Don't Ask Me If I Love by Amos Kollek

soldiers. “Don’t anyone stop.”
    He waited till they moved away, then turned back to Rotman.
    â€œNow you walk too.”
    â€œI really hate to refuse, sir,” the other said calmly, “but I just can’t move any more.”
    Ram cooled himself down.
    â€œWhy not?” he asked quietly.
    â€œMy stomach hurts, and my legs.”
    I stopped alongside them. Ram turned to me briskly.
    â€œSee that no one slows down.”
    â€œAll right,” he returned to Rotman, quite calmly, “you can’t walk, I’ll carry you then.”
    He caught the soldier by his feet and by his shoulders, and with a sudden effort hoisted him over his back. Rotman wasn’t exactly a lightweight, but neither was Ram, and straightening his back, Ram half-ran, half-walked until he reached the head of the line of men.
    â€œO.K.,” he told the weary, astonished soldiers who stared at him, “I know you’re tired. So am I. It’s a quarter past seven now. At eight we’ll be in the camp. Then you can rest.”
    He turned his back to them and, bracing himself, started moving again, half-walking and half-running as before. The rest followed him, impressed, and trying not to lag behind. I brought up the rear for a while, but after we covered about three more kilometers I moved forward and caught up with Ram. His face was red and he was sweating all over, but he didn’t slow down.
    â€œWhy kill yourself?” I said. “Let the soldiers carry him.”
    â€œDon’t let’s waste time,” he said curtly.
    I knew he wanted to win the competition, and I knew he was furious at the strong guy he was carrying. That could make him quite unbreakable, but carrying eighty-five kilos for five kilometers was a tough task, even for Ram.
    â€œI feel sick,” Rotman said quietly.
    I believed him. He couldn’t have been having a good time. Ram’s shoulders were bony and hard.
    â€œShut up.”
    We kept on.
    For the last kilometer I carried Rotman myself and it nearly broke me, although I had never been weak. But we were walking very fast. Our platoon was the first to reach the base and that improved our mood. On the last few hundred meters, between the gate and our tents, we even managed to sing at the top of our voices.
    At the end of the day, the soldiers of the platoon got a free evening. Ram didn’t feel like leaving the camp so I hitchhiked to Netania alone and went to see a movie.
    Ram sat in the canteen for a while. Then, around ten, he decided that there was nothing better to do than go to sleep. He started walking toward the encampment. As he was passing by the platoon’s camp, he heard loud voices from one of the tents arguing. He stopped by and listened.
    â€œWhat was all that show for?” a voice asked.
    â€œWanted to teach our great big officer a lesson. Educate him a bit,” Rotman said. “He finished the officers’ course as a distinguished cadet, so he thinks he’s a god.”
    â€œOh, come on. He is a good officer.”
    â€œSo?”
    There was silence.
    â€œI am surprised at you,” someone said sardonically, “that you of all people should break down like that.”
    Rotman laughed softly.
    â€œCould have walked another 50 kilometers easily. What for? Guy wanted his men to be first, so I figured out I might as well spoil his party. Childish thing, competition.”
    â€œWe did win though.”
    â€œHow could I guess he’d carry me the whole way? Guy likes punishing himself.”
    He was quiet for a moment.
    â€œI don’t like officers,” he added simply.
    Ram walked slowly away. He stopped and leaned against a tall eucalyptus tree, surprised at the bitterness he felt. Maybe he’s right, he thought. Maybe I’m just trying too hard. Rotman was no fool, the bastard. But then, what’s the use in doing anything if you’re not doing the best you can?
    Anyway, you can’t