A-Infos (en) Italy, FDCA, Cantiere #35 - "The War" (ca, de, it, pt, tr)[machine translation]

Intellectuals who call themselves progressives, singers and musicians 
who rediscover "Western values", historians who look to the warrior 
glories of the past, all in happy company trying to cajole the new 
generations, boys, but why not also girls, in honor of equality, to 
convince them that it is beautiful and right to sacrifice oneself for 
the homeland, but not for the small nationalist homeland, no, but for 
the great shining European homeland. And here we invoke the need for the 
EU to "rediscover the fighting spirit" and "the sense of struggle", and 
we regret that «The fact remains that we are no longer warriors» A. 
Scurati, but even more from the height of his venerable age here is the 
maitre a penser of psychoanalysis U. Galimberti reminds us that "peace 
numbs" and that is why "I look at pacifists with suspicion".
To respond to so much war rhetoric it would be enough to refer to the 
many films about ongoing wars, but perhaps between a ballet and an 
advertisement those images lose their meaning and they too appear like 
fiction.
That's why we prefer to offer our readers a page by Boris Vian, the 
first paragraph of "The Ants" where the lean, cynical and surreal prose 
plunges us into the horror of war. (C.V.)

The Ants
Boris Vian

We arrived this morning and we weren't very well received, because on 
the beach there was nothing but a lot of dead guys or pieces of guys, 
demolished tanks and trucks. Bullets were coming from pretty much 
everywhere and I really don't like all this mess just for the sake of 
having fun. We jumped into the water, but it was deeper than we thought 
and I slipped on a can of preserves. The kid right behind me had 
three-quarters of his face blown off by the incoming prune, and I kept 
the tin of preserves as a memento. I put the pieces of his face in my 
helmet and gave them to him, and he went off to get treated, but he 
looked like he had lost his way because he went into the water until his 
feet were no longer touching the surface, and I don't think he can see 
far enough down to not get lost.
I then ran in the right direction and got there just in time to get a 
leg in the face. I tried to thrash the guy, but the mine had left 
nothing but pieces that were not at all practical to handle, so I 
ignored his gesture and continued on. Ten meters away, I reached three 
other kids who were behind a block of concrete and shooting at a corner 
of the wall, higher up. They were soaked in sweat and water and I must 
have been like them, so I knelt down and shot too. The lieutenant came 
back, holding his head with both hands and red stuff was dripping from 
his mouth. He didn't look happy and it didn't take him long to lie down 
on the sand, with his mouth open and his arms outstretched. He must have 
made a lot of dirt on the sand. It was one of the only corners that 
remained clean.
From there, our stranded boat looked completely idiotic at first, and 
then it didn't even look like a boat anymore when the two shells fell on 
it. I didn't like it at all, because there were still two friends 
inside, hit as they stood up to jump. I patted the three who were 
shooting with me on the back and said to them: "Come on, let's go, up." 
Let's be clear, I let them pass first, and I had a good nose because the 
first and second were knocked out by those two others who, under cover, 
were holding us at gunpoint, and there was only one left in front of me, 
the old man, poor guy, never had any luck, as soon as he got rid of the 
baddest, the other one had just enough time to kill him before I could 
take care of him.
Those two pigs, behind the corner of the wall, had a machine gun and a 
lot of ammunition. I pointed it the other way and pressed, but it 
stopped quickly because it was breaking my ears and it had jammed right 
away. They must have adjusted them so as not to shoot in the wrong 
direction.
There, I was more or less calm. From the top of the beach, you could 
enjoy a beautiful view. On the sea, there was smoke in every corner and 
the water was spraying very high. We could also see the flashes of the 
salvos from the big battleships and their howitzers passed over our 
heads with a funny dull noise, like a tubular bell with a low sound 
being pierced in the air.
The captain arrived. There were only eleven of us left. He said it 
wasn't much but that we would get by like this. Later, the fallen were 
replaced. At the moment they made us dig holes; to sleep, I thought, but 
no, we had to crawl in and keep shooting.
Fortunately, it was getting lighter. Now the boats were landing big 
batches of them, but the fish were running between their legs to get 
their revenge for the confusion and most of them fell into the water and 
got up, gasping like desperate people. Some didn't get up at all and 
went off, floating with the waves and the captain immediately told us to 
neutralize the nest of machine guns, which had just started to go at us 
again, by advancing behind the tank.
We positioned ourselves behind the tank. I was the last because I don't 
trust the brakes on those things. Anyway, it's more comfortable to walk 
behind a tank because you don't have to get caught in the wire anymore 
and the pickets fall off by themselves. I didn't like the way it was 
crushing the corpses with a kind of noise that's hard to remember - at 
the time, it's quite characteristic. After three minutes, it stepped on 
a mine and started burning. Two of the guys inside didn't make it out 
and the third one did, but he had one foot stuck in the tank and I don't 
know if he had time to notice it before he died. In any case, two of his 
howitzers had already fallen on the machine gun nest, breaking the eggs 
and the little men too. Those disembarking found an improvement, but 
just then an anti-tank battery started spitting too and at least twenty 
of them fell into the water. I threw myself belly down. From my 
position, I could see them shooting by leaning out a little. The burning 
tank carcass protected me a little and I aimed carefully. The aiming gun 
fell writhing like a beast, I must have hit a little too low, but I 
couldn't finish him off, I had to knock out the other three first. I 
struggled, luckily the noise of the burning tank prevented me from 
hearing them moan - I had also killed the third one badly. Besides, 
there were continuous explosions and smoke from all sides. I rubbed my 
eyes for a long time to see better because I was sweating and the 
captain came back. He was only using his right arm. "Can you wrap my 
left arm tightly around my body?" I said yes and started to wrap it in 
bandages and then he left the ground with both feet at the same time and 
fell on top of me because a grenade had come from behind him. He 
stiffened instantly, apparently that's what happens when you fall dead 
from exhaustion, in any case it was more convenient that way to get him 
off me. And then I must have fallen asleep, and when I woke up the noise 
was coming from further away and one of those guys with red crosses all 
around their helmets was pouring me coffee.

*MILLELIRE STAMPA ALTERNATIVA edition September 1997

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