General from the Jungle

by B. TRAVEN

  “I’ve tried it sitting down, too, but it’s just as difficult.” Nevertheless, he squatted down and took a cigar out of his shirt pocket. “The plan came to me this morning when I was sitting up in the tree for a while, watching the finqueros creeping about as they hunted wounded and escaped muchachos. I believe you sometimes get much better ideas by sitting up in a tree for a bit and looking down at the world from above instead of always looking at it from below. What do the ants know of our existence? To the ants we’re only clouds or wandering mountains. One plan is to take Santa Cecilia tonight; the other is to attack the finca just before sunrise. We must attack it. But if we simply march on them, we’ll be mown down like grass by their machine guns. We must attack them in such a way that they have no time to set up a single gun, not even to unpile their rifles.”

  “All right, then. Why not before sunrise?” asked Celso.

  “There are a lot of early risers there. Finqueros riding home who have a long day’s journey before them and want to take advantage of the cool of the morning. They will be awake and might hear us before we are near enough. It’s possible, too, that the Federals and Rurales may move off at two in the morning. That’s just what I couldn’t find out from the damned clods that fell into our hands. But, curse it all, those troops mustn’t be allowed to escape without our getting their rifles. We need the guns and every bullet those foul swine have. And Colonel wants to recover his machine gun—his Emma, as he calls it—otherwise he’ll never be happy again. If we can catch those swine here at Santa Cecilia, then we won’t have to chase after them and run the soles off our feet.”

  “Then up and at them!” advised Celso.

  “At them? At them? You can talk, but I have the responsibility if I lose too many men. But now all of you listen closely and keep your ears open. If we set on them at two or three in the morning, then they may all be up and about, the finqueros to ride home and the troops to return to their garrisons in Hucutsin or Balun Canan. Before we’re properly over the walls, they’ll have everything ready in the patio to give us a hot reception. But the advantage is that we’ll be attacking toward daylight and it will be light enough for us to see whose throats we’re cutting. But in another respect it would be far better in the middle of the night. Then they’ll all be half-drunk, lying about snoring in their first sleep. But it will be pitch dark and half of them could escape us and then attack us from outside.”

  “Yes, you fool of a general. And why don’t we bring lanterns with us, as we put on our carts when there’s no moon?” said Matias, grinning.

  “Matias is right,” opined Andreu. “Why don’t we use lanterns? Not cart lanterns, of course. We could use our own lanterns and so save paraffin.”

  “I don’t really know, although I’m general, what you mean and how you mean it,” said General, looking at Andreu questioningly.

  “It’s not exactly my idea; I got it from the peons on the fincas that we visited on our march and to whom we gave the whole finca whether they wanted it or not. What I’m thinking of is very simple. As soon as we’ve completely surrounded the whole wall, some of us squatting on the wall and some of us already over it, we’ll deliver the paraffin to the finquero of the Santa Cecilia. And if you still don’t understand, what I mean is that we set light to all the palm roofs and all the outbuildings which are made of wood, and in two minutes the whole thing will be roaring up in the night wind. Then we’ll have light enough. Of course, we will have to be in the finca in a flash, and muchachos must be standing simultaneously at all doors so that no one escapes.”

  “Perhaps I may yet promote you to brigadier one day, when I become a field marshal, Andrucho. You’re cursed clever, and yet you’ve never been a soldier anywhere. If only there weren’t those damned dogs who’ll start barking wildly as soon as we get near and start climbing the walls.”

  “I’ll take care of the dogs, General,” said Emilio, who was squatting nearby. “I know a good trick to entice the dogs easily half a league away from the finca and the village. When the people in the finca hear the dogs barking, but running toward the bush, no one will give them a second thought, because they’ll think a wild boar or jaguar has slunk up to the corral. But I’ll have to start right away and get hunting. I’ll be responsible for the dogs being quiet, General. And I’ll need three muchachos with me.”

  “Good,” agreed General. “And I’ll talk to you later if the dogs muck up my plans and if we’re still alive.”

  “You can shoot me, General, if I don’t get the dogs away. Of course, there are always a few that are too lazy or too old and are afraid of going out at night. But those few can bark as much as they want. They’ll give the swine inside a greater feeling of safety than if not a cur barked, because all night through there’s always something to bark at, even if they only see a rat running past or a cat courting.”

  The commanding officer of the troops stationed at Santa Cecilia had issued orders for departure at eight o’clock the next morning. The certain knowledge that his estate would be freed of these expensive visitors by next day induced the finquero to give a farewell banquet, since it would be for the last time. So there was no stinting of suckling pigs, turkeys, and calves at this feast; and there was plenty of aguardiente, fine, old, and brown, for the officers and finqueros, and paler, but therefore all the stronger, for the men.

  Such monumental suppers at the fincas in that remote region never last long into the night—chiefly because there is a lack of good illumination, which renders a long session, even at a richly laden banquet table, a matter of no pleasure. Candles droop in the heat, while open lanterns smoke intolerably and every puff of wind drives gusts of thick, black, sooty smoke over the guests and onto their white shirts. Paraffin lamps go out a hundred times and must be lit a hundred and one times, with the additional danger of explosion because of inferior fuel. The fire on the great stone altar in the patio gives a far-reaching light, but that, too, pours sooty smoke among the feasters.

