Angus uneasily follows his new commander, eyes locked onto the ground in front of his. An intense nervousness surrounds him as he continues to question what he's gotten himself into.
"O'course the writer's weapon be clean, he probably never fired the damnable contraption." The irishman muttered to himself after he and the mechanic got the uneviable task of cleaning all the weapons of the ragtag company that had assembled around these hills.
The only thing that seemed to keep him from swearing further was the idea of food and so he dutifully followed the group.
Cardell disembarked from the truck and followed his fellow new arrivals into the barn, inspecting it as the others talked. When the officer arrived and order an inspection, Cardell fell into place in the line at a position of attention, his Mosin-Nagant held by the muzzle in his right hand with the stock on the ground, the rifle parallel to his right leg. As the lieutenant stepped before him, he brought the rifle to the port, arms position, held diagonally in both hands before his torso. The lieutenant took the rifle from him and began the process of inspecting it.
Satisfied that the rifle was in pristine condition, he handed it back to Cardell before moving on, introducing their squad mates and ordering them to grab some grub. Jonathan followed along, looking about the encampment at the various soldiers and evaluating the situation he now found himself in.
All in all, not as bad as it could've been.
In a kind of open courtyard a field kitchen has been setup. Sausages are being grilled over an open flame, and beans are being ladled out of a huge pot.
Lieutenant Spika:You boys wait right here, and I'll see about getting you mess-kits.
He strides off to speak with one of the servers, returning with an armload of cutlery.
Lieutenant Spika: We don't have nearly enough tanks, planes, and big guns, but we eat well; so get your fill, its the only thing you will ever have enough of in this outfit.
Sebastian eats his fill. No idea when the next meal will come, if any.
Jonathan took the officer's advice and helped himself to a serving of food. The sausages and beans were surprisingly good, but he only took enough to appease his appetite. The last thing he wanted to do was horde the food, depriving his comrades in arms of their own meals.
The men disperse into knots around the compound, eating and laughing.
Lieutenant Spika strides among the men, clapping shoulders, and sharing jokes. You hear the name Mayor Mordillo repeated in conversation over and over again.
Sebastian talks to the men trying to learn who this "Mordillo" is.
They seem to reticent to open up to an outsider. You do learn he is a much respected officer, who suffered some kind of mishap a couple of days ago.
Sebastian sits down to finish his meal, seeing the rest of the men do it too.
Conversation dwindles, as the soldier's wolfishly eat. A barrel is brought out, and the men eagerly crowd round, as the local hard cider is ladled out.
You only get a single cup lads! Lieutenant Spika tells his new soldiers, to your disappointment.
Afterwards, you take the your bowl, cup, and utensils over to a pump, to give them a good rinsing.
Sebastian, it seem that for a moment Comrade Alvarez was going to approach you, as you waited your turn at the pump; but he apparently decided against it, and instead faded back into the crowd.
After having his turn at the cider, and after rinsing his utensils, Sebastian goes looking for the "Camarada" Alvarez to see what he wanted.
Mccartnan! Belascoaran! Lieutenant Spika shouts. Don't you haves some rifles to clean!
"Carajo! Si señor! Vamos, Billy, time to work..."
Sebastian goes grudgingly to start the cleaning.
Cardell would be lying if he didn't say he was eager for a taste of the local tap. He was less than thrilled that he would only get one cup, but being a soldier was about not having the things you wanted. At least that was his experience.
Whatever the drink was, Jonathan had never tasted it before and found himself relishing it. He turned to the nearest squadmate who'd been here before his arrival and asked, "Do you know what drink this is?"
JC: After some comic pantomime, it is conveyed to you that the beverage is a hard cider, which was one produced in a nearby orchard, before the war. As you're enjoying the fading, crisp after-taste, you notice your new comrades, Belascoaran and Mccartan, glumly trudging back towards the horse barn: a glowering Lieutenant Spika at their heels.
So the lieutenant soon has Mccartnan and Belascoaran hard at work stripping, cleaning, and reassembling rifles.
This training, will grant the pair a skill check for Rifle .
The others file in, and the atmosphere becomes party-like; with wagers being made on which of the two can strip down a rifle faster (with Mccartnan's military experience giving him a slight edge).
Comrade Alvarez produces a guitar, and performs some melancholy folk-songs. Comrade Schilling then in turn plays some polka music on an accordion. He soon has everyone rolling with laughter with a bawdy ditty about the sexual misadventures of 'Corporal Moustache.'
For Bill Mcartnan
Lieutenant Spika OK. That's enough tom-foolery. We're going to be up at sunrise tomorrow, so let's get some sleep.
That is not dead, which eternally lies,
but apparently this campaign is dead?
After the merriment, Cardell finds a flat spot to lay out his bed roll and catch some sleep.
So each of you lays out a bed-roll in one of the musty stalls.
Make a Listen Roll, and then a Speak Language: Spanish roll.
Mccartan
Beck .
Note that being devoutly religious among the mainly 'secular-humanists' of the Republican volunteers is unusual, though not entirely unheard of.
Lieutenant Spika returns to the Officer quarters, leaving you to the musty darkness of the horse barn.
Anyone has anything they want to do that night? If not, we'll move on to the next day.
The Lieutenant is back in the barn even as the sun tops over the low hills, shouting at you to get up, and stow your gear.
Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stumble after the others back to the central court-yard. Breakfast is a hard roll, a bit of sausage, and bitter coffee.
After you eat, and perform your morning ablutions, a truck: more modern than 'Conchita' pulls into the villa.
