He didn’t even try to console me and let me finish crying. He waited until I composed myself and asked me to serve his food for him. He went and sat on the table and I had to serve him his like a wife does. It was sort of funny in one way, but it was also humiliating. After he finished eating, I ate by myself and did all the cleaning. Then he made me sit next to him in the sofa, undid my blouse and bra and the usual kissing, fondling and sucking went on for some time. Same thing all over again in the afternoon and the dinner time when I complained that it was hot in the kitchen, he asked me to take off the saree and I had to stand in my bra and panties and do the cooking. Most of the time, when he was not criticizing my cooking, he was standing behind me squeezing my boobs. By the end of the day my boobs were sore to even touch. When it was time for going to bed, I was shocked when he said that I had to sleep in his room, which was a small room next to the kitchen. He had a single. We moved out, and the first people we ran into were regular army grunts. They had been requisitioned by the priests to provide perimeter security against us. The funny thing was, as soon as our people showed up, those perimeter guards switched sides! They seemed to hate the priests more than we did. We picked up over 100 trained troops that way, and the priests knew nothing about it. We also picked up something even more valuable: the complete radio protocol used by our enemy. It was not very complicated because of the uniform lack of training, but we did know what radio frequencies to use when the attack helicopters showed up. We hoped to convert them to fighting for us; the men we had already picked up insisted that a few moments of conversation between them and the air crews would have them switching sides. By damn, it looked like the rebellion was on its way, especially if the rest of the Army followed suit!It turned out that it was the photographs that Mark took of the slaughter.
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