The lorry motor roars, carrying the fighters to the front. There has been the leaving of dear ones, perhaps for the last time. The smile on the face of the soldiers may be a little bitter, but they pull themselves together and with their clenched fists raised they shout 'To You Comrades'.
Through broken ground marching wearily on, their bodies bent with the weight of the load, are two symbols of the revolution: the militiaman and the nurse. Muscles taut and a spark of rebelliousness in their hearts. Both struggling without repose heroically risking their lives to aid the victims of fascist barbarousness.
