The Time of the Hero

by Mario Vargas Llosa

  “They don’t sleep, Sir. I’ve checked the barracks at night. The cadets are in their bunks but they aren’t asleep. They’re talking about Arana.”

  “After the lights are out?”

  “Yes, Colonel. Long after.”

  “Gamboa, you know that’s against the regulations!” The colonel was shouting again.

  “I made them stop it, Sir. They weren’t noisy, they were almost whispering to each other. I’ve told the noncoms to keep an ear out.”

  “No wonder we have accidents like this!” The colonel waved his little white fists in the air. “You officers don’t teach them discipline! Do you hear me, discipline!” He paused, then turned to Calzada, Pitaluga and Huarina. “You can leave,” he said. “But remember, be careful, careful, careful!”

  The three lieutenants stood up, clicked their heels, and left the room. The colonel sat down for a moment in Huarina’s place, then stood up again and began to pace back and forth.

  “Okay,” he said, with an abrupt halt, “now tell me the truth. What happened?”

  Capt. Garrido looked at Gamboa and nodded. The lieutenant turned to the colonel. “All the details I know are in my report,” he said. “I was commanding the advance from the other side, the right flank. I didn’t know anything was wrong until we’d almost reached the top of the hill. Then I saw Capt. Garrido carrying the cadet.”

  “And what about the noncoms?” the colonel asked. “Why weren’t they there? Deaf, dumb, and blind as usual, eh?”

  “They were at the rear, Colonel,” Gamboa said. “According to the training instructions. So they didn’t see any more than I did.” He paused. “That was in my report.”

  “Impossible!” the colonel shouted. “It’s absolutely impossible!” He waved his hands again, then fastened them on his belt, attempting to control himself. “Look, don’t play stupid,” he said. “Don’t try to tell me that nobody saw it. He must have shouted or screamed or something. There were cadets all around him, weren’t there? The obvious…”

  “No, Sir,” Gamboa said, breaking in. “The cadets were spread out across the field. They weren’t side by side. And when I blew the whistle they all ran forward as hard as they could. I think the cadet was wounded when they started firing. If he did scream, nobody would hear it over the firing. And you have to consider the weeds, Sir. They’re tall enough to hide anyone who’s down on the ground. The cadets that came on from the rear didn’t happen to see him. I’ve questioned the whole company.”

  The colonel turned to Capt. Garrido. “What about you? Daydreaming like him?”

  “I was directing the attack from the rear, Sir,” Garrido said, blinking. His jaws ground out the words like a pair of millstones. “The cadets advanced in lines. The cadet must have been wounded when his line advanced. And with a wound like that, he couldn’t get up when the whistle blew again, so he stayed there in the weeds. He must have been out of position. That would explain why the other line didn’t see him.”

  “Fine, fine,” the colonel said. “But now, tell me what you think.”

  The captain and Gamboa looked at each other. There was an awkward silence which neither of them dared to break. At last the captain said, in a low voice, “Perhaps he shot himself with his own rifle. I mean, perhaps he really did. When he hit the ground. He might have caught the trigger on some part of his uniform.”

  “No,” the colonel said. “I’ve been talking with the doctor. There isn’t any question about it, he got shot from behind. In the back of the neck. You’re an old soldier, you know very well that guns don’t go off by themselves. It’s a good enough story to give to the family, it’ll get us out from under, at least for the time being. But you’re the ones to blame.” The captain and the lieutenant shifted in their chairs. “Tell me about the firing.”

  “It was according to the instructions,” Gamboa said. “They advanced under cover, one line covering another. The firing was carefully timed all the way through. I didn’t give the order to fire until I was sure the advance troops were flat on the ground. I couldn’t see everything from up front, of course, but it seemed to be going like clockwork. I don’t feel I did anything wrong, Sir.”

  “And we’ve been running the same exercises for five years,” the captain said. “The Fifth Year has gone through it at least a dozen times since they’ve been here at the Academy. They’ve also been out on maneuvers, under worse conditions. I set up the exercises according to the program I was given. I’ve never given a single order that wasn’t in the book.”

