In A Lull At The Battle Of Corunna Road

"Hot Fires and Hot Tempers"

What: The burning of the church and, later, Rothschild and Vaclav
fighting.
When: December, 1936

Logger: Rothschlid

City
================================================================================
The Grid-----> > > > > THE GREATEST GENERATION
< < <


Coordinates : 5 3

The town of Boadilla is home to the economic and social elite.
Marvelous houses have been constructed through out the city displaying its rich
heritage. A mixture indifferent signs of wealth are displayed
throughout the city from clothing stores importing the latest Paris fashion to
pharmacies that care elixirs and tonics from the Middle East. A majority of the
houses here are two stories complete with lavishing front and back yards.

It is currently daytime.

Sub-Rooms :

1. Country House
2. 1st Floor - Church
3. 2nd Floor - Church: Bell Tower

Contents
Konstantinov
Vaclav - 2. 1st Floor - Church
Alfred - 2. 1st Floor - Church
(Item 1) MP18 Ranged Weapon / 3. 2nd Floor - Church:
Bell
Tower
(Item 2) MG 34 Ranged Weapon / 3. 2nd Floor - Church:
Bell
Tower
(Item 3) 7.92-57 x 39 Ammo / 3. 2nd Floor - Church: Bell Tower
(Item 4) 9mm Parabellum x 70 Ammo / 3. 2nd Floor - Church: Bell Tower

West East
South North

"Perhaps," Vaclav returns, stepping away from the wall, and eyeing
Alfred, as the other descends. "But not in the back, I think."

Alfred falls down, sitting on one of those few pews that's still in one
piece. Nodding slowly, he lies back and just waits. So tired, so very
tired.

<> 1918 Harley-Davidson arrives from Road!
<> O'Callaghan gets out of 1918 Harley-Davidson.
<> O'Callaghan unwields his Star SI35!
<> Vaclav unwields his Mosin-Nagant!
<> Elena unwields her Astra Model 400!

Konstantinov strolls into the church, flanked by a couple of his chosen
PCE soldiers/lackeys. He rarely travels without them. He takes a long look
around the church, his lip twisting into a sneer. Despite whatever heat
of battle the other soldiers have faced, the commissar doesn't show a mark
on him. Not that that's a surprise. He's usually fighting a different sort
of war. He issues some short, terse instructions to the communists. After
a short conversation, Konstantinov turns his attention to the soldiers
around the church.

<> BA-6 Armoured Car arrives from Grass!

Vaclav stands near the door, his chest a sanguine mess, and blood
freely dripping down his right hand, to pool on the floor. The gory fist is
raised in salute. "Comrade Commisar. Boadilla has held."

Alfred raises a hand up, trying his best to form a fist even though he
doesn't stand. It's the closest he can get to a salute before letting
the hand come down. He does stand for the officer, forming a shakey
attention, but that takes him a bit.

(From BA-6 Armoured Car) Marchand rises to look out from the turret
hatch. "Nursing station's starting to be set up here." and then back down to
where Gonzales is at the wheel. "Let's give her a rest. The mechanics can
check her out with a look."

(From BA-6 Armoured Car) Nodding a little, Gonzales just slides back in
the seat, after stopping the car. Letting out a deep breath. "We did well,
didn't we?"

(From BA-6 Armoured Car) Marchand forms a warm smile. "We did at that.
A good team, great results. Excellent driving and the shooting wasn't bad
if I can say so myself." the American climbs out.

<> Marchand gets out of BA-6 Armoured Car.
<> Gonzales gets out of BA-6 Armoured Car.

Konstantinov pumps his fist, returning the salute of the men. "Good
work, comrades. You have done good work for the People this day. Thanks to
you, we are a step closer to freeing Spain." He casts a long look around the
church, his beady eyes flashing. "Have you taken the fascists here prisoner?"
He means the priests and other religious officials.

(From 1918 Harley-Davidson) The Harley stays pretty close to the car.
Elena hits the switch, killing the engine as she studies the armoured vehicle
for a moment, then swings her leg off the thing.

<> Elena gets out of 1918 Harley-Davidson.

Gonzales climbs out, offering a bit of a grin to Marchand. "The
shooting was excellent," he offers, before he looks over at Konstantinov, but
decides that staying silence is the best idea, at the moment.

O'Callaghan slides off the backside of the Harley-Davidson. He was
still a bit woozey from the blow to the head earlier, but is now conscience and
aware of his surroundings. The first thing he calls out for is one of
his troops, "Corporal!" He then waits for the man to arrive, "I need a
situation update!"

Marchand smiles back to Gonzales, nodding to the Spanish soldier. He
doesn't add words, but he definitely seems pleased with the pair's work in the
armoured car. The head then turns to cast a look to the captain and
Vaclav, lips closed.

Elena sticks near enough to the bike to help the Captain off of it and
make sure he doesn't fall over or anything. Just in case.

"We have no prisoners, Comrade Kommissar. All the fascists are dead,"
Vaclav reports to Konstantinov, before looking aside at O'Cal's call. "Here
Comrade Captain!" he identifies himself, in the ruined church. "commissar," he
notes with a second salute, as he waits for dismissal to address O'Cal..

Alfred just waits, giving up and opting to sit down. So what, he's
being shot anyway. (pessimistic bastard)

Konstantinov does not dismiss Vaclav just yet. "You have found no
priests here? You detained none of them? I did not expect the cowards to do
anything but flee, but I hoped, perhaps, some might be fanatical enough to stay.
The fools have such attachment to empty symbols such as this."

Captain O'Cal gives a nod towards Elana a mutters quietly, "Thanks
las." He puts a hand on her shoulder to better stablize himself when getting off
the bike.

<> Taylor gets out of BA-6 Armoured Car.

"None Kommissar," Vaclav reports evenly. "Very few citizens in the
city. Found no priests. Most all fled, before fighting."

The car door opens and the soldiers takes out the wounded again on
stretchers and lay them inside the church against the wall. They
bandage their wounds but don't know much more to do than that. The soldiers are
given water and, for those who can, a little fruit to avoid dehydration
and keep their strength up.

Alfred speaks up. "One Civillian." he says nodding in the direction of
Taylor. "Brought him up here on a bike I think. We did not detain him,
or at least I could not. I was in the bell tower at the time."

Marchand draws up a breath. "There was a machine gun nest in the bell
tower, Comrade Commissar. Maybe the bodies could be checked for collars.
Priestly collars." He pauses as Alfred speaks, looking over to him curiously.

Elena squeaks as the Captain leans on her, shifting her weight to brace
herself. She glances up at the man, then looks back towards the
vehicles. She keeps her mouth shut for the moment, shifting from foot to foot
while she tries to help keep O'Callaghan braced up.

Once off the bike the Captain is able to support his own weight. He
looks around angry at the lack of responce, "CORPORAL!" he bellows into the
area expecting the man to show up this very second. He turns towards Elena,
"Fetch Corporal Vaclav, he has one minute to show his face out here or
he will be performing latrine duty for the next week." The Captain doesn't
seem to be playing around. The injury to his head is causing a massive
headache and he really wasn't in the mood to be waiting on anymore.

Konstantinov dismisses Vaclav tersely, his eyes narrowing around at the
church around him. He then strolls over to speak with the soldiers
moving the wounded in. He does not look pleased. "You cannot keep these men
here," he says shortly. "This place is decimated, and it shall soon be put
aside entirely. We shall not have the soldiers of the People housed in this
symbol of fascism. As soon as our men are out, it shall be burned to the
ground."

