Friday, April 23, 1937.

1200 hours.

Paseo de Los Tilos, outside Town Barracks.

"I think the lack of sleep is getting the better of me," blurted Camarada as we were making our way to the barracks. "I keep hearing a weird scraping sound wherever I go."

"That's the sole of your boots scraping against the ground, friend," added Torito. "That, or lack of sex."

Camarada huffed through his nose, followed by him cracking his knuckles. "It has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with you dragging me to a bar in the middle of the night."

"And beating the shit out of you," said Torito, "don't forget that. But it does have to do with sex. How long have we been bunched together? Four months? Sebas? Sebas!" he finally exclaimed.

I must admit, I wasn't terribly invested in the conversation. I was mostly invested on the faint sound of drums quietly tolling in the distance. No matter where I moved my head, it seemed to be all around me with no discernible source.

I felt a heavy palm strike me in the middle of the back, making me stumble forward.

"Fuck, Sebas," said Torito. "I asked you how long have we been deployed together."

"Oh, since January," I blurted. He seemed content to leave me alone with my thoughts, but he pulled me back in, albeit non-intentionally.

"In four months since we've been together," said Torito to Camarada, "I haven't seen you with a girlfriend, or even flirting with one of Zurito's workers. Do you swim upstream, friend?"

"I assure you," said Camarada with tense poise, "I enjoy a good woman as much as the next man, but I can't relax when my Motherland is bleeding. I must keep myself true and alert. Like a tiger."

Torito laughed, but it was mocking rather than amusing. The kind of laughter that was like adding lemon to a wound. "Tigers don't get drunk, friend. And building up tension is not gonna get you any better at killing traitors. A good fucking can make you relaxed, ready for everything, like a river."

"Beer is not relaxing. Beer is the fuel of the people."

"Doesn't beat a good woman," said Torito. "I can make Ainhoa lower her price. Make sure she gives you a primo good time."

"You're going to pin me the oldest prostitute in town?" said Camarada with disgust. "No, thank you."

We were already near the barracks, near the flagpost. Several soldiers were going in and out of the camps. There were even some trainees jogging, sweating bullets under the scorching sun.

The devilish look on Torito's face could've been enough to burn a hundred churches over with the wickedness behind them. "So Camarada likes them young! Lula, maybe?"

That set up my alarms. "Torito, don't you dare."

"What?" he said with a devilish smile. "I'm just saying Camarada likes them young. Like Lula. But she's off the market. For now."

"Tread carefully," I warned. Nobody was going to badmouth my girl and be able to grin afterward. For all the pacifism I preached, there's always a line, and he was about to cross it.

"All I'm saying is that once that bottle is opened, there's little time before she spoils, just look at Fati-"

My fist connected with his face so fast that he couldn't even finish the sentence. I've never punched anyone before that, and I'm still surprised how my hand hurt afterward. Luckily, it was straight to the jaw, and he plummeted down like a log. There was a hollow sound the moment he impacted the ground.

"Fuck!" exclaimed Camarada. "I didn't know you had it in you, Sebas. Straight to the jaw."

I wanted to answer something witty, but my words got stuck in my throat. My legs were trembling, and every fiber of my being commanded me to run away and never look back. I can't deal with conflicts. Even now, in my old age, running away is always my first instinct. You might be wondering why such a coward would enlist in the army in the first place, and I would answer: You're not paying attention.

The waiting was the worst part.

In this war, it was join or die. The battles were fought on cities and towns, not on battlefields war away on another land. If you ran, you were shot in the back like a traitor, and nobody would miss you.

The waiting was the worst part.

In the choice of life and death, the answer is pretty obvious. Or so I thought. But I'm getting ahead of myself, because, at that moment, Torito shot back up again with a push-up motion. I dreaded not running away at that moment.

His face was beet red, with bulging veins on both sides of his neck. The was a purple bruise on his forehead where he first landed. This is why he was called Torito. Once enraged, there was no calming him down.

He closed the distance between us in two quick strides, raising one hand with an open palm.

To my surprise, he didn't strike me but patted my back instead. "Shit, Sebas, my bad," he said with a smile. "I went too far, and you did warn me."

My legs could barely support me. I was somehow spared from his rage. My mouth made a sound that was a mix of a relieved sigh and a nervous giggle. It didn't last long.

"Goicochea!" yelled the distinctive phlegmish voice of Lieutenant Aguirre. "You were supposed to report two hours ago! I don't think I care what you do in your free time, but do it on your own time."

And that was the answer to why I was spared. There was something that could calm Torito after all. Lieutenant Aguirre had two other officers behind him, the biggest he could find, strictly for intimidating purposes.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said. "We had a few sandbags to deliver and-"

"I don't give a fuck about what happened!" he said, interrupting me mid-sentence. "You had to report with your entire squad at 1000 hours. Not only have you failed the minimum that is required of you, but you also failed to report with your entire squad. Where the fuck is Echegaray?!"

If only we had an answer for that. Silence, however, wasn't an appropriate answer for Lieutenant Aguirre.

"We don't know, sir."

"We don't know?" he mocked. "We don't know? I was led to believe you were some kind of lettered individual, Alferez. That uncle of yours told me you knew lots of shit. You calling your uncle a liar, Alferez?"

"Sir, no, sir!" I answered.

"Then you admit you're a dumb fuck, yeah?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" I answered. In cases like this, it is better to just go with the flow. Nothing anyone can say will change who you are. That's a life lesson for you all.

"Well," he said, sporting a shit-eating grin if I ever saw one, "now that we established how much of a dumb fuck you are, you still have to answer where a soldier under your care is."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"So, where is he?"

"Sir, I don't know, sir! This Alferez is a dumb fuck, sir!"

"You dare talk back to me, Alferez?" I could see him getting red with anger, but I honestly didn't know what to say. We weren't going to say he went around to who-knows-where with a mute priest.

I couldn't answer him, for an alarm rang through the whole camp. The air raid alarm.

The Lieutenant bolted to his office as if possessed by a demon, even leaving his goons behind. Everyone around us took out their rifles and pointed them to the sky. Camarada and Torito also sprung into action. I was surprised by their swift dexterity. I remember them yelling at me, but I could only hear my blood rushing through my ears as my heart drummed away in a deafening staccato.

This was it, the wait was over.