Civis Americanus Sum – 1955
On the road to Solidad
The small, ancient bus jolted and rolled as it made its way towards Solidad, its suspension squealing and protesting every bump and pothole in the crude Mexican road. Ellen Case had long decided that the sounds of mechanical distress were infinitely preferable to the monologue that was being poured into her ear by the priest sitting on her fight. The Reverend Joresen was apparently convinced that America was the source of all the evil in the world and had been expounding that belief for hours. Some of the girls on the bus had rolled their eyes at her when the Reverend was distracted by his tirade, it was obvious that they'd heard the monologue so often it was just part of the background now. Like the chirping of cicadas in the night.
Ellen Case had come to the unhappiest conclusion a girl in her late teens could possibly make. Her parents had been right. The trip to Mexico was a present from her parents; she'd been booked into good hotels and her travel arrangements were by air or luxury air-conditioned bus. But she'd wanted to see the real Mexico and to meet real people . So, she'd slipped away from her planned itinerary and made her own way. That had been four days ago and she'd come to some conclusions. In the real world the food was bad, the hotels were infested with insects and lacked air conditioning. In the Reverend Joreson was anything to go by, real people were boring fanatics. She'd wanted an adventure. What she'd got was hot, sweaty, smelly and tired. She plucked her blouse a little, allowing air to flow next to her skin. It didn't help much but was a little better.
The bullets hit the bus, starring the windshield, marching down the side of the metal and blowing a front tire. The driver fought to control the vehicle but aging machinery and abused suspension let him down. The bus swerved off the road into a ditch. It didn't roll but it wouldnt be going anywhere. Some of the Mexican girls screamed, others whimpered or clutched at each other. They were orphans, from the Mission in Orsita and were on their way to jobs as maids or factory girls in Solidad. One of them had asked Ellen about jobs in America and that was what had started Joreson off.
He'd finally shut up though, perhaps being ambushed by bandits had its virtues after all. The bus was surrounded by a half dozen men, armed with rifles that even Ellen could recognize as ancient. The bus driver and the passengers were ordered out and the bandits started searching through the luggage for money and whatever passed as valuables. Ellen looked at her companions, the bus driver was safe, the bandits had already taken his cash box and wallet and there was little else they could want. The Priest? If hed been Mexican and Catholic his cloth would protect him but here, now, he was the wrong sort of priest. A foreigner and an interloper. As for the women? Ellens mind veered away from the topic but she knew the answer to that one. She was young, arguably foolish, but very far from being stupid.
The men were searching the passengers now, taking the little money and cheap junk jewelry the girls had. When their leader came to Ellen, he saw the blonde hair under the hat. "Hey boys, look what we've got." His fingers lifted her chin then ran along her jaw line to the ear. "Hey, blondie who are you hey?"
Ellens hand was in her shoulder bag. She grabbed her passport and held it out "I am an American Citizen."
Esteban pulled his hand back as if hed received an electric shock. The passport seemed to have a life of its own, growing fangs and a rattling tail as it gathered itself to strike. Esteban only had the one name, as he'd been told all his life, he could have a family name if his mother could ever work out who his father was. He might be a poor local bandit but he knew what was happening in his own world. A year before, another group of bandits had kidnapped an American businessman for ransom. It was an old tradition, the man would be kidnapped, his family would pay a reasonable ransom and the man would be released unharmed. This time the rules didn't work. The ransom demand had been bluntly refused, so the bandits had killed their victim. A couple of days later, one of the bandits, the one whod brought the demand, was found dead in an alley, killed by a shot from a .45 Colt to the back of his head. In his hand was a business card. On one side was a cartoon of a seal balancing a ball on its nose, on the other a message. You can run but you can't hide. And none of the bandits had been able to. One by one, they'd all died the same way, a bullet in the back of the head, a card left in their hand. The survivors were still dying, one had tried to run south, across the border but word had come back. He was dead also. The few that were left spent all day hiding, afraid to move, afraid to go out, to sleep, to eat, to drink. Fear didn't help them, they could run but they couldn't hide.