<> Vaclav moves out of 1st Floor - Church.

Fetch /who/?? Elena swallows hard, giving a slight nod as she steps
back. "Si, Capitan," she says quickly, turning to look over the soldiers.
Errrr. She lifts one hand, brushing her hair from her face as she starts
towards the church. "Corporal Vaclav?" she calls.

Nowakowski arrives from the South.

Alfred slowly stands, walking over to pick up the golden chalice. Why
he does so he's not sure, but Alfred tiredly walks out and holds the thing
out to the Kommissar. Silently. Hearing Elena he ahs some and points at
Vaclav. That would mean of course that he, had lied to her.

<> Alfred moves out of 1st Floor - Church.

One of the medics looks upat the commissar, obviously fightened. "But,
Comrade Commisar, these men, they need treatment immedeatly. We must at
least allow them to have preliminary treatment, Comrade Commissar,
please."

Vaclav repeats, "Here, Comrade Captain!" striding out of the blasted
church, to present himself before O'Callaghan with a salute. "Situation.
Fascist offensive has been crushed. Artillery barrage attempted to cover thier
retreat, but none of the assaulting troops survived. The road west of
town appears to be clear, but we are in need of ammunition. Reinforcements.
Doctors." Snarling and growling as a medic comes up and makes an
ineffective nuissance of themself, however well meaning..

Marchand draws up a hand to wipe sweat from the side of his face,
trying to then clean the fingers with a cloth rag. He gazes up towards the bell
tower, for a moment looking lost in thought as he considers.

O'Callaghan listens to the report then nods to Vaclav, "Very good
Corporal. The Church will be used as a casuality collection point till the truch
arrives and we are able to transport the wounded out." He then leans in
a bit closer to the Corporal and says quietly, yet sternly, "The next
time I call for you, you best be showing up quickly. You are an NCO now, not
some latribe pit digging private. You set the example. Clear?"

"Do what you must," Konstantinov orders the medic tersely. "They should
not have been brought to this…" He spits on the floor. "…in the first
place. Before sunset, /all/ shall be moved out of here and this house of
ignorance shall be destroyed." He yanks the chalice away from Alfred and throws
it on the ground. He has no interest in such trappings of fascism. If he
wants to loot, he can find a nice proletariat place to do it from.

Nowakowski stumbles into the Church, the Russian clutches a crude
bandage to his stomach, groaning quietly, using his Mosin as a crutch as he
shambles forward, gritting his teeth against the pain as he tries to sit down.

The medic nods. "Of course Comrade Commissar, they will be gone before
sunset as you order." He saluted and turned to begin handing out orders
for immedeate medical attention to those severely wounded and begin
relocating those who could stand to be moved.

Vaclav leans closer as O'Cal does, blue eyes narrowing further, as he
listens. A short nod. "Understood, Comrade Captain."

Alfred shrugs, too tired to care. Wandering over to Nowakowski, he
gives the man a once over. "Head into the church for now. There's a few medics in
there who'll patch you up. Afterward, I'd say come back out here and
check up with the corporal or captain. Not sure if we'll be moving out or
not."

Elena gives Alfred a slight nod as she steps back - Vaclav found,
mission accomplished! And all that. She backs away from the group, towards the
armoured car once more, gaze sliding over the details of it as she
idley rubs at some of the bloody marks on her overalls.

Alfred wanders around, checking on various NPC soldiers. Some are
directed to one or more of the NPC NCO's, the rest shuffled off into the
impromptu aid station. His own wounds ignored for now.

Marchand remains standing by the BA-6 armoured car, letting his gaze
wander back down as he keeps silent. The eyes follow Konstantinov's glances,
making the effort to know where the other's gaze goes and expression follows.

Nowakowski takes a seat on a piece of rubble, leaning back to allow
medicalpersonnel to examine his wounds. He dosen't look too bad off, but
enough to take him out of the fight for the time being.

Soldiers are lifted on stretchers as they are looked over and given
brief medical treatment until it is safe to move them. The medics bust down
the doors of the nearby homes and begin setting up mini aid stations,
though some who actually stayed refused sharply. A medic walked up to the
commissar. "Comrade Commissar, the insane locals who stayed through the
battle, or returned since then…well, some of them refused to leave
their homes, Comrade Commissar. They threaten us with violence and
insults…what do we do with them?"

Another couple of steps towards the car, Elena starts rolling up her
sleeves examining the thing. "Senor?" she says up towards Merchand. She looks
back ast the medics all get to work, then look back to the gent. "May I…?"
she gestures to the BA-6.

Having been a short trip behind one of the houses, Gonzales comes back
again now, looking a bit more relaxed than earlier. He looks between the
others for a few moments. "Threaten them back?" he mutters as he overhears
what's being said to Konstantinov.

The Captain the motions for the Corporal to disappear, he was finished
with him. "Your dismissed Corporal." The Irish man says as he peers about
the street and peppered buildings. The buildings here had stood their
ground, but were now charged from fire and shrapenel damage.

"Round them up and detain them," Konstantinov tells one of his
soldiers, rather than the medic. "Only a fascist would refuse to give us aid. We
can sort out how deeply they are in the clutches of the enemy later. Are
you finished here, Comrade?" That last question is directed at the medic.
He's eager to get to burning.

Marchand slides his gaze from the Russian to the Spanish young woman.
"Just take a look, please don't go inside it, senorita." He gives her a
little nod before his ears draw his gaze back to where the powers-that-be are
discussing an issue.

Vaclav nods curtly, and takes a step back from O'Cal. It seems a
suitable activity, so Vaclav rounds up a few men, and goes about collecting
weapons and unspent ammunition from the Nationalist soliders whose bodies
litter the road.

Elena wets her lips as she looks up at the car again. "I'm your
mecanica, senor… If I'm to fix it, I must go inside…" she points out as she
takes a step closer to the thing, going up on her toes as she cranes her
neck.

Nowakowski :is bandaged up quickly, stuck on a stretcher due to his
abdominal wounds, and hurried off the scene. He hardly has time to
register what is going on as he is hooked up to an IV and hurried off to a side
house.

"Just a few more, Comrade Commissar," the medic says as he watches the
people from the homes dragged out and rounded up and watched by a few
armed soldiers. The other medics continued to unload the church. "Leave the
dead and hopeless! It will be easier to burn them!" A few minutes later a
medic signalled to the one next to the commissar, who turned around. "Comrade
Commissar, the church has been emptied and all wounded comrades moved
to the surrounding households for further treatment."

Alfred moves to grab a few of the soldiers near him. "Machine Gun up in
the belltower." he says and then thinks. "Never mind. I'll go get it."
Delegating is one thing, but for now he'll do it himself. Besides, he
liked the view. "I'll be right out comrade."

O'Callaghan storms over to the church wondering why the soldiers were
being evacuated. The Captain looks furious and as his eyes dart from soldier
to soldier, his is placed on Taylor's shoulder preventing the soldier from
leaving, "Who gave the order to file out from our casualy collection
point?!"

Alfred slowly wanders down and shrugs. "Don't know captain. Just moving
the weapon. I left it jammed." he admits, moving out into the sun to field
strip the MG and fix it.

Marchand 's eyes show a mark of surprise hearing the woman's response.
"The mechanic?" Likely in response to her gender, his assumptions failing.
"Si, of course. Please, check her out. We took some machine gun fire, but
nothing penetrated the armour that I could see." He steps to unfasten the
hatch, immediately turning once that's done to watch the captain and
Commissar.

