Fiddler's Green and the Confessional
Disclaimer: Same as before…
"Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green." - from a U.S. Cavalry Poem
Sleep, for Conrad Hart, would bring him a visit to a shady meadow green. In the middle of the meadow was a building in red brick, nestled under the shade of several poplar trees. Looking around he saw horses tied to hitching posts outside and heard the notes of music.
Les Kepis Blancs, Conrad's ear recognized a familiar tune as he neared the cantina's front. He pushed the door open of the cantina known as Fiddlers' Green.
A slightly out of tune piano clanged the notes and half a dozen legionnaires from as many different historical eras were clustered around said piano and singing the lyrics somewhat out of tune.
Mexico. The First World War. World War II. Indochina. Algeria. Conrad's eye for history recognized the uniforms of the legionnaires that were the cantina's patrons. Beer and spirits flowed freely.
"Hart!" The shout came.
Blinking his eyes he glanced downward, finding himself no longer clad in the business casual garb of a plain clothes law enforcement agent but the camouflage pattern of the French Foreign Legion. He could feel the white kepi atop his head.
"Caporal-Chef Hart!" The French accented shout repeated.
He turned to see eight men in Legion uniforms of a much more modern vintage, recognizing his mates from Commando Depuis clustered around a nearby table. Mugs of ale were clutched in their hands.
Conrad approached the table, seeing Capitaine Bernard Depuis holding his mug of ale aloft. He came to attention.
"A vos ordres, mon capitaine," Conrad began. At your orders, captain. Best to be a bit formal in this set of circumstances.
"Bloody Hell, Hart," Sergent Ian Laposte interjected, "This isn't the sodding Castel or the farm!"
The places legionnaires are made. Conrad thought while glancing over as Depuis casually wiped a bit of foam from his beer from his moustache.
Laposte smirked and flagged down a barmaid, "Another for our mate over there."
"Come, join us," Caporal Putman Livingston said, holding up his mostly full mug of beer.
I hope that doesn't mean join the lot of you in death, Conrad thought, remembering that the only place the eight men before him lived on was in his memories.
"I assure you, Hart," Depuis added, as if reading his mind while sporting his trademark toothy grin,"We don't mean joining us in death. Join us for a mug or more of ale."
"Oui, mon capitaine," Conrad replied as he approached the table.
"So what's this I hear of your having gone into civilian law enforcement, Hart?" Sergent-Chef Hans Van Pelt said after taking a slug of beer down.
Merde. This is one hell of a dream. Van Pelt still smells of cheap cologne and cigarettes when not in the field. Conrad thought.
"I joined ACME shortly after my discharge from La Legion," Conrad replied taking a pull of his own drink.
"I understand you have a sodding case," Ian interjected.
"Ah, yes," Sergent Henri Leboulletier began, "The one with the mutant child, yes?"
"Yes," Conrad replied.
"It troubles you, doesn't it?" Depuis interjected.
"Oui, mon capitaine," Conrad replied brusquely.
"You did what you had to out there, Hart. We all did," Van Pelt replied as he took a pull off his own drink.
"Perhaps I've already received my punishment. I'll never forget the teenage fighter dead by my hand," Conrad replied taking a pull of his own beer.
"You know he was just as culpable as the adult fighters in that attack on the mission," Ian replied, "And the whelp likely wouldn't agonize over killing you."
"Of course I know that, and every time I encountered child soldiers in Africa it was always them or me," Conrad replied.
"And you believe doing your best for the Tolansky kind will be your atonement, Hart?" Van Pelt replied icily after a long slug from his drink.
As he set the glass down, the Dutchman added, "To date you've failed to convince me God even exists."
Always with that ice cold logic. Conrad blinked. No wonder it was said you never smiled at your own mother.
"Perhaps," Conrad replied, noncommittally. The avowed cynicism beyond what you could physically see or touch still remains, Van Pelt.
"And I understand you're working with a partner on this case?" Ian asked.
"Partner?" Legionnaire Leon Peralta chimed in.
"Yes, one Agent Caitlin Todd, US Secret Service," Putman supplied as he drank down a slug of beer.
Now Peralta grinned, "So tell us about this Agent Todd."
"Not much to tell, really. She works for the Secret Service, she's working with me on this mission, and we both share things in common…"
"Such as?" Peralta said with a toothy grin.
"Oh, do tell," Putman added.
"You know, Hart," Legionnaire Renzo Rocha replied, "What you're not saying is just as telling as what you are saying."
"Screw you, Rocha," Conrad said with a slight reddening of his complexion.
"Just describe the lass, Hart," Ian said with a grin as he refilled his now empty mug off another pitcher of beer.
"Well, she's about 5'7", brunette, hazel eyes…" Conrad began. I'm definitely going to leave the recollection of having seen Kate's naked backside entirely by accident out of this conversation.
