Chapter 2

It was virtually impossible to keep anything secret in Republican Spain. Spies, double agents and gossipers of every political persuasion had been flagging for weeks the probability of a move by the Popular Front against the CNT. By the time the first lorries rolled into central Barcelona packed with the Government's elite Assault Guards, over 1000 Anarchist Militiamen had reinforced the Telephone Exchange building.

Across town, the emergency committees were convening and planning their response. Their major problem was arms and ammunition, most of the Anarchists were poorly armed.

They were at the mercy of the Government, but what would the attitude of the Lenin Division be? Would the POUM support them? There had been arguments between the two about the Anarchists commitment to the war against Franco. Rather a lot of the Anarchists in Barcelona were of military age yet seemed disinclined to join the fighting Brigades. Why weren't they with the 'Iron Column, ' the 'Land and Liberty Division' or the 'Duretti Column?' The Lenin Division, veterins of the Ebro and Jarama, might be expected to view with scorn those that appeared to shirk their class duty.

To the West of Saragossa was the small town of Fuentes de Ebro. In July 1937 it was the headquarters of the '5th Regiment.' The Regiment, now of divisional strength but still called a 'Regiment, ' was the pride of the Communist Party, the PCE. The 'Regiment' was now made up of 50% foreigners, Communist volunteers from nearly all the countries of Europe. The 'Regiment' had a fiercesome reputation in the fighting across the Ebro front. They, too, heard of the Government's attempt to put the CNT in its place in Barcelona. They'd read in the Party's newspaper that the CNT militiamen were being used by the evil POUM to pave the way for a German/Italian invasion and they were on a slow burn at the news of this treachery.

Soldiers were on the roof of a building across the street overlooking. They were peacefully hanging out laundry on an improvised line strung between a flagpole and a water pipe. On the flagpole, the Republic's tricolour hung limply above the red, hammer and sickle flag of the Communist Party. Benin watched one of the soldiers stare in their direction before resuming his task.

She stared back down at John's face. "Hey," she said, "shall we go inside?" He looked at the soldiers on the roof across the street and nodded. They waited until the soldiers disappeared before hastily gathering their clothes.

Inside the converted school women were moving around already. The black-clad Mujeres Libres filtered down to the dining room below for breakfast. John and Benin followed the procession down the stairs.

The talk in the cavernous hall was the latest news from Barcelona. It was all gossip and rumour, about an uprising, a German and Italian landing and of the British Royal Navy bombarding the port. Little real news was forthcoming.

John was studiously ignored by the other Women, he was the only male in the room besides a young boy. He found it faintly intimidating, even though Benin tried to put him at ease by self-conciously chatting to him.

"He your lover?" a large women asked, opposite them. Benin scanned the line with her eyes before answering.

"Yes," she replied, defiantly.

The woman shrugged. "Let me know when you've finished with him, huh?" she said, followed by chuckles from some of the others. Benin blushed, smiling weakly. "Hey Gringo," the woman continued, "you think you can buff my bannister as well as hers?" Gales of laughter erupted around the table. John looked confused until Benin placed her hand on his.

Breakfast over, John was anxious to escape, so the couple left, arm in arm.

The streets seemed hostile. Militiamen and soldiers looked sidelong at the couple as they passed with expressions of contempt. Even the women looked away at the sight of Benin's black/red scarf and black beret.

"Lets get out of Madrid for a while," she suggested.

"Where?"

"Anywhere... out in the country."

They took a horse tram to the outer Northern suburbs then thumbed a ride on a military lorry. It deposited them near a village crossroads before rumbling away towards the front in a cloud of white dust.

Fields of corn waved peacefully in the fields as they wandered out of the little village. Peasant farmers herded their stock with Birch sticks in the same way they'd done for centuries. Old women hobbled past wearing mourning black, their loose shawls covering their faces.

The bulk of Spain's agricultural workers were still illiterate. They'd had the vote since Primo de Rivera was deposed in 1930. Unable to read the ballot paper, they were permitted under the law to take into the polling booth a 'person of high regard.' This was often the landlord or Priest, hence they were unlikely to vote for a Party advocating rights for women or the redistribution of wealth. 7 years of democratic freedom had made little difference to the their lives.

As the noonday sun became oppressive, they decided to have a siesta under some Olive trees by a secluded stream.