Taylor, only half-concious because of his wounds, just gurgles and
drops his head back. The medic beside him looked up. "Comrade Captain, Comrade
Commissar Konstantinov has ordered all wounded to be moved out of the
building so it may be purged of it's facism."

Alfred keeps going back, this time to get the other weapon and then sit
his happy butt down to work on the MG.

Elena glances back over her shoulder towards Marchand at the surprise
in his voice. She gives a faint smile, though dampened, no doubt, but the
aftermath of the battle. She glances back towards all the soldiers as they move
through the area, dragging in a breath before she climbs into the BA-6
to have a looksee.

Gonzales heads over towards the car again, shaking his head a little as
he looks around.

<> Elena gets into BA-6 Armoured Car.

Alfred sits down, slowly pulling out the barrel and working on the MG.
He dry fires the thing a few times, before grumbling when it jams.
Starting to work on the bolt, that seems to be the problem for now.

Upon hearing the word 'Commissar', Captain O'Cal suddenly becomes
furious. His Irish tempers begins to get the best of him no matter how much he
tries to keep it bottled up. The Captain pokes his head in the door way of
the church while shouting "Who does this man think he is?" Not seeing the
Commissar within, he begins to look about the soldiers and medic
gathered outside the church trying to spot the units 'self-proclaimed'
commander. "This is my unit!" The Captain shouts again. The Irish man clenches his
fists and takes a deep breath, which does nothing to calm his temper
down like he thought it would.

Konstantinov nods a thanks to Alfred as he moves the equipment out,
before heading to the entrance of the church, himself. "Every able-bodied man,
gather torches!" he orders tersely. "The sight of this idol is a stain
upon free Spain." That done, he strolls over to face O'Callaghan. "I gave
that order, Comrade Captain. And who, may I ask, gave the order that our
fine communist soldiers should be housed in this…" He spits back at the
church. "…symbol of fascist lies. Did you hope your Pope might heal our men
from Rome, Comrade Captain? It is not proper for a man in your position to
cling to such delusions. I am certain our superiors in the PCE would not like
to hear of such actions from you."

Morana has arrived.

Alfred sits down, looking up at the Kommissar and then shrugs, going
back to his work. The MG is cleaned. That done, he considers it a moment and
then looks at his rifle.

Vaclav looks back toward the church as the shouting starts..
Shouldering the machine gun (every bullet of which having already been long fired), the
big Czech stomps back toward the blasted church, expression frowning by
habit, and blue eyes narrowed.

Marchand watches from where he stands by the vehicle, head slightly
tilted with neck crooked as he watches the Commissar and captain from an odd
angle. As the PCE is mentioned, there's a slight frown forming on his
features, though he focuses that on the captain as if making an effort to appear
to show disappointment in the Irishman from the distance. A turn to look
around for a moment, towards the blasted structures and leafy trees lining the
street with splintered branches.

(From BA-6 Armoured Car) Elena starts poking around inside the vehicle.
There's a small sound of triumph, and a moment later, the sounds of
work being done within the BA-6.

Morana takes a moment to duck out of the church upon hearing the gun
fire ending, if not for a few minutes. She peeks out of those doors to see
if there is anyone nearby that is in need of her aid not quite sure if she
should be out on the warfront but, her wanting to help too much,
stubbornness will be the end to her one of these days.

The Captain's fist remane clenched tightly. His knuckles even begin to
turn white as his anger boils over. It really is taking the Irish man
everything he has not to strike the Commissar this very minute. A step is taken
closer to the Commissar making sure to invade that comfortable distance. His
right hand becomes unclenched and is raised to the Commissars face. His
finger pointing directly at the mans face. His words are stern and
threatening, "You are going above and beyond your authority. This operation is still
mine and all actions need to be ran before me." The Captain stares hard at
the Russian man trying to make him feel as unconfortable as possible. "You
are not the commander of this unit, no matter how much you think you are,
you are an aid to me. Under stand, and AID, you are here to help moral and
report moral trends to ME so that I can keep soldiers in highspirits to
fight." His next words are shouted and he even spits a bit while
shouting, "DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!"

Gonzales leans towards the side of the car for the moment, frowning a
little. "I just hope he won't have us burn every building around," he
comments quietly to those nearby. "It would probably be wise to use the
church building for defense purposes as well, though. Whatever else one
can say about the church, they build solid buildings…" It's said very
quietly, as he keeps on watching, for a few moments.

Marchand slowly nods when he hears Gonzales. His eyes go back to watch
more seriously the exchange between the Russian and the Irishman. Lips frown
while considering the words of both men.

Konstantinov's beady little eyes narrow at O'Callaghan. He stiffens,
but he does not appear intimidated. There is, perhaps, anger boiling behind
those icy eyes. "My authority, Comrade Captain, is to keep the minds of our
soldiers focused and purge this nation of fascism. And that I will do.
You forget /yourself/, Comrade Captain. I am an officer of the PCE, and
/you/ answer to /them/. The only reason this country has not been ground to
dust is that Russia has saved it, /Comrade/. And, mark my words, /our/
superiors shall hear of what was said today." He doesn't even bother to veil the
threat. That done, he turns away from O'Callaghan and starts barking at
the men. "What are you waiting for!? Burn this symbol of fascism to the
ground!"
That bark includes Marchand and Gonzales.

<> Elena gets out of BA-6 Armoured Car.

Elena is still inside the BA-6, tinkering away within. she's mostly
hidden from sight, the occassional bob of her ponytail seen, but that's about
the extent of it

Alfred looks up at the Kommissar. He doesn't move, but rather makes
something of a show of letting the bolt on the MG slap home with a loud
clack. Then again, he doesn't look like there's much he could do as it
were. The building is stone, so he knows that it'll resist fire rather
nicely. He was inside it. Part of him, some warped part, hopes that it doesn't
catch, just to piss off the Kommissar. Shrugging, he goes back to working on
the MG.

Vaclav comes up behind where O'Callaghan stands, filling the doorway of
the church for a moment, before stepping out of the way, and prompting
quietly,in a low, even voice, "Orders, Comrade Captain?" the empy machine gun
carried on his shoulders.

Morana looks over taylor's visage a moment or two and as she sees
vaclav and who else coming towards the church, she decides it best to disappear
within once more…her minor services there if needed, her life better kept
intact.

Marchand straightens, lifting his fist in a raised arm revolutionary
salute. "Yes, comrade commissar. As a member of the Party, not having any rank
to speak of, I shall at once." He steps around to grab a branch, moving to
the rear of the BA-6 to pour a tiny amount of petrol onto the head of it. A
lighter then flicks to ignite the fuel dripping down the stick, and he
starts moving towards the structure of the church.

Alfred ahs some and clears his throat. "You realise," he says as he
watches the nurse head that way. "They're going to torch the church."

Taylor grabs the woman's sleeve as she begins to walk out of the house.
He gasps and sits up painfully. "Please…don't leave me…"

Morana seems to be in complete ditz mode this evening considering her
brain is still rattling around a bit from all of the gun shots that kept
flying about the place. With those words spoken by alfred, she nods and stays
with taylor going to kneel down beside them trying to do what she can, if
anything.

Alfred clears his throat, loudly. "Kommissar? If I might offer a
suggestion?" he says hoping he can catch the man before Marchand
torches it.

Pushing away from the car for a few moments, Gonzales looks between
O'Callaghan and Konstantinov, as he slowly moves over in the direction
of the church. Slowly, as if waiting for some voice of reason to
intervene.

