“What valley was that? The one you couldn’t drive us out of? The one we held for a good two weeks after the war?”

“We beat you, that’s what history’ll remember,” said the disgruntled official.

“No, I imagine history’ll remember a squad that held a valley until they was ordered to lay down arms. Maybe even recall it as your biggest defeat,” responded Mal, his voice even.

~~~~

Rain was falling, running into his eyes, washing sweat and dirt out of his hair and down his face. It was mud he knelt in, mud that served as a bed and quite possibly the final resting place of one very defiant purplebelly. The soldier's eyes were sleepy with morphine, but it didn't dull his anger. “You ever heard of winning the battle and losing the war, Sergeant? We’re gonna mow you down like – “ he started coughing, grimacing in pain, throwing up blood. The medic gave Mal a warning look.

“Recall hearin’ that more’n a week ago,” said Mal. “Seems to me we’re still here.”

“Not for long. You’ve lost. You must wanna be a hero real bad to die here too.”

“That wouldn’t be the plan,” said Mal, standing.

~~~~~

Mal scanned the weary group of men, the scattering of women. All slumped on the ground, all looking to him. It was the closest he was going to get to a formation; only a brute would ask these men to stand now. They still held the valley, but their grip was slipping. It was easy for men to be heroes when they were fresh and pumped full of adrenaline. Another matter entirely when they were surrounded by an enemy that never stopped coming, one that that threw new troops their way as fast as they could kill them. When they'd give it all up just for a good night's sleep, when the ache of fatique and wounds and the faces of dead friends just couldn't be set aside.

You’ve lost. Not yet, not until we give up.

“Been told we’re going to loose. Some tell me you’re afraid to die for nothing.” He paused, looked down. “Haven’t lost until we surrender. And - seems poor form to surrender when you