But now it is necessary to concentrate chicken-heartedly on the parade because they are crossing in front of the reviewing stand. Tiger Collazos remains solemn, General Victoria hides a yawn, Colonel López López assents understandably and even gaily. The poison would not be so hard to swallow if, off in one corner, rebuking him with sadness, anger and disappointment, there were not also the gray eyes of General Scavino.
Now it does not matter so much to him anymore: the ticking in the ears has flared up violently and he, ready to risk everything, orders the company: “On the double! March!” and sets the example. He moves at a rapid and harmonious cadence, followed by soft, warm and inviting footsteps, while he feels a warmness up and down his spine like the steam from a pot of duck and rice just taken off the stove. But now Lieutenant Pantoja has stopped dead in his tracks, with the disorderly company right behind him. With a slight blush on his cheeks, he makes a rather unclear gesture, which, nevertheless, everyone understands. The machinery has been set in motion, the awaited ceremony has begun. The first section marches in front of him and it is annoying that the standard-bearer, Porfirio Wong, wears his uniform so sloppily. He manages to think: “He’ll need a reprimand and training in the use of uniforms,” but the recruits have already begun, while passing in front of him—as he stands motionless and expressionless—to unbutton their jackets rapidly, to show their hot breasts, to stretch out their hands to lovingly pinch his neck, ear lobes, upper lip, and then, advancing—one after another, one after another—his head (he makes it easy for them by bending), to enticingly nibble the tips of his ears. Sensations of eager pleasure, of animal satisfaction, of maddening and far-reaching happiness, erase the fear, the nostalgia, the ridicule, while the recruits pinch, caress and nibble Lieutenant Pantoja’s ears. But among the recruits, some familiar faces blow cold gusts over his happiness, stabbing him with uneasiness: unhorsed and grotesque in her uniform, Leonor Curinchila passes by, and hoisting the standard with the quartermaster’s insignia, comes Freckle; and now, closing up the final section—anguish that gushes like a jet of oil and soaks Lieutenant Pantoja’s body and spirit—a still indistinct soldier: but he knows—the suffocating fear, the tormenting ridicule, the intoxicating melancholy have returned—that under the insignia, the cap, the baggy pants and thin drill shirt a very sad Pochita is sobbing. The bugle sounds loudly and Mother Leonor is whispering to him: “Pantita, your duck and rice is ready.”
S S G F R I
Dispatch Number Two
GENERAL SUBJECT: Special Service for Garrisons, Frontier and Related Installations
SPECIFIC SUBJECT: Correction of estimates, first recruiting and specifications of the SSGFRI
CLASSIFICATION: Top Secret
PLACE AND DATE: Iquitos, 22 August 1956
The undersigned, Capt. (Quartermaster) Pantaleón Pantoja, PA, officer in charge of the SSGFRI, respectfully presents himself to Gen. Felipe Collazos, Chief of Administration, Supply and Logistics of the Army, salutes him and reports:
1. (a) That in Dispatch Number 1, of 12 August, in the section relating to the number of women the SSGFRI would require in order to meet the demand for 104,712 monthly services—a sum obtained by rough calculation of the first market estimate (permission is hereby requested of the administration to use this technical term)—the undersigned calculated that number to be “a permanent corps of 2,115 specialists in the maximum category [20 daily services], working full time and without accident.”
(b) That this calculation suffers from a grave error—for which the only person responsible is the undersigned—due to a masculine view of duty that inexcusably caused him to forget certain personal problems of the female sex, said problems demanding in this instance clear
Now it does not matter so much to him anymore: the ticking in the ears has flared up violently and he, ready to risk everything, orders the company: “On the double! March!” and sets the example. He moves at a rapid and harmonious cadence, followed by soft, warm and inviting footsteps, while he feels a warmness up and down his spine like the steam from a pot of duck and rice just taken off the stove. But now Lieutenant Pantoja has stopped dead in his tracks, with the disorderly company right behind him. With a slight blush on his cheeks, he makes a rather unclear gesture, which, nevertheless, everyone understands. The machinery has been set in motion, the awaited ceremony has begun. The first section marches in front of him and it is annoying that the standard-bearer, Porfirio Wong, wears his uniform so sloppily. He manages to think: “He’ll need a reprimand and training in the use of uniforms,” but the recruits have already begun, while passing in front of him—as he stands motionless and expressionless—to unbutton their jackets rapidly, to show their hot breasts, to stretch out their hands to lovingly pinch his neck, ear lobes, upper lip, and then, advancing—one after another, one after another—his head (he makes it easy for them by bending), to enticingly nibble the tips of his ears. Sensations of eager pleasure, of animal satisfaction, of maddening and far-reaching happiness, erase the fear, the nostalgia, the ridicule, while the recruits pinch, caress and nibble Lieutenant Pantoja’s ears. But among the recruits, some familiar faces blow cold gusts over his happiness, stabbing him with uneasiness: unhorsed and grotesque in her uniform, Leonor Curinchila passes by, and hoisting the standard with the quartermaster’s insignia, comes Freckle; and now, closing up the final section—anguish that gushes like a jet of oil and soaks Lieutenant Pantoja’s body and spirit—a still indistinct soldier: but he knows—the suffocating fear, the tormenting ridicule, the intoxicating melancholy have returned—that under the insignia, the cap, the baggy pants and thin drill shirt a very sad Pochita is sobbing. The bugle sounds loudly and Mother Leonor is whispering to him: “Pantita, your duck and rice is ready.”
S S G F R I
Dispatch Number Two
GENERAL SUBJECT: Special Service for Garrisons, Frontier and Related Installations
SPECIFIC SUBJECT: Correction of estimates, first recruiting and specifications of the SSGFRI
CLASSIFICATION: Top Secret
PLACE AND DATE: Iquitos, 22 August 1956
The undersigned, Capt. (Quartermaster) Pantaleón Pantoja, PA, officer in charge of the SSGFRI, respectfully presents himself to Gen. Felipe Collazos, Chief of Administration, Supply and Logistics of the Army, salutes him and reports:
1. (a) That in Dispatch Number 1, of 12 August, in the section relating to the number of women the SSGFRI would require in order to meet the demand for 104,712 monthly services—a sum obtained by rough calculation of the first market estimate (permission is hereby requested of the administration to use this technical term)—the undersigned calculated that number to be “a permanent corps of 2,115 specialists in the maximum category [20 daily services], working full time and without accident.”
(b) That this calculation suffers from a grave error—for which the only person responsible is the undersigned—due to a masculine view of duty that inexcusably caused him to forget certain personal problems of the female sex, said problems demanding in this instance clear
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