Freedom Fighters

15. Will

"War is not something to be belittled, young men," Alberto said, his voice echoing over the open patch of grass. A small crowd huddled around them with wide attentive eyes.

Dario and Camilo stood in front of the veteran in their new uniforms at full attention. Dario could not help but feel a tingle of dread in his heart. He gulped down the lump in his throat, paying attention to the old trainer's next words.

"The tradition here is for new recruits to undergo a tough initiation to show that they have the will and strength to fight on no matter what. They must show that they have the determination to go on even in the most desperate of situations."

The words were greeted by a solemn silence. The tense muscles of Alberto's cheeks relaxed, sagging under the pressure of his age. He let out a sigh, shaking his head.

"I have been on the losing side of the Spanish Civil War. I have seen my comrades run before the enemy. I have seen chaos fall upon the ranks of the righteous. Look at Spain today! Nothing but a dictator's playground where the masses are crushed beneath Franco's heels. Franco won the civil war not because his cause was just or right. His brand of fascism won against the forces of democracy. Why? Because his armies were stronger."

A cold chill ran down Dario's arms. He felt those piercing words at his fingertips. They were true. Wars were not won by the right side. They were won by the stronger side. His thoughts went to Batista for that brief moment, and the dictator's position seemed even more impregnable than before. But he clenched his fist, willing a revolutionary optimism to fill his soul.

"All you young people," Alberto continued. "You rush into things with a hot head like I once did. Failing to prepare for war is preparing for failure itself. That is why I must take it upon myself to make sure The Movement is prepared. Batista can win us by the sheer number of soldiers and guns."

He paused his words, gathering his breath. Lifting a spotted finger up and pointing at his head, he finished, "But he cannot win us by willpower."

The small crowd around the two recruits erupted into a raucous cheer.

"And willpower is what you will be tested on, Dario and Camilo. Are you ready for your initiation?"

"Yes Commandante!"

As Dario said those words without the slightest hesitation, he spotted a figure enter the scene behind Alberto.

Juanita held him with her soft eyes, her coy smile stilling Dario's jittering heart. He felt a cool calm wash over him.

I can do it.

Alberto's sharp gaze fell upon the two youths. He stiffened his back, lifting up his chin and said, "I have thought long and hard of what to do for the initiation of you two, who have come by Juanita's recommendation. And so, after much thought, I have decided. Dario and Camilo. You two will undergo a gruelling march around the surrounding countryside. It will be long. It will be hard. But you two will survive."

At those words, the Almeidas came out from the crowd holding a backpack each. Dario felt as if he had been punched in the gut. A long march as his initiation? Camilo looked at him, putting his hand on his shoulder. His clear dark eyes shone with determination.

"Let's do it, Dario."

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The straps of the bag dug deep into Dario's shoulders, leaving a dull ache that was increasingly hard to ignore. He felt the soft skin of the sides of his feet scrape against the tough insides of the boots. Every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks to lean forward. The weight of the bag would then shift uncomfortably onto his back. After a few dry heaves and deep breaths, he would straighten up again to continue walking, taking a few strides at a time to catch up with Camilo.