Captain O'Cal glares at the Commissar shouting after the man, "Tell
your bosses. I have a record of success under my belt unlike your war
record. You failed at putting togeather a simple AMBUSH that got out men killed!
You do more good for the Nationalist party being a soldier in this unit." The
Captain then spits on the ground in the direction of the Commissar.
Part of him was glad that the Commissar walked away, another minute of this and
he would have struck the man. His attention is snapped towards Vaclav,
"Put togeather your squad and prepair to torch the church!" The order is
barked loudly for all to hear.

Konstantinov turns a glare to Alfred. "You have your orders, Comrade
Peters. No good shall come of this abominable structure." That done, he
straightens and levels a long look around, waiting for his instructions to be
carried out. O'Cal's words make his back stiffen. The truth hurts. It is likely
that Konst's, and O'Cal's, record of failure and success will be told in a
slightly different light in the commissar's report to command.

Jase has arrived.

Alfred slowly stands from his position dusting off. "The building is
stone, and has a great view of the surrounding areas from that tower. I should
know, I was up there firing. The inside is well made, but there is no
wood there." he says and then thinks. "I have a compromise. If the inside
was burned, the wooden pews, and all trappings, then the Fascist problem
would be eradicated. After which, we could procure that for a fine defensive
position, with one maybe two machine guns in the tower. We would, in a
word, rule this whole square and force the enemy to come to us. Plus, it is
safer than the current aid station and I think you could set up an office
inside no?"

Taylor tugs on the woman's sleeve. "Water…I need some water…"

"Understood, comrade Captain," Vaclav voices flatly. Turning to the
unit at large a series of orders are barked. Some men are instructed to drag
the dead fascist soliders into the church (because who really wants corpses
lying around getting diseased?). The newly arrived Jase however falls
under Vaclav's regard and is instructed, "Ecveryone! A tin of petrol, and
torches. Move!"

Gonzales just shakes his head. He looks over at Alfred, offering the
man a nod and a half shrug, before he moves to follow the orders, still
moving around rather slowly.

Alfred shrugs, listening to the Kommissar. "I'd hate to think that
command would find out that such a fine defensive position was wasted, I'm
certain they'd be rather upset at whom ever was responsible for such. Given
that it would be at the cost of many lives, soldiers which there are so few
of." Alfred doesn't move, his hand really shot up. Emphasis on really.
"Though, I would also surmise that the person who was wise and shrewd enough to
salvage such a position; could find themselves greatly rewarded by command. For
only a wise and intelligent officer would do so."

Morana goes to offer taylor some water from a bottle that seems to be
permanently attached to her in a small pack, she trying to be as gentle
as possible, going to try to help taylor sit up if needed.

Marchand is still moving, carrying the torch in a steady pace towards
the opening in the wall where once was a side entrance to the chapel. He
ignores the commands following the direct one made by the Commissar, carrying
the flame to ignite the interior pews already his focus. Inside the opening
of the walls he goes, fierce determination of a revolutionary mindset.

Konstantinov appears fairly confident about how command will feel about
the structure. As little sense as it might make, rationally or
strategically. "There are other towers, Comrade Peters. No officer of the Party would
allow a thing such as this to stand. And I am an officer of the Party, doing
the work of the People. Rewards shall be bestowed as the Party sees fit."
He gives the man a long look as he says that, but adds no more.

Alfred hmmps and shrugs. "Your choice comrade." he says, but doesn't
move. "Forgive me if I do not join them," he adds as an afterthought, holding
up what's left of his left hand. "This is rather starting to ache."

Taylor sips from the cup before shoving it away weakly. He then lifts
part of his shirt, revealing the wound in his abdomen. "Please…help
me…they don't do a very good job in preliminaries…it hurts so much…"

Captain O'Cal who is standing in the door the chuch puts his hand out
and presses it against Marchand's chest to prevent the man from moving
forward, "Soldier, you will be instructed to burn the church on Corporal
Vaclav's order. I will have you brought up on charges for disobeying an order
made to you by your Commadning Officer." The order is said sternly and in a
tone that he was not playing around. Leaving his hand there, he turns
towards Alfred, "You will fall silent on the subject Private, this is being
handled." The Captain then turns to the soldiers, "This church will be
burned, but it will be done correctly with good order and discipline.
Those soldiers assigned to Corporal Vaclav will torch the church on his
order!" The Captain peers at the soldiers, giving each a stern look.

His face smudged with dirt, blood, and various other dirty things, Jase
makes his way up the road towards the church, his rifle resting across
his shoulders. Every step is a chore, each movement bringing a slight
grimace of pain to his face. Still, Jase seems to be none the worse for wear.

Morana winces lightly upon seeing the wound on taylor's stomach, she
quite obviously not entirely sure on what to do with it. She does go to try
her best to possibly stop up the bleeding but in time, it will bleed out
unless aided by another. "I'm sorry…I can't help."

Alfred hmms idly, moving back to that machine gun. Something tells him
that he may sadly be given the order to shoot his own comrades by the
Captain,but he doesn't show that fear. No, he just settles in to finish what
cleaning of it he can do and then field dress his own wound.

Taylor sighing with a groan Taylor nods and lays back down, closing his
eyes and passing out.

Konstantinov doesn't interfere with O'Cal. Anymore. Now that the
Captain is on board. He just watches, beady eyes narrowed to slits. This display,
it does not please him. Perhaps the sight of a burning Catholic church
will warm his heart.

Marchand stops to a halt, the torch flame spreading down the tick with
the vapours of petrol. "Yes, comrade. I would not want to disobey my
commanding officer." His eyes glance towards the flame. "Be careful, comrade
O'Callaghan. This flame is spreading. It would not suit well to spread
to either of our uniforms." Chin goes up, and he takes a step back.

The preparations undertaken; bodies piled up amongst bullet torn pews,
and old tapestries (only slightly blood and bullet splattered).. the dust
stirred up by the combat still enough to cause the occasional cough, as
the men of the company take thier firebrands, and recieve the barked order
from Vaclav to "Set the fires, comrades. Now!"

Morana looks over taylor and goes to lightly pat at his face as if
trying to get him to awaken, of course it does not work. She gathers her things
back and then frowns deeply as she just looks towards the church and the
flames, yet another building to be demolished by this horrible war.

The Irish Captain was still furious, though it was controlled anger at
this point. His eyes glare at Marchand, "I sure hope that was not a threat."
The words are said coldly. The Captain moves out of Marchand's way when he
sees fit. Now that the Corporal has relayed his order to torch the church,
the Captain steps out of the way and begins to walk away for the church. He
would want to keep a good distance away from it when it burns.

<> War moves into 1st Floor - Church.

Konstantinov's eyes follow O'Callaghan as the captain moves away from
the church. The commissar smiles.

Jase comes to a weary stop just as the church goes up in flames, a
perplexed expression crossing his youthful face, "Huh?" he mutters to him self as
he finally gives in to his fatigue, dropping to the ground near a half
tumbled down wall.

<> A fire ignites!

The dark head within the armoured car pokes up as the church catches.
Elena pauses in her work to watch for a moment as the flames lick up along
the walls. But only a moment before her head disappears once more and the
soft sounds resume from inside the car of repairs.

Marchand turns with a step into the opening of the stone wall, and
casts his flame from that dangerously close position directly at the crucifix
itself. In Latin, he speaks, "Religion is the opiate of the masses.", a quoted
statement, then takes one step firmly back to withdraw from the
structure.

