I let out a huff of air. “I don’t trust this. Why would he give all of this to our legion yet not offer anything even close to this to his own men? The Uruguayan army’s uniforms are little more than rags, their families left to starve.”

“I don’t know why he wants to do this, but I intend to find out.” He briskly kissed my cheek. “Expect company this evening. Menotti!”

Menotti poked his head into the kitchen. “Come with me, son, we have work to do,” José said as he grabbed his hat, walking out the door.

As the sun began to set over Salto, the whole Redshirt legion stuffed into our courtyard, spilling out of the surrounding houses. The men perched against trees, crowded in doorways, and hung out of windows. The threat of rain blew in on the crisp fall air. The rustle of dry leaves competed with the chattering of the soldiers. I leaned against our kitchen doorway with my arms resting on my pregnant belly, watching the meeting unfold before me. José stood under the lone tree in the center addressing the men, telling them of the letter and its offerings. Audible gasps spread through the crowd.

“I bring this to you today because it is not my decision to make. This gift is being offered to all of us.”

“You mean Trojan gift!” a young soldier called from the back. I couldn’t see his face in the crowd.

“Comrade!” José called. “Please enlighten your brothers.”

“No one ever gives anyone a free gift,” the same soldier called back.

“Your wife did!” one of the other men called out, to ripples of laughter. I lifted a hand to my mouth to stifle my own laugh as José raised a hand and a hush fell over the men. Every eye turned to him, waiting with still breath for his next command. He pointed to the original sailor from the back of the crowd, who spoke up again. “The question is, what does Rivera want from us in return?”

“That, my comrade, is a wonderful question,” José said, pacing before them. “Does he want unconditional loyalty? To have the greatest legion in all of the Americas at his beck and call, like a dog?” The men cheered as José said this. My husband paused, waiting for the noise to calm down before he began again. “I had a talk with some of the officers from the Uruguayan army today. None of their legions have been offered a gift even remotely close to this. We are the lucky few to be given this offer.” I fidgeted where I stood. Something wasn’t right.

José waited while the men whispered among themselves. “I know the Uruguayan army owes us, but I ask you, are we owed more than our Uruguayan brothers? Have we fought for our adopted country more than they have?” He looked out over the crowd, which was enrapt at his words. “I tell you no. We are not special. We are soldiers with a job to do and only deserve our fair share.” He looked down at the ground, contemplating some unseen fact before looking back up at the men. Everyone, myself included, leaned forward, waiting for his next words. “I can’t make the decision for you. It’s your choice as to whether or not we accept this gift. We will have a vote.”