Accounts vary wildly as to what happened when the Assault Guards' lorries pulled up outside the Exchange. It seems, though, that those inside began to hurl abuse down at the Government Paramilitaries from the second floor windows. All accounts agree, however, that the big double glass doors of the front entrance were firmly barricaded with office furniture. Several troops smashed in the doors with the butts of their rifles but that was as far as they got.

It appears a team ran down a side alley towards the rear of the building. According to the Anarchist version, a bucket of manure was thrown down over them from a top window. The Assault Guards then opened fire.

The Government troops were heavily outnumbered and soon had to retreat to summon reinforcements. While they waited, though, the Anarchist Committees began to spill out onto the streets across the city.

Handcarts, motor vehicles, hay bales and house furniture began to be piled up on the streets to make barricades. The committees marched through the working class districts summoning the militiamen. By mid-morning nearly 20,000 were gathering at a number of assembly points. At this time the CNT numbered over 2 million supporters, 40,000, of whom, were fighting with the 4 main Anarchist Brigades in the Republican Army. The 20,000 were mostly industrial workers, soon to be reinforced from the agricultural collectives.

To the West of the City, the medieval town of Terrassa sat astride the main route into Barcelona. Solidly Anarchist, by mid afternoon the CNT had driven the PSUC militia, the Catalan National Army, out of the town and seized their weapons. The South, though, was a problem. Sitting astride the main route South to Valencia was the POUM's Lenin Division. The CNT committees knew that if the POUM didn't join the revolt then they'd be at the mercy of Republican Forces moving up from Andalusia.

John and Benin slept for around two hours. They were damp with sweat so they decided to cool off in the stream. Benin watched in fascination as John promptly peeled off his shirt and trousers with no hint of modesty. Looking around nervously, she took some time to dispense with her own clothing until she was clad only in a shirt and a pair of boxer-style shorts.

John was already stretched out in the shallow stream, a look of blissful pleasure suffusing his face, when Benin slid in beside him.

"Is good, is cool," he said to her.

"I don't think we should have left our revolvers with our clothes," she replied, "what if someone comes?"

"You want to shoot them? A few old peasants?"

"No," she grinned, "but we shouldn't leave our guard down. They could rob us, or..."

"Of what? Our lunch?"

"Si, our lunch, guns, clothes... anything."

"Tell me," he asked, thoughtfully, "you Anarchists champion the peasants, right? You have, how you say, 'solidarity' with their class struggle, yes?"

"Si," she replied, uncertainly.

"Then why do you fear them?" Benin took a long time to answer.

"Not fear... common sense. Some are not educated, politicised... do not see we're in solidarity with them."

"Yeah," John grinned, "it's a bugger not knowing what's good for you."

"You mock us?" Benin snapped.

"I just think..." he said, slowly, "that, here, there's too many people telling other people what's best for them. I read, somewhere, that it was about giving people a voice, letting them decide things for themselves. But, it seems to me, that's it's only true if the bigshots agree with what they say or decide. I mean, what if the peasants in a village decide that the landlord really is a good guy and they want to work for him? And they want the Priest to baptise their children into the Catholic Church? Are you going to tell them they shouldn't? Is that Libertarian Communism or another bunch of know-it-alls telling them what to think?"

"That's bourgeois thinking," Benin replied, angrily, "you don't understand. Why are you here in Spain? Why do you risk your life for a cause you don't understand?"

"Hey, settle down! I was just wondering, that's all." After a pause, he said, "I'm here because... I just happen to think that soldiers make poor politicians. That the Government should be run by elected civilians, not military officers. That an army is supposed to protect and defend a country, not take it over. And I don't want to see Herr Hitler and the bloody Duce of Italy strutting around the whole of Europe."

"Ok," she nodded, "and I want to see a free society where everyone is allowed to enjoy the product of their own labour, and to control their own destiny."

"Ok," he agreed, "fair enough!"

"Ok! Are you cool enough, now?" she asked, looking anxious. John nodded, and they rose out of the stream and retrieved their clothing,

The telephone system was down, the Assault Guards opposite the Exchange had no radio. There was nothing for it but to send a messenger in one of the lorries to bring news of the failure to capture the Telephone Exchange. The Assault Guards, a mere 200 and well pinned down, accordingly sent a Renault truck with half a dozen men with Labora Sub-Machine Guns to run the gauntlet. The rest of the force took over a restaurant and part of a hotel, and waited.