"I think we should appreciate what we have under these conditions," Capitan Silber said. "At any rate, a year from now, we will be dining with beautiful women at a four-star restaurant in a big city."
"Indeed," Toledo said. "And at much higher ranks. By the way, we may have had a close call yesterday." He glanced over at Argento. "Tell us about it, Capitan."
"My men on patrol learned of a Bolivian Army unit on the periphery of the Gran Chaco," Argento said. "The people of the village called Novida said they had spotted them while out herding cattle. The Bolivianos were obviously making a reconnaissance, but evidently it was a very timid one."
Toledo laughed. "I think the various loyalists sense there will be big changes around here, no?"
"The villagers fully realize that prospect," Silber remarked. "Those gifts of rice and beans we gave them have obviously impressed them quite favorably where our movement is concerned. They are struggling peasants illegally occupying land that is not theirs."
"The Red Chinese figured out how to take advantage of such situations early on," Toledo remarked. "If you have an impoverished populace within your theater of war, they will be easily won over even by the most basic necessities of life."
"That is how the Nazis failed in the Ukraine in World War II," Silber said. "My grandfather told me about it. He was in the Waffen-SS at the time and talked about how the excesses of the rear-echelon Allgemeine-SS drove many potential supporters to the Soviet partisan units."
"That will not happen here!" Toledo exclaimed. "Our men are all well-indoctrinated in the aims and goals of the DFF."
"They are also well-trained," Plata added.
"Por su puesto," Argento agreed. "They are professional soldiers of noncommissioned rank. Unfortunately, some are not in the best physical fitness because of years in staff duties."
"Suboficial Punzarron will take care of that," Platas said with a laugh.
"Eventually they will form a superlative nucleus for the Falangist Army," Argento said.
Toledo raised his brandy in toast. "Viva el Ejercito Falangista!"
The four snifters were clicked together.
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COMANDANTE Javier Toledo was a former officer of the Spanish Foreign. Legion, having served for ten years under the generalisimo of the Falangists, Jose Maria de Castillo y Plato when he commanded a regiment of the Legion.
This fanatic outfit was made up of soldiers who called themselves the Bridegrooms of Death. Although a "foreign" legion, over 90 percent of the men in the ranks were native-born Spaniards. The basic training of volunteers was short and brutal. Any misconduct or even an honest mistake would result in a severe beating. When the recruit graduated into one of the tercios (regiments). he was not much more than an automaton, having to rely on his officers for such things as land navigation, map reading and communications. His weapons training was also rudimentary and far behind that of other modern military units. Harsh discipline would continue through the legionnaire's enlistment, providing a pliant soldiery easily bullied and manipulated by sadistic officers and noncommissioned officers. This leadership cadre was able to get away with cruelties that would not be tolerated in regular Spanish Army units.
Life in the Legion Extranjera was lonely for the officers. They were isolated from the enlisted men b and regulation, forcing them to withdraw into an exclusive little group that ventured out only on rare occasions when the regiment drilled or trained as a whole. They lived in genteel poverty--even those from wealthy families had little on which to spend their money--but were waited on by orderlies and stewards in feudal military grandeur. These servants escaped the barbarism in . The ranks because of having the right appearance and mannerisms to serve their masters in the monastic atmosphere of the garrisons. This better treatment was also afforded to those rare individuals who had administrative capabilities such as typing along with an ability to read and write better that the average legionnaire.
The officers spent evenings in their mess, which was decorated with flags, photographs and other mementos of the bygone days of Spain's former glory when she was a colonial power. They drank heavily, getting drunk almost nightly as they expounded on their personal philosophies and attitudes.
Javier Toledo fell under the influence of Coronel Jose Maria de Castillo y Plato during those discussions. Castillo was the commanding officer of their tercio, and the younger Toledo listened and learned as the coronel told of his dream of power that could only be realized by a strong fascist leader with a dedicated following. According to Castillo, the present remnants of Falangists out in the civilian world were out of touch, out of date and out of luck, but if the movement were fine-tuned to meet the contemporary political scene, they would eventually rule the world.
Toledo picked up five main points from Castillo's preaching:
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Spain was destined to regain her former glory.
The conflict between the decadent West and the anachronistic Muslims was exactly what the fascists were waiting for.
As the West unwisely spent much of its money, building up enormous deficits, and the Islamics squandered the lives of their people, a vacuum would be created in which a strong fascist nation could move in and conquer all.
The discouraged and disgusted populace of the West would be willing to give up the weaknesses of democracy for a strong leadership that would rid the world forever of Islam and other inferior societies and cultures.
The establishment of the Dictadura Fascista de Falangia would bring about all the above.
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Countless hours of discussion brought not only Toledo but other officers into Castillo's elaborate design to reshape the world. When el coronel proclaimed himself the generalisimo and revealed that he had gained strong financial support from industrialists in Europe and South America, Toledo and his brother officers knew that the establishment of the DFF was only a matter of time.
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2330 HOURS LOCAL
COMANDANTE Javier Toledo, the snifter of his sixth brandy of that evening in his hand, stepped out on the veranda of the officers' quarters, gazing out over the darkness of the Gran Chaco. He remembered studying about the conquistadores of old Spain who had come to the New World to expand the Spanish empire. Eventually corruption and moral weakness had allowed indigenous revolutionaries to drive the Spanish rulers back across the seas to their native land. But now, in this beginning of the twenty-first century, a new brand of conquistador strode across this hemisphere: stronger, more intelligent, more and better led than ever before. A new world was in the making.
Toledo put the drink to his lips and drained the snifter.
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LOS BLANCOS, ARGENTINA 28 NOVEMBER1500 HOURS LOCAL
BRANNIGAN'S Brigands were all together now. They celebrated Thanksgiving in a corner of a rat-infested warehouse with MREs and a local brand of beer called Cristal. They put on a good show, but in truth the affair fell short. Several members of the detachment would have been back in hometowns with family if it hadn't been for this current operation, and the married men felt especially lonely; even the bachelors would have at least been in a base chow hall enjoying a traditional menu in a holiday atmosphere. But here they were, way down in South America, off by themselves, hiding like escaped convicts in dank surroundings.
Frank Gomez sorely missed his wife and little boy. "Christmas is really going to suck this year."
"Hanukkah ain't exactly gonna be a wingding jubilee," Dave Leibowitz observed.
The sound of the door opening caught their attention, and everyone's eyes turned in that direction, hoping to see something interesting or perhaps encouraging. But it was only Alfredo, coming in.