Post by Eduardo on Feb 15, 2012 0:21:05 GMT
Eduardo Perez Alonso
Mexican
Sergeant, British Army.
HISTORY
Eduardo Perez Alonso, the 3rd son of Julie Alonso Guerrera and Raul Perez Lopez, was born in 1904 in the slum outside Mexico City. His mother was bed-ridden with illness and his father was a fisher man which meant he spent 90% of his time away on the coasts of Mexico. This odd situation meant that Eduardo was raised by his older brothers more than his mother or father, who were just 9 and 11 when he was born. His life was similar to most of the children born to slum families; before even his 10th birthday he had been in and out of prisons all around Mexico City, he, his brothers and their friends would steal anything that might be off value, from metal remnants to food. Anything that could be sold or eaten was worth stealing. By the time Eduardo was 12 he had enough of spending 4-5 nights a month in a cell, barely stealing enough food to feed themselves let alone their bedridden mum. The 3 brothers never saw their father, bar the odd visit once or twice a year, and the pittance he sent back was barely enough for the family to live on.
His family lived in poverty and it became all Eduardo knew, at least until the Mexican Revolution, this 2 decade civil war engulfed everyone in Mexico, families that had lived together on the same street together for years were suddenly on opposing sides of a vicious war that would claim the lives of millions. Naturally Eduardo's older brothers were involved in the fighting, not on any moral ground, only because any of the political parties vying to take power were willing to pay well for supporters willing to fight. In fact Eduardo's brothers even swapped sides a few times during the war, their allegiance aligning firmly with the side that was throwing around the most cash. This left Eduardo and his mother alone in the house together, albeit more comfortably with the assistance off 3 pay checks being sent back. It was during this time that Eduardo became really close to his mum, spending everyday with her rather than out causing and getting into trouble with his brothers. She would tell him tales of his father, how much of a trouble maker he used to be, and how much of a great man he was, working 7 days a week on the coast to send back money to his family. Eduardo never questioned his mother until one day he was cleaning her room and found letters hidden under the mattress off his father. Reading them made Eduardo's heart stop, his whole world came crashing down around him as he read of his fathers second family, his apologies to Eduardo's mother and asking if and when she was going to tell the children. It seemed that there was a reason that papa Raul never came home and never sent a decent pay check. Confronting his mother about the letters brought feeble excuses along the lines of "i didn't want to upset you boys" or "there was no point you knowing, what help could that have been?" Eduardo was disgusted, his whole life he had looked up to a man who had left his mother for another woman and another set of kids before he was even born.
By now it was 1919, the 'Great War' had just ended, but this affected Eduardo's life insignificantly, other than the odd paper he would pull out of a bin to read. A war taking place over 2000 miles away meant little to him with the decade long conflict he saw on his doorstep everyday, similarly a 'world wide depression' meant little to a boy that had never had enough money to live anywhere but a timber shack with a steal roof. His brothers still only came back from the army one weekend a month and Eduardo still lived at home with his bedridden mother, whose illness had now taken her ability to walk. It was a sunny morning in the summer of 1919 and Eduardo was outside his house with several others from the slum taking apart the house of a one of the many that had been killed in the civil war when he saw a tall man, with long greasy hair walking along the dirty track smiling and waving at him. His dad had returned, still under the impression that everything was fine and how he had left it. The sun glistened behind him and Eduardo suddenly found himself controlling the violent anger that was building inside him. Here was the bastard that Eduardo had been waiting for since that fateful day a year ago when he found 5 tear stained letters beneath his mothers pillow. He had pictured this day since then. He wondered if it would live up to expectations.
"Son!" cried the man as he approached. Smile wider than the blue in the sky above. "How are you?"