  “So what?” the colonel asked. “All I want to know is, how did he get killed? Who made a mistake? Goddamn it, this isn’t an army post!” He shook his pale fists again. “If a soldier gets shot, you bury him and that’s the end of it. But these are students, sons from good families, it wouldn’t take anything at all to create a scandal. And what if the cadet happened to be a general’s son?”

  “I have a theory, Sir,” Gamboa said. The captain looked at him enviously. “This afternoon I inspected all their rifles. Most of them are old and unsafe, Colonel, as I’m sure you know. Some have got their sights out of line, some have got defective bores. These things wouldn’t be enough by themselves, of course, but it’s possible a cadet might get his sight even further out of line, without realizing it. And if the bore was defective too, the shot could go wild. So if Cadet Arana was out of position, and exposed to the firing… But that’s just a theory, Colonel.”

  “Yes,” the colonel said. He appeared calmer now, as if something had been settled. “The bullet didn’t fall from the blue. It was fired by somebody in the rear line. But we can’t have these accidents here! Take all the rifles to the armory tomorrow morning. Tell them they’ve got to replace the ones that are worn out. Captain, I want a rifle inspection in the other companies too. But not right away. We’d better wait a few days. And don’t make a big noise about it. In fact, I don’t want a word of it to leak out. The Academy’s prestige is at stake, and the army’s as well. Fortunately the doctors have been very cooperative. They’re going to make a strictly medical report, without any theorizing. The sensible thing is to keep up the idea that it was an error by the cadet himself. If you hear any rumors or arguments, nip them in the bud. Do you understand what I’ve said?”

  “Colonel,” the captain said, “please let me make an observation. Personally I believe this theory is much more likely.”

  “What theory? That he shot himself?”

  “Yes, Sir. I’ll go so far as to say flatly that the shot was fired from the cadet’s own rifle. Remember, Sir, they were shooting at targets several yards above their heads. It’s impossible to believe that a bullet could go that wild. The cadet must have pulled the trigger by accident when he fell on his rifle. I’ve often observed that the cadets hit the ground very awkwardly. There’s a technique, but they don’t seem to know it. And besides that, Cadet Arana never distinguished himself in anything soldierly.”

  “It’s possible, I suppose,” the colonel said. He was very calm now. “Yes, of course it’s possible. Anything’s possible. What are you laughing at, Gamboa?”

  “I’m not laughing, Sir. Excuse me, but I’m not.”

  “I hope you’re right.” The colonel patted his stomach, then smiled for the first time. “And let this be a lesson. The Fifth Year has given us altogether too much trouble. Especially that first section. Just a few days ago we had to expel a cadet for stealing exams. And now this. Be more careful in the future. I’m not threatening you. Don’t get the wrong idea. But I’ve got a job to do. So have you. And we’ve got to do it like soldiers. Like Peruvians. Without questions or qualms. Very well, Seriores, that’s all.”

  Capt. Garrido and Lt. Gamboa stood up and left the room. The colonel watched them gravely until the door closed. Then he scratched his belly.

