Saturday, April 24, 1937.

0500 Hours.

Town Barracks.

I fell asleep at some point during the night. My body ached all over as I slowly woke up from what I assume was a shallow rest at most. I still had that piece of paper crumpled in my hand. The way I slept cut all circulation to my arm which made it feel dead and foreign. Everything felt dead and foreign. 

After all, I had lost everything in the span of a few hours. The love of my life hated me, I had basically been demoted, and the only person I could call family had died, and with him every protection that kept me from the frontlines. It just takes one bad day to push someone over the edge. 

How silly are the musings of men that God plays us like toys to be discarded. Such is life. Somehow, the barrel of a gun seemed like a good alternative. If I went to the frontlines, death awaited in the form of a bullet. If I ran away, the same would've happened. If I stay, the monster awaited me like an old friend. 

Waiting for death was the worst part. 

We don't like to think about it, but it is a principle. We will all eventually die. Some find death young, violently ripped away from their youth, while others find it peacefully in their sleep of old age. But death is the curse of life. We can't escape it, or ignore it. It will always be there, prowling. 

Waiting for death is the worst part of living. 

Was I strong enough to take my life? That, I don't know. Even now, in my old age, I find it difficult to pull the trigger and end it all. I have nothing to live for, nor family to mourn me. Nobody would miss me today, not even you, whoever reads this. Maybe I'm already long dead before anyone finds this. 

Waiting for death has been the worst part of living, especially for a coward like me. 

I, however, could sit on my self-pity for too long. The first thing my eyes saw when I woke up was Torito staring down at me with his usual smirk. He was somehow more roughed up than before, with new bruises all over his face. 

"Rise and shine, Sebas," he said as he lightly kicked my legs. His hands were full of various fabrics and trinkets, which was basically all he owned. 

After rubbing the tiredness out of my eyes with my good arm, I could see two of the Lieutenant's goons standing behind him. It didn't take me long to put two and two together. 

"You look like shit," I said.

"Thank Gargantua and Pantagruel behind me for the makeover," he said. "I was hoping for a more Parisian look, but my face is not delicate enough for that." 

One of the goons pushed him from behind. "Make it fast."

"Calm down, monkey. The Lieutenant will give you a banana anyway, you don't have to rough me up more. Sorry about your uncle. I heard the news."

"Thank you," I said. I don't know why him reminding me of my pain had to elicit a thank you, but that's the only thing I could say. 

"Well, I'm here to report to my squad leader that I will be deployed to the frontlines, effective immediately," said Torito. "I would like to think that the Lieutenant was impressed by my fighting spirit."

"That, or he is sending you to die as punishment," I said, which was the correct answer. I think that acknowledging that struck a nerve as his trademark smirk faded for just a second, only to return in earnest a second later. 

"Yes," he said. "But bad weed never dies." 

I stood up and saluted him, which was harder than I care to admit with a sleeping arm. I felt like it was being overrun by electric ants. 

"To be honest," I said, "you should be reporting to Camarada. He was put in charge of the squad."

Torito laughed, but not with a mocking tone. It was a genuine, heady laugh. 

"That guy was put in charge of the squad? I never thought I would say this, but I'm happy to be deployed to the frontline if the alternative is to receive marching orders from that commie bastard." 

"Time's up," said one of the goons as he grabbed Torito by the arm. 

"This is goodbye," I said. 

Torito shook his head, and I could've sworn there was a glint of malice in his eyes. "It's not a goodbye, Sebas. It's a 'see you soon,' maybe."

And with that, I was left alone. But not for long. I changed my uniform, putting the clumped piece of paper in my pocket. Camarada entered the barracks a few minutes later, with bandaged and patches all over his body. 

"Sebas," he said. "Good morning."

"Good morning...sir."

"You don't have to do that," said Camarada. "Not yet, at least. The Lieutenant briefed me on the situation. Are you okay?"

I wanted to say yes and just deflect any attempt at being comforted, but I couldn't. I felt alone and wanted some sort of human connection. I craved it. 

"No, I am not okay."

Yet, maybe asking human connection from a stoic communist was too much to ask for. 

