Britain, 2 September 1937.

Gonzalo and his comrades pack up. The past year has been wonderful; he has learned more English than he ever thought possible, made new friends in Britain, done some uh, private things we need not talk about but which were a fun time for him as well, and moreover has gained a deep appreciation for Tea. As he stuffs his bags full of clothes and personal effects, he also crams in a couple boxes of tea that he likes. He doesn't know what he'll do when he runs out. He hopes that time never comes, although maybe he hopes even more that if that time must come, he will survive battle long enough to see it. Soon, he will get onto a boat back to France, rejoin the comrades who had trained in France, and then, through France, come back to Catalonia. He will bid goodbye to the foggy cities of Britain for what he hopes will not be the last time. The time has come. Revolution and Civil War has come to Spain. For the past year, Gonzalo and his fellow Spaniards had been sent to Britain or France to learn about how to crew tanks and artillery pieces, and now, they would return to Spain, to crew the tanks and artillery pieces, and educate their comrades back home, as well. In total there were 300 across France and Britain, and many of them had even had experience with fighting in tanks, during the conflict between France Belgium and Germany. Now, they would all be coming home.

And they would all soon be fighting for home, too.