You stay by the swings waiting for my covering fire. ‘Run’ I shout, before you thunder over, my oak rifle keeping the soldier on top of the slide occupied for a few seconds. Hiding by the tree in the corner of the park we ready ourselves for action. The Bolivian Army gathers at the park gates; outnumbering us, two against two hundred. ‘I suggest we go to the beach if we get out of this, Sundance’ I remark. ‘They have any ice creams down there, Butch?’ you answer before we charge from our shelter….Fuego! Fuego! Fuego!
I wish we could hold the pose
a little longer