The beautiful Northern Spanish city of Saragossa had enjoyed over seven hundred years of peace, love and hippie tree-hugger prosperity stretching from the time of El Cid up until the fateful year 1808, when her walls were threatened by the marauding armies of Napoleon Bonaparte’s ever-expanding French Empire. Napoleon, perhaps suffering from the psychiatric complex that bears his name, had this crazy hard-on to conquer all of Europe (probably just to be a total dickhead to everyone), and one of his primary goals was to force all of Spain and Portugal under whichever one of his little thumbs wasn’t currently shoved inside his coat pocket. Obviously, the Spanish weren’t too psyched up about capitulating to the fucking French (and who can blame them), so the two nations became embroiled in an incredibly bloody and brutal campaign that would come to be known as the Peninsular War.
But who gives a shit about all that crap. The point here is that in 1808 the peace-loving city of Saragossa was completely surrounded by arbitrarily-pissed-off Frenchmen with thin, curly-cue waxed handlebar moustaches all eager and willing to slaughter some Spaniards for no good reason at all. The town had been cut off from supplies and ammunition for weeks, and the defenders of the city were constantly being pounded by artillery and musket fire as Napoleon tried to break their will like an Entenmann’s spokesperson at a Weight Watchers meeting. Finally, after sixty days of the siege, the French launched a full on balls-to-the-wall invasion of the city, charging the gates like King Arthur’s men in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. At this point the town was only defended by a small, heavily outnumbered force of volunteer soldiers, and before long the massive horde of Perrier-swigging, wine-connoisseuring Frenchies broke through the city gates like a Frank Sinatra-singing alien chest-burster busting out of an unhappy patron at a crappy intergalactic greasy spoon diner. Napoleon’s men fell on the artillery positions located just inside the gates like an army of Gerald Fords, and many of the front-line Spanish defenders either ran for their lives or got some up-close and personal hard-hitting interviews with the pointy end of a bayonet. Within minutes it appeared that the defensive lines had broken, and it was beginning to look more and more like the citizens of Saragossa were going to need to start developing a taste for frog’s legs, rude waiters and trashy uber-trendy fashion magazines with unpronounceable names where anorexically-thin bitches wear see-through shirts and look bored out of their damn skulls all the time.
However, all was not as fucked-up as it seemed. Amidst all the confusion, smoke, gunfire, and epically graphic strings of Spanish profanity stood a woman known as Agustina de Aragon. During the initial fighting she had been up on the battlements with the artillerymen, passing out apples, Powerbars and Gatorade to the men to help sustain their fighting spirit and replenish their electrolytes, and doing her part to help defend her city. However, when she saw all these dudes running away with their panties in a wad shrieking like grade-school girls just because a couple of fucking French dudes were waving knives in their faces, she did what any badass worthy of that moniker would have done – she got really ripshit pissed off and started bashing motherfuckers’ heads together like B.A. Barrackus. When one of the Spanish cannon crews dropped their gear and bravely ran screaming away from the rampaging French invaders, Agustina de Aragon charged full-speed towards the abandoned gun. With an entire Company of angry screaming soldiers only a few hundred feet away and rapidly closing in her position, she shoved a canister of black powder and grapeshot into the mussle and packed it down with the ramrod. Then, right as the French troops was preparing to lunge at her with their bayonets and skewer her like a meat kebab she cooly took a long drag from a cigarette, said something along the lines of, “suck my dick, motherfuckers”, and flicked the lit cigarette into the hatch, sending forth a massive shotgun-blast of metallic spiky death into the enemy from point-blank range. When the smoke cleared, the bloodthirsty, stab-happy French troops had been reduced to a large pile of dead-ass bitches.
Having effectively proven that she had the biggest balls of anyone in the town (is “ovarian fortitude” the correct terminology here?), Agustina turned and looked over her shoulder at the Spanish soldiers behind her. The men were all like, “damn, if this chick can kick so much ass all by herself, what the fuck are we doing?”, and immediately rushed back to their positions and began pouring artillery and small-arms fire into the invaders. Agustina’s inspiring actions pumped up the Spanish more than a live performance of Young MC’s “Bust a Move”, and the Spanish soldiers were able to not only push the French back out of the city, but launch a counter-attack that would force Napoleon to lift the siege of Saragossa.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the last the Spanish would hear of Napoleon. The French returned a few months later, and after several weeks of hardcore house-to-house back-alley streetfighting the city’s hopelessly-outnumbered defenders were forced to capitulate. Agustina was taken as a prisoner of war (she was working as part of an artillery crew during the battle, because after showing off her ability to vaporize organic meatbags the Spanish couldn’t possibly have ignored her bravery or badassitude with a heavy weapon) and thrown in prison, but promptly led a daring Conan the Barbarian-style prison break – probably busting out by giving one of the French guards a flying side kick to the back of the head, stealing his rifle, beating ten people to death with it, swinging across a crowded ballroom on a chandelier, and then setting a world record in the two hundred meter Freestyle while swimming through an alligator-infested moat and having French special forces paratroopers fire fully-automatic handheld Gatling guns at her. Once free, Agustina joined up with the hardcore Spanish guerilla movement where she participated in daring raids against French supply depots and military bases, doing her part to try and liberate her people.
After a few years of bitter fighting, the Spanish, along with their British and Portuguese Allies, began to break the Grande Armee’s double-reverse choke-hold on Spain. Agustina’s guerilleros were absorbed into the Free Spanish Regular Army serving under the command of a fellow badass, the Duke of Wellington, and during the campaign to liberate Spain she was eventually promoted to the rank of Captain and placed in command of a full artillery battery. At the Battle of Vitoria in 1813, Agustina de Aragon and her men fought bravely as Wellington’s forces defeated the French Army and drove them from Spain once and for all.
Agustina de Aragon, the “Spanish Joan of Arc”, was a common-born woman who, through her bravery and ultra-badassitude, became a larger-than-life national hero and a legend among the people of Saragossa. She was a war hero, a freedom fighter, a badass guerilla, and a tough-ass bitch in every possible way.