Chapter 6 — The First Battle
The first days of campaign turned out very different from anything Bento had imagined.
When he’d left Santa Vitória Ranch, his mind had been full of images of great battles, cavalry charges, and heroic feats.
Reality proved far less glorious.
And far harder.
For weeks the men rode along dirt roads, forded streams, weathered sudden rains, and slept out in the open.
Often they went hungry.
Other times they had to ration what little water they had.
The horses suffered as much as their riders.
War, Bento soon discovered, was made mostly of waiting.
Long waiting.
Whole days without combat.
Without news.
Without knowing what the next morning would bring.
But the quiet was deceptive.
Everyone knew that, sooner or later, the moment to face the enemy would come.
Among the volunteers from Santa Vitória Ranch, Bento quickly earned respect.
His feel for horses drew admiration.
His discipline caught people’s attention.
And his natural courage showed itself even in the simplest situations.
Ant?nio Maciel stayed by his side.
The old hand seemed to adapt to military life with surprising ease.
“Seen worse than this,” he liked to say.
“Where?”
“The drought of ’28.”
The men laughed.
Even in hard moments, Ant?nio always found some reason to joke.
It helped keep the troop’s spirits up.
One cold winter night, the detachment camped near a stand of trees.
The fire lit the soldiers’ tired faces.
Some talked.
Others slept.
Bento moved off a little.
Sat down near a tree.
He took from his pocket the medallion Isabel had given him.
Opened it carefully.
The small painted image caught the firelight.
For a few moments, the war disappeared.
The marches.
The exhaustion.
The uncertainty.
All of it felt far away.
There was only the face of the woman he loved.
And the promise made beneath the old fig tree.
“Thinking about her?”
The voice came from behind him.
Bento looked up.
It was Ant?nio.
“Is it that obvious?”
The old man smiled.
“To anyone who knows how to look, yes.”
Bento closed the medallion.
“I’m afraid.”
“Of the war?”
“No.”
“Of her, then?”
“Of not making it back.”
Ant?nio sat down beside him.
For a few seconds he simply watched the stars.
“When I was young, I loved a woman.”
Bento turned, surprised.
Ant?nio rarely spoke of his past.
“What happened?”
“Fever took her.”
Silence settled between them.
“Many years ago now. But to this day I remember her smile.”
Bento didn’t know what to say.
The old man went on.
“So I’ll give you a piece of advice.”
“What is it?”
“Come back alive.”
“Not for yourself.”
“For her.”
“Because there’s no greater pain than leaving someone waiting forever.”
The words stayed with Bento long after Ant?nio returned to the other soldiers.
Three days later, the news came.
The enemy was near.
For the first time, the detachment would receive orders to engage.
Word spread fast.
Some men grew excited.
Others showed their nerves.
Most tried to hide their fear.
Bento felt his heart race.
It wasn’t cowardice.
It was something natural.
For the first time, he would face armed men trying to kill him.
No training prepared a man for that.
No conversation.
No story ever told.
That night, almost no one slept.
Dawn broke wrapped in thick fog.
The soldiers were mounted before the sun even rose.
The commander gathered the men.
Quickly laid out the situation.
An imperial force was approaching.
A clash seemed unavoidable.
When they set out, silence gripped the column.
Even the talkative ones fell quiet.
Each man fought his own private battle.
Shortly before noon, they heard the first shots.
Far off.
Sharp.
Unmistakable.
The sound rolled across the fields like a warning.
The war had finally caught up with them.
Bento’s heart pounded harder.
The horses grew restless.
Officers shouted orders.
The line advanced.
More shots.
Then screams.
Then smoke.
Everything began happening at once.
Too fast.
Bento would never forget that first battle.
For years, the memories would return in dreams.
Or nightmares.
The smell of gunpowder.
The crack of rifles.
Horses running wild.
Men falling.
Cries of pain.
Confusion.
Fear.
Courage.
All of it tangled together.
The reality was nothing like the stories told around the mate fire.
There was no glory.
No elegant heroism.
There was only survival.
At one point, a shot passed so close that Bento heard the bullet whistle past.
Instinctively he ducked low over the horse.
Another soldier fell just a few yards ahead.
Wounded.
The noise grew deafening.
Even so, he kept moving forward.
Because everyone kept moving forward.
Because to stop meant to die.
The battle lasted only a few hours.
But it felt like an eternity.
When the shooting finally stopped, Bento could hardly believe he was alive.
The field lay covered in smoke.
The wounded were being tended to.
The dead were being identified.
War was showing its true face.
A cruel face.
Merciless.
Indifferent to the dreams of men.
Bento dismounted slowly.
His legs shook.
His whole body felt drained.
Ant?nio came over.
A small cut showed on his forehead.
“Still in one piece?”
“I think so.”
“Then thank the heavens.”
Many hadn’t been so lucky.
Bento looked around.
And understood.
For the first time.
Truly.
That he could die at any moment.
The war had stopped being an adventure.
Now it was a matter of survival.
That night, the camp fell silent.
The men spoke little.
Many thought of the comrades who wouldn’t return.
Others reflected on their own fragility.
Bento took paper and ink from his pack.
Sat down near the fire.
And began to write.
His first letter to Isabel.
The words came slowly.
He wasn’t a man used to writing.
But there were things that needed saying.
“My dearest Isabel,
Today I saw the true face of war.
I confess I felt afraid. More afraid than I ever imagined I could feel.
But I survived.
And as I write this letter, I am thinking of you.
Thinking of the fig tree.
Thinking of the medallion I carry against my chest.
Thinking of the promise we made.
If this war ever tries to steal my hope, it will be the memory of you that keeps me standing.
I don’t know when we’ll see each other again.
I don’t know how long this conflict will last.
But I know one thing.
Every sunrise brings me closer to the day I return to you.
Yours forever,
Bento.”
When he finished, he read it back.
Smiled.
Folded the letter carefully.
And put it away.
It would be sent in the morning.
The first of many.
Letters that would cross battlefields.
Dangerous roads.
Entire provinces.
And keep alive a love that distance had not yet managed to defeat.
Watching the last embers of the fire, Bento raised his hand to the medallion.
And for the first time since leaving Santa Vitória Ranch, he felt real hope.
The war might be long.
It might be cruel.
It might change everything.
But something remained untouched.
Isabel’s love.
And the certainty that someone, far away, was waiting for his return.