"Well, life happens. At least your uncle died for the greater good." 

I didn't care about the greater good if it meant that my own good was cast aside. He wasn't a loving man, never was to me at least, but he was family. Not that it mattered. 

"Yes. He died for the greater good," I repeated. Best to just go along with the current. "We should really talk about what happened."

"What do you mean, what happened? We were attacked by some antisocials by the Renteria bridge. That's all it happened."

"What?!" I said. I couldn't believe it. Was he going to ignore everything that happened? Everything that we sacrificed to save him?

"Yes, just that," he repeated, immediately followed by a not-so-subtle wink. "Anyway, meet our new squadmates. You can come in, now." 

Two people carrying toiletries and assorted army-issued equipment came in behind Camarada. One I recognized as the Sergeant Torito had plummeted the night before. There were bandages over his nose and his eyes were almost swollen to the point of being shut. 

The other was a man I've never seen before, taller than any of us by a head. His face was young, maybe too young to be taken seriously. He still had some baby fat on his cheeks and some green behind his ears. His eyes were full of wonder as he surveyed the barracks. 

"Alférez Sebastian Goicochea," said Camarada, "meet Sergeant Guillermo Camara and Private Abarran Diaitz. They will take Torito and Tuerto's place on the squad."

Abarran saluted me with eagerness while Guillermo did so reluctantly. 

"Maybe you didn't know," said Camarada, "but Torito-" 

"Was sent to the frontline, yes," I interrupted. "He came by a few minutes ago to say goodbye." 

"What an honor," said Abarran, "to be sent to the frontlines to fight to our country."

"To bite a bullet for a handful of dirt," said Guillermo. "Yeah, real honor right there." 

"There is real honor in dying for a greater cause," said Abarran. Words that yet again reminded me not only of my uncle's death, but of my own imminent death. It was still early enough to catch the sound of artillery fire in the distance.

"A cause that gets smaller by the minute," said Guillermo. "Listen, kid. Count your blessings and be thankful we have a cozy assignment that won't get us in harm's way."

Like an amputated leg. Pitiful. 

"Well, choose a bale of hay, get your things in order, and prepare to go to the mess hall for breakfast," said Camarada. Command suited him, at least better than me. His voice was strong and commanded respect. The Lieutenant chose him correctly. "You have five minutes." 

Abarran almost jumped to the hay bed next to mine. It was empty. All of them were, which was weird. There were supposed to be people still sleeping, yet we were alone. 

"Where is everyone?" I asked. 

"Sir, the answer is twofold, sir," said Abarran as he saluted me. I could sense he truly had a sense of duty for the war. What a waste of youth. "Sergeant Echegaray is thought to have deserted, so Lieutenant Aguirre is currently hunting him down."

Poor Tuerto. Not even your memory lived on. A traitor in the eyes of the people. You didn't deserve this. 

"Please, call me Sebas," I said. "And isn't it excessive to send so many people to hunt down one man?"

"Yes, Sebas, sir," he said. "But that's not all. There were several reports of people missing during the night. The Lieutenant fears some sort of revolutionary ploy, so he has reinforced security in the town and has begun efforts to investigate on the matter, sir."

Camarada and I shared a look. We knew what was up. 

"We will be joining said efforts after breakfast," said Camarada, "which is why we need to hurry. If you're done, go to the mess hall."

I was ready to go, and so was Guillermo who threw his stuff over his hay. I was about to leave when Abarran grabbed me by the arm. 

"Sebas, sir, I'm sorry, but I found this piece of paper and I think it belongs to you, sir."

In his hand was a clumped letter, one I recognized as the one Lieutenant Aguirre had given me before. 

"Thank you," I said while grabbing it, "and drop the sir."

"Yes, sir. I mean, sorry, sir. No sir."

I put it in my pocket, only to feel another piece of paper in my pocket. Then, I remember I had placed the letter in my pocket already, or at least I thought I had. 

The one I had in my hand was the letter. I took out the one in my pocket, only to find it mostly blank, except for a single line.

"Find underground map. Meet Renteria bridge night. T."