Having done his part of the torching, Gonzales just steps away, moving
over in a direction where there's no people, muttering something to himself,
for a long while. Time for a little bit of pondering now.

Whatever thoughts the Captain has about the need to purge the church
as a relgious icon he keeps to himself. His anger was about other issues
which he leaves alone for now. He turns to face to church and watches the
insides burn and smoke begin to pour out the broken windows and out from the
bell tower roof. His arms are crossed at his chest and he spits down at the
ground.

Morana simply shakes her head not exactly saddened that it is a church
that is being burned but more on that it is another piece of her country
being burned, ah well. She goes to get up from taylor's passed out form and
then looks around for any who are mildly injured.

Vaclav draws back to a distance, once the flames have take, and the
smoke rises into the spanish sky. A few men are picked to keep an eye on the
blaze, to make certain the wind does'nt caused the fire to spread..
Vaclav himself remaining among those still on detail.

Standing off to the side, a bit away from where most of the people are,
and refusing to look at the burning piece of Spain, Gonzales looks a bit
thoughtful, as he glances around at what he can see without looking at
the burning building.

Alfred yawns some, slowly standing. Stretching he wanders over to the
Captain. "By your leave?" he asks, but doesn't wait to be dismissed,
heading into the house to get patched up.

Konstantinov is almost as interested in watching the reaction of the
soldiers around him to the burning church as he is in watching the
burning itself. He starts humming softly to himself as the smoke curls up into
the air. The tune is a strain of 'The Internationale', which all the
soldiers present would likely recognize.

Oh, there's his unit! Spying Vaclav, O'Callaghan, and the rest, Jase
pushes himself back to his feet with a heavy sigh and re-shoulders his rifle
before slowly making his way closer to the burning church.

Marchand 's lips remain closed with a frown, as if there's further
words currently kept buttoned within the mature veteran's thoughts. He makes
no offer of volunteering to be a part of the team tending the fire, but
instead moves directly over to the armoured car, shifting it into Neutral to
push it further from the flames with some help. Alot of energy expended, the
armour plating weighing it down heavily. "A little more", he comments to the
female mechanic inside.

The Captain turns to look towards Vaclav and calls out in the mans
direction, "The details will be dismissed you at your descrestion
Corporal." The Captain then turns to watch the church burn more. He ignors the
Commissar's tune and blatent use of propaghanda into making this a good
thing, well that is the way he took the humming at least.

================================================================================
Places-----—> > > > > THE GREATEST GENERATION
< < <


1. Country House
A stone country house belonging to a rich suburb dweller. Its thick
walls
offer excellent protection.
Connects to :

2. 1st Floor - Charred Church
A typical small catholic church. A fire had destoryed everything
inside of the building leaving large piles of soot and ash. The Staircase leading
to the Second floor has been destroyed making it impossible to access the
bell tower at this time. The stone wall is all the remains.
Connects to :
3. 2nd Floor - Church: Bell Tower

3. 2nd Floor - Church: Bell Tower
The bell tower raises high into the air providing a nice over view of
the the courtyards below. It provides adequate protection.
Blocked! You can only enter this place from its connections.
Connects to :
2. 1st Floor - Charred Church


<> War successfully works on putting out the fire!

Upon seeing that there really are none that are mildly injured, she
decides to simply leave the area trying to do her best to stay down and be
inconspicuous.

There's a startled sound from within as Merchand appears to shift the
vehicle into neutral. Elena gives a slight nod, shifting around a bit
inside the thing to get at a better angle. She braces herself slightly,
waiting for the thing to come to a hault before she applies the break again.
"Gracias," she calls back to him before setting back to work.

<> War demolishes the route between City-1st Floor -
Charred
Church and City-2nd Floor - Church: Bell Tower with explosives!

Marchand remains with Elena, assisting her with the repairs of the
vehicle until well past the timbers are collapsed in the structure.

Taking one last look around, Gonzales makes his way over to one of the
houses, and passes into its back yard, looking a bit like a person that
has come to some kind of a decision.

(From Ammo Truck) The Ammo truck which is now doubling as a field
ambulance drives up one of the priority roads of the village. The vehicle trucks
around being careful to avoid the potholes caused by artillery and
heavy machine gun fire. The vehicle's engine is killed, and the vehicle
continues to roll forward till its own weight brings it to a stop. The drivers
side door flings open and Dr. Dario Cortez exits.

<> Dario gets out of Ammo Truck.
<> Elizabeth gets out of Ammo Truck.

And along with Dario, perhaps playing the part she's been accused of
lately as she has her camera in it's case over her shoulder, is Elizabeth.
Boo, hiss, yes, we know, the reporter is evil.

Once the church has been burning for a goodly time, Konstantinov slinks
away. Back to…wherever it is he lurks when not spouting commie
propaganda. He's humming as he goes.

Vaclav stands as one of perhaps a dozen men in a wide perimeter about
the smoldering church. The czech is still carrying some of the gory marks
of the recent fight, for this town.. while pools of blood dry on the shattered
street, tyhere are very few bodies to be found.

Jase slowly shuffles his way over towards Vaclav, "You dead yet,
Comrade?" he asks, throught out a quick clenched-fist salute as he shuffles his
rifle around on his back uncomfortably.

Vaclav allows a tight smile to tug at his grim countenance. "Not yet,
comrade," as he looks from the burning structure to regard Jase. "Take
more than few fascist bullets to kill us." A slowly released breath; the
solider's right arm black with dried blood.

Rothschild arrives from the North.

City
================================================================================
The Grid-----> > > > > THE GREATEST GENERATION
< < <


Coordinates : 5 3

The town of Boadilla is home to the economic and social elite.
Marvelous houses have been constructed through out the city displaying its rich
heritage. A mixture indifferent signs of wealth are displayed
throughout the city from clothing stores importing the latest Paris fashion to
pharmacies that care elixirs and tonics from the Middle East. A majority of the
houses here are two stories complete with lavishing front and back yards.

It is currently daytime.

Sub-Rooms :
1. Country House
2. 1st Floor - Charred Church
3. 2nd Floor - Church: Bell Tower

Contents
Rothschild
Elizabeth
Dario
(#645) Ammo Truck
Jase
Elena
Nowakowski
(#3011) BA-6 Armoured Car
(#580) 1918 Harley-Davidson
Konstantinov
Vaclav
Micah
(Item 1) MP18 Ranged Weapon
(Item 2) MG 34 Ranged Weapon
(Item 3) 9mm Parabellum x 70 Ammo

West East
South North

"Were you hit?" Jase asks, glancing at Vaclav's arm before his
attention drifts towards the smouldering chruch, that perplexed expression once
again darkening his face, "Why did we burn that church?"

Brought along, Lizzie does what she does best: unconsciously snaps open
her camera case and pulls out the instrument that has always gotten her
into such trouble while letting her capture the truth in black and white.
The smoldering church is surveyed for a moment before a prone body off to
the side catches her attention. The haphazard uniform identifies the lad as
one of this sides, and the photographer makes her way slowly in the bodies
direction.

Micah looks around… seeing the view of the burning church, wounded
beingtaken care of in the ammunition truck. His makeshift combat pack is now
on his back after he retrieved it after the battle. In the recent battle,
he expended half of his ammunition load, but it would seem that there is
little way to replace it. "Darn, I have to be more careful about my
shooting…" he thinks to himself.

