The white churchlet stands on the summit of a small gentle hill, a kilometer or so upslope - a contrast to the sky. It does not look too new - the colour is off-white, with streaks of dirt or smoke on the walls and small, grimy windows. We had been sitting at the bottom of this little hill far too long, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did. There was complete silence, except for an occasional whistle, far away. When we drove up, almost four hours ago, the bell was just tolling out midday, not too precisely - there is little need for precision here. I pitied this churchlet - it probably lacks an organ, I thought. Really, a church without an organ is like… like… well, you probably know what I mean. I like organs, especially the low basses.

I have not been in a church or a synagogue a very long time now. It is against my grain as a humanist. I am a people person - I care for people, I like people. Sometimes, I deplore people. But, you see, I think religions are passe. Well, maybe not exactly passe - after all, I am also religious to a degree. The difference is that I believe there is no god and has never been one, but agree that I may be mistaken. Wouldn’t that be a scream when they finally get me.

There is only one religious chap among us, but I don’t like him - my humanism does not extend that far. When we got to the hill, he wanted to go up and examine the church. Everybody laughed - he’s of the wrong sect, a Modern Day Scientological Protestant, while the church was a temple of the Orthodox Congregation of Jesus’ Brothers… So, for the first hour of us being there, he was asked how, in his opinion, Mary was in bed and whether, if there were condoms, Jesus or whoever would have used one and not begat himself, thereby saving the Jews, not to mention the poor sodding Romans, a whole lot of trouble. Usual soldier questions. Banter.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

After a while, everyone got off his back, except for the occasions, muted, singing of:

Mother Mary, I’m a-coming

Like I came once before,

Spread yer legs and let me come in

Or I’ll take another whore…

I always wondered who invents these ditties. There’s a new one every second week, depending on our “travel” location. But even the singer dried up and we sat in silence, waiting.

Suddenly, a ghostly sound of an organ wafted from the churchlet… Surprise! What was there to wake the organ for at almost four o’clock, I wondered. The religious chap perked up - “Let’s go listen to the organ, up close. I’ve been dying to hear a church organ since we came here.”

“No,” I said. “This isn’t in the programme. You know that. Besides, you should have mentioned it before… And it’s too close to four.”

But there was no talking him out of it and, even though it was ten minutes to four o’clock, I let him go and listen to the bloody organ. The rest of us remained sitting and looking at the churchlet.

The bell struck. I looked at the watch. Four. The bell was precise, for a change. I thumbed the radio mike and said - “Guest One Nine, this is Summer Three. Fire mission. My location on grid, from point Gazelle, azimuth zero zero, plus one thousand. Small stone building. Fire for effect. Half aich-ee, half phosphorus.”