The Lieutenant tells you that you will help unload the truck, and shepherds you over to the dusty vehicle.
After his morning prayers ("Hey you over there, don't let those damn fascists kill us all") Sebastian gets to work.
So there must be something to the talk that this sector of the front is going to get hot soon, for the truck is full of ammunition: mainly rifle and MG rounds.
You're soon hard at work unloading it from the truck, and then loading it onto a horse-drawn wagon that is brought up.
A saturnine man strolls up to watch the work, whom the Lieutenant respectfully greets. Could this be the mysterious Major Mordillo?
He soon rolls up his sleeves, and take his place in the line, over the Lieutenant's weak objections.
If he is Major Mordillo, you decide very quickly that you don't like the man: he is sullen and abrasive, and quickly disrupts the rhythm that the group had fallen into, with needless distractions and criticisms.
He is apparently perceptive enough to realize that he is not really helping, and he excuses himself to 'attend to some paperwork.'
After breakfast, Cardell set to work moving the ammunition from truck to wagon. Whatever offense was expected to hit this place must be quite large indeed. Jonathan made a mental note to ask the lieutenant about fighting positions, trenches, foxholes, etc. when there was time.
Lieutenant Spika takes the new recruits aside. He is clearly troubled.
"I better tell you what happened to Major Mordillo, as I guess its best that you hear it from me."
"He was leading a reconnaissance in force behind fascist lines, when they encountered fascist patrol. For the whole of the afternoon there was a running firefight. Finally, as night fell, they shook off their pursuit."
"The Major and his men took shelter in a cave. At the back of the cave they could see that part of the cave had been closed off by a dry-stone wall."
"The Major pulled out a few of the stones, and squirmed into the chamber beyond. There were six bodies, mummies really, lead out on the stone floor. On each skull was a gold band, like a crown."
"The Major pulled off one of the gold circlets, and then, apparently, as he stood up in the low-ceilinged chamber, he struck his head, as he fell unconscious."
"They pulled him back into the central chamber, the gold band still clutched in his fist. He was in and out of consciousness the whole night. Finally, when the sun rose, he was able return with his men back to our lines."
"The doctors have examined him, and found nothing wrong. He is a skilled and brave fighter, and the Republicans need him to be in fighting form when this offensive begins."
Another truck rolls up, to be unloaded. You pretty soon realize that that some major supply depots are being stocked up around you.
The unloading of supplies continues onto the afternoon. Then, finally, the last truck rolls away.
The men gather around to smoke and play cards.
The subject of the unsettling changes in the Major's personality seems to dominate most conversations. You also hear that a professor, formerly of the University in Zaragossa, is coming tomorrow, to examine the crown that the Major took from the tomb.
Comrade Tollingsworth explains, in the pedantic manner of someone with an university education, that the dead men in the cave-crypt were probably Celts.
Comrade Sharpe offers the opinion that the remaining gold in the cave would probably be worth $5000, and that is before the historical value is considered. He argues that the Republicans should recover the gold, so that it doesn't fall into fascist hands.
Major Mordillo makes another appearance among the men.
His manner is completely different; he is relaxed and casual, and he soon has the men rollicking with bawdy tales of his exploits among the brothels of Madrid.
The subject soon turns to the subject of the dead men in the cave, and whether they were alive when entombed.
The Major asserts that they were drugged before being walled up, and were alive when they were put there. As soon as he says this his manner changes, it is like watching a curtain fall across his faces: or someone remembering a bad memory.
He abruptly excuse himself and makes his way back to the officer quarters.
This pretty much marks the end of that day unless anyone thing wants to do or ask something.
Sebastian tries to get more information about where the the crown and the cave are.
After Major Mordillo made his exit, Cardell went back to shuffling the card deck in his hands, and let his mind wonder. He began to deal out cards as he asked no one in particular "If the bodies were practically mummies, how could he tell they were poisoned?"
Sebastian: For soldiers dedicated to a socialist cause, the discovery of ancient gold has awakened avarice in many of your comrades. You think that the cave is roughly some 19 km. to the south-east, unfortunately behind enemy lines.
Jonathan: Exactly. Unless Major Mordillo also claims to be a medium...
Site map posted in Discussion.
At roughly 2 am that morning, you're awoken by a wailing cry. It is repeated twice.
Attempt Listen.
"Joder! Nos atacan! A las armas!"
Sebastian wakes up his companions, grab his rifle and go out looking to defend the place from the attack he thinks is taking place.
Lulled by the good food and drink, Cardell never heard a thing until he felt his arm being shaken by one of his squadmates, Belascoaran.
Fortunately he's yelling words Cardell's certainly heard enough to pick up on in his time in Spain, and so he wastes no time grabbing his rifle and following the driver.
"What is it?" he asks Belascoaran as he runs after him. "An attack?"
There's milling confusion in the central area between the buildings, as nervous men peer into the night.
Lieutenant Spika comes rushing up, hastily strapping on a gun-belt.
Mccnartnan, grab a lamp-- Belascoaran, Cardell, you got your boots on and your rifles loaded? Good.
Mccnartnan returns with a kerosene lamp.
All right. You three with me. .
He heads off towards the hill.
"A sus ordenes, y las de la anarquía, señor! Vamos Cardell! Rápido McCartan! Let's go! Time to kill fascistas!"
Beleascoarán follow Spika towards the hill.
The lieutenant leads. Mccartnan wraps his jacket around the lantern, concealing its light.