The Foreigner

Marc was not his real name. The first thing that surprised him about The Farm was how little the instructors cared about his individual performance. They didn’t care if he was first at something, or fastest at something, or best at something. They were, however very interested in how well he worked with others. Once, when he filled only his own water bottle, he was berated for his selfishness.

Porc égoïste!” shouted the Corporal.

Helping others was not an easy thing to learn for a young man who had survived the darker streets of Amsterdam. It was late afternoon, winter at The Farm. Marc was standing at attention, shivering in the freezing rain with 45 other recruits. His body ached from the day’s exertions. His thoughts turned to a hot shower and the evening meal, served as always with wine.

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