Durval sipped the watermelon juice that Melinda had served him. Heitor’s wife was at most 25 years old, had long black hair down to the middle of her back, a strong face with a prominent chin, and large green eyes. She had sat on the sofa right in front of him and was looking at him with a smile on her face. She wore a very short floral dress that exposed her long arms and legs. Her thick thighs seemed almost glossy from the sunlight streaming through the living room window.
Durval cleared his throat and looked at Heitor, who was approaching with a wooden box in his hands. It was rectangular and must have measured about thirty centimeters long by ten wide. On the top, there was a kind of engraved coat of arms, but Durval couldn’t read what was written. He sat down next to Durval and solemnly unlocked the clasp and opened the box.
The interior was lined with black velvet, and in the center was a gold medal. Inscribed on the medal was a saber overlaid on the globe, surrounded by a laurel wreath. The ribbon was wide and purple with two green and yellow stripes and had a golden slider with three circles horizontally. Heitor turned the medal over, and Durval could read the inscription on the back, “Marshal Hermes,” encircling the Army emblem in the center of the map of Brazil. Next to the medal was another smaller one.
— One of the highest decorations of the Army — said Heitor. — I was the top of my class at the Army Command and General Staff School. Then I served for nineteen years at the Military Academy of Infantry of the Third Combat Engineering Regiment. I reached the rank of captain.
Heitor paused, and Durval realized that the man wanted a compliment.
— Wow, huh!
— I always stood out in the infantry — he said pompously.
— And this other smaller medal?
— A miniature of the larger one.
— And what about Botelho and the man with horns?
— It was around that time that I met your friend Botelho. I didn’t like him right away. Very flashy, loud and shrill. Besides gesturing too much. At first glance, he seemed like a braggart to me. No one in the regiment liked him. But General Moura Fernandes never left his side. They roamed the battalion together like two peas in a pod. The recruits even maliciously commented on their relationship.
Durval cleared his throat and looked at Melinda, who still wore that silly smile on her face.
— Until that moment, no one knew why a civilian had access to maximum security areas of the Army. Like the building of the chemical and biological defense laboratories. Even high-ranking officers were not allowed to enter that building. I was already a second lieutenant at that time, and even so, I couldn’t even get close to that place.
Durval drank the rest of the watermelon juice.
— Would you like some more? — Melinda asked.
— Yes, please, thank you.
The woman stood up and strutted to the kitchen.
— It was then that a sergeant and I decided to investigate what was happening in those laboratories.
Episode XXXII continues in the next edition.
JOSÉ GASPAR
Filmmaker and writer
www.historiasdooutromundo.com