Silent dawn in the Falklands... a lone Piper stands and plays, high above the city. Ten thousand Argentine soldiers anticipate the attack of the English. The Piper fades... aghast, the Agentines watch a lone, Kilted RSM, rise from a foxhole within range. He draws his sword, cries the cry, points his sword skyward and his pistol at the enemy, and runs toward them, alone, firing his pistol. An Argentine soldier slays the RSM with a single round. He falls silent... as the dawn.

One minute of silence. The Piper plays. The Argentines surrender and, in single file, ten thousand long, place their guns in a huge pile, under the watch of a British Corporal... Lance, acting, unpaid.

Victoria Cross. Three were earned in the Falklands. All as deserved.