The Mountain Language

[siamhussein]

Col. C's beret was still warm when I lifted it off the step. I brought it up with me and left it with the cheif of staff, my friend Colonel G. It didn't seem right to leave it with the duty officer as I know that Col. C will be greatly annoyed at this happenstance

Comments

[bricology]

As per usual, I don't have any idea how literally I should take your posts.
I will say, however, that they're among the most evocative, mysterious and intriguing entries I've found on LJ.
If they're fiction, they ought to be compiled and published. If they're nonfiction, well, I'm damned envious.

[siamhussein]

Je garde le mystère, of course. But in a way every word is true. Some painfully so. The waiting for Mr W, especially, who evidently doesn't respond to "message read" requests.

Anyway, I can give you the menu. Some frothy amuse bouche which the Spanish general didn't know what to do with and that the cavalry colonel avoided. Then ecrevisses au buerre claire. A regional specialty which I lacked the élan to fully indulge (visions of cracking open a claw and staining someone's uniform). A terrine. Then duck. Sorbet then cheese then handshakes all around. Surprisingly little loitering. These guys get up early. Throughout all this, and the speech before, I wore myself out trying to contain fits of coughing. It was lots of fun. The room reminded me of the command post in PATHS OF GLORY, the kind of place wherein you enter preceded by the echo of your heels.