CHAPTER NINE

The priest came to see me later that evening. I had just had my dinner and was lying in bed, not thinking of anything. In his hands he held several boxes.

"I brought you some things: a mosquito net, a bottle of alcohol, and some newspapers from England," he said sitting down in the chair next to my bed.

"Thanks, father. Can I open them now?"

"Sure."

Right away, I had two glasses of alcohol poured for us to drink together. I noticed that the priest did not seem to be as happy as usual.

"Is something bothering you, father?" I asked.

"I don't like this war at all!"

"I don't either, but we can't stop it."

"You and I don't really understand war. We are only observers. I'm sorry. I shouldn't speak this way. You are injured."

"That's alright, father. I don't mind. I was having a conversation just like this one with Manera and Passini before the bomb fell on us."

"Why are the people who want war the most powerful? Why can't the peaceful people be in power? If they can't be in power, why can't they influence the powerful somehow? Ah, it's impossible I know. Tell me, do you believe in God?"

"No, not really."

"I know. However, one day you will. You ought to love God. It will make you much happier. I look forward to the day when I can return to my hometown and live a simpler life and completely devote my time to God. Anyway, I've stayed too long. I'll go now."

"Thanks for the gifts and the conversation. Please, visit me again if you can."

"I will. Good-bye."

I liked the priest. I felt sorry for him that he had to accept so much idiotic joking from the soldiers in the dining hall. I hoped that he would one day be able to return to his hometown. It sounded nice the way he talked about it. The hunting was supposed to be wonderful there. And the mountains were supposed to be as beautiful as the ones in France and Austria. Then I fell asleep.

(end of section)