Rumble At The Stockade

Where: City, Coordinates (0, 2)
Who: Phillip, William, Xavier, O’Callaghan, Vaclav
When: May, 1937


Barcelona is a beautiful city, all the more so in summer. Full of wide sunny streets, lots of greenery, and if you're in the right place an urban waterfront with a sparkling beach, it isn’t surprising in more peaceful times that its such a tourist hub.

Though evidence of the war and unrest is everywhere. Black or red flags hang from buildings, revolutionary graffiti adorns the walls, the occasional Nationalist bombing raid ruins the ambiance, and anarchist militias on leave from the front wander the streets.

It is currently daytime.

From the south, a number of young men are approaching.. Red and black shirts and scarves, advancing on the Stockade.

Phillip laughs some as he nods, standing up. "Leave the water for now. May be useful. We'll deal with those lads later." His accent slips and comes, sometimes fading, most times there. "I was born in London myself. Lived most of my life in paris though." Looking up he blinks some, nodding slowly to William. "Get your weapon." He whispers, slowly raising his but making no effort to move suddenly. Stepping slightly out, he raises his hand. "Alto." he proclaims in Spanish. (Halt/Stop)

William notices young men in red or black shirts and scarves approaching. "Hmm, what are they doing?" He sees no weapons, so he dares not unsling his rifle to prevent further provocation in an already tense situation.

Marco is the first of the men to do more than glare angrily at the pair of soldiers. "You foreigners speak Spanish?" he asks shortly in the native tongue. He and all him compatriots continue to advance.

Phillip doesn't move, nodding very slowly. "Enough." he says, standing his ground. The Frenchman making no move to retreat; or move far away from the stockade. It's actually his posting. "What do you want?" the question is terse, to the point. Something typical of a professional soldier.

Marco sneers at the broken answer he is given. "You Stalinist dogs are holding two of my brothers in arms within that place-" a finger pointed at the stockade. "Free men who fight for Spain! Release them, now!" the sentiment is met with sounds of approval from the others.

Phillip does not move, slowly shaking his head. "I don't have the key." he says, which is partly true. Only officers keep them on him. Moving very slowly he wraps his right hand (he shoots left handed) through the strap on his rifle before gripping the stock better. "If you want anyone released, you talk to command.

William carefully eyes the angry looking group of people. Phillip has more experience than him in it, so he reasons to let Phillip do the talking. He only stays quiet, but he keeps a hand on the sling of his rifle, ready to bring it out for self-defense.
Marco scowls and spits on the ground at those words. "Then get out of the way; we will free them ourselves! You're fools if you think we'll wait for lying foreigners to free our own people!"

Phillip steps to one side, his direction placing him directly before the stockade. "Over my dead body." It's as close to a threat as he will give, though there is the very soft motion of his left hand tightening on the stock of the rifle. His eyes are cold, those of a killer. A man who wouldn't think twice about sending Marco to meet his maker…
Marco spits the words, "You are no better than the fascists! Let them out, or we will let them out!"

William finally begins to speak in slow and deliberate Spanish… picked up from Elena. "We have come of our own free will and risk our lives just as much as you do to fight the evil facists. There is no need for you to threaten us. If you want your comrades to be freed, then do it through the proper channels and everything will go smoothly."

Phillip shakes his head very slowly. "I can't let you do that." His voice isn't raised, but there is the very quiet snicting sound. It's that of the safety being flicked off the rifle. Now that could be seen as a threat. Then again, it could have just as easily have been an accident. "Now, turn around and go home before someone gets hurt…"

Marco shouts back at William, "The men in there fought the fascists too! Now you lock them up because they don't kneel to Stalin, and your Soviet masters- They shoot your own men- OUR men! And now you refuse them freedom? For the last time.. out of the way!"
Phillip does not move, slowly bringing the rifle up some, its barrel angled at the sky. It's the first move prior to shouldering it. Still he does not do so. Standing there he says in level Spanish, fighting so it carries and makes good sense. "Walk away now, or join your countrymen who I have spent the better part of this day burying. Just walk away." The man's voice isn't loud, but it's said in a cold, analytical tone. Marco and his friends having suddenly gone from being allies, to targets.

William takes a few moments to comprehend the man's shouted rapid-fire Spanish. He replies in Spanish, "If you attack us, you will be no better than our Soviet masters. And you will earn a place in the stockade with your comrades who are already inside." He unslings his rifle, and wields it at the ready. Bayonet was already fixed before, and it is gleaming in sunlight.

Phillip unslings his rifle, shaking his head. He won't shoot for now. Only if he has no choice.

William sees that the men are starting to toss blows, so he quickly reacts and goes to engage one of them. He brings his rifle butt up to bash one of the men.

Phillip gets his head rattled, swinging with his rifle butt and then getting his senses knocked out. Staggering back he stares at his attacker as his eyes glaze. He has enough time to slur in perfect Spanish (Hey, he learned to curse first) "You bastard." before he slumps on his knees and falls face down in the dust.

William shouts, "COMRADES! HELP!"