  And at eight or nine o’clock, generally before the fall of darkness, myriads of mosquitoes, midges, and other unattractive insects begin to get lively. They go, naturally, for the illuminated tables and faces. At this time of year the insects are particularly numerous and even more bloodthirsty. Quite apart from the discomfort of their stings, they fall in swarms into the soups and sauces of the diners and swim lustily in every wine or water glass. So, for even the most hardened toper, a lengthy session at table is generally more of a torment than a pleasure.

  There was yet another reason why such banquets at remote fincas do not last far into the night. At nine in the morning the tropical heat begins to bear down on man and beast, on blade and earth. This compels people to rise very early, partly to make fullest use of the light of the sun and partly to accomplish such work as is necessary, of whatever sort, in the cool hours of the morning. The tolerable and useful working day ends for all who are not peons or laborers at eleven o’clock in the morning, and then, if anything remains to be done, it is resumed for another two hours after four o’clock. Thus it happens that everyone, including the soldiers, are so dog-tired by eight o’clock in the evening that they fall asleep at the tables. From all these considerations it happens that banquets begin at about five o’clock in the afternoon and finish at eight, but certainly not later than nine, with yawns and snoring.

  Such customs must naturally be known to a commander-in-chief in order to enable him to evaluate his strategic plans. And General had learned that a mighty banquet was to be held, not only from the two spies he had sent forth but also, as a confirmation, from the questioning of the captured major-domos and finqueros. The finqueros, although they had been uncommonly cautious in all that they had said, had found the question about the banquet innocuous and had answered it truthfully.

  General ordered the attack for about eleven o’clock that night. He needed time to get his army, unobserved, close to the finca. During daylight he marched only as far as the verge of the bush. As soon as it was dark, th
e advance continued.

  All packs, all rifles, all horses, mules, donkeys, and dogs were left behind in the bush under guard of the women and a few muchachos who had been too heavily wounded in the last fight to take part in the coming battle.

  Only those muchachos who possessed revolvers were allowed to bring their weapons with them. Nevertheless, many of these fellows left their revolvers behind. But every man, whether or not he had a revolver, carried his machete with him, and those who had no machete carried daggers in their woolen belts or stuck into a slit in their trousers.

  General summoned the muchachos into a circle. “Those lads who up to now haven’t had a revolver or a rifle will have preference. Machine guns must be looked for and immediately taken either out through the gate or into a corner of the building.” He summoned twelve muchachos to whom he entrusted the task of searching for machine guns, getting them away, and guarding them, so that they could neither be used nor recovered by the soldiers. “You, Celso, as commanding officer of a machine gun, are responsible, together with Matias, that they are not used against us and that, once they are outside the patio, they are properly guarded. You, Colonel, will rescue your Emma, and when you’ve got her will take her to Fidel, who’ll have the other, and will then yourself take part in the battle.”

  After this General detailed twenty muchachos to capture, secure, and guard all rifles piled or hanging up. Then he organized the four main troops for the four walls and two further troops for the two gates, which were not to be opened, but only to be guarded in order that no one should escape.

  Finally, he picked out some resourceful lads whom he entrusted with the illumination of the battlefield.

  His two scouts, outstanding observers, had given him a plan of the layout of the buildings, and how and where the soldiers, the police, and the finqueros and their henchmen were distributed. The scouts had also reported that in front of the main gate there was a guard of three men and a corporal, but that this detachment served more for ornament than for security. The ornament consisted in the fact that the commanding officer acquired greater regard in the eyes of the women of the finca if he entered this gate and the guard had to stand to attention and present arms. The guard slept at night, they, too, being amply entertained with the dishes, and especially the drinks, of this gigantic farewell feast. Even had this not been the case, they would nevertheless have fallen asleep, for they were tired, no one came to check on their wakefulness, and besides, all the rebels had been destroyed.

  General, however, left nothing to luck or chance. He detailed three muchachos to go ahead of the main troop and make sure that the guard at the gate, consisting of four men, would never stand guard again.

  “And now the moment for the attack, the signal,” said General. “Not a shot will be fired, not a whistle given, not a command. All commands will be issued by me, here and now. Not one of you is to open his mouth until it is all over. Leave the shouting to the others when they see our knives in front of them. Like jaguars in the night slipping into a corral—that’s how you must work, muchachos. The less noise, the better. The whole thing mustn’t last longer than fifteen minutes. Thereon depends our success. As soon as the first roof is in flames and the patio is illuminated, you must be up on the wall and over in a flash. Each group must deal with the guards that I have assigned to that group. One group for each room, and four groups for the patio. Four small groups to be outside the four walls in case any of them attempt to escape. Not one must leave the finca! Incendiary group here!”

  “Here we are, General.” The men of the designated group stepped forward.

