Liquid Courage

Drink: Spanish Parenting

Ratings:
Strength: 3/5 (tank)
Skill: 2/5 (national guard)
Rank: 3/5 (centurion)

[ingredients:]

• Ample Spanish red wine
• Ample Coca Cola
• 1 shot Spanish brandy
• glass bowl, pint glass

[preparation:]

1. Place a pint glass in the center of a large bowl.
2. Fill the bowl and the pint glass with a 1:1 mixture of red wine and Coca Cola (making calimocho).
3. Give the shot of brandy to someone who wants it.  No, wait, don’t do that, just pour it into the pint glass, which is easier.
4. Drink the bowl at your leisure, spilling as much as you like.
5. Once the bowl is finished, drink the pint glass exuberantly.

Background

The Siege of the Alcázar took place in the first few months of the Spanish Civil War.  For everyone involved, its symbolic value far outweighed its military significance.  The siege featured little military acumen, a lot of wasted ammunition, and a (likely) act of laziness that snowballed into some really appalling parenting.

When the Spanish Civil War began on July 17th, 1936, the Alcázar was a fortified military academy in the city of Toledo.  The provincial governor, Colonel José Moscardó, was ordered to send guns and ammunition to Madrid to fight the Nationalists.  Moscardó was not involved in the coup which began the war, so it is unclear whether his refusal to send the supplies was an act of Nationalist solidarity or an act of laziness.  Either way, he stockpiled a tremendous number of guns and ammo in the Alcázar, and the Republicans sent 8,000 militia to Toledo to retrieve them.

The siege, to use a geographically inappropriate adage, was all hat and no cattle.  The Republican militia, lacking both training and equipment, wasted a lot of ammo shooting ineffectually at the Alcázar’s reinforced walls.  The troops inside fired back when they felt like it.  This continued from July until September (with daily siestas at 2-ish).  On September 18th, the Republicans invited media to watch the detonation of two mines they had dug under the Alcázar’s walls.  The subsequent Republican assault was repulsed.  The arrival of a 175mm gun allowed the Republicans to shoot more satisfyingly at the Alcázar, but it merely created rubble which blocked any further storming of the fort.  On September 27th, General Franco’s army arrived on the outskirts of town to relieve the garrison, and the Republican militia fled.

The best card up all those 8,000 Republican sleeves was taking Colonel Moscardó’s son Luis hostage.  On July 23rd, the militia spoke to Moscardó on the phone, demanding that he surrender the Alcázar or they would kill Luis.  An effective threat in most instances.  However, Moscardó again took the path of least energy.  Here is a translated excerpt from the (now famous) phone call:

• Militia commander: It is you all who are responsible for the killings and crimes that are occurring.  I urge you to surrender the Alcázar in under ten minutes and that if you do not do so, I will shoot your son Luis, who I have here in my custody.
• Moscardó: I believe you.
• Militia: So that you see that it is true, now I put your son on the telphone.
• Luis: Papa.
• Moscardó: What’s going on, son?
• Luis: Nothing.  They say they’re going to shoot me if you don’t surrender the Alcázar.
• Moscardó: Well entrust your soul to God, shout ‘Long live Spain!’ and die like a patriot.

Way to go, pops.  This conversation was immortalized as evidence of the righteous cause for which the Nationalists were fighting.  Legend has it that Moscardó heard a gunshot over the phone, but actually Luis was killed a month later.  Other aspects of the siege, like the important role military cadets played in the Alcázar’s defense, were also exaggerated.*

The Alcázar was militarily useless, but possessed symbolic value for the Nationalists.  The Republicans thought its capture would demoralize the rebels (thus the big media junket).  Instead, the siege became a big PR victory for the Nationalists, who wrung every teaspoon of romanticism out of the event, the war continued, and everybody behaved really, really badly.

*It was summer vacation, so the handful of cadets present were probably delinquents repeating classes they had failed.  If you want to see real military cadet heroism, you need to look to Mexico.

