By Marcos Brindicci

I was almost eight years old when the Falklands War started, and the first thing I remember about those days is seeing national flags flying from houses in my hometown in Buenos Aires province. It reminded me of the celebrations during the 1978 World Cup. Though only a child, I knew the government was not very popular in those years, so I was surprised and confused by the euphoria we felt when our troops landed in Port Stanley, the beginning of a war fought by many untrained conscripts.