Chapter Nine: The One That Got Away

A day later, General Fontaine, commander of the French forces in Syria, departed from the Governor’s Palace. Simultaneously, the officers and soldiers of the entire Youth Division camp stood in formation to welcome him.

Seeing the sea of soldiers jumping and clapping in place to express their welcome, General Fontaine wore a strange expression. It reminded him of a similar reception for de Gaulle two years prior.

"Constant scenes like this are truly embarrassing," General Fontaine thought to himself, finally exhaling deeply to suppress the cringe-inducing awkwardness.

"Long live France..." Koman was among the soldiers. In the spirit of collectivism, he shouted the slogan and jumped, clapping his hands; it seemed the only way to express his respect for the General.

From Koman’s perspective, General Fontaine, perhaps out of shyness, kept his head down while chatting with the Youth Division commander, General Duval.

General Fontaine’s arrival signaled that Koman’s unit was truly about to depart. With the grounds packed with lined-up troops, Fontaine, as the commander of French forces in Syria, stepped onto the podium to offer words of encouragement. He was followed by General Duval’s reassuring speech: "If every bullet found its mark, who would even bother to enlist?"

"I hope these children return safely from the battlefield and integrate what they have learned in this war of men into the decades of life that lie ahead."

Koman raised an eyebrow. To his memory, this was the first time Duval had spoken publicly. He didn't actually know much about his commander, other than that Duval was fifty-eight years old. A soldier of that age serving as commander of a youth division was, in truth, likely because he was near retirement; having no further ambitions, he feared no repercussions.

"Now, let a soldier representative speak." Once General Duval finished his address, he invited a representative to the stage to take an oath—a step that usually didn't happen, yet here it was.

Koman held his head high, clutching his speech, and stepped onto the stage. On the stairs, he pondered how so many people strive to reach the top; indeed, the higher one stands, the further one sees.

Dressed in his military uniform, Koman stood before the microphone for a few seconds before speaking softly: "Silence..."

The entire field of soldiers fell hushed. Koman raised his hand, made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and began his address: "Being part of this collective is my most cherished memory. Today, we are about to depart, entering the torrent of blood and fire that is war, for our families, for France..."

"Heroic soldiers of the Fourth French Republic Armed Forces, comrades, the Republic’s armed forces have always shouldered the mission of responsibility, exerting a unique power of deterrence, and remain at all times fully prepared. This is not just for the comrades of the Youth Division, but for all officers, soldiers, partisans, and unyielding laborers of France who fight against Germany..."

"Now, France’s military strength is being restored. We are full of confidence in every battle, and we are ready to respond to any provocation."

"Any force that engages in military confrontation with the Fourth French Republic will be annihilated. Long live the great Fourth French Republic..."

"Long live!" over ten thousand soldiers of the French Youth Division responded in unison, raising their hands to their foreheads as if in a collective prayer.

*Clack.* General Duval lit a cigarette and looked at General Fontaine. "Dragon’s boy has another side to him."

"You forget, he was the one who recorded the enlistment for this unit," Fontaine replied softly. "Dragon sent a telegram yesterday asking about Koman, though I suspect it’s because his youngest son is being disobedient and there’s no one left to discipline him now that Koman is in service."

While the two gossiped about the Dragon family, Koman had already stepped off the podium and returned to the ranks, finally relaxing. He liked performing the General’s solar rituals for others, but felt just as awkward if the spotlight was on him.

After the farewell ceremony, General Duval saw Fontaine out of the camp. "Rest assured, I will protect these children as much as I can. We are returning to the mainland, not heading straight to the front lines."

"The mainland is just slightly better; the infighting there is just as annoying," General Fontaine said with a lopsided grin. Had Koman seen it, he might have thought the "Crooked-Mouthed Dragon King" had possessed him.

The entire Youth Division camp fell into a somber mood. The usually bustling grounds were empty, and the soldiers silently packed their bags, preparing to ship out.

As Koman wrapped his leggings, preparing for the march to the port of Beirut, General Fontaine, back at the Governor’s Palace, issued an order to his subordinates: send the former Vichy-appointed commander of French forces in Syria, Henri, along with the families of the commanders killed in the military coup two years ago, onto the transport fleet carrying the Youth Division.

"Notify Koman of this, and ensure their safety," General Fontaine commanded the Governor’s secretary with a meaningful look. He was certain that Koman would never allow the risk of a counter-reckoning to materialize.

In truth, during the military meeting two years ago, General Henri had decided to surrender after some deliberation; after all, the British and Free French forces were approaching Damascus, and since they were all French, surrendering wasn't entirely out of the question—at most, it was just backing the wrong side.

The few Foreign Legion commanders who initiated the coup had simply charged forward with a shout, ending the matter quickly. But General Henri and the officers present at the meeting who had raised their hands to surrender had indeed died. And the person who had decided to eliminate them was fifteen-year-old Koman.

So, while Koman hadn't been in the army long, he certainly had a track record: he had executed dozens of commanders, including a major general and two colonels—though these commanders were all French.

Before the last sun set on his time in the camp, Koman learned of General Fontaine’s decision. He assured the secretary who delivered the news, "I will certainly ensure the safety of these traitors."

Leaving absolutely no room for the risk of a counter-reckoning, Koman, as someone who played the game of power, had little reverence for human life.

Back then, after General Henri surrendered, Koman had secretly "cleared them out," purely out of fear that they would cause trouble in the future. No matter how big or small the trouble, it was unacceptable.

Watching the secretary leave, Koman realized it was getting dark. Not wasting any time, he had Martin find reliable men to take over the guard duty for these "leftovers."

"Are they important people?" Martin asked out of curiosity. He didn't know about the events from two years ago, but seeing Koman’s tense, serious face, he nodded in agreement. "Don't worry, I guarantee none of them will escape, and they will depart with us tomorrow."

"You must ensure the safety of every single one of them," Koman said sternly. These people could be dealt with, but it absolutely could not happen within Syrian territory; otherwise, it would raise suspicions. There were too many smart people in this world, and what if they were found out?