Drink: The Romefather

Ratings:
Strength: 3/5 (tank)
Skill: 4/5 (foreign legion)
Rank: 3/5 (centurion)

[ingredients]:

• two parties
• lots of red wine
• unlubricated Trojan condom
• moxie

[preparation]:

1. Leave one party and find another you’ve heard about but never seen.
2. Ask for an unreasonable amount of wine from your generous host.
3. Piss off a friend of the host.
4. Ignoring a wild-haired, athletic virgin, pour the wine into an un-lubricated Trojan condom.
5. Poke a hole in the condom and drink like a wineskin.

Background

In America today, we write about the actions and intentions of our Founding Fathers in history books, Supreme Court decisions, and National Treasure movie scripts. Two thousand years ago, they wrote epic poems. The opportunistic poet Virgil (the Michael Bay of the Roman Empire) composed The Aeneid to tell the blockbuster foundation story of the Roman Empire.

In the first century BC, Virgil was a hot young Roman poet and a marketing genius. The amphitheater receipts for Homer’s Odyssey and Iliad were legendary, and Virgil saw room for a spinoff. He selected Aeneas as his central character, the Trojan hero destined to found Rome. Aeneas was a smaller character in Homer’s Iliad, a principal Trojan lieutenant and the son of the goddess Aphrodite (and a mortal prince with fantastic game). A solid leading man.

Virgil made some key marketing choices. First, he included the best parts of Homer’s poems: the wandering sea voyages, and lots of war. Then, knowing that every kid already had a Zeus pillowcase and an Aphrodite wineskin, he used the Roman names for those gods. Finally, seeing a lack of dynamic female characters, he introduced the virgin warrior princess Camilla, a role model for the young girl demographic. Throw in about 1,000 attempts at sweet (if overlong) death-blow catchphrases, and you have the makings of a blockbuster epic poem.

So what of the war that founded Rome? Aeneas arrived in Italy with his displaced Trojan soldiers after the famous horse-related fiasco in Troy. Aeneas asked local King Latinus for land and Latinus’s daughter. Certainly a bold howdy-do. But Aeneas’ coming had been prophesied, so Latinus was on board with this. So, too, was Tartarus, a strapping lad and potential suitor for the King’s daughter.

What prevented the implementation of this progressive immigration policy? Jealous goddesses, as usual (Virgil loved the deus ex machina). Trojan-hating Juno (Hera in the prequels) sent a Fury to drive Tartarus and Latinus’s wife crazy with hatred for the Trojans, and everybody went to war.*

The fighting was ferocious, as the Trojans defended their beachhead against the Latin attacks, and besieged the capital city when they gained the advantage. Several times the Latins were on the verge of defeating the Trojans. Tartarus, who wrecked shop from the moment the Fury’s hell-serpent introduced frenzy into his heart, nearly routed the Trojan camp while Aeneas was away courting allies. The constant meddling of goddesses on both sides of the conflict prevented any definitive resolutions (and conveniently prolonged the story).

Poor Tartarus. By all accounts a stand-up guy, he probably would have gotten along fine with Aeneas if not for the Fury-induced madness. But you just don’t win against the Most Pious Half-Immortal Soldier Ever. Mommy Venus (Aphrodite) gave her son armor forged by the god smith Vulcan (Xzibit), and from there it was only a matter of time.

Aeneas was not fated to found Rome. His descendants, Romulus and Remus, would found the actual city. The shield given him by Venus depicted Rome’s future greatness, but to Aeneas it was merely pleasant artwork (imagine putting on a condom with a picture of your grandson on it). Wearing his god-forged unbreakable armor, Aeneas lead the battle against the Latins until he faced Tartarus. Jupiter (Zeus) ordered all goddesses to clear out, and Aeneas killed Tartarus.