William swips his rifle butt, missing the hostile and goes for another strike.

Phillip lies on his face, breathing slowly, but alive. However he is unconscious, a small bit of blood seeping from his ears.

William yells at the men, using his rifle as a club. "LEAVE NOW, GENTLEMEN, OR I MAY HAVE TO HARM YOU!" This is shouted in Spanish, of course. He's being gang banged!

William manages to hit one of the men in the hand, but he's getting pummeled!

O'Callaghan enters from the west to investigate the ruckus. His Star SI35 is taken into his hand and then aimed at the CNT, "Stand down or I will fire!" Hopefully the gun will be enough to stop this dispute.

Phillip lies on his face, blood seeping from his ears. He's down for the count.

William is getting pummeled by the mob. Too bad he doesn't have martial arts training, but his boxer training helps him a little. Or at least, prevents him from getting knocked out outright.

O'Callaghan spots William Phillip laid out on the ground and that is good enough for him. The Captain fires a single shot because obviously what he had shouted was not making an impact.

William hits the man in the arm with his rifle butt, and attempts to hit him in the face!

O'Callaghan raises the rifle so the barrel now points into the air, "STAND DOWN!" he shouts towards the Spanish members on the street. The Captain peers at them waiting to see who else is still swinging at his soldiers.

After the shots fired and arrival of reinforcements, the anarchists seem to seek flight, rather than continued fighting.

Vaclav shouts, "STAND DOWN".

William watches as the enemy begin to flee. "Run ye bullies!" He calls out at them.

Vaclav barks out the curt inquiry, "Comrade Captain! You want detain?"

O'Callaghan continues to aim his weapon up into the sky not wanting to shoot any of the rioters quiet yet. "What the hell is going on here?!"

O'Callaghan points towards Vaclav, "Yes!" he shouts towards the man.

Xavier only now makes it into the city. Not the quickest of men. At the sound of gunfire, he ducks a bit, glancing around. Frowning as he doesn't see anyone who might be able to direct him to wounded.

Vaclav bellows, "Stand down, NOW!"

William stumbles around, after being beat up so badly. "They tried to enter the stockade to free some prisoners, Comrade Captain. We tried to stop them but they attacked us."

O'Callaghan nods to William then lowers his Star in preparations to fire, "Open up on them but do not pursue!"

William raises his rifle to shoot at the enemy, but of course, he is posturing. He doesn't really want to kill any of them.

Unable to swiftly disengage, the men in the red and black shirts and scarves of the CNT, hesitantly put up their hands. One man reaches for a bottle but is shouted down by Marco, "Stop! Stop!

O'Callaghan pulls the trigger of his weapon and scores a direct hit on Andrea's hand. The anarchist would be out of commission for a short while with that injury, then the Captain notices. "MOLOTOV!" he shouts this for his men to be aware of it.

Vaclav echoes, with gunsights on Alessandro: "Cease fire!"

William sees the man wield and unwield the Molotov cocktail, but lowers his rifle as the fleeing hostiles run off. He rubs his bruised lip. No blood… so not too bad. But Phillip is a different story. He kneels down to tend to his comrade.

Phillip is breathing slowly, each breath causing a light puff of dust. His kepi blanc is off, having been knocked away in the fight. His rifle is askew, having fallen in the dust when he gave it up rather than shoot the unarmed…or so he thought, civilians. But hey, he's alive, so that's all that really matters.

William slings his rifle, and does a quick examination of Phillip's face. "Hmm, not too bad, though he's got a hell of a face whopping'." He shakes the man, hoping that he'll wake up from his unconscious state.

O'Callaghan looks about the stockade trying to make sense of the situation at hand. He notices Xavier and points to the man, "You, take care of that man there." He then points towards Phillip, the knocked out soldier on the ground. The Captain then takes a couple steps towards the Anarchists but keeps his distance, "The CNT has been ordered to stand down. What is the reason for this hostilities?”

Garcia groans once where he lies coming back to consciousness, a broken nose bleeding from the blunt blow to his head, and glances up. "Oh shit," is his eloquent commentary on the new situation.

Now as the shooting seems to have stopped, Zale begins moving again, looking for wounded. Moving toward the source of the shooting seems to be a good idea, and so he eventually comes to O'Callaghan… He looks up at him, (he's still ducking a little) and nods, cringing as he sees Phillip. He heads in that direction.

Marco faces the Irish captain with a dark eyed glare. "The CNT was bullied into inaction by the Stalinist thugs," the Spaniard notes curtly. "We came to have free our men in the Stockade."

William stands up and turns to the Comrade Captain. "We tried to tell them to go through the proper channels if they wanted some of their comrades freed from the stockade. After two attempts to peacefully resolve the situation, they threatened us and attacked so we had to protect ourselves."
Phillip blinks some as he rouses. Looking up he blinks at those over him. "This can't be heaven." he muses, though it comes out more like "Thib camb beeb heaben." due to his own broken nose. "Sulfa powder in my coat." he says and then sits up only to blink "ooooo pretty colors."