"Dad!" exclaimed Eduardo, running to the man and flinging his arms round his torso, doing his best to hide the utter disgust that lay on his face. "I have to show you something, come with me." Pulling his Dad's arm he took the man past the house in which Eduardo's mum lay and through the streets of the slums to what, at some point, must have been a playground. It now resembled a shit pit, which isn't at all ironic, as it was just that. A small walled off piece of dirt, with the streets worth of family's shit flung into it. The only reason Eduardo knew it had been a playground once is the rusted frame of a set of swings that still remained. This was the only area in the slums light couldn't get too, as the high walls and buildings all around blocked the sun from all angles. It was also the only area that no one could see you. "What is it son? This is just the old shit pit, i admit a haven't been here for years" he looked around. "And it hasn't changed" he laughed. "Although, i think, many years ago there used to be an old slide just over…" The syllables from the mans mouth were cut short by the steal piping that clattered against the mans face. The man hit the dirt hard, as though unconscious, but he was not. He rolled over and shot a glance upward, the shock and pain that littered every inch of his face is the last memory Eduardo has of his conscious father, it is the face that has cropped up in his dreams ever since, the face of someone who knows deep down they are going to die, but hasn't processed the fact yet. The second blow made contact right between the mans eyes, the cracking could have been from his nose, his skull or even his eye sockets. Eduardo did not stop to check, but made sure the third blow was clear cut and tore ferociously into the side of the mans head. Wether his dad was dead at this point Eduardo was not sure; it was either that which killed him or drowning unconsciously in the open drain of raw sewage that lay at the bottom of the old playground where Eduardo dumped the body
Eduardo is still the only living person that knows how his father died, if his body was found then it was never reported. His mother and brothers just assumed he never came home again, to caught up in his other life. Eduardo never saw fit to tell them the truth.
By the time he was 18 he was heavily involved in the civil war, just as his brothers were, fighting for various sides and seeing a lot of combat. Their combined pay checks now brought enough to see their mother put into a care home to live out her dying years in piece, this was one of the brothers greatest collective achievements. She died 4 years later in 1926. This was when Eduardo decided he had enough of Mexico, the only life he had ever knew here was war, poverty and caring for a dysfunctional family. He knew this war wouldn't not last forever, although it had raged solidly for 16 years now, and when it was finished he and his brothers would go back to the old life they knew. The best case scenario was a hard, boring laborious job that payed little, the worst was ended up back on the steal, spending more nights in a cell that at home. He had saved up a small amount of money and decided his home country was no longer for him, the only thing that had been tying him to the country was his mother who he had loved more than anything else. Her parting had left him with a sorrow in his sole every time he saw the sun pounding against a steal roof or a group of kids chasing a cat down a dirt track. He left his brothers with solum goodbyes the week after his mothers funeral. He travelled to the fishing port of Mahahual on the Eastern coast of Mexico, the port his father has travelled back from so many years ago. A few questions brought him to a sailor called Marcus, the man who had employed his Dad for so many years. A short conversation about his father and his untimely disappearance got Eduardo a job aboard a one of the many boats that Marcus owned. A freight ship that delivered all sorts of goods from Mexico to Europe. It was in 1931 that he met a Julieta, on one of the crews nights out in London bars.
There marriage took place in 1934 and it was in the East End of London that Eduardo settled, with a comfortable job at Julieta's dad's newspaper printing company. He was content with the life he had lived and was fully prepared to face the prospect of growing old and retiring with Julieta, maybe in their retirement they could visit Eduardo's home country and the brothers he had left behind? Maybe they could settle down in some Mexican village tucked away in the countryside? Alas, as with most perfect situations, it was not to be. The year of 1939 brought about the second great war, in contrast to the first great war which had made no imprint on Eduardo's life, this war was to tear apart his life. He had no intent on signing up to fight for another country. But when Julieta's father, who had fought in the First World War told him that he had too, or loose his wife, job and home Eduardo could not protest. This country had provided him with a home for almost a decade, and more over, had seemed more of a home than his real home ever had. His age and previous experience saw him appointed Corporal and opened up a whole new unexpected chapter in Eduardo's life. The untimely death of a platoon Sergeant at Dunkirk saw Eduardo swiftly promoted and faced with the rest of the war. He took solace in the fact that surely, it would not last as long as the 19 year civil war he had lived though? Surely not?
WRITING SAMPLE
The bridge was one of the few Eduardo had ever seen made of both stone and metal. Neat stone bricking created the base and large iron pillars rose up at even intervals, the pillars rose 40 foot into the air and were topped with various snarling, dancing or naked creatures. 'Typical European architecture', thought Eduardo, as his eyes strayed from the bridge and onto the river bank on the other side. It was difficult to make out due to the think layer of fog that floated gloomily all around them. Eduardo could just about make trees on the other side, wether it was a thick forest or a think spattering he could not tell.
