---POV of Allester Garibal--

His gruff voice and white hair told enough about his age. His horse stopped in front of everyone else to show his wrinkles and unshaved beard. He looked at me a smiled wearily. I knew he was going to say something that was going to change the life of the men present.

"Gentlemen! Today is a nice day! We fight no more for the corrupt kings to give us what is ours!"

 Fight no longer? What about the ones who died before? It was obvious how conflicted every men of the army was. But there was no time to question him as he continued to speak.

"No! We fight for our freedom! We fight for our wives! We fight for our sons!"

I saw the faces of the men near me brighten as we finally understood that we would continue to fight. It was his way to tell us we were on the right side. We were not fighting for no reason. We had the motive. We had strength.

"Now this land will be no longer a part of the empire! It is a republic! A republic we are building with the effort and blood of our men! A place for our families to live. A land for us!"

There were some laughter and soon after I was cheering with every one else.

...

All of that seemed like some distant past.

I was behind a wall, or what used to be a wall, holding my musket with both hands with my trusted friend just beside me. The shootings could have made me deaf.. and they did. I lost my ability to hear with the right ear. We heard some shoutings, but it was impossible to discern the words that were said. 

Something fell on the floor and bounced making the sound of metal. I didn't see it clearly, but my dear friend looked at me in disppair.

He jumped over me.

"Granade!"

I felt the force pushing. I felt like I was a doll. My body was thrown like it didn't weight anything. I hit my head on the floor and started to hear a strange and piercing treble sound. My eyes couldn't see clearly. The world was blurry.

I turned my body to the other side. There was little pain, but I was confused and didn't understand what happened.

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My arms fell to the ground, losing their strength. I tried to make sense of what was going on, but closed my eyes to feel nothing more.

...

Too much pain. I grunted and pressed my hands over my head. There was something.

My head was bandaged. I breathed slowly and felt the bandage before looking at my hands.

"Shit!"

There were two fingers missing from my left hand.

My heart started racing and I tried to get up, but felt imense pain. My chest was bandaged too. I held it with my hands, trying to make the pain less unbearable. I could finally see what was around me. The room.. no.. the tent was dark. It was completely closed and I could see the entrance.

I tried to get up once again, but failed. It wasn't becouse of the pain. There was something else. It just felt normal, it was like it was there all the time, but it wasn't. My leg. I was missing my leg.

My eyes widened and I stopped. I didn't think of anything, I just stopped. I looked at it and continued to stare, becouse I didn't know what to think.

The sounds I made called the attention of a man. He entered throught the entrance of the tent, letting some light enter with him. I looked at him and his white clothing and openned my mouth to say the words that showed how I felt.

"What.. What have you done to me!?"

"What have I done to you? I saved your life, young man"

"Lies! look at me! Look at how I am!"

"Well. Your state is quite good for someone who was so close to a granade. I can't say the same to your friend"

His words hit me. The old man with light brown beard and nearly no hair was right. The bouncing sound was a granade. He protected me.

"What.. what happened to him?"

The idea started to sink into my heart even before the man spoke.

"Hopefully in the realm of the fortunate"

I remember the first time I met him. We had enlisted ourselves to be volunteers in the army. He allways had better humor and could deal with things easier than me. Partnership was common in the army. If one of the two was to die, the other would go talk to the family of the deceased and give them something to represent his braveness at war.

And he is dead now.

The old man looked at me. He saw the expression of a lost man that lost his leg, his fingers.. his only friend.

"Don't worry. We all know about the loss of the ones we care about. He died in an honorable way"

His attempt to console me was a complete failure.

"What do you know about!? You know nothing! You couldn't possibly understand!"

"...I am a doctor, young man. You don't know how many like you I saw dying.. including my son. So don't say I can't understand, becouse I do."

I was going through too much pain to feel guilty and I think he also understood that. He felt my pain and knew what I was going through. I don't know if that's a good thing, but It made me less unhappy at that moment.

"My name is Miguel. I am the doctor in charge of this camp. I will leave you, now. You are free to get out, but I would recommend you to stay here a while. If you feel anything, call me"

He said the formal instructions and headed out of the tent to leave me to my depression.