On April 2, 1982, when the unit was called up to travel to the Falkland Islands, the dog left too. Nobody helped him along: he climbed into a truck on his own, which was then loaded onto a plane. Only in mid-flight did they discover he was there. It was too late to get him off. Unbeknownst to him, he had just started his own war and earned his nickname: “Mortero.”
On the islands, Mortero did what he had always done: stay close to his men. He traveled by boat, helicopter, and truck. He walked alongside the soldiers, slept with them in the foxholes to share the warmth in the extreme cold, and accompanied them on patrols that could last up to ten days, under the constant wind and bone-chilling damp.
Days later, when the soldiers returned, he was there. Wagging his tail with an energy that belied the weariness of war, he crossed the lines and the minefield once more to rejoin them. For the combatants, he was no longer an animal: he was one of them.
For 74 days, Mortero shared life on the front lines. And when the war ended, he also shared the soldiers' fate: he was taken prisoner. On the British ship "Norland", he starred in a scene still remembered with a smile: he urinated on a rug, and the British wanted to let him go. But the Argentine soldiers wouldn't allow it. "Throw a soldier overboard, but not Mortero," they said. Finally, they let him travel on the condition that he didn't cause any trouble. And returned to the mainland with them.
After the war, he returned to the regiment and some time later was adopted by an officer's family. Years later he died of old age, far from the noise of battle, surrounded by affection in Comodoro Rivadavia.
Because in the midst of war, where everything seemed to be falling apart, Mortero held onto something simple and essential. He didn't understand flags or conflicts, but he did understand companionship. And he never, not even in the worst of circumstances, abandoned his men.
Today, his story lives on: he has his place in the regiment's historical hall, he was immortalized in a statue, and his name is part of those memories that will not be forgotten.
Really cool story.
One of the most horrible features of war is that all the war-propaganda, all the screaming and lies and hatred, comes invariably from people who are not fighting.
- George Orwell, Homage To Catalonia
That’s a cracking story—hard not to be moved by it. What stands out to me is how often you hear these accounts of animals sensing danger before the men do; whether it’s instinct or something else, they seemed to become part of the unit in a very real way.
Mortero crossing minefields and waiting at the edge of the line for his lads to return… that’s not just a mascot, that’s a comrade. Strange how in something as brutal as the Falklands, it’s a story like this that reminds you what the soldiers were really holding onto.
Thanks for posting it!
"Si vis pacem, para bellum." — Vegetius
"Do not hurry to the sound of the guns without knowing why they are firing." — British maxim
"In war, the simplest things are difficult." — Clausewitz
"No plan survives first contact with the enemy." — Moltke
"The side that can most quickly exploit success is the side that will win." — Guderian
Some days you’re the hammer, some days you’re the nail. 🪖🎲
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