Liberty Hill , Texas

It was the early months of 1919 when Lieutenant Chris Vance found himself stationed in the heart of Texas, far from the familiar, sprawling landscape of his family’s ranch. The war had ended, but the world was still in turmoil, and the military's presence was needed to maintain order in a fractured country. His service in the 5th Military Police Division was an unexpected chapter in his life—one that would test his resolve in ways he had never anticipated.
When Chris had received his orders, he had no illusions about what awaited him. He had grown up with the values of hard work, family, and protecting the land, but he wasn’t naïve about the broader world. The war might have ended, but unrest still simmered beneath the surface, particularly in the state of Texas, where the tension between returning soldiers, law enforcement, and the general public was palpable.

Despite his commitment to his family’s ranch, Chris knew that this was his duty. The National Guard’s recruitment efforts had been swift and unrelenting after the armistice was signed, and many men from Texas, like Chris, answered the call to help restore order in their communities. As a lieutenant in the Military Police, his role was more than just overseeing soldiers; it was about ensuring the stability of a post-war world that was teetering on the edge.


One crisp morning in February 1919, Lieutenant Vance mounted his horse, “Copper,” and set out with a small detachment of soldiers to patrol the borders of the military camps around Camp Travis in San Antonio. His task was clear: keep the peace, check for any illegal activities, and ensure that the returning soldiers and civilians alike adhered to the laws of the land.

The early morning fog still clung to the land as they moved in a small group, their boots hitting the dirt roads with a steady rhythm. It was a quiet day for the most part, with the usual signs of life—a few farmers working their fields, children playing in the distance—but that silence was often the most dangerous time. Chris knew that things could turn sour at any moment.

As they neared a stretch of land where several soldiers from the 36th Infantry Division had been rumored to be causing trouble, Chris signaled for his men to halt. They dismounted quietly and checked their equipment. His eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon for any signs of movement. He could hear the faint rustling of the wind through the sparse trees, but nothing unusual caught his eye.

“Stay sharp,” he murmured to his patrol. “We’ve been sent here for a reason.”

The men nodded, their hands resting on their rifles. They moved cautiously, sticking to the tree line and following the trail of broken branches and boot prints in the mud. The rumors had been true—a small group of soldiers had set up camp in the woods, their campfires still smoldering under the watchful eye of a lone sentry.


Without a word, Chris motioned for his men to surround the camp, his fingers signaling for them to take up positions, ensuring they had control of the area. As the patrol closed in, Chris stepped forward, his commanding presence unmistakable.

“Gentlemen,” he called out, his voice carrying through the trees, “I’m Lieutenant Vance with the Texas National Guard. I need to see your orders and your discharge papers. You’re not allowed to operate without clearance.”

There was a tense silence before one of the soldiers, a younger man with a rough look in his eyes, stood up and raised his hands in a defensive manner. His clothes were dirty, and his face was gaunt, clearly bearing the strain of war. But Chris wasn’t here for sympathy; he was here to restore order.

“I’ve got no orders,” the soldier muttered, his voice shaking with anger and fear. “We’re just trying to survive out here. The war’s over, and no one cares what happens to us.”

Chris studied the soldier for a long moment before replying. He understood the feeling. He, too, had seen the brutality of war. But he also knew that lawlessness wouldn’t be tolerated, especially in post-war Texas, where tensions were already high.

“I understand your situation,” Chris said, his tone softening slightly, “but you can’t just take what you want. There’s a proper way to return home, and I’m here to make sure we all follow it.”

The young soldier hesitated, then dropped his head in resignation. The rest of the group followed suit, one by one, as Chris’s patrol took control of their supplies and ensured they were escorted back to Camp Travis. As the soldiers lined up, ready to be escorted back to the camp, Chris couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation. It was a bitter reminder of the challenges facing so many men like him who had fought on foreign shores, only to return to a world that felt just as broken as the one they had left behind.


That night, as Chris sat by the fire in the camp, his mind wandered back to his ranch. He could almost feel the familiar warmth of the Vance Homestead, the smell of the barn and the fields, and the quiet peace that came from tending to his land. But he also realized that his time in the National Guard, though brief, had changed him. The war had left scars on everyone, and the responsibility he felt now—both as a rancher and a man who had stood watch over the people of Texas—was far heavier than he had imagined.

For Chris, the patrols had been a test of his leadership, his patience, and his ability to maintain order in a world that seemed increasingly chaotic. He had learned that sometimes, doing what was right meant making difficult choices, even when those choices weren’t popular. But he had also learned that peace, much like his family’s ranch, was something worth fighting for.

As he lay down under the stars that night, Chris Vance couldn’t help but wonder if the lessons of the war, and the lessons of the patrols, would be enough to carry him through the coming battles on the home front. The ranch was waiting for him. The people of Liberty Hill would need him. And though the war was over, for Chris, the fight had only just begun.