  “Go ahead. Creep softer and warier than an old coyote. Once you get to the finca, search out some heaps of corn husks and spread these heaps everywhere where sheds and buildings with palm roofs and wood walls are. Don’t forget to take enough kindling with you and plenty of matches. As soon as we are all assembled, I’ll send Eladio to you, and he will bring you the signal when the illuminations are to begin. Take care it doesn’t start too soon, for that could ruin our plan. Then, when you have had the signal and the thing has begun, make sure that there’s a blaze and that it doesn’t go out before we’ve got the whole gang under our control. God help you if you let anything go wrong. Then you’ll really get to know me. You’re the most important group for the success of the whole plan. Understand?”

  “Don’t worry about us, General. We’ll light up the place till it can be seen even in Hell.” The men laughed and gathered all the kindling in the camp, each one provided himself with three matches, and to be quite certain, every man took a great lantern filled with paraffin. Thus equipped, they started on their way. With them went the muchachos whose job it was to pay a call on the gate sentries and inquire after their well-being.

  Since it was not yet quite night, the muchachos crept cautiously through the long grass in order not to be observed from the finca. Admittedly there was no reason to expect that anyone in the finca, while the great farewell banquet was in full swing, would bother to train his binoculars on the surrounding area in the hope of seeing a stray antelope. Nevertheless, General took every possibility into account.

  Professor, who had been listening to all these dispositions of General’s, since he had been standing continuously at his side for the last half hour, said, “In my opinion, and after what we’ve seen and heard here, we were quite right to make you general. We could scarcely find a better.”

  “Oh, hell,” grinned General, “I’m not nearly so important as you think, Professor. Tomorrow or the day after, I may be shot, or hanged, or buried alive up to the neck and have horses galloped over me, or be smeared with sugar syrup and tied to a tree in the bush. What would that matter? The revolution would go on, and it must go on. Generals die and new generals will appear—far better generals than I am. For the longer the revolution lasts, the more practice the revolutionaries get in the waging of war, and in a few months any one of you standing around here will be able to do much better than I can today because he will have had more practice and experience than I have had till now.”

  “That’s all spoken so well, General,” replied Andreu, “and it’s really a pity you can’t write it down so that all revolutionaries who are unable to hear you can at least read your words.”

  General burst out in a guffaw of laughter. “Me write? Write down my own words? I must tell you, Andrucho, that it always cost me a whole week’s headache to write a letter to my mother when I was still a sergeant. I could just about fill one side of the paper. But when I came to the second side, the difficulties began because I had no words left by then, and even if I’d had any I didn’t know how to write them. And it’s quite a time now since I was a sergeant. Probably today I couldn’t write more than my own name. And that, I think, is enough for a general. What do you think about it, muchachos?”

  “Why does a general need to write more than his name, I’d like to know?” said Celso, glancing questioningly at all the muchachos around. “Look at me. I can’t even write my name; a very wobbly, crooked C is all I can write with difficulty, and yet I’m colonel and, what’s far more, in charge of a machine gun. Whether you can write or not doesn’t worry a machine gun. All it bothers about is whether it’s well oiled and whether you handle it properly so that it hits the target.”

  Professor smiled at General. “I’d be very much interested to know, General, what was on the first page of that letter that you wrote to your mother.”

  “It’s very simple and quite clear. I wrote ‘My dearly beloved, noble, and respected mother,’ and then I put a period.”

  “And what else was there on that first side?”

  “There couldn’t be any more because the page was full and there wasn’t room for another word.”

  “And on the second side? What was there?” inquired Professor, grinning all the time.

  “That’s just as simple and just as clear,” said General, as though he were talking about the most ordinary thing in the world. “What else could I w
rite but just ‘I am well, Your grateful son who kisses your hands and feet, Juan Mendez.’ And then both pages were full. I put the letter in an envelope, bought a stamp, licked it, and shoved the letter in a mailbox.”

  “And what did your mother write to you in reply?”

  “Nothing at all. She couldn’t write. But she could read my letters all right. And what more do you want of a letter than that it can be read by the person you send it to? But let’s not think any more about that. We’ve other things to do, and besides, I believe my mother is dead. Much better for her if she is dead. Her life was perpetual work, eternal hardship, a lot of love, always worry about our food, and only once did I see her laugh.” General frowned and made an extraordinarily comic face. The muchachos who were sitting around looked up at him and were just about to burst into laughter when he sprang to his feet and shouted, “Where are my superintendents of the illuminations?”

  “They’re already half an hour on their way, General,” answered a man.

  “And the charmers of the gate sentries?”

  “Long gone, too.”

  “Then get ready to march off. Come on! Jump to it! Shake your bones and be damned to you! You lazy, lousy lot, sitting around here and gossiping like old wives instead of doing a bit of drill and oiling your weapons and sharpening your knives and machetes. A fine lot of soldiers! Bandy-legged, unwashed tramps, that’s what you are, not worthy of making a revolution. Get on with it, and a bit quicker than usual. Make everything ready for the march. The moment the sun disappears behind those mountaintops, we move off. And I’ll smash to porridge the brains of any man of you who takes up another position than the one I’ve designated for his group. I’ll watch damned closely, even if I have got my own hands full. And you’ll regret it, I promise you, if I find anyone bending over a throat that doesn’t belong to him or squatting in a corner where another’s supposed to hide.”