Tales of the Swedish Army
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Suddenly, turning a er, I ran into a unit of the Swedish Army. Their vehicles were parked in orderly rows and filled the street, mostly six-by-sixes and jeeps, an occasional APC, all painted a sand color quite different from the Ameri Armys dark green. To the left of the vehicles, on a big school playground, they had set up two-mas of the same sand color, and the soldiers, blond red-faced men, lounged about among the tents, making not muoise. It was strao see them there, I assumed they were on their way to some sort of joint maneuvers with our own troops. But it was strao see them there.I began talking to a lieutenant, a young, pleasant man; he showed me a portable chess clock hed made himself, which was for some reason covered in matchstick bamboo painted purple. I told him I was building an addition to the rear of my house, as a matter of fact I had with me a carpenters level Id just bought, and I showed him that. He said he had some free time, and asked if I needed help. I suggested that probably his unit would be moving out fairly soon, but he waved a hand to indicate that their departure was not immi. He seemed genuinely ied in assisting me, so I accepted.
His name was Bengt and he was?9９lｉｂ? from Uppsala, Id been there so we talked about Uppsala, then about Sto and Bornholm and Malmo. I asked him if he khe work of the Swedish poet Bodil Malmsten; he didnt. My house (not really mine, my sisters, but I lived there and paid rent) wasnt far away, we stood in the garden looking up at the rear windows on the parlor floor, I utting new ones in. So I climbed the ladder and he began handing me up one of the rather heavy prefab window frames, and my hammer slid from the top of the ladder and fell and smashed into his chess clock, which hed carefully placed on the ground, against the wall.
I apologized profusely, a told me not to worry, it didnt matter, but he kept shaking the chess clod turning it over in his hands, trying t it to life. I rushed down the ladder and apologized again, and looked at it myself, both dials were shattered and part of the purple matchstick g had e off. He said again not to worry, he could fix it, and that we should get on with the job.
After a while Bengt on the ladder tag the new frames to the two-by-fours with sixteen-penny nails. He was very skillful and the work was going quickly; I was standing in the garden steadying the ladder as he was sometimes <samp>..</samp>required to lean out rather far. He slipped and tried to recover, and bashed his face against the wall, and broke his nose.
He stood in the garden holding his h both hands, the hands as if clasped in prayer over his nose. I apologized profusely. I ran into the house and got some ice cubes and paper towels and told him Id take him to the hospital right away but he shook his head and said no, they had doctors of their own. I wao do something for him so I took him in and sat him down and cooked him some of my fried chi, which is rather well-known although the secret isnt much of a secret, just lots of lemon-pepper marinade and then squeezing fresh lemon juice over it just before serving. I could see he was really very disced about his nose and I had to keep giving him fresh paper towels but he plimented me very highly on the chi and gave me a Swedish recipe for chi stuffed with parsley and butter and stewed, which I wrote down.
The told me various things about the Swedish Army. He said that it was a tough army and a sober one, but small; that everybody in the army pretty well knew everybody else, and that they kept their Saab jets in deep caves that had been dug in the mountains, so that if there was a war, nothing could happen to them. He said that the part Id seen was just his pany, there were two more plus a heavy-ons pany bivouag at various spots iy, making up a full battalion. He said the soldiers were mostly Lutherans, with a few Presbyterians and Evangelicals, and that drugs were not a problem but that people sometimes overslept, driving the sergeants crazy. He said that the Swedish Army was thought to have the best wea<var></var>pons in the world, and that they kept them very . He said that he probably didnt have to heir principal potential enemy, because I k already, and that the army-wide favorite musical group was Abba, which could sometimes be seen on Ameri television late at night.
By now the table was full of bloody towels and some blood had gotten on his camouflage suit, which was in three shades of green and brotly, with a manly gesture, Bengt informed me that he had fallen in love with my sister. I said that was very curious, in that he had never met her. "That is no difficulty," he said, "I see by looking around this house what kind of a woman she must be. Very tall, is she not? And red hair, is that not true?" He went on describing my sister, w<var>９9ｌib?</var>hose name is Catherine, with a disturbing accurad increasihusiasm, correctly identifying her as a teacher and, furthermore, a teacher of painting. "These are hers," he said, "they must be," and rose to i some oils in Kulicke frames on the walls. "I k. From these, dear friend, a great deal be known of the temperament of the painter, his or her essential spirit. I will divorce my wife immediately," he said, "and marry Catherine as soon as it is legally possible."
"Youre already married!" I said, and he hung his head and admitted yes, that it was so. But in Sweden, he said, many people were married to each other who, for one reason or another, no longer loved each other. . . I said that happened in our own try too, many cases personally known to me, and that if he wished to marry Catherine I would not stand in his way, but would, on the trary, do everything in my power to further the project. At this moment the bell rang; I answered it and Catheriered with her new husband, Richard.
I took Bengt back to his unit in a cab, one hand clutg his he other his heart, the remains of his chess clo his lap. We got there just in time, a review was in progress, the King of Sweden resent, a handsome young man in dress uniform with a silver sword, surrounded by aides similarly clad. A crowd had gathered as pany paraded by, looking vastly trim and effit in their polished boots and red berets, and a very pretty little girl came out of the crowd and shyly hahe King a small bouquet of flowers. He bent graciously to accept them, beautiful small yellow roses, and a Rocky Mountain spotted-fever tick leaped from a rose and bit him on the cheek. I was horrified, and the King slapped his cheek and swore that the Swedish Army would never e to visit us again.
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