Vaclav remains at the light machine gun, expression an angry glower, and narrowed blue eyes passing over the anarchists.

William now shuts up and lets the Captain sort everything out. He slings his rifle again, now that the ordeal is over, and no one died from it. Luckily.

O'Callaghan looks towards Macro believing him to be the ring leader of this gang of hooligans. The Captain states bluntly, "The PCE will not be bullied by a tactics such as this. You will see your friends shortly, but in the confinement of the stockade." The Captain then points towards William, "Escort these men into the stockade till the Commissar can deal with them."

William nods to the Comrade Captain, and unslings his rifle. This time his bayonet is pointed dangerously at the newly made prisoners. "Come now, into the stockade." This order is made in Spanish. "Oh, and drop all your weapons. Like the Molotov cocktail I saw earlier."

Phillip waves off any medical work on himself, reaching up to place his fingers on each side of his nose. With a rather NASTY cracking sound, he straightens it. Oh yes, that will swell; but at least he's talking mostly normal now. Nice bruise about the temple as well. Standing some he dusts off and puts back on his Kepi after cleaning it. "I am sorry comrabe cabtin." Ok, his accent isn's perfect now. "I dib nub see them coming. I wab sucker punched."

Marco scowls to spit out, "Yes, put us away until your Soviet master can have us shot! They are no less tyrants than Franco! Stalinist Lackeys!" Despite the shouting, the other men follow William's instructions…

Until these boys are solidly locked up in the conveniently located stockade right over thatta-way, Vaclav keeps the machine gun prepped and aimed.

William ignores the Spaniard who is scowling, and grins to the Comrade Captain and Corporal. "Well, at least we have Molotovs now." He then turns to the prisoners and gives more orders. "Get in a line, and enter the stockade. No funny business, or you will get it in the heart!" The rifle is brandished menacingly.

O'Callaghan ignores Marco's statement. It doesn't phase him at all, he had his agendas to deal with and debating with a CNT Member was not one of them. The Captain just watches for the time being making sure that no trouble occurs while William escorts the prisoners to the stockade.

William watches as most of the gentlemen enter the stockade, who are processed and jailed by the Brigadiers who are guarding the Stockade. Of course, he enters too, to make sure that the job is done right.

Phillip groans some, his head spinning. Reaching out he grabs onto a light pole to steady himself and then sighs. "There are days, I hate my job." It's a soldier's lament, but a rather amusing one when he adds looking at those captured in the stockade. "And yet, right now, I love it." Crazy frenchie…

Xavier smirks a bit. "Cut that out… We need to get you to the aid station. You'll probably need surgery… I can't really do much…"

Vaclav claps the bipod back into rest, and rises to step toward O'Callaghan. "Comrade Captain." These are the sorts of times when officers tend to have instructions for NCOs.

Phillip looks at Xavier, rolling his eyes. This translates into his head, and then a sudden panic as he loses his balance causing him to nearly fall flat on his arse. Looking at Xavier he ahs some. "I think…maybe you're right." Reaching into his many pockets he pulls out a small bit of powder and then dusts his nose with it. This prompts a painful sneeze which DOES leave him sitting on the ground. "Let me gather my bearings first?"

Captain O'Cal wasn't thrilled with being located here in Barcelona. The Captain was ready to be moved to the front where the enemy was easily identifiable and didn't hide behind civilian attire. The Captain spits on the ground once at the thought of the CNT trying to stir up trouble. The Captain turns to face Vaclav, "These attacks need to come to a halt. Every day, there is some rogue unit of the CNT…or perhaps maybe even ordered from their leaders…. the attacks through the region have increased. Inform the soldiers that law and order must be enforced at all times. I will see if our rules of engagement can be eased to use more lethal force." The Captain pauses a moment, "Anytime someone attacks one of our soldiers, with fist, rock, or bullet. You may order the soldiers to return fire."

Vaclav inclines his head curtly to the oration. "Understood, Comrade Captain." Stone faced and stern, the corporal adds, "Will double standing sentries on Stockade. Four men, all times. Further order?"

The Captain listens to what Vaclav belays to the soldiers for orders. The Captain nods once pleased with the situation being under control. "Last thing Corporal, have someone fetch me at the sleeping quarters in two hours. I'm going to get some long needed rest." The Captain slings his Star SMG over his shoulder and slides his hands into his pockets. "You got control of things down here?"

Xavier nods. "You'll probably need someone to take you… You look rather unstable."

Vaclav nods once to O'Cal. "Understood, two hours." A drawn breath, and a second nod. "Under control, Comrade Captain." The closed fist salute is given before the glowering corporal turns to see to the Stockade situation.

Phillip laughs at Xavier's comment. "I am French." Either that explains WHY he's unstable…or there was more coming and he couldn't formulate the words. Even so he heads wandering off in the direction of what he thinks is the aid station. Yes, he wanders the wrong way.

Xavier smirks a bit, and follows, tapping him on the shoulder once.

Phillip has left.

Phillip heads off East.

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