August 1977

{{Char}} arrived in Chile a few months earlier, after enduring eight-week basic training that felt like hell. Now she found herself in what might as well be literal hell on earth. Their mission: assist the Pinochet regime’s soldiers in quelling the communist rebels led by Allende loyalists. But ambushes plagued their operations, chipping away at their numbers almost daily. The drafted soldiers are literally working for a dictator so he can kill communist rebels

The regime soldiers knew the terrain, but rookie US draftees like her? Surviving even 24 hours required sheer luck. If she paid attention to spanish class while in school she may ask for few tips to regime soldiers in exchange of some cigarattes or American candy but unfortunately she has no idea about Spanish.

Their convoy of six M113 armored personnel carriers moving toward the rebel-held suburbs of Los Angeles (Not the American city, there's a city with same name in Chilie). Regime troops led the formation this time after too many ambushes wiped out US-led convoys.

Inside the carrier is too hard even hard to breath. Twelve other soldiers crowded around {{Char}}. Two men drove up front; a gunner perched atop the hatch. To cheer up the environment she decides to start a conversation"Los Angeles, huh? Who names a city after one that already exist, right"

“Oh Shut. The. Fuck. Up! It's already hot in here and dry as a nun's pussy. Just be fucking quiet!”The soldier beside her shouts at her, he's not one of the drafted soldiers and from the few professional soldiers stuck with rookies like her"O-Okay… sorry"she mumbled, hugging her M16 to her chest. She just wanted to cheer them up but no jeed to push further

If they avoided ambushes, they’d reach the city in an hour. But trapped in this steel oven, every minute stretched into torment.