Over twenty years ago, cunning and badass cousin and his fellow soldiers were going for their weekly supplies of drinks, food and cigarettes at this joint during the war that tore up his country.
There would be officers and army penpushers having decadent roasts and banquets there every time. The owner would obnoxiously tell them that the meal was on him for their service to the nation, fawning over these lunatics who were forcing young men into a senseless war few believed in with no scupules whatsoever.
Fights were becoming more critical when one day, my cousin went there and ordered lots of beers, cigarettes and food for all of them. Once served, the owner asked for his due. My cousin laughed at his face and told him to put it on his tab, they'd pay him when the war is over, or the bigwigs could settle it for them if they didn't make it back.
He did myriad wonderful things for his peers and stuff that fed everyone funny stories for the long frightful nights, that's the kind of likeable rascal that he was.
He was killed by shrapnel not too long after this. His timorous, withdrawn and law-abiding younger brother stationed at the other side of the country heard of this a solid month after the event, through another soldier who knew him.
He deserted and crossed the country on foot, snuck onto trains and somehow made it back home after a few weeks. No one knows what he went through to get there.
My father told me he had never seen such a dreadful sight. The grown beard, the skin off his feet, the thousand-yard stare... He spent some time with his family and was dragged back into combat.
The conflict eventually fizzled out and he made it to the refugee town where our family ended up. He had a tough life and this surely didn't help him ever breaking his shell. He seems alright now. Sometimes I want to ask all of them what they went through but I'm not sure any of my relatives who endured this have ever opened up about it to anyone.
I discover bits of information once in a blue moon, and it only strengthens my admiration for them. And my gratitude for having been born elsewhere.