"Oh for fuck's sake, Hart, you're sounding like a bloody cop," Putman interrupted.
"Putman, I am a 'bloody cop' now. No longer a legionnaire," Conrad countered as he took a pull of his own drink, "And if the lot of you must know, I'd have to be a eunuch not to notice she's a lovely lady."
"And you're sharing quarters with the bonny lass?" Putman asked, with a toothy grin.
"Yes, but it's not like we're sharing a bed," Conrad replied.
"I'm certain you wouldn't mind sharing a bed with her, then?" Putman said.
"Shut it, Putman," Conrad replied crossly, slamming his mug onto the table, causing the beer to foam slightly.
"So what's stopping you from making a move if you find her attractive?" Peralta interjected.
"There is the not insignificant fact that she does have a boyfriend. A Marine named Tim," Conrad replied.
"Well women have been known to change their minds," Legionnaire Radoslav Wiersbowski replied with a lopsided grin.
"Agent Todd, aside," Conrad replied, "This is a helluva first case."
Let's not forget the last thing I need is the added complication of being smitten. Conrad thought to himself.
"And we'd be eager to hear more about it, next time you visit us," Depuis said, his voice fading as Conrad awakened.
And as Depuis' voice faded Conrad blinked his eyes, sitting up, eyelids flickering. He reached over and grabbed his laptop, taking it into the kitchen. I don't think I'm quite in the mood to revisit Fiddlers' Green just yet.
The Pit, Officer's Quarters
Kate Todd and Conrad Hart
1 March 2002, 0602
Kate walked into the kitchen, finding Conrad was already sitting at the table. His laptop was up and she could hear the sound of a drumroll, a clearly military tune. Conrad looked engrossed in a photograph on the computer screen.
"Ich Hatt'einen Kameraden. Einen bessern findst du nit. Die Trommel Schlug zum Streite. Er ging en meiner Seite…"
"One of the songs you told me about?" Kate asked.
Conrad jerked out of the near trance he was in, hitting the pause button on the Windows Media Player.
"Excuse me?" Conrad replied.
"The song you were listening to," Kate said as she walked over into the kitchen.
"Oh," Conrad replied, as he turned to face her, "Well, it's a bit of a story."
"Does it have anything to do with the fact that the song is in German and probably came from the large numbers serving in the Legion after both World Wars?" Kate asked.
"Tres bien, mademoiselle," Conrad said with a wan smile.
"Living with you for the past couple weeks means I've learned a lot about the French Foreign Legion," Kate replied, "So what's the story about the song?"
"It's called Ich Hatt'Einen Kameraden or 'I had a comrade'. It's a traditional lament of both the German armed forces as well as the Legion. We learned it both in French and German."
Kate leaned against the refrigerator, regarding the ex-Legionnaire as he stood to face him. "Does this song mean a lot to you?"
"Even before I saw combat with the Legion both versions of that song made my hair stand on end. Now having actually lost comrades in battle…." Conrad replied, voice trailing off.
"May I ask…" Kate began.
"Why I was listening to it?" Conrad replied, "Simple, really. I was building a small memorial on my laptop to my mates with the song as a background."
Kate stole a glance around Conrad's shoulder, looking at the computer screen. There was the photo of Conrad's old unit. She gulped as she thought to herself, My God. Eight of the nine men in that photo were killed in action. All but the man standing in front of me.
"Something on your mind, Kate?" Conrad asked.
"Do you think you could translate that song for me," Kate replied. Maybe it will help me understand what you're going through.
Conrad nodded and started the Media Player track again. Again came the drum roll and the German lyrics. Now they were accompanied by Conrad's translating.
"I once had a comrade. You won't find a better one. The drum was rolling for battle. He was marching by my side, in the same pace and stride."
You were right, Conrad, that song does make your hair stand on end. Kate thought to herself, remembering a friend killed in the line of duty and another wounded.
"A bullet flew towards us. Meant for you or me? It did tear him away, he lies at my feet, as if a part of me."
Kate blinked her eyes. I don't think I can imagine what you're going through. Maybe significant doses of survivor's guilt?
"He still reaches his hand out to me. But I must reload my gun. I can't ease your suffering. Rest in eternal life, my good comrade," Conrad finished with an audible gulp.
Kate shuddered. I can't imagine having to do that, being unable to even attempt to console a dying friend because you have to keep fighting.
"Was there any reason you picked the German version over the French one?" Kate asked.
"I'm not sure, honestly," Conrad replied, "Perhaps because in my first unit the two sergents I served under were both Germans. Or maybe because in our basic training we had a German caporal that had us sing the German version more frequently than the French one."
"I can say I did feel a chill up my spine," Kate replied.
After a brief silence Conrad closed his laptop. As he headed for his room, Kate asked, "Where are you going?"