His eyes strayed back to the bridge, it was 30 feet in front of him down a cobbled road which was flanked either side by large 3 story town houses. The scene in front of him sent chills up Eduardo's spine. He wasn't sure why. The road extend onto the single lane bridge, which extended further beyond. But too what? With the heavy fog it was impossible to tell. Either way Eduardo still didn't like it. Sadly it was not his place to like anything, it was his place to command the men around him across that bridge, meet any resistance and try to fight their way through. Infantry basics stated categorically that getting caught in a 'bottle neck' would usually lead to ambush and defeat. However, this was the last bridge on this river for 35 miles either way that had not been destroyed by the Germans as they retreated. This left Eduardo in a difficult situation, the 'handbook' for leadership had nothing in it about what to do when faced with crossing a thin patch of exposed land. It simply said 'don't.' Choice was not a luxury that Eduardo had, he had been ordered to make the crossing by 5, it was 4.30 and time was running short. He has left it till the last minute in the hope that the Germans would simply blow up the bridge. Sending his platoon across the bridge was not something he was overly keen on doing. But it looked like the time had come. He bowed his head muttering under his breath in the tongue of his own country.
"Lord, once again i pray to you and your son, please bring the men that you see fit to live to safety today. Do not be to harsh with your judgement upon them, but instead gift them with the fury, swiftness and boldness they will need to win this battle. Amen."
Eduardo looked up once again. He looked across the room he was in, 6 other men were situated within it. Two were at windows looking across the bridge with the same trepidation Eduardo was feeling, filling the expressions on their face. The other four were in the corner playing 5 card stud.
"Dealer takes 2" muttered the man nearest him, simultaneously reaching toward the deck and removing the top two cards after placing two in the 'dead' pile.
"Harrison, were moving, 5 minutes, make the call." said Eduardo.
The bonus of being ordered to preform an operation is the support you are gifted with by high command, a whole company of artillery was ready to pound the other side of the bridge. As well as a wing of fighters to give them accurate cover should they need to retreat. Harrison, the squads radio man, shot up and moved over to his radio to inform HQ of their imminent departure. The other men around the table stood up slower and started getting their kit together, checking rifles and other equipment. Now began the agonising wait before the battle. The worst part of being a soldier.
The sound of Harrison speaking into his mouth piece now filled the room.
"HQ, come in HQ. This is spearhead, we are moving across the bridge in 5 minutes. Thats…" he checked his watch. "…16.40, repeat offensive manoeuvres starting at 16.40" Eduardo looked across at the two men at the windows, of all the men in they looked the most worried. They needed something to do to stop them driving themselves crazy with their own thoughts of what was to come. To much thought about anything was unhealthy for any man.
"Privates." they both looked up, the Sergeants word dragging them out of there glazed state. "Go tell 3rd and 2nd squads that were moving in 5 minutes. 2nd squad will take point, followed by us, 3rd squad will cover us. We move after the first shell hits, take it nice and slow. Got it?" Both men nodded their agreement and headed for the doors, breaking into runs across the road and into adjacent buildings to pass the message on.
Five minutes can seem like 5 weeks in the right situation. The five men left in the building to wait did so in silence. Every man Eduardo had ever known did different things before walking into a life threatening situation. Eduardo prayed, other men checked kit over and over, other men found a spot on the wall and turned it into 'their spot' their eyes lost in its endlessness. Some men did nothing, some men talked. Eduardo's eldest brother, many years ago, used to do press ups.
"Gotta get the blood pumping Ed." He used to say. "Fight or flight Eddy, were about to do one or the other. Best get the adrenaline pumping now, don't want it sneaking up on me later." That used to make Eduardo smile. He missed his brothers.
It turned out five minutes can also seem like 5 seconds, if you think about the right thing. The first shells could already be heard whistling over head and pounding into the bank on the other side, miles away in the distance behind the front lines, they sounded like mere thuds. Although this would not be the case for the people they were landing upon.
"Lets go" said Eduardo painfully aware of the trepidation in his own voice. "Watch your arcs, watch your mates backs and watch for Germans." The street outside was filling with men, doors were opening slowly and men were filing out, weapons raised, eyes searching into the mist that still covered the bridge before them. Eduardo lifted his rifle from the floor and headed toward the door as his heart began to pound a merry beat in his chest...
