From atop the sentry tower the vast plain surrounding the base looks calm and still. The sky is gloomy and the fresh April wind pierces the skin, casting out sleep from the two guards' eyes. With it comes the distant echo of scattered artillery fire.
`That
sound is the usual background music in this region." With his remark,
the mustachioed guard grins and puts away his field glasses. His companion
nods approvingly from behind a 23mm anti-aircraft gun. The glow of the first
rays of light flows down the towering mountains overlooking the plain to
the east. From the other side of the base, a military march announces morning
exercises.
With the base officer who is accompanying me, I say good-bye to the sentries and descend. In this short interval, the calm of a few moments ago has given way to hustled activity. Men and women combatants in olive green uniforms and polished boots join their battalions, clutching G-3 and AK-47 assault rifles in their hands. Soon the carefully flattened area the size of at least four soccer fields is carpeted in green. Each battalion commander stands next to his or her combatants.
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