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[center][url=https://i.imgur.com/1PEQlS3.png][img]https://c4.wallpaperflare.com/wallpaper/958/966/512/argentina-country-argentina-flag-abstract-other-hd-art-wallpaper-thumb.jpg[/img][/url][/center]
[b][center]THE REPUBLIC OF ARGENTINA[/center][/b][/h1][/sup][/color]
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[b]SAN PABLO, CHILE[/b]

Lieutenant Fernando Niembro was tired and bored. The fighting had lulled away to nothing over the past two weeks and no actual shots had been fired in nearly five days. He wasn't really sure why, but he also wasn't going to say anything in case he jinxed it. For the moment he was content to sit with his feet up on a crate that had once carried 40mm mortar shells, lean back in a plastic chair one of his men had scrounged, and read a letter from home. 

It was the usual from his mother. She was worried about him, loved him very much, complained about the lack of gasoline, and how the price of things continued to climb as the war dragged on.

"Why are we here again?" The question brought instant silence to the dozen or so officers and NCO's who were sitting in the small dugout, crammed nearly shoulder to shoulder as the rain outside hammered down. All eyes were drawn to the broad shouldered man with short cropped hair and a large blond beard - Fernando privately thought he looked a lot like a Viking from a picture book -who sat nearest the door.  

"How's that Kurt?" Asked nearby infantry officer Carlos Erding. Both men were Captains and led infantry companies that were due to spearhead an attack the following morning.

"I'm just curious, why the fuck are we here?" The big man had leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, as he gazed keenly at his fellow soldiers. "I just got a letter from home and it seems everyone is running short on everything. Meanwhile we're over here pissing about in Chile. Why?" He waved a letter, much like Fernandos own, at the silent assembly. 

"I mean, yes, when this first started we had a beef with the Chileans, I haven't forgotten the bombings back home, but now what? I haven't met a single Chilean I don't like and frankly, I want to go the fuck home."

The outburst brought about a stunned silence brought and an uneasy shifting as everyone looked at their feet. To Fernando's surprise it was his Sergeant, Menem Santillán, who spoke up next. The man had gotten a letter from his sister about four days ago and had been seemed deeply troubled since. His voice was bitter and anger simmered beneath the surface.

"I got a letter from Maria, my sister, she said the is President tightening his grip on things, he suspects a plot, and he is using his secret police to intimidate the people." 

"Hey, guys, we can't be talking like this..." Carlos cautioned, glancing up toward the leather flap that served as a dugout door. "The brass might hear us."

"Fucking let them. I've been talking to the men for the past week and they don't want to be here anymore than I do. Most of them want to go home. Their families are struggling as well." Kurt was well known for his sarcasm and dark sense of humour but no one thought he was joking right now.

"What are you getting at sir?" Menem asked. His own eyes were alight and Fernando could feel a madness seeping into the man around him. The crazy part was he could feel it too. He was tired of this war. He had no reason to be in Chile and he wanted to go home. 

"I say we refuse to fight tomorrow." Kurt said matter a factly. 

"But they'll order us too!" Exclaimed Captain Rodrigo Singer, an armoured officer.

"And what are they going to do if we don't?" 

"Arrest us and have us shot." Fernando said quietly. Kurt nodded in agreement and the letter he held was crushed in one massive fist. Veins stood out on his massive bicep as he looked each man in the eye. 

"To fear death is a choice. They can't hang us all." Fernando felt a chill run through him at the words. Fear of the unknown threatened to paralyze him but he knew, in his heart of hearts, that nothing would change if he stayed silent. The soldiers who he commanded had been grumbling about the war, and he missed his own family; his future hung in the balance and as the silence stretched he felt resolve fill him. He took a breath before nodded at Kurt. 

"I'm with you. The guns won't fire tomorrow. My lads want to go home too."

Rodrigo looked between the two of them. His brother had been killed fighting in the mountain passes and he still didn't know why. Conquering Chile wouldn't take him home. Maybe there was a grand plan he didn't understand but enough men had died in a war few understood. Enough was enough. 

"You have my support." 

"Bloody hell. My old man is a Rancher, that's where I should be. I don't care about Chile." Lieutenant Jorge Lantana spoke up. "I'm with you."

"Spread the word." Kurt said as he stood, almost bending double in the small space. "I'll make my company ready to deal with command if need be."

As the group split up, hurrying away into the rain, Fernando thought a few might get cold feet away from the rest but the word swept like wildfire through the entrenched soldiers. He was surprised to see something like relief in the faces of his artillery crews and more than a few soldiers came to him to ask if they would attack the next morning. When Fernando confirmed they would not, the men shook his hand, thanked him, and hurried away. It was as if the whole army had been waiting for this moment.