Mexican
Sergeant, British Army.
HISTORY
Eduardo Perez Alonso, the 3rd son of Julie Alonso Guerrera and Raul Perez Lopez, was born in 1904 in the slum outside Mexico City. His mother was bed-ridden with illness and his father was a fisher man which meant he spent 90% of his time away on the coasts of Mexico. This odd situation meant that Eduardo was raised by his older brothers more than his mother or father, who were just 9 and 11 when he was born. His life was similar to most of the children born to slum families; before even his 10th birthday he had been in and out of prisons all around Mexico City, he, his brothers and their friends would steal anything that might be off value, from metal remnants to food. Anything that could be sold or eaten was worth stealing. By the time Eduardo was 12 he had enough of spending 4-5 nights a month in a cell, barely stealing enough food to feed themselves let alone their bedridden mum. The 3 brothers never saw their father, bar the odd visit once or twice a year, and the pittance he sent back was barely enough for the family to live on.
His family lived in poverty and it became all Eduardo knew, at least until the Mexican Revolution, this 2 decade civil war engulfed everyone in Mexico, families that had lived together on the same street together for years were suddenly on opposing sides of a vicious war that would claim the lives of millions. Naturally Eduardo's older brothers were involved in the fighting, not on any moral ground, only because any of the political parties vying to take power were willing to pay well for supporters willing to fight. In fact Eduardo's brothers even swapped sides a few times during the war, their allegiance aligning firmly with the side that was throwing around the most cash. This left Eduardo and his mother alone in the house together, albeit more comfortably with the assistance off 3 pay checks being sent back. It was during this time that Eduardo became really close to his mum, spending everyday with her rather than out causing and getting into trouble with his brothers. She would tell him tales of his father, how much of a trouble maker he used to be, and how much of a great man he was, working 7 days a week on the coast to send back money to his family. Eduardo never questioned his mother until one day he was cleaning her room and found letters hidden under the mattress off his father. Reading them made Eduardo's heart stop, his whole world came crashing down around him as he read of his fathers second family, his apologies to Eduardo's mother and asking if and when she was going to tell the children. It seemed that there was a reason that papa Raul never came home and never sent a decent pay check. Confronting his mother about the letters brought feeble excuses along the lines of "i didn't want to upset you boys" or "there was no point you knowing, what help could that have been?" Eduardo was disgusted, his whole life he had looked up to a man who had left his mother for another woman and another set of kids before he was even born.
By now it was 1919, the 'Great War' had just ended, but this affected Eduardo's life insignificantly, other than the odd paper he would pull out of a bin to read. A war taking place over 2000 miles away meant little to him with the decade long conflict he saw on his doorstep everyday, similarly a 'world wide depression' meant little to a boy that had never had enough money to live anywhere but a timber shack with a steal roof. His brothers still only came back from the army one weekend a month and Eduardo still lived at home with his bedridden mother, whose illness had now taken her ability to walk. It was a sunny morning in the summer of 1919 and Eduardo was outside his house with several others from the slum taking apart the house of a one of the many that had been killed in the civil war when he saw a tall man, with long greasy hair walking along the dirty track smiling and waving at him. His dad had returned, still under the impression that everything was fine and how he had left it. The sun glistened behind him and Eduardo suddenly found himself controlling the violent anger that was building inside him. Here was the bastard that Eduardo had been waiting for since that fateful day a year ago when he found 5 tear stained letters beneath his mothers pillow. He had pictured this day since then. He wondered if it would live up to expectations.
"Son!" cried the man as he approached. Smile wider than the blue in the sky above. "How are you?"
