We Saw Spain Die

by Preston Paul

  That Koltsov, as a Pravda editor, had a special status as an observer for Stalin is not in dispute. However, that does not explain the sheer scale of the active role played by Koltsov/’Miguel Martínez’ in a wide range of political and military capacities. When the Republican militias retreated on 21 September 1936 from Maqueda, on the road from Talavera to Madrid, K/MM was to be found, pistol in hand, trying to stop the retreat – in this case, K/MM was probably Koltsov, since neither Gorev nor Grigulevich was likely to have been at the battle front. In the besieged capital, K/MM was a constant adviser to the Communist leadership and a close collaborator of Julio Álvarez del Vayo, who on 17 October had been named Commissar General of War, which effectively made him head of the Cuerpo de Comisarios. In terms of meetings with Del Vayo, ‘Miguel Martínez’ could at one point have been Koltsov and, at another, Gorev. Even before then, K/MM was being given copies of intercepted enemy radio traffic. Since the Republican army had no facilities to intercept enemy traffic, this task had to have been undertaken by three Soviet military specialists who arrived in October 1936. Accordingly, the person given the intercepts would most likely have been Gorev, as both Military Attaché and local head of Military Intelligence. On 28 October, K/MM could be found explaining to units of the Communist Quinto Regimiento how they should follow up tank attacks.29 If this was Koltsov, he was merely passing on the advice of the real tank specialist, General Gorev, which leaves the suspicion that the person giving the explanations was Gorev himself.

  One intervention by ‘Miguel Martínez’ of immense significance relates to the decision-making process about the evacuation and subsequent execution of imprisoned rightists from Madrid, one of the most controversial issues in the Spanish Civil War. In the book, ‘Miguel Martínez’ insistently points out to the Communist leadership the dangers of letting the military personnel among the prisoners swell the ranks of the rebels. Worried about the ‘eight thousand fascists who are locked in several prisons around Madrid’ and who threaten to become a real problem as a dangerous ‘fifth column’, ‘Miguel Martínez’ went on several occasions both to Communist Party headquarters and also to the office of the War Commissariat to enquire what had been done and to suggest how an evacuation might be organized.30 It is the view of Boris Volodarsky that, in describing the activities of ‘Miguel Martínez’ in relation to the evacuation of the right-wing political prisoners, Koltsov was actually recording those of Iosif Grigulevich. The eventual operation culminated in the murder of large numbers of the prisoners. The specific responsibility for the death of the prisoners remains unclear. The decision to evacuate involved many individuals and the eventual outcome developed gradually and cumulatively. Nevertheless, Grigulevich ran a special unit recruited from the Juventudes Socialistas Unificadas (JSU), and it appears that they played a key role on the night of 7 November and on the next day in the collection and transportation of prisoners.31 Moreover, Grigulevich had become a close friend and collaborator of Santiago Carrillo who, as JSU leader and Consejero de Orden Público in the Madrid Defence Junta, has frequently been accused of responsibility in the affair.32

  Koltsov’s diary suggested that ‘Miguel Martínez’ was instrumental in the creation of the system of political commissars in order to raise morale among the troops. He claimed that ‘Miguel Martínez’ introduced the practice of the commissars sending regular political reports on their units to the military high command. Since this was standard Red Army practice at the time, it is possible either that Koltsov was merely passing on recommendations from his fellow Russian advisers such as Gorev, or that the ‘Miguel Martínez’ cited referred to Grigulevich or Gorev or some other ‘adviser’. ‘Miguel Martínez’ was presented not only as having access to these reports but also, on occasion, writing them.33 Exaggerating wildly on the basis of the diary, his first Soviet biographer claimed that, on 17 October 1936, Koltsov was officially named commissar of a brigade and helped to draft the instructions for the political commissars of the whole army.34 While it is certainly true that the Spanish adoption of commissars was based on the model that emerged during the Russian Civil War, the name of Koltsov is not among those cited by Spanish sources as instrumental in developing the system in Spain. It is, however, possible that, through his close connection with the Communist Fifth Regiment, his advice was crucial.35 He was on excellent terms with its commander, Enrique Líster, but then again, so was Iosif Grigulevich. Milicia Popular, the newspaper of the Fifth Regiment, serialized Koltsov’s long article on the Red Army, ‘El hombre del capote gris, el oficial y el jefe’ (the man in the grey cape, the officer and the NCO).36 It is impossible to be certain, but it is more likely that the ‘Miguel Martínez’ given such prominence in the development of the commissar system was someone other than Koltsov.

  In his diary, Koltsov talks of Miguel’s relationship with Álvarez del Vayo in such a way as to lend credence to his claims about his part in the commissar system. On 23 October 1936, he noted that, every day at six in the evening, Álvarez del Vayo, as Comisario General, held a meeting in the Ministry of War with the five vice-comisarios, two other commissars and ‘Miguel Martínez’. If taken at face value, this would suggest that Koltsov was much more than a correspondent. It would, of course, be much more plausible if the participant in the meetings was Gorev, or Koltsov acting under Gorev’s orders.37

