Close to three hundred years before any poppies grew in Flanders' fields, men were all ready killing each other for King, God, and country. In those days, the blame could have been placed a little more squarely on the shoulders of the second, as lined up on one side were the Catholic armies of Spain, and opposing them were those who had joined the ranks of the reformed.

The fighting between Catholic and Protestant had outlasted three Kings of Spain and numerous petty princes and monarchs of lesser stature through out Europe, and if the mud in Belgium was somewhat redder than it had been in a previous century, it was only to be expected. Under the pretext of protecting the One True Faith, Spain was desperate to hold on to its mastery of the Lowlands (Holland, Belgium, et al.) while the rest of Europe was just as inclined to assist the Dutch in their quest for independence.

By the time of King Philip the Fourth, all Spain has left in Europe is her reputation for fierceness and honour. Her soldiers in the field are as likely to mutiny over lack of pay as to obey their officer's orders on any given day, but because of pride and honour, these same men will follow those same officers into battle and shed their blood without complaint whether paid or not.
After their adventures in Madrid — as recounted by Arturo Perez-Reverte in Purity Of Blood — Captain Diego Alatriste y Tenorio and his ward Inigo Balboa are forced to seek the relative safety and anonymity of serving in Flanders. The situation in The Sun Over Breda, is as the military mind likes to say, fluid. In some places the Dutch and their allies have made inroads in reclaiming their land, but in other fields the Spanish still hold sway.

For all it's pride and vaunted reputation as the fiercest in Europe, when we meet up with Spanish infantry of which Inigo and Captain Alatriste are part of, they look and live no better than beggars. The only foods they eat are what they can scrounge from the surrounding countryside. As they are forbidden to loot the Dutch citizens except in the cases where they are expressly permitted to sack a village or town after it's been taken, but there is little to be found.

Pay that was meant for them hasn't materialized in over a year, so they lack the wherewithal to purchase anything. Clothing is patched; boots held together with rags; all that are kept in good repair are their weapons. Swords and daggers still gleam and are sharpened daily. Flints, powder, fuse cord, and musket balls for the harquebus they use with murderous precision are kept dry and safe amid the damp and cold of Holland, where the sun never really shines according to a Spaniard.