"Dad!" exclaimed Eduardo, running to the man and flinging his arms round his torso, doing his best to hide the utter disgust that lay on his face. "I have to show you something, come with me." Pulling his Dad's arm he took the man past the house in which Eduardo's mum lay and through the streets of the slums to what, at some point, must have been a playground. It now resembled a shit pit, which isn't at all ironic, as it was just that. A small walled off piece of dirt, with the streets worth of family's shit flung into it. The only reason Eduardo knew it had been a playground once is the rusted frame of a set of swings that still remained. This was the only area in the slums light couldn't get too, as the high walls and buildings all around blocked the sun from all angles. It was also the only area that no one could see you. "What is it son? This is just the old shit pit, i admit a haven't been here for years" he looked around. "And it hasn't changed" he laughed. "Although, i think, many years ago there used to be an old slide just over…" The syllables from the mans mouth were cut short by the steal piping that clattered against the mans face. The man hit the dirt hard, as though unconscious, but he was not. He rolled over and shot a glance upward, the shock and pain that littered every inch of his face is the last memory Eduardo has of his conscious father, it is the face that has cropped up in his dreams ever since, the face of someone who knows deep down they are going to die, but hasn't processed the fact yet. The second blow made contact right between the mans eyes, the cracking could have been from his nose, his skull or even his eye sockets. Eduardo did not stop to check, but made sure the third blow was clear cut and tore ferociously into the side of the mans head. Wether his dad was dead at this point Eduardo was not sure; it was either that which killed him or drowning unconsciously in the open drain of raw sewage that lay at the bottom of the old playground where Eduardo dumped the body
Eduardo is still the only living person that knows how his father died, if his body was found then it was never reported. His mother and brothers just assumed he never came home again, to caught up in his other life. Eduardo never saw fit to tell them the truth.
By the time he was 18 he was heavily involved in the civil war, just as his brothers were, fighting for various sides and seeing a lot of combat. Their combined pay checks now brought enough to see their mother put into a care home to live out her dying years in piece, this was one of the brothers greatest collective achievements. She died 4 years later in 1926. This was when Eduardo decided he had enough of Mexico, the only life he had ever knew here was war, poverty and caring for a dysfunctional family. He knew this war wouldn't not last forever, although it had raged solidly for 16 years now, and when it was finished he and his brothers would go back to the old life they knew. The best case scenario was a hard, boring laborious job that payed little, the worst was ended up back on the steal, spending more nights in a cell that at home. He had saved up a small amount of money and decided his home country was no longer for him, the only thing that had been tying him to the country was his mother who he had loved more than anything else. Her parting had left him with a sorrow in his sole every time he saw the sun pounding against a steal roof or a group of kids chasing a cat down a dirt track. He left his brothers with solum goodbyes the week after his mothers funeral. He travelled to the fishing port of Mahahual on the Eastern coast of Mexico, the port his father has travelled back from so many years ago. A few questions brought him to a sailor called Marcus, the man who had employed his Dad for so many years. A short conversation about his father and his untimely disappearance got Eduardo a job aboard a one of the many boats that Marcus owned. A freight ship that delivered all sorts of goods from Mexico to Europe. It was in 1931 that he met a Julieta, on one of the crews nights out in London bars.
There marriage took place in 1934 and it was in the East End of London that Eduardo settled, with a comfortable job at Julieta's dad's newspaper printing company. He was content with the life he had lived and was fully prepared to face the prospect of growing old and retiring with Julieta, maybe in their retirement they could visit Eduardo's home country and the brothers he had left behind? Maybe they could settle down in some Mexican village tucked away in the countryside? Alas, as with most perfect situations, it was not to be. The year of 1939 brought about the second great war, in contrast to the first great war which had made no imprint on Eduardo's life, this war was to tear apart his life. He had no intent on signing up to fight for another country. But when Julieta's father, who had fought in the First World War told him that he had too, or loose his wife, job and home Eduardo could not protest. This country had provided him with a home for almost a decade, and more over, had seemed more of a home than his real home ever had. His age and previous experience saw him appointed Corporal and opened up a whole new unexpected chapter in Eduardo's life. The untimely death of a platoon Sergeant at Dunkirk saw Eduardo swiftly promoted and faced with the rest of the war. He took solace in the fact that surely, it would not last as long as the 19 year civil war he had lived though? Surely not?
WRITING SAMPLE
The bridge was one of the few Eduardo had ever seen made of both stone and metal. Neat stone bricking created the base and large iron pillars rose up at even intervals, the pillars rose 40 foot into the air and were topped with various snarling, dancing or naked creatures. 'Typical European architecture', thought Eduardo, as his eyes strayed from the bridge and onto the river bank on the other side. It was difficult to make out due to the think layer of fog that floated gloomily all around them. Eduardo could just about make trees on the other side, wether it was a thick forest or a think spattering he could not tell.