Now Esteban was in the same position. His mind raved at the hostile fates that conspired to destroy everything he touched. What should have been a simple bit of highway robbery had turned into a disaster. He could almost feel the skin in the back of his head crawling as a cold muzzle pushed against it. For a moment he felt like destroying the passport and the woman in front of him who'd brought him to this. Then his mind cleared. Esteban might have an education that was poor to the point of non-existence but he was cunning and also smart. Perhaps there was a way out of this.
"I am sorry Senhora," the girl was obviously unmarried but the term of respect would do no harm. "I regret very much that you should have been involved in this. I must ask, ask you understand, that you come with us. You may stay here if you wish but I must warn you, there is no water and it may be days before the bus is found. This road is not well-traveled. If you come with us, we will take you to a place of safety. I give you my word that you will not be harmed."
By the bus door, the priest was haranguing two of the bandits. It was impossible to hear what he was saying but it didn't matter, one of the bandits ended the monologue by butt-stroking him with a rifle. As his body slumped to the ground, Ellen smiled at Esteban "You know, I've been wanting to do that for five hours."
Orsita
The Chief of Police looked at the young American standing in his office. Freshly shaven, hair cut high and tight, his uniform clean and pressed, and at least six different ways to die hanging from his belt. At least six that he could see, the Chief of Police reminded himself, there were undoubtedly more.
"I am sorry to trouble you sir. Lieutenant Commander Thomas, United States Navy. We are here to rescue an American citizen we believe may have been abducted by bandits. We believe she left on the bus for Solidad. That bus is now seriously overdue. Could you please ask the bus company to confirm that she was on the passenger list and show us the route the bus was supposed to follow?"
The Chief of Police was outraged. More to the point, he was also embarrassed. He was aware that he hadn't shaved that day - or, indeed the previous one, his uniform was rumpled and dirty and he was out of condition. Nevertheless, he was the law here and the law was what he said it was. It was time the Norteamericano understood that.
Outside, the local passers-by were covertly admiring the two jeeps and the Americans in them when there was an earthquake. Or so it seemed. The window shattered and the Chief of Police did a swan-dive through the breaking glass, his arms and legs making at least two complete bicycling turns before he belly-flopped onto the sidewalk. A few seconds later, Lieutenant Commander Thomas left the building and knelt beside the gasping man. "Sir, there are eleven more windows on this floor then we can start on the one above it. Now, could you please ask the bus company to confirm that Ellen Case was on the passenger list for the bus and show us the route it was supposed to follow?"
An hour later, the two jeeps and their occupants left town to join up with the rest of the SEAL unit. Behind them, the Chief of Police got drunk (again) while the rest of Orsitas citizens delightedly retold the story of how he had been thrown out of his own office window. They sadly concluded that the story was a great embarrassment to the Chief of Police and he should not be reminded of it. Not more than three or four times a day anyway.
Camp site in the Mountains
Ellen Case was sitting down, eating beans and some unidentified meat from a metal place. She'd been given the meal a few minutes earlier and had gone to sit in the shade by a rock. One of the bandits had stopped her making a waving motion with his hand and imitated the unmistakable sound of a snake hissing. Theyd looked at the rock there hadn't been a snake there but there had been a large scorpion. She'd smiled her thanks to the man and sat where hed suggested. Now, she was mopping the plate clean with a tortilla. By the time she'd finished, the plate was shining. She took it back to the man who'd done the cooking. "Thank you Senhor. I enjoyed that."
The man looked around with pride, Ellen guessed he got few kind words about his cooking, schoolgirl Spanish came in useful sometimes. A couple of the bandits made discrete circling motions with their fingers beside their heads. She could understand the wordless message. The American woman must be crazy to enjoy your cooking. Still, it was good-natured enough.
