never gotten used to giving a speech for people to whom I am turning my back."
The audience chuckled at his comment. Then the hush fell over the room again, and he spoke.
"I will not say that I am proud of you. This would be redundant. You are soldiers of San Finzione; I was proud of each of you the moment you enlisted. I will say that you have excelled in the most rigorous, intense training that our military can provide; both physical and psychological. And I am honored to welcome you into the esteemed ranks of the men who came before you."
The audience applauded. He waited for it to end before continuing.
"La Squadra de Ultimados was formed to do whatever it took to recover our country from those who'd stolen it from us. Our mission was not vengeance, our mission was to restore liberty to our people. To save them from an enemy. Our purpose was righteous, and that was why they succeeded."
More light applause.
"This is still the job that has passed on to you; protecting San Finzione from her enemies. You have been granted the authority to take a life if it is necessary to do so. I hope that it is never required of you. You have all endured the experience of waterboarding, so that you will understand what you would be doing to a person should you resort to measures that San Finzione will never ask of you. And I have given you powers above all other citizens of San Finzione, because I trust you to use them wisely. It would please me if your careers are so boring that they are never needed."
There was silence as he paused this time.
"San Finzione is a nation of peace. Transforming ourselves into a place where all the world feels welcome required us to be. Our armed forces are here to protect The People, not to conquer. I stand here today with no intention of sending you on 'adventures' in other countries simply to enforce my will upon their people. You will not be silencing The Count's Enemies or taking out unfriendly governments. If every bullet you fire again is on the shooting range, if every fight you ever get in happens on a mat or canvas in this room, if the only kills any of you rack up should be in wargames with your fellow soldiers, if your biggest complaint when you retire is that you never saw combat; then when I join the San Finziones of Old, I shall know that I ruled correctly."
"I was staying at a Marriott, with Jesus and John Wayne.
I was waiting for a chariot; they were waiting for a train.
And the sky was full of carrion. 'I'll take the mezuma.'
Said Jesus to Marion, 'That's the 3:10 to Yuma.
My ride's here.'"
-Warren Zevon, "My Ride's Here"
Sargento Hernando Ramirez listened to Generalissimo Armando Santori drone on about the fine job he'd done ordering others to mold them into Ultimados. It was a closed ceremony in Fort Ernesto's gymnasium, and Violeta sat with the other four men's families, smiling at Hernando. He flashed her a brief smile back.
Santori would stress the word "men" when he spoke of how proud he was of his new Special Forces troops. It was unnecessary. The Generalissimo only begrudgingly allowed women to join the military. Hernando knew of female soldiers who were qualified for El Squadra, but Santori would always find one reason or another to reject their applications. Or, if she appealed and made it around his head, her training exercises would get harder and more strenuous until she quit, or he found another excuse to toss her out. Some of the trainees, including himself, had asked their instructors to give them the greater challenges that the Generalissimo ordered for female recruits, believing that it would make them better Ultimados. It would be many years before he would become someone who could change the current Generalissimo's unspoken policies on the matter.
An MP stepped in the door and gave Santori a signal to cut it short. He cleared his throat and stood to full height.
"And now, gentlemen, a special guest would like a few words."
Ramirez detected an undercurrent of jealousy. It was quickly dismissed as everyone stood when the band began to play "Glory to San Finzione." When the singer came in was when HE stepped through the door.
The great man, his hair and beard prematurely gray from the things he'd seen and done for His People, walking into the gymnasium and crossing the green carpet toward the stage and waiting podium. The man who avenged his parents, took back his country from Hitler, and turned the nation's fortunes so well that Hernando's own grandparents emigrated from Spain to start their restaurant in the place they fell in love with on their honeymoon. Grandparents who told him of the times that he and Contessa Sofia would dine there. Until the country lost her, and Grandpapa Count stopped going out of the castle for meals.
When his grandmother was upset, sometimes she'd tell less kind stories of how boorish the other members of La Familia de San Finzione had been; that they were such pigs that she was hardly surprised that many of his children and grandchildren had died the way they tended. But never did his grandmother or anyone else seem to have a bad word to say about him; Count Vincenzo Ramon de San Finzione.
He walked proudly to the microphone, as if he owned the building. Which, being Count, he did. Ramirez recalled the words of some Arabic tourists when he'd worked the restaurant as a teenager. A word he'd learned from them entered his mind: Baraka. It didn't have an easy translation. "Power" and "majesty" were inadequate terms for it. "Charisma" didn't quite fit either, because places as well as people could have it. They'd explained it to him as "the sense of awe and grandeur that one feels while visiting powerful holy places or in the presence of important, influential people." It was Baraka that his Count made him feel as he approached. Had he made eye contact? Ramirez had been too busy standing to attention with the others to be certain.
The Count approached the microphone. Everyone sat back down and waited for him to begin speaking. First, he spoke the name of each man aloud, including Ramirez's own. He then adjusted the lectern so that he could see both the audience in the bleachers and the men on stage with him. The room was silent as wood scbangd on wood. The new recruits started to get up to help their Count, but he gave them a gesture that said "I've got this, and finally finished facing it the way he wanted.
"Thank you all. I apologize, I have spoken at a number of graduations and I have never gotten used to giving a speech for people to whom I am turning my back."
The audience chuckled at his comment. Then the hush fell over the room again, and he spoke.
"I will not say that I am proud of you. This would be redundant. You are soldiers of San Finzione; I was proud of each of you the moment you enlisted. I will say that you have excelled in the most rigorous, intense training that our military can provide; both physical and psychological. And I am honored to welcome you into the esteemed ranks of the men who came before you."
The audience applauded. He waited for it to end before continuing.
"La Squadra de Ultimados was formed to do whatever it took to recover our country from those who'd stolen it from us. Our mission was not vengeance, our mission was to restore liberty to our people. To save them from an enemy. Our purpose was righteous, and that was why they succeeded."
More light applause.
"This is still the job that has passed on to you; protecting San Finzione from her enemies. You have been granted the authority to take a life if it is necessary to do so. I hope that it is never required of you. You have all endured the experience of waterboarding, so that you will understand what you would be doing to a person should you resort to measures that San Finzione will never ask of you. And I have given you powers above all other citizens of San Finzione, because I trust you to use them wisely. It would please me if your careers are so boring that they are never needed."
There was silence as he paused this time.
"San Finzione is a nation of peace. Transforming ourselves into a place where all the world feels welcome required us to be. Our armed forces are here to protect The People, not to conquer. I stand here today with no intention of sending you on 'adventures' in other countries simply to enforce my will upon their people. You will not be silencing The Count's Enemies or taking out unfriendly governments. If every bullet you fire again is on the shooting range, if every fight you ever get in happens on a mat or canvas in this room, if the only kills any of you rack up should be in wargames with your fellow soldiers, if your biggest complaint when you retire is that you never saw combat; then when I join the San Finziones of Old, I shall know that I ruled correctly."
Like, Comment and Give Rating.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)