His eyes strayed back to the bridge, it was 30 feet in front of him down a cobbled road which was flanked either side by large 3 story town houses. The scene in front of him sent chills up Eduardo's spine. He wasn't sure why. The road extend onto the single lane bridge, which extended further beyond. But too what? With the heavy fog it was impossible to tell. Either way Eduardo still didn't like it. Sadly it was not his place to like anything, it was his place to command the men around him across that bridge, meet any resistance and try to fight their way through. Infantry basics stated categorically that getting caught in a 'bottle neck' would usually lead to ambush and defeat. However, this was the last bridge on this river for 35 miles either way that had not been destroyed by the Germans as they retreated. This left Eduardo in a difficult situation, the 'handbook' for leadership had nothing in it about what to do when faced with crossing a thin patch of exposed land. It simply said 'don't.' Choice was not a luxury that Eduardo had, he had been ordered to make the crossing by 5, it was 4.30 and time was running short. He has left it till the last minute in the hope that the Germans would simply blow up the bridge. Sending his platoon across the bridge was not something he was overly keen on doing. But it looked like the time had come. He bowed his head muttering under his breath in the tongue of his own country.
"Lord, once again i pray to you and your son, please bring the men that you see fit to live to safety today. Do not be to harsh with your judgement upon them, but instead gift them with the fury, swiftness and boldness they will need to win this battle. Amen."
Eduardo looked up once again. He looked across the room he was in, 6 other men were situated within it. Two were at windows looking across the bridge with the same trepidation Eduardo was feeling, filling the expressions on their face. The other four were in the corner playing 5 card stud.
"Dealer takes 2" muttered the man nearest him, simultaneously reaching toward the deck and removing the top two cards after placing two in the 'dead' pile.
"Harrison, were moving, 5 minutes, make the call." said Eduardo.
The bonus of being ordered to preform an operation is the support you are gifted with by high command, a whole company of artillery was ready to pound the other side of the bridge. As well as a wing of fighters to give them accurate cover should they need to retreat. Harrison, the squads radio man, shot up and moved over to his radio to inform HQ of their imminent departure. The other men around the table stood up slower and started getting their kit together, checking rifles and other equipment. Now began the agonising wait before the battle. The worst part of being a soldier.
The sound of Harrison speaking into his mouth piece now filled the room.
"HQ, come in HQ. This is spearhead, we are moving across the bridge in 5 minutes. Thats…" he checked his watch. "…16.40, repeat offensive manoeuvres starting at 16.40" Eduardo looked across at the two men at the windows, of all the men in they looked the most worried. They needed something to do to stop them driving themselves crazy with their own thoughts of what was to come. To much thought about anything was unhealthy for any man.
"Privates." they both looked up, the Sergeants word dragging them out of there glazed state. "Go tell 3rd and 2nd squads that were moving in 5 minutes. 2nd squad will take point, followed by us, 3rd squad will cover us. We move after the first shell hits, take it nice and slow. Got it?" Both men nodded their agreement and headed for the doors, breaking into runs across the road and into adjacent buildings to pass the message on.
Five minutes can seem like 5 weeks in the right situation. The five men left in the building to wait did so in silence. Every man Eduardo had ever known did different things before walking into a life threatening situation. Eduardo prayed, other men checked kit over and over, other men found a spot on the wall and turned it into 'their spot' their eyes lost in its endlessness. Some men did nothing, some men talked. Eduardo's eldest brother, many years ago, used to do press ups.
"Gotta get the blood pumping Ed." He used to say. "Fight or flight Eddy, were about to do one or the other. Best get the adrenaline pumping now, don't want it sneaking up on me later." That used to make Eduardo smile. He missed his brothers.
It turned out five minutes can also seem like 5 seconds, if you think about the right thing. The first shells could already be heard whistling over head and pounding into the bank on the other side, miles away in the distance behind the front lines, they sounded like mere thuds. Although this would not be the case for the people they were landing upon.
"Lets go" said Eduardo painfully aware of the trepidation in his own voice. "Watch your arcs, watch your mates backs and watch for Germans." The street outside was filling with men, doors were opening slowly and men were filing out, weapons raised, eyes searching into the mist that still covered the bridge before them. Eduardo lifted his rifle from the floor and headed toward the door as his heart began to pound a merry beat in his chest...