"Just need to clear my head for a moment," Conrad replied, "Don't worry. I'll be back before we go talk to Stormshadow and Roadblock later."
"Alright," Kate replied, a lump in her throat.
The Pit, The Chapel
Conrad Hart and Chaplain Cagliari
1 March 2002, 0743
"Bless me Father for I have sinned," Conrad began, barely beginning to take his seat as he spoke, "It has been three years since my last confession. And I accuse myself of the following sins: predominantly that of murder…"
Conrad heard his voice wavering as he described everything about his deeds with Commando Depuis in Africa.
"We came upon that mission scarcely a few weeks after we had removed the mines in that field. What we found...what we saw there...I remember shuddering with rage at what I saw. We swore not a single one of the bastards responsible would survive our vengeance."
As he spoke memories of that night in the Central African Republic flashed before his eyes. Silently hiking through a jungle ravine. Moving into one of the buildings the Cobra backed faction had used as a camp. Aiming down the sights of his FAMAS at one sleeping enemy fighter.
"I put any thoughts of murder out of my mind and simply squeezed the trigger. After all the man and his cronies had been responsible for crimes and had to be sent to face God's justice. That I do not regret. Vae victis."
"What do you regret?" the soft, Maltese accented voice answered on the other side.
"We took fire as some of the militants fought back," Conrad replied, "I threw a grenade out the window and running into the courtyard I saw the person trying to kill me was barely a teenager…"
Running outside Conrad saw the militant hit by the grenade's explosion lying on his side, bloody hands trying to hold in lacerated viscera.
"Medic! Medic!" Conrad shouted, keeping his FAMAS rifle trained on the youth.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Renzo Rocha running, rifle in one hand, his medical backpack swaying from side to side as he ran over. He could feel the lump in his throat as he saw that the wounded man was barely into his teens.
Almost as soon as Rocha neared the wounded boy Conrad saw the youth reach towards his waistband. Seeing the butt of a pistol tucked in the boy's shorts Conrad didn't hesitate. Firing three rapid shots he saw bullets hit the boy's chest and face.
"I know the youth was just as culpable in this act as the others were. But I never will forget having killed him," Conrad replied, and with a sigh continuing, "Perhaps I've received my punishment now."
"Did you believe you fought in a just war?" Chaplain Cagliari asked. In the calm of the man's voice Conrad could still detect compassion.
"I do, Father," Conrad replied, "But I distinctly recall the day I saw what became of Dr. Keller and her mission...what I saw there. I remember seeing what those bastards did to her and the others and vowed to myself I would send the lot of them to Hell for what they did."
"Yet you are troubled by the youth of one of their number," Cagliari replied.
"Yes, Father," Conrad replied.
"What were you thinking at the time?" Cagliari asked gently.
"When we came upon the mission's smoking ruin I had only one thought in mind: Exterminate the brutes. To a man every one of us felt that way. And the kid I killed in that battle wasn't the only one I had to put down in the fighting. The atrocities I saw those bastards inflict on innocent people…all I wanted to do was send them to the shores of Acheron."
Conrad blinked his eyes. The French government turned a blind eye to what the Composite Intervention Group and the local militia they trained did to any Cobras they encountered. Typically surrendering Cobras wound up being shot, especially after the crimes of their compatriots became widely known.
"I wasn't in on the Pyrenees operation in 1994," Conrad began, "But the tales I heard from those who were there...those were nightmarish."
"So you believe you were fighting evil?" Cagliari asked.
"With absolute certainty," Conrad replied, jaw clenching.
It doesn't sound like he's accusing or judging me. Conrad thought. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so defensive.
"No one comes away from war unscathed," Cagliari said.
"Nonetheless, Father, I accuse myself of the sin of murder," Conrad replied, "When I saw what atrocities Cobra and their allies in the region carried out I wanted to do nothing less than kill the entire lot of them."
Conrad blinked his eyes, remembering a war without quarter as he continued to speak, "The worst things I saw involved the so called 'laboratories', the places where Cobra experimented on human beings. I for one had no compunction to the official order from the French government regarding the scientists that staffed these things."
"What was that order?" Cagliari asked.
"Shoot on sight," Conrad replied.
"Why was that order given?" Cagliari asked, no judgment in his voice.
"Because of what happened after the Pyrenees Incident. The Cobra scientists captured there were freed by very sharp lawyers Cobra had hired for the occasion. After that incident the French government had enough. If we saw these Dr. Mengeles in waiting we were to kill them on sight," Conrad replied.
"Do you regret your sins?"
"Father, to be honest I am conflicted. I feel that it was better to kill these individuals rather than allow them to continue to practice evil. But at the same time I feel deeply affected, especially if the individuals I dispatched were teenagers."
After Conrad received his penance from Cagliari he crossed himself, stepping out of the confessional to the chapel to pray…
To Be Continued.