She doubted if the Reverend Joresen felt the same way. On the walk up, hed started haranguing her again, trying to make out that the whole situation was the fault of Americans. As far as she could make out, his argument was that this was only happening because the bandits were poor and that was because America stole all the money in the world. If America shared its wealth equally with the rest of the world instead of wasting it on bombers, the people would be rich and this wouldnt have happened. He hadnt got much further than that because one of the bandits had seen he was annoying her and walked towards him with his rifle clubbed, ready to give another butt-stroke. He'd got the hint and kept quiet after that. Then, when the prisoners had been given food, hed thrown it away, refusing to eat. The bandit had shrugged, put the beans back on his plate and then made the priest eat them, dirt and all, at riflepoint.
Ellen drank the water shed been given, saving a last mouthful to wash her hands. As she dried them, she saw one of the bandits walking over to where the rest of the girls were sitting, a bottle of wine in his hand. An invitation to one or more of the girls to come and share the bandits wine. Ellen knew where that was going to lead. Only it didn't because there was a loud hammering and a line of dirt spurts raced across the sand in front of the man. The other bandits made a dive for their guns, but there were other bursts and more sand was thrown in the air.
"Drop your weapons. You are surrounded and outgunned. Don't get yourselves killed pointlessly."
The bandits did as they were told. All around them, men wearing sandy-colored fatigues stood up, some of them as little as ten yards from the camp. Somehow, they'd moved in without being seen. One of the walked over to Ellen, his sub-machine gun still trained on the bandits.
"Are you Miss Ellen Case?" Ellen nodded. "Lieutenant Commander Jeff Thomas, United States Navy. We've come to take you home. Please take me to the leader of this group."
She took him to where Esteban was standing, his hands raised. "Miss Case, have you been harmed in any way? Has any of your property been taken."
Ellen shook her head. "No Sir." She explained everything that had happened since the bus was shot up. "In fact, I was treated with every courtesy and respect. The only person who has been hurt, deserved it."
Esteban couldn't understand the conversation between the two Americans, it was too fast and too colloquial. But he did understand that these were the men who left the dreaded Seal cards. Now, their leader was looking at him. Esteban drew himself up to full height. He was only a bandit he thought, but if he was going to die he'd die like a man, standing erect and looking his enemy in the eye. He saw the American look at him and nod slightly.
"Miss Case tells me that she is unharmed and that she was well-treated. Therefore, there is no quarrel between us and you have nothing to fear from us. I would advise you go to great lengths to ensure that there never is a quarrel between us."
Esteban nodded, somehow hed guessed the American would speak perfect Spanish. Suddenly he desperately wanted to be liked by this man, to be seen as something more than a bandit. "American, I am on my way to the Mission at Rodriguez. All these people will be released there into the hands of our priest. Safely."
Thomas nodded again. Then he seemed to make a decision. "Do you realize that anybody who joins the US Armed forces can become an American citizen after five years? All you have to do is see the American Consul at Solidad and tell him you would like to enlist. Hell take it from there. For you, Id recommend the Marines. If you decide to go, show him this."
Esteban looked at the piece of card. It had the cartoon of a seal balancing a ball on its nose on the front and a message on the back Hes OK and a signature. When he looked back up, the seals had gone except for their leader walking with the American girl down the trail.
"Why did you let them go, they're bandits, they're evil."
No Miss Case, they are not evil. They are poor, they have no hope, no future, nothing to aim for. They've got nothing to live up to, nobody gives them a code, nobody tells them what is good and what is bad. But they're not evil. That bandit, he had the smarts to understand the only way out of the mess he was in was to look after you properly. More than that, he had the command authority to make his men do the same. Most of all, he had pride. There's good material there. That's what burns me up about places like this, they're full of good people who just need a chance to be all they can be. Give them that chance and they'll take it the rest of the way. If that guy does as I suggested, hell get three square meals a day, he'll get an education and he'll get somewhere he belongs. He'll get standards and a code to live up to. I hope he does."
Behind them, Esteban finished deciphering the signature on the card. First, he had to get his prisoners to Rodriguez, then he had to find the American Consul in Solidad. Marine Esteban Tomas had a nice ring to it.