Dr. Cortez was tasked here to help the wounded back to the hospital.
Little did he know he was walking into what could old be called a reason to
celebrate. He was lucky enough to be here to still witness the church a
flame. The church had become a symbol of hatered for many spanish that
took on the side of the Republic, it was a sign of the social classes above
the common man that oppressed the people though fear of scriputre. The man
actually smiles for once in this horrid war. He takes a moment
watching, "This country will be one by the proletarian through revolution!"

Elena again looks up from her work as the ammunition truck pulls up and
people climb out. She watches curiously for a moment before she
slooooooowly sinks from view inside the armoured car.

"Four times," Vaclav answers deep, slow, and even. "Detail.. dismiss!"
The curtly barked order to the others standing around is recieved gladly,
as the men head off to grab sleep, or seek aid. A slowly drawn breath, as he
voices to Jase, "We lose three corporals in attack. Captain O'Callaghan name
me one to fill ranks." Blue eyes slip past into the street beyond as he gets
ready to head toward the Aid station himself.. And seeing the photographer
once again..

Rothschild was brought along with Elizabeth. His notebook is already
out, though he's not reading over what he's written before, rather than
making new notations. He looks to have recovered from whatever he suffered in
Madrid. Even if he does still move his left leg rather stiffly. He
closes his notebook as he drops down from the truck, taking in the scene. He
looks up at the burnt church, staring at it. He doesn't look shocked,
exactly. He's been in Spain long enough to have heard of such things. But there
is a certain amount of disgust in his expression.

Ah, what timing…the ironies, really. Having left Rothschild to his
note taking, Lizzie has moved on. Crouching down next to the body of the
soldier who gave his life for a cause, Liz settles her camera in the small
smace between her knees and her chest. Her back to the ruined church and the
soldiers still gathered about it, she gets down to business, speaking
quietly to the soldier and blessing him as best she can, unordained as
she is and a woman to boot, and speeding him on ihs way to his reward.

Roch arrives from the South.

Micah stands next to the 1918 Harley-Davison and whistles. "My, ain't
she a beaut." He feels its curves. The horsepower…. vrrrooooom vrrrooooom!

"Well, congratulations," Jase says, mustering what ever energy he has
left to put some enthusism in his speech, "You certainly deserve it, I
think." He yawns a bit before lifting a hand up to wipe some sweat from his brow.

There are certain things that are bound to get a gal's attention. The
Harley is parked relatively near the armoured car, enough so that the whistle
of appreciation can be heard within. There's a sound from within the car
as if something meaty and solid (a person's head) just hit metal. There's
soft swearing before Elena's head appears, ponytail more skewed as she rubs
at it, peering at Micah for a moment to be sure he isn't doing anything.
"Gracias," she calls to him, though the word is filled with pain. She
flushes a bit and sinks away once more. Nothing to see here.

Vaclav looks far more tired, than proud, yet he does dip his head and
coice evenly, "Thank you, comrade." Some small kindling of energy is sparked
at the sight of the photographer.. crouched, looking over the body of a
fallen Brigadier. Swallowing once, blue eyes narrowing, and expression
darkening, a first unsteady step is taken toward where Elizabeth offers her unheard
words fo peace.

Dr. Cortez is wrapped up in watching the smoldering fire from within
the church. He was a surgeon and there was little that he could do at this
location with out a steril enviroment and proper tools to operate.
There where plenty of nurses and medics to assist with the first aid.

Micah turns back at the direction of the voice, but it appears that he
was probably hallicuinating. He sees no females, except for the
photographer and the nurses, of whom he did not think would drive a motorbike. "I must
be hearing things," he says to himself, and leaves the presence of the
bike to walk it off.

Elizabeth reaches out, gently closing the eyes of the young man before
crossing herself. Of course, from the back, it is difficult to tell
what, precisely, she's doing. And then she falls silent for a moment in
private prayer.

Rothschild makes some scribbles on his bad, frowning at what little
remains of the church. Half an eye is kept on Elizabeth. Or, at least, in her
direction. And that eye happens to spot Vaclav. His expression hardens,
eyes getting flinty behind the glasses perched on his nose. He turns on his
heel, to move to intercept the corporal. "I don't suppose I could get a
comment on the situation here?" he says to Vaclav, less civilly than the reporter
would probably speak to another soldier. "The strategic point of torching the
church, for example? I have to admit, it eludes me."

Standing a solid six foot, Vaclav has short cropped, dark brown hair, a
thick neck, and clean shaven, square jaw. Narrow blue eyes, and an
expression that naturally settles into a faint frown compose strong
classical features. His nose and brows are a bit sunburnt. His
shoulders are'nt unusually broad, though thickly muscled, beneath a charcoal
shirt, rolled up to the elbows. A belt bears canteen, entrenching tool, and a
sheathed bayonet. Trousers in the same shade as his shirt are loose
over heavily muscled legs, bound into polished black leather boots.

Micah heads for the ammo truck and looks inside. "Need any help,
Comrades?" Hell, he had nothing else much to do. Might as well as do something
constructive.

Vaclav is more than a bit lightheaded.. He has been on his feet,
hastily patched up to slow the bloodflow for several hours. His mood is
markedly foul, and the approach of Rothschild does little more than briefly draw
his gaze.. a scowl upon his face, the czech places a gory hand on the
american reporter's chest, intending a hard shove to clear the path between
himself and the Aussie.

Dr. Cortez is quick to jump in and speak his two cents on the burning
of the church, "The Church is a vile orginzation here to to oppress its
people." The doctor rants this in Spanish as usual, "Like the Morphine
I gave you yesterday, it only sedates you not really solving the problem.
It sedates the populations in the same way, the wounds it causes are there
and unnoticed till it becomes infected and you die from them. With out the
chuch, The People will be free to better invest their time in their
society, the assist the working class and end this class struggle."

Hearing Rothschild's question, and the rapid answer in spanish, Lizzie
turns, camera in hand as she partially stands. That, of course, will
likely only serve to add to the misconception about what she was doing.
Granted, those who are paying attention may notice that the lenscap is still on.

"Opiate of the masses, yeah, yeah, yeah," Rothschild rattles easily
back to Dario. "I read Marx in college, too, Doc." He doesn't sound like he
buys it, but he's not going to get into a discussion about faith right now. He
has other things to occupy him. Like Vaclav. The shove makes him stumble
back, but he's not letting the man by that easily. He puts his own arm out,
to try and grab the Czech's shoulder. "Why don't you just turn around, Mac?
You've got no business with her."

Micah nods to Elena in the ammo truck as he helps tend to the wounded
with whatever he knows about first aid.

What is this? Another fight? Elena pauses again in her work, lifting
her head carefully this time, just enough that she can peek out at what is
going on. She listens, quietly, watching the reporters and the soldiers
reaction to them.

Dr. Cortez glares at Rothschild as he is so easily blown off. This
frustrated the Doctor greatly. In rapid fire spanish, he spits out, "I
will remember your disrespect the next time you or your wife wonder into the
Aid Station. It would be a shame to not have morephine on hand when you
need it the most." Dr. Cortez continues to stay in place, but casts various
glances about the area checking on the status of the Nurses and Medics.

"I still don't get what your big problem with reporters is," Jase calls
out after Vaclav, though he doubts the man is paying attention to him
anymore. Jase shrugs a little bit before heading over towards another wall to
settle down and rest his weary body.

Vaclav does'nt seem intent on stopping, stalking closer toward Liz one
(mostly stable) step at a time. A hard pull to snatch his arm out of
Rothschild's grasp, as he growls at Elizabeth, "Did you get good look,
woman? Look good and close at dead solider?" Sadly, the idealistic
inquiry of Jase is indeed lost on Vaclav, at the moment.