Virgil ended the poem there, but the end credits explained that Juno extracted from Jupiter the concession that the Latins would keep their name, even as the Trojans intermixed with the local populace. Thus Rome, the world’s greatest empire, was built on the pious strength of a legendary soldier (later made immortal by his goddess mother) and his unbreakable, god-forged armor. Concessions and merchandise are available for purchase in the courtyard.

*Interesting that Hera, the Goddess of Childbirth and Marriage, would hate the Trojans.

**ed. note: Translations from R. Fagles.

Drink: Don’t Cry For Me, Las Malvinas

Ratings
Strength: 2/5 (musket)
Skill: 3/5 (grenadier)
Rank: 3/5 (centurion)

[Ingredients:]

• Argentinian white wine
• cubed apples and pears
• currant liquor

[Preparation:]

1. Soak apples and pears in white wine overnight.
2. Combine with currant liquor in a cup you don’t care about.
3. Chill combination and serve with undue enthusiasm.

Background

“…like two bald men fighting over a comb…”
Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges on the Falklands War

Suppose you are an oppressive South American military dictatorship. The economy stinks, corruption is rampant, and the public is increasingly displeased by your brutal repression of political dissent. You hosted and won the 1978 World Cup, but that only gets you so far. On the plus side, you have purchased a lot of really terrific military equipment. But, like a snow blower you bought in July and store in your garage, you keep wondering if there’s isn’t something you can do with your new toys, because you just can’t wait until December. MM.38 Exocet anti-ship missiles, after all, don’t really work on underground opposition newspapers.

In 1982, the Argentine Junta government found itself in this situation. Their big idea was to invade the Falkland Islands, a series of barely-inhabited islands 300 miles off the Argentine coast and the subject of a longstanding sovereignty feud with Britain. The Junta had reason to suspect that Britain would not defend the islands. More importantly, the Junta wanted to stoke Argentine nationalism and remind the unhappy citizenry of how great everything was back in 1978.

On March 19, 1982 a band of Argentinian scrap metal merchants raised the Argentine flag on South Georgia, an even less hospitable island 800 miles east-southeast of the Falkland Islands. On April 2, Argentina invaded and occupied the two main Falkland islands. The move caught the United Kingdom by surprise, but fading Empires are touchy. The UK dispatched a military convoy, the first elements of which arrived in the area on April 19th. The Junta had found a use for its snow blower.

What followed was two months of military conflict involving some of the most sophisticated implements of war ever seen in human history. Aircraft carriers, nuclear submarines, radar-mapping nuclear deterrent bombers, depth charges, Sea Harrier jets, anti-radiation missiles, Sidewinder air-to-air missiles, Neptune patrol aircraft, Dassault Super Etendard strike fighters, air-launched AM.39 Exocet anti-ship missiles, amphibious landing craft, Blowpipe surface-to-air missiles, Soviet spy satellites and Blue Fox radar systems were only some of the spiffy, military conflict solutions involved.

A nation with this array of weaponry, even 200 years prior, could have conquered the world. Instead, in 1982, this arsenal was brought to bear in a dispute over a series of islands with a cumulative landmass the size of Connecticut, a bustling capital city of 2,000 people, and a sheep population in the hundreds of thousands. After 74 days of enthusiastic fighting, this unprecedented arsenal killed 904 soldiers and 3 civilians (including British troops killed by British-made bombs sold to the Argentines some years previously). Approximately 1,800 soldiers were wounded, raising the cumulative casualty total above the total civilian population of the islands. The United Kingdom spent £2.8 billion pounds defending islands 7,000 miles from London. The number of sheep lost in the conflict has never been accurately reported.

The Junta’s popularity play failed, protests increased, and the Junta was out of power a year and a half later. Margaret Thatcher scored big points in England for showing the Empire still had what it takes, and won reelection the following year. Brilliant and hard-to-impress Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges was underwhelmed by the whole operation. But he never operated a Swiss-built Oerlikon 35 mm twin anti-aircraft cannon, either.