  One afternoon after I got out of school, Skinny Higueras said, “Look, let’s go to some other place, I don’t want to go back to that bar.” I told him it didn’t matter and he took me to a bar
on Sáenz Peña Avenue. It was dark and very dirty. After you passed the counter there was a small door that let you in to the main room. Skinny talked with the waiter for a couple of minutes. They seemed to be old friends. Then he ordered two shots, and when we finished them he looked at me very seriously and asked me if I was as much of a he-man as my brother. “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess so. Why?” “You owe me about twenty soles by now,” he told me. “Isn’t that right?” I almost started shaking, I’d forgot how much money I owed him and I thought, Now he’s going to ask me to pay him and I haven’t got it. But then he said, “I’m not trying to collect. Don’t get me wrong. But look, you’re a man now, you’ve got to have money. I can lend it to you when you need it, but first I’ve got to get it. Do you want to help me?” I asked him what I’d have to do. “Well, it’s sort of risky,” he said. “If you’re scared, forget about it. I’ve cased the house, I know they aren’t there right now. And they’re filthy rich, they could fill a whole room with soles, the way Atahualpa filled that room with gold for Pizarro, you remember the story.” “Stealing, you mean?” I asked him. “Yes,” Skinny said. “But I don’t like that particular word. They’re rotten with money, I tell you, and what’ve we got? Nothing. So? Are you scared to help me? I’m not trying to force you into it, but where do you think your brother got his money from? And your part’s going to be easy, you know I’m your friend.” “No, I don’t want to,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to.” It wasn’t because it scared me, but he took me by surprise, I never even guessed that Skinny Higueras and my brother were both crooks. Then Skinny changed the subject, he ordered two more shots, gave me a cigarette, and told me the latest jokes. He was like that, he always had something new, and he could really tell a spicy story, he’d change his voice and make all sorts of faces. Then he’d laugh, opening his mouth so wide you could see his back teeth and his tonsils. I listened to what he was saying, and tried to laugh in the right places, but he must’ve known I was thinking about something else because all of a sudden he asked, “What’s the matter? You don’t like the idea? If you don’t, then just forget it.” I said, “But what if they catch you some day?” “The cops are all too stupid,” he told me, “and besides, they’re the worst crooks of all. And even if they do catch me, so what? That’s life.” I wanted to keep on talking about it, so I asked him, “If they catch you, how long’ll you stay in jail?” “I don’t know,” he said. “It all depends on how much money I’ve got on me.” And he told me about the time my brother got caught breaking into a house in La Perla. A cop was going by and he took out his pistol and aimed it at my brother and said, “We’re going to the station, walk five yards ahead of me, don’t try anything or I’ll let you have it, you dirty crook.” But my brother laughed in his face and said, “Are you drunk or something? I’m sneaking in here because the cook’s waiting for me in her bed. If you don’t believe it, just frisk me, you’ll see.” The cop hesitated for a moment, and then got curious. He went up to him and stuck his pistol right in his eye and began frisking him. “Don’t move aninch,” he told him, “or I’ll shoot. If it doesn’t kill you, at least it’ll wreck your eye, so keep still.” When his hand came out of my brother’s pocket it was full of bills. My brother laughed again and said, “I told you I didn’t need to steal anything. Look, you’re a half-breed and I’m a half-breed, that means we’re brothers. Keep the money and let me go. I’ll see the cook some other time.” The cop said, “I’m going to take a leak, over there behind the wall. If I find you here when I come back, I’ll run you in for attempted bribery.” Then Skinny told me about the time they both almost got caught on Jesús María. The cops saw them coming out of a house and one of the cops started blowing his whistle and they ran across the roofs. Finally they jumped down into a garden and my brother twisted his ankle. He said, “Keep running, I can’t go on,” but Skinny didn’t want to get away alone so he dragged him into a sort of culvert. God knows how long they stayed there, hardly daring to breathe. Then they grabbed a taxi and went to Callao.