Straightening the rest of the way, Elizabeth's gaze cools, the sadness
leaving and rapidly being replaced with a hard edge only intimate
knowledge with violence can bring. And then she slowly slides her gaze past
Vaclav to Rothschild. "The Doctor seems to have something important to say, Ben.
I think maybe you should listen to him." comes her quiet recommendation
as she starts forward, lens being pulled off the camera as she turns towards
the church.

Rothschild is pretty much ignoring Dario. To his future detriment, no
doubt. "He and I will catch up later, Lizzie, I'm sure." That said, he leaves
her to her work and turns his attention back to Vaclav. "Shut up, pal." The
'pal' isn't particularly friendly. Not that the pushing-forty reporter
in glasses is, on the face of it, all that intimidating. "You have no
conception of what you're talking about."

Vaclav's angry look twists deeper, the furious cast of his blue eyes
oddly lacking in his flat tone as he rumbles to Elizabeth (paying no mind to
the reporter he has left behind him), "No. Not think you got good enough
picture.." Stalking directly up to the woman, Rothschild's alarms will
start going off madly, as the big, bloodied czech raises his ruined right
hand, intent on taking Elizabeth by the back of her neck, and forcing her
back down to face the dead solider, Look close. Look CLOSE, whore!" he
growls between clenched teeth.

Roch comes in from the ruins of the town, apparently he'd been out
cleaning out stragglers and the assorted lot. He was still wounded, but
a medic sees to his slight chest wound rather quickly with an
examination. He pulls the submachine gun up and shoulders it….with some bit of shame
when he sees his wounded comrades. He had allowed his chase after the
wounded facist to lure him away from the attack. It had been costly for the
pig, but not for him….

And already having dismissed Vaclav (after all, if she ignores him,
he'd go away, right…?), Elizabeth didn't see the hand until she felt it clamp
down on the back of her neck. Yelping as she's spun around and pushed down
towards the face of the dead soldier, her camera falling from her hands
to skitter a short distance across the dirt. Thankfully she'd closed the
man's eyes, so she's not staring into those. "Let GO!" comes the cry from the
woman as she struggles to straighten but not quite having the strength.

Okay. Rothschild's done chattering now. "Get your hands off her!" he
yells, while trying to grab Vaclav and bodily pull him /away/ from Elizabeth.

Vaclav throws an arm back to ward off the american as he shouts at
Elizabeth, "Open your eyes! Look close.. This is what you came for,
woman! LOOK AT HIM!" Rothschild's second press succeeds in dragging Vaclav's
attentuion back from Elizabeth, his grip at her neck slipping, leaving
only a slick of fresh and dried blood where his grasp had lain..

Micah looks up as the photographer is being assaulted by the Czech
soldier. "My, it's gone too far." he says with dismay. He jumps out of the
ammunition truck. "Comrades, there is no need for this!"

Dario watches Rothschild chase after Vaclav to start a fight. The
Doctor knows better then to get into a soldiers affair in such a manor,
especially in a sitaution with such high tensions. He knew the soldiers where
protective of their own and Elizabeth's actions could have been
interperated in any many of ways. He for one saw the reporters as Capitalist pigs,
"This is a classic example of Capitalist trying to profit from a dead soldier
who gave his life for The People." The Doctor turns his head slightly to
spit onto the ground. How it disgusted him greatly. He was smart enough to
not jump in, his hands where his lively hood and he was not about to injure
them by punching anyone.

Oh, man. A fight! Jase quickly pushes himself off the ground and starts
hobbeling towards Vaclav and Rothschild, perhaps intent on trying to
break it up- or maybe just mix it up!

Bright crimson now coating the back of her neck and the bottom edges of
her hair, Elizabeth straightens with a barely contained sob. Seems the
photographer has reached breaking point. "Ben, don't!" Oh, she knows
her husband, and she also knows now is not the time and, even if it were,
it likely wouldn't be healthy for him to be hitting Communist soldiers.
She bodily tries to insert herself between the pair, but whether or not
she'ssuccessful is another matter entirely…

Oh, man. A fight! Elena starts to sink a bit more from sight, but she
can't quite look away, her expression reflecting a combination of horror and
fascination.

Rothschild has reached a breaking point of his own, it seems, so he
doesn't so much follow Elizabeth's sensible advice. He takes a swing at Vaclav.
A rather wild one, admittedly. He's more pissed than boxer-focused.

Roch having just had his wound examined, says, "Now hold on a damned
second!" He looks at the American journalist as he tries to hit Vaclav….
He gets to his feet and pushes the nurse tending him to the side…but
he doesn't get between the two.

Dr. Cortez watchs Rothschild take a swing at the International Brigade
Soldier. He knows how big of a mistake that was and he quickly looks to
the other soldiers waiting to watch them bum rush Rothschild. The Doctor
shakes his head almost not believing this. He really doesn't know which side
he wants to win, while on one hand he would love to see Rothschild get
knocked out, but on the other he knows that the reporter would then be taken to
the Aid Station where he would have to deal with him. Well maybe it would
be fun to rub it in after words.

Vaclav's face is pale beneath the sunburn, sweat dripping fromt he
skin, as- his expression twisted with anger, teeth bared in a snarl, as he swats
away the american's punch and- against the efforts of elizabeth to prevent
him, his errant fist hits not it's mark- but the woman.

Managing to interject herself between Vaclav and Rothschild, one hand
spread towards each of their chests to try and push each back, Lizzie is quite
pale herself with no suntane to disguise that fact. Her timing his horrible,
on one hand, but on the other, it couldn't be better. Even in this war,
generally speaking, hitting a woman (and from behind, no less!) isn't
kosher. The punch from Vaclav, a rather standard 'haymaker' with the
left fist connects with the side of Lizzie's face, sending her stumbling
against Rothschild's chest without a whimper, though that shudder-inducing
sound of flesh-on-flesh echoes faintly across the square.

Micah watches the whole scene happen so quickly. Comrade Marchand's
words echo in his mind. "I don't ever want to see you do that again… Don't
ever turn your weapon on a Republican…" He is torn about what to do next.
Perhaps it is best that he lets them duke it out and gain an
understanding? Hmm.

Rothschild takes another swing at Vaclav, but this one isn't all that
hard. He's distracted by Elizabeth being slammed into him. He stumbles as he
catches her, more surprised than anything else. All he tries to do is
get her out of the line of fire, with a sharp, "Stay out of this, Lizzie."
Before he returns to punching.

Hitting a woman just wasn't kosher….not for most men in this era
and surly not for a country boy like Roch…even as seasoned as he is, the
move outrages him, but he sees it for what it was…an accident. The real
culprit is Rothchild…the reporter who was nice enough, but for some reason
(unknown to him) was attacking his comrade in arms. He steps toward
Rothschild ready to knock the man senseless…despite his heavy
equipment load.

"Heeeey!" Jase shouts as he drops his rifle to rush into the fight. The
young man is clearly going to try and get behind Rothschild, maybe to
pull him away from Vaclav… or maybe to try and hold him while Vaclav
punches!

The smack of the punch connecting, has a curious effect..There is an
unmistakeable knowledge that it was'nt Rothschild he just struck, blue
eyes widened, the czech abruptly back up a step giving a push for distance
between himself and the other.. "Stop it! Stop it!" the corporal
shouts.