He didn't sleep a wink that night. He huddled in his half-track, the tarp above him serving to keep out most of the rain, and stared at the letter in his hand. Menem had joined him and told him what his sister had actually written and explained her "meeting" with the president. That made him angry too. This was the modern age. Argentina was a great nation, there was no room for a dictator.

The rain finally stopped around five in the morning, a few minutes before he was due to open fire and support the scheduled attack. He pulled out his watch and stared at the second-hand as it slowly began to tick around the face, inching closer to the five. He had ordered his men not to fire and suggested the same to the officers in charge of nearby artillery companies. 

Five o'clock. Nothing happened. There was no roar of artillery. No rumble of tank engines. Not even the crack of small arms. The whole front was eerily quiet. The radio beside him crackled and he turned it down before the voice on it became clear. 

Movement beyond the carrier caught his attention and he glanced up to see the General, along with several Colonels, standing on a small hillock staring about them in amazement. Nothing moved. No soldiers appeared above the lip of their trenches, it was if they had disappeared altogether.  

"Officers to me!" The General roared the order and at first no one moved. Then a group of soldiers appeared from a nearby trench and Fernando recognized Kurt from the mans considerable size. The son of Germans immigrants, his father had fought in the Great War, and none doubted his courage. If any man would have the steel to see this through, it was him. 

Kurt was accompanied by a dozen soldiers with fixed bayonets. The General must have sensed what was about to happen and he went for his sidearm but Kurts voice boomed out loudly enough to carry to Fernando.

"Halt or be shot!" 

The Generals face had turned white and the Colonels who were with him quickly raised their hands. Fernando tumbled from his carrier, remembering to take his rifle with him, and he hurried toward the group. Other officers, spurred on by his movement, quickly did the same until some twenty or so surrounded the General and his command staff. Kurt waited while they assembled.

"This is madness!" The General was sputtering. "Mutiny! You'll all be hanged."

Kurt shrugged his massive shoulders. "Not a mutiny sir. We're simply not going to attack. We want to go home. I thought you should know." The General stared at him in amazement. "I invite you to return to the command post, sir. We're not going to harm anyone."

"You'll be arrested..." The Generals words died away to nothing at the Captain in charge of the Military Police unit appeared and stepped up to stand next to Kurt. He offered the General a salute of bone cracking precision. 

"Military Police respectfully declining to take further orders, sir. We want to go home as well."

"We will hold our positions sir, and return fire if fired upon, but we're done with this war." Kurt spoke again, stepping forward so that the General had to look up at him. "You tell the President we're coming home, either as heroes of Argentina, or as her liberators, his choice." 

An aide had appeared from the nearby command post and Kurt glanced at him. The young man fairly stuttered with excitement as he spoke. 

"Naval and Air elements in Puerto Montt have confirmed they will not fire unless fired upon, Captain. The Admiral has taken ill and is confined to quarters."

Fernando glanced at Kurt in surprise. The man had certainly not spent the night idly. Kurt offered a small smile and then glanced at the General. "It seems everyone is tired of the fighting, sir. Might I suggest you contact the President. These men will ensure no one harms you." He gestured to the dozen infantrymen with fixed bayonets. 

"But, you can't..." The General sputtered incoherently. The Colonels, who had been standing close to him, were looking around and could see that hundreds of soldiers had left their positions and now stood watching the exchange. They slowly began to edge away from the General as if to distance themselves from his actions. 

"Ah, General, but we can, and we have. No Argentinian lives need be lost today."

The got through to the General who nodded jerkily, still in shock. He looked about him again, like a drowning man looking for a life raft, and found himself alone in a sea of hostile faces. He nodded again.

"I'll call the President at once." He turned and stumbled toward the command post, his escort in tow. The Colonels made as to follow him and then thought better of it. 

"Gentlemen, I hate to be cliche, but you are either with us, or against us." Kurt hadn't moved but his gaze now turned to the senior officers. They were decent men and he knew it. Two of them grinned and shrugged. 

"I always knew you'd cause me a headache, Kurt." Said one as he glanced back at retreating back of the General. "I have your word no one will be harmed?"

"We just want to go home, Colonel."

There was a pause and then the man nodded. "Let's make that happen. God knows my kids annoy me, but I miss them too. I'll make sure the General gets the message right." He hurried after his former commander.

Kurt turned to the assembled officers and men, his voice carrying to them all. "We are done fighting! We have fought, we have killed, and we have lost friends and brothers. No more. We are going home!"