  After that, I didn’t see Skinny Higueras for quite a few days, and I thought, They must’ve caught him. But I saw him about a week later in the Bellavista Plaza and we went to the same bar to have a drink and to smoke and talk. He didn’t mention that subject again for days in a row. I studied with Tere every afternoon, but I didn’t go to meet her when she got out of school because I didn’t have any money. I remember the Sunday I went out to see my godfather, without telling my mother I was going. It took me over three hours to get there, I had to cross the whole of Lima on foot. Before I knocked on the door I looked in the window to see if he was home, I was afraid if his wife came to the door again it’d be just like the last time, she’d tell me he wasn’t there. I couldn’t see anything so I knocked anyway. His wife didn’t come to the door, it was one of his little daughters. I remember she didn’t have any front teeth. She told me her father was up in the mountains and wouldn’t be back for ten days. So I couldn’t buy a notebook for Tere, but then some school friends loaned me the money and I bought it anyway. The worst thing was, I couldn’t go wait for Tere at her school, I didn’t have the fare, and one afternoon when we were studying together and her aunt went into the other room for a minute, she said, “You’ve never come back to wait for me at noon.” I turned red. “I was thinking of going tomorrow,” I told her. “You always get out at twelve, don’t you?” That evening I went to the Bellavista Plaza to look for Skinny Higueras but I couldn’t find him. It occurred to me he might be in that bar on Sáenz Peña, so I went there. The bar was crowded and full of smoke and there were some drunkards singing and shouting. When the waiter saw me come in, he said, “Get out of here, we don’t serve kids.” “I’ve got to see Skinny Higueras,” I told him, “it’s very important.” Then the waiter recognized me and pointed to the door at the back. The main room was even more crowded, and the smoke was so thick you could hardly see a thing. There were women sitting at the tables or on the customers’ laps. The men were pawing them and kissing them. One of the women grabbed my cheek and said, “Hello, there, sonny, what’re you doing here?” I said, “Shut up, you whore.” She only laughed at that, but the drunk who had his arm around her said, “I’m going to push your face in, you’ve insulted this lady.” Just then, Skinny came over. He took the drunk by the arm and sat him down again. “This is my cousin,” he told him, “anybody that tries to touch him has got to deal with me first.” “Okay, Skinny,” the man said, “but tell him not to call my women whores. He ought to learn better manners. He should respect his elders.” Skinny put a hand on my shoulder and led me over to a table where three men were sitting. I didn’t know a single one of them. Two of them were Creoles, the other was a peasant. Skinny introduced me as a friend of his and ordered me a drink. I told him I wanted to talk with him alone. We went to the men’s room and when we got there I said, “I need some money. Be a good guy and lend me two soles.” He laughed and gave them to me. Then he asked, “Do you remember what we were talking about the other day?” I nodded. “Good,” he said. “Then I want you to do me a favor too. I need you. We’re friends, we’ve got to help each other. And it’s just for this once. Okay?” “Yes,” I said, “but only this once. And if it takes care of everything I owe you.” “That’s a deal,” he said. “And unless something goes wrong, you won’t be sorry.” We went back to the table and Skinny said to the other three, “Señores, allow me to introduce you to our new partner.” The three of them laughed and slapped me on the back. Then a couple of women came over to the table and one of them started pestering Skinny, she wanted to give him a kiss, and the peasant said, “Leave him alone. If you want to kiss somebody, why don’t you pick on the boy here?” “I’d love to,” she said, and kissed me on the mouth, and everybody laughed and joked. Then Skinny pushed her away. “All right,” he told me, “now get out. And don’t come back here. Wait for me tomorrow night in the Bellavista Plaza. Around eight o’clock. I’ll meet you in front of the movie thea
ter.” I left the bar and went home, trying not to think about anything except how I could go and wait for Tere the next day. But I was all worked up about the things Skinny told me, I kept thinking about what could go wrong. If we got caught, they’d send me to the reform school because I was a minor. And Tere would hear all about it, one way or another. And she’d never want to see me again.

  It was worse than if the chapel had been completely dark. The shifting half-light exaggerated every movement, cast weird shadows on the walls or the stone floor, and showed everyone’s face so dimly, so gloomily, that it almost made them look hostile or even sinister. There was also that constant, plaintive murmuring behind them: a woman’s voice repeating one single word, in the same tone, with the syllables running together. It made them more and more nervous, they would rather have heard her scream, or cry out to God and the Virgin, or sob and tear her hair. But ever since they came in with the noncom Pezoa, who lined them up in two columns along the chapel walls, on either side of the coffin, and gave them the order, “Right shoulder, arms!” they had heard nothing but that endless monotone. At last they began to make out other sounds and voices, which meant that people were arriving for the wake. They could not look at their watches: they were all standing at attention, half a yard apart, silent and motionless. The most they could do was to glance sidewise at the coffin, but all they could see was its polished black surface and the wreaths of white flowers. None of the persons in the front part of the chapel had gone up to the coffin. Probably they had gone up to it before the honor guard arrived, and were busy now attempting to console the mother. The Academy’s chaplain, looking unusually serious, wandered toward the altar several times, but he always went back to the door, no doubt to be on hand as the groups of mouners arrived. Then he wandered through the aisles again, his eyes lowered, his cheerful young face contracted into a suitable expression; but no matter how often he passed the coffin, he never once stopped beside it, or even looked. The cadets in the honor guard had already been there a good while and their arms were starting to ache from the weight of their rifles. Also, it was growing hot: the chapel was small, every candle on the altar had been lighted, and they were wearing their wool uniforms. They sweated but they all stood rigid, their heels together, their left hands at their thighs, their right hands under the butts of their rifles, their bodies stiffly erect.