Dr. Cortez rolls his eyes at the slap fest taking place. The Good
Doctor looks to the others residing around the as they move in to break it
up…or where they jumping in to fight further? This could get interesting
quick. A glance is then made towards the Camera laying on the ground and
secretly hopes it gets steped on and broken in the frey.

Micah raises his rifle in the air, and fires off a loud shot that
echoes through the city. BANG! "That's quite enough fighting for one day,
Comrades!"

As Rothschild tries to set her to the side, her cheek burning despite
the fact that the punch likely wouldn't have even phased most of the men
present, Lizzie does the only thing a woman in her position can: She
clings to him. "Ben…" There's a note of an old fear underlying the plea of
his name, a fear Rothschild alone would likely recognise. Either way, it
looks like he'll have to shake her off, or others will have to pull her away,
because despite the punch, she doesn't look like she's going to just
leave things alone.

Dr. Cortez nearly jumps at the sound of the rifle. Now this was
begining to get out of hand. Not understanding English he backs away from the
situation. He wouldn't be able to spread the great words of the POUM from a coffin
and he begins to back up towards the Ammo truck. Deep down he curses at the
display to what he believes is the end of the fight.

Rothschild isn't terribly swayed by Vaclav's 'Stop it! Stop it!'
argument. He is swayed, however, by Roch and Jase grabbing and restraining him.
The reporter is stronger than he looks, but he can certainly be restrained
by the two of them. Dealing with that, he doesn't have much chance to
shake Elizabeth off. Between all that and the gunshot…he has to pause a
moment.

Roch wasn't going to restrain the reporter initially, he was going to
knock his block off, but when the woman (whom he has never seen before)
begins pleading with him in English (and not that Spanish jibberish), he
pauses and simply grabs Roth's arm. "What in the hell," is all he mutters before
the struggle ends. He glances over his shoulder to the Czech, "You alright
comrade?"

Vaclav's hands are clenched into fists at his sides- blood once again
dropping freely from the right.. A sharp sideways look at Micah as the
other fires a shot, and the corporal barks shortly, "No waste ammo!" But
neither does he immediately pummel the restrained Rothschild, upon whom his
narrowed blue regard fixes. A curt nod to Roch, "Yes. This fellow is going to
take the woman, and get out of here. Is'nt that right, reporter?" The dark
tone to the big czech's words lend an ominous cast to the 'question'.

Dr. Cortez begins to think the situation over as he now has his back
to the Ammo truck. If they are going to shoot him, they best just kill him and
save him the countless hours of working on Rothschild on the operating
table. It was a morbid way of looking at it, but Dr. Cortez wasn't right in the
head like that.

Awww hell. Jase isn't phased by the gunshot (no, he got over that bit
of jumpiness his first couple of hours in Madrid,) but Vaclav's words do
cause him to pause, and he settles for just trying to pull Rothschild away
from Vaclav, rather then immobolizing the reporter for a beating.

Micah satisfied that the fight finally ended, slings his rifle, and
goes back to the aid station to work on the wounded.

"Ben, please," Elizabeth repeats more quietly, gaining a little more
steadiness on her feet as she moves to stand in front of Rothschild,
reaching up to press a hand to his cheek. She sends a quick look over
her shoulder at Vaclav, coldly, before turning back to Roths, waiting.

If looks could kill, or punch, the one Rothschild is glaring at Vaclav
now would level him. He's breathing hard, coming down from the rush of
adrenaline he was on. Not that he looks any less mad. "If you ever lay
another hand on my wife…" he says, between clenched teeth. "If you
ever call her a whore again…" His own tone is pretty ominous as to what'll
happen, if that occurs. He looks properly abashed when Elizabeth
touches his cheek and tries, as unthreateningly as possible, to shrug off the
soldiers holding him. "Fine. We're going."

Rothschild's words clear up the situation for Roch…and the American
in him supercedes the anarchist/anti-facist. "Take yer girl outside," he
says to Rothschild softly. He then turns his eyes toward the corporal, "The
old Corporal here is a real bastard." A smile creases his features and he
attempts to change the subject and help everyone save a little face,
"Sorry to get seperated from y'all back there Corporal…damned Italian Facist
had to be sepearted with his toy…" He pats the submachine gun in his
right hand gingerly. "Its not a Thompson, but it'll do."

Vaclav glares balefully right back at rothschild.. Though the consuming
anger that had been upon him earlier has faded into a more managable
scorn. "Shut up. Get out. Now," the slow staccatto words to Rothschild. A look
to the men who had come up to his aid, and a nod to each. Temper still too
shot to really appreciate what Roch is saying, but, he does at least manage
to look at the indicated gun.

Jase lets go of Rothschild rather quickly, taking a step back from the
American reporter before he turns around and heads over towards his
fallen rifle. "Damnit," he mutters under this breath as he leans down to pick
the weapon up and shoulder it again.

Elizabeth stoops momentarily to snag her camera which, thankfully, is
nothing more than dusty. Those suckers are expensive! All that, and she
never even got one picture. Sigh. With one cheek reddened, Lizzie
straightens and turns back to Rothschild, moving along with him to head
back to their home away from home.

"Corporal?" Rothschild snorts at Vaclav. "That just figures." There's a
note of bitter irony in his tone. "I don't take my orders from you, /pal/."
Nevertheless. "We're finished here." With that, he heads out with
Elizabeth.

Well….Roch gives a slight sigh …as if "I'm glad thats over…."
He continues to occupy the Czechs attention…or attempts to. "Damned if
you didn't get your ass shot up while I was away." He steps closer to look
at that hand. "Doctor seen to this yet? I can't really tell…"

"You listen anyway," Vaclav growls back flatly to Rothschild at the
other's face-saving statement. Narrowed regard fixing briefly on Elizabeth,
before turning toward roch with a snort. "You missed counterattack, comrade.
Three fascists rush machine gun, be shot down. We hit formation in rear,
smash fascist offensive." But Roch is right.. Between bullets and bayonets,
the czech is a bloody mess.

Micah looks down at his chest. "Oh! I forgot!" He takes off his blood
stained bandage and replaces it with fresh gauze.

Jase quicklt inspects his rifle, making sure it didn't get damaged too
much when he dropped it before he once more goes back to his spot against
that half tumbled wall. Yawning mightly, he lets his eyes close, "Someone
wake me if we shelled or something." Aww. Its nice to know that someone still
has his wided eyed naivity regarding war- guess he hasn't been here long
enough.

The Doctor seems disappointed and relieved that the fight was over. He
was hoping that a few more punches would have been thrown to knock some
sense into Rothschild. How he loathed that reporter right now. However he is
glad things have no clamed down after the shot was fired into the air just
minutes ago. Not understanding English he just watches trying to pick
up on the body language, but that was some obvious that even a blind man knew
that Vaclav and Rothschild were not on good terms.

Roch listens to the Czech and says, "Yes comrade, but I killed the
facists just the same…" The Kentuckian smiles, obviously proud of his
capture…the submachine gun was indeed rare. "Nurse," he calls to the
nurse who tended him…then he switches to a very bastardized version of
Spanish and asks her if she can help the NCO with his bleeding problems….

Micah looks incredulous at Roch and laughs. "Hey Comrade, you and I
have the same wound!"

Micah points to the fresh bandage over his right chest.

"You know hoe to fire that mechanism?" Vaclav asks of Roch, eyeing the
submachine gun, with a measure of dry suprise.. "Is good. Shoot many
fascists with that, comrade.."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 License.