The place the soldiers jokingly called “La Montana de Amor,” was a smooth plateau of flattened earth that seemed to have been sheered off of the very top of the mountain. A low rock wall with an impressive wooden gate, currently opened to admit their bizarre little parade defined the area before them. Once past the gate the entranceway widened into an open, sun-baked square fronted by buildings on three sides, stone-built and sturdy, if crude in their construction. Mallory took in the details quickly, partly a result of her training to constantly assess her situation, partly because she was trying to ignore the noisy bunch of soldiers that crowded around just inside the gate. There must have been 40 or 50 of them in the same dirty, dung-colored uniforms, pushing and jostling, frantically eager to study the new prisoners up close. They were calling out, whistling and hooting, trying to get the girls’ attention, shouting lewd comments in Spanish, making obscene gestures, and roaring with laughter.
