14th of February, 1946

Thousands of guerrillas loosely gather in the mountains on the French side of the Pyrenees, staring across the border. They are happy to make their presence obvious-- they fly the flag of the Second Republic. Down the mountains, trucks and half tracks lurk.

What are they here for? Don’t they remember when they tried this in 1944? Or do they remember it all too well?

The winds of the mountains carry no answer.

Rafael smokes a cigarette with Gennaro. Behind them, on a tree converted into a flagpole, flies the flag of the Republic. They are warmly bundled, as a few other guerillas get a fire going nearby. Rafael's nose is red-- he always liked to be cleanshaven, but he's regretting cutting his beard right now-- while Gennaro's is also red, but hidden under a scarf.

Gennaro opens his mouth under the scarf to say something, but instead some fuzz from the scarf gets into his mouth and he coughs and hacks. He pulls down the scarf, and takes a drag of the cigarette before looking at Rafael.

"It should be the FAI flag, you know."

"I'm going to slap you, Gennaro, I swear to god."

"What! I'm allowed to have an opinion."

"Why did you and your friends join the AGE if this is all you go on about?"

"All I am saying is that we should have a few red and black flags mixed in! Come on! Really terrify the Catholics!"

"The only mistake about the May Days was ending it after a week."

Gennaro kicks some snow at Rafael. "Oh, you always go right to that whenever we argue you asshole, you always go right to the May Days. Why can't you ever say something nice in the spirit of cooperation?"

"Whatever, the flag stays."

"Come on, I have red and black underwear on, help me climb that tree and I'll put it up with the Republican flag. Come on."

Rafael massages his forehead exasperatedly. "You're terrible at climbing trees. You're going to get stuck and it's going to be a whole thing where we're gonna have to save you, compounded by the fact that you took off your underwear. Why do you even have anarchist underwear?"

"I sewed it myself, give me a leg up, come on!" Gennaro is already jumping at the lowest branches and trying to get a foothold. Rafael looks at the others, and they all look at him like he's the crazy one, not Gennaro, and he should go help him. Rafael sighs, flicks his cigarette into the snow, and goes to help initiate the inevitable tree-climbing incident.

Also, Happy Valentine’s day, Franquistas! Treat yourselves to a bottle of piss wine and a bouquet of crummy flowers. May all your boat-watching excursions end in a three way (in the spirit of the holiday).