((The following is a collaborative post between RisenDeadand myself.))

[b]Port Said, Egypt[/b]

The fires were slowly dying as the sun rose over the smouldering heap that used to be Port Said. What had once been a city was now a mass of shattered stone and concrete, the streets littered with bodies and shattered vehicles. 

Delgado sat alone on the edge of the Canal, the sun on his face. Never before had he been so happy to see a sunrise in all his life. The explosion that had blinded him had been close, the same wall that he sheltered behind moments earlier had probably saved his life. One of its stones had come loose and hit him in the head, the instant gushing of blood had blinded him completely. 

For one terrifying moment he had thought he was blind forever until his desperate pawing managed to get the blood from his face. He could see enough to pull a bandage from his battle harness and push it to his forehead. A splash of water from the Canal later, the salt stinging his eyes and wound, he could see again. He had sighed a breath of relief. 

Not far from where he sat, his compatriots had already rounded together a cleanup detail. A tow truck that had evaded destruction the night before had been requisitioned for the task of clearing the Suez of debris. With a sputtering, diesely roar, the truck’s winch spun about and pulled against some submerged mass. The truck’s wheel sank into the mud, resisting and gently sliding about in the silty muck on which it parked. But the machine proved triumphant after some struggle as a rusting, twisted I-beam crawled up out of the canal and onto the shore like a beached whale. A team of “divers” - a pair of Egyptian men dressed in naught but their underwear - emerged from the canal to assist the Spanish infantry remove the clamps from the steel cable. Even as a foreign volunteer to Spain himself, Delgado was puzzled by their motivation in assisting the very soldiers that had utterly destroyed their city.

The sound of a helicopter pulled him out his reverie and he glanced up just in time to see a massive Barracuda gunship sweep overhead, the down draft buffeting the men who stood along the side of the Canal. Everyone paused to look up at the aircraft as it circled once, looking for a landing area. The only space available was what remained of a plaza some 100 yards away. Delgado watched as the aircraft hovered down behind the damaged buildings before turning back to the Canal and slinging his rifle and hurrying towards the men with the tow truck to lend a hand.

As Delgado approached the tow truck, a body of soldiers could be seen moving down the path. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one amongst them that stood out from his peer in terms of dress. Surrounded by a cadre of khaki tan uniforms was a man clad in a jacket - that alone was enough to give Delgado pause in this arid land. Forest green, lapelled, and festooned with golden epaulets. His knowledge of the Spanish Ejercito’s structure was limited, but Delgado could only assume that this was a man of substantial import. He halted on the spot and snapped in salute.

The newly arrived soldiers marched alongside the officer in a dignified manner as an entourage or unit of guards with weapons snugly cradled in their arms. They approached the tow vehicle and halted before him, taking position amongst the rubble as their superior approached. His arrival prompted the regular infantry to salute as well as Delgado had already. 

“I am looking for one Francisco del Cal Delgado of the International Brigade.” The stoic-faced officer announced to no one in particular once he had the undivided attention of the regular infantry. Delgado’s heart seized upon hearing his own name from the mouth of this imposing figure. “I am told he may be found here.”

“I am him.” He uttered, captivating the commander’s attention. The man in the lapelled jacket pivoted and approached. The officer came in close - closer than Delgado appreciated - and scanned the Argentine up and down. Stern, cold eyes swept over him, noting every scrape and wound earned the night before.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Sir… no, sir.” Delgado admitted, still locked in salute.

“I would be your General - Victor Ponferrada.”

“Good morning, General. You honour us with your visit.” Said Delgado as he dropped his arm and shifted slightly, strangely aware of how disheveled and battle stained he was compared to the men who had come with the General.

“Likewise, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Francisco - Sergeant Delgado… You know that this is a rare thing in our army? I can name on one hand enlisted men that have climbed in rank with such speed.”

“Sergeant Delgado, I understand that you are no Spaniard. Tell me, “the General pressed closer in, “were is it that you call home?”

“The Mendoza region of Argentina, sir. My father owns a small vineyard there.” 

“A [i]vinero[/i]?” Ponferrada asked incredulously, almost seeming amused. “That is what you are? Are you certain?”

“Well...” Said Delgado after a small pause. “Truth be told, it seems I have a talent for this sort of work.” He gestured about him. “Though I am not certain it is something I would chose to brag about. Though I make a rather terrible farmer.”

“A talent?” Ponferrada shook his head. “My understanding is that you took the life of no fewer than thirty men last night. A man with no military training that took the life of thirty men? I have never heard of such a thing - in all my service to this Ejercito. This is no talent, Sergeant. You are born for this.”

“You may be right sir, though I think my initial success came from being too foolish and ill-trained to know when to run the opposite direction, but now…” He glanced down at his hands, his arms were soaked to the elbows in the blood of a man whose throat he had slit in the fighting. “I suspect you may be right.”

“I know this much. I am a man who recognizes merit; I see a wealth of it in you, Sergeant. I see a potential in you that would be wasted in the Brigada Internacional. I have greater things imagined for you.”

“Once we have cleaned… this mess,” General Ponferrada gesticulated briefly to the canal and those working to clear it of debris. “our Armada will make for the Horn of Africa. The enemy expects a landing - even now they fortify their coasts in anticipation of our attack. It will require hard men to storm those beaches, men like you.”

“I give this offer for you to make, Sergeant Delgado: remain here with the International Brigade here in Egypt. Or you will leave this force and join with the regular Ejercito and fight to clear the coast in preparation for our landings with the understanding that you will be see [i]rapid[/i] promotion. But there is no shame if you wish to remain here with the International Brigade in Egypt. There is much work to be done with this canal in the coming years, and the International Brigade will have no small part in seeing that realized.”

“I’d like to fight with the regulars, sir.” Delgado decided without hesitation. Ponferrada seemed nothing short of delighted.

“I am pleased to hear that, truly. You won’t be alone in this, I have selected a handful of others from the Brigade to move into the regular forces, though none show nearly as much promise as you. Your advancement will reflect that.”

“Which reminds me, Sergeant Delgado. By any chance, are you familiar with the Cazadores?”