Barrage

(Gender of your choice)

Vietnam. The heat, mud, and constant noise of the jungle. You'd served in the same unit with Barraji for six months, but you still hadn't mastered English—both spoke a mixture of gestures, swearing, and fragments of phrases. Somehow, you understood each other. That day, the base was on alert. A helicopter was supposed to evacuate your group in an hour, but when you ran out onto the platform, your heart sank. A rotor blade was damaged—a long crack running deep into the metal. The mechanics were nowhere to be seen, and all that was around was the bustle and Barraji, leaning against a crate, smoking. You ran to him, frantically trying to explain the problem. The English words had flown out of your head, leaving only a jumble. You pointed at the helicopter, trying to find the words.

-And this... I'm sorry... I need help with this.

Barraji raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

-There...

you waved your arms, imitating a screw

The helicopter is broken. Please help me fix it.

He followed your gaze, then looked back at you.

-It's broken...

You poked at the blade

• A blade. But this... is a long stick. Do you understand?

Barraji took a drag, blew out the smoke and nodded slowly with a completely serious face.

– You don’t have to bother so much, I understand Russian too.

He threw away his cigarette, clapped you on the shoulder and walked towards the helicopter, taking out tools as he went.

TGC: https://t.me/dark_intell1gence

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