  Leaving aside the absurd suggestion of two French writers that Koltsov, who was openly in Spain as Pravda correspondent, was really ‘a secret spokesman for Stalin’, it is certainly the case that he had acquired considerable influence and authority in the Ministry of War.38 This much has been attested by the Socialist Arturo Barea, at the time, working in the censorship department of the Foreign Ministry. In his memoirs, he vividly recounts an example of Koltsov’s assertion of his own authority. Barea, on his own initiative, was desperately attempting to keep the press censorship going after the officials in charge had all fled to Valencia. Unaware of Barea’s efforts, and infuriated by the fact that, before he had been able to set up some kind of new system, several foreign correspondents had managed to send out pessimistic reports, Koltsov burst into his office and imperiously demanded explanations. When Barea explained the situation and the fact that he was working on his own authority, Koltsov proclaimed: ‘Your authority is the War Commissariat. Come along with us. Suzana will provide you with an order of the Secretariat.’ ‘Suzana’, a woman who spoke Spanish with a French accent, had, rather like Barea himself, stayed on in Madrid, where she was a typist in the Ministry of War, and been made secretary to the Comisaría de Guerra. When they got to the ministry, Barea was amazed by the authority exercised by Koltsov: ‘Groups of militia officers came and went, people burst in to shout that their consignment of arms had not arrived, and the man Koltsov intervened in most of the discussions on the authority of his vitality and arrogant will.’39

  That Koltsov felt happier and more alive in Madrid than he had done in the bleak atmosphere of the purges is evident. He may have supported the purges publicly, but there is little doubt that he felt increasingly uncomfortable about them. He was overjoyed when the news came in that the Soviet Union had decided to send aeroplanes, tanks, artillery and other weaponry.40 There can be no doubt of his astonishing capacity for work and his burning enthusiasm for the Spanish cause, although it is difficult not to suspect some authors of well-intentioned exaggeration. Gleb Skorokhodov, his first biographer, conflating Koltsov and ‘Miguel Martínez’, made the utterly absurd claim that, at the end of October, Koltsov was given the task of drawing up the the Ministry of War’s orders for the defence of Madrid.41 It is inconceivable that the strategists responsible, Generals Jan Berzin and Gorev, and the Republican Chief of Staff, Vicente Rojo, would have permitted such intrusion from an amateur. Skorokhodov’s error is another indication not only that ‘Miguel Martínez’ was a composite figure, but also that an important component of that figure was Gorev.

  According to the habitually unreliable Orlov, when the government left Ma
drid, only two members of the official Soviet group remained in the beleaguered capital: Koltsov and himself.42 In fact, Gorev remained in the Ministry of Defence along with Koltsov’s friend, the famous Soviet documentary-maker, Roman Karmen, and many other Russian officials. Nevertheless, Koltsov’s courageous decision to stay was the prelude to his finest hour.

  Gorev, who was unofficially advising General José Miaja, the president of the Madrid Junta de Defensa, spoke every day with Koltsov. Their meetings were evoked by Emma Wolf, Gorev’s lover and interpreter. Gorev, she recalled, would listen closely to what Koltsov had to say, because he regarded him as the best-informed person around about what was going on both at the front and in the rearguard. The Russian historian of the KGB, Boris Volodarsky, has claimed that Gorev was actually afraid for his life and listened to Koltsov because he was the party’s voice in Spain and could always report on him to Moscow. Gorev was equally attentive and respectful to Orlov, who reported on him any way, in spite of Gorev’s writing a flattering report to Moscow praising Orlov.43

  Even leaving aside what seem to have been the activities of the other elements of ‘Miguel Martínez’, there can be no doubt that Koltsov was utterly devoted to the cause of the Republic. When things were going badly, he could not refrain from launching himself into action. Paulina Abramson reflected years later: ‘At times it was quite shocking to see how he just got involved in issues and passed opinions that doubtless influenced the outcome. He did so because his education, his very nature and his knowledge of strategy would not let him just stand idly by when faced with the ubiquitous disorder’.44 He could be tremendously acerbic and an unsympathetic Sefton Delmer recalled him as ‘a dynamic raspwitted Russian Jew’, ‘a small, stocky man, sharp-eyed and sneering, strutting around in martial-looking jackboots’.45

  In the midst of the attack on Madrid, the first Soviet tanks went into action on 29 October 1936. They did well but, in the narrow streets of the villages, some got trapped and were vulnerable to the improvised incendiary devices such as Molotov cocktails thrown by Franco’s troops. Three tanks were lost. When the Soviet tank commanders gathered that night in the Hotel Palace, the mood could not have been bleaker. Koltsov cheered them all up by pointing out that the attack had really been a great success. According to Orlov, he suggested that a telegram be sent to Stalin calling for all of the tank crews to be awarded the Order of Lenin and that the title of Hero of the Soviet Union be conferred upon the leader of the attack and the ten missing crew members. Orlov claimed improbably that a telegram signed by Koltsov, General Gorev and Orlov provoked a reply from the People’s Commissar for Defence, Marshall Kliment Voroshilov, granting the request.46

  It has been suggested that Koltsov even commanded a section of Russian tanks and played a significant part in the battles of Pozuelo and Aravaca (4–14 January 1937). This is certainly a wild exaggeration based on his adolescent enthusiasm for driving around the battlefield in an armoured car.47 Certainly, despite an action-packed schedule, he sent a steady stream of long and vividly written articles back to Russia as well as having a journalistic presence in Spain. Roman Karmen was amazed at Koltsov’s ability ‘to write forty lines with astonishing speed, real wit and careful and thoughtful observation to give a perfectly finished portrait of the political situation’.48

  However, it is impossible to say if Koltsov did any or all of these things on the basis of carrying some special authorization or accreditation from Stalin himself.49 It is equally plausible that much of his astonishing prominence derived simply from the energy, self-confidence and impatience with Spanish disorganization, which saw him just steam into situations and give imperious advice. Perhaps he was allowed to take a prominent role precisely because it was believed that he had some sort of accreditation from Stalin. This was the view of Boris Efimov: ‘Koltsov would not have been Koltsov if he had stayed within the confines of pure newspaper, journalistic work.’ According to Boris Efimov: ‘As far as I know no one especially delegated such work to Koltsov. He went to Spain only as a writer, as a Pravda correspondent.’ However, like Vasily Grossman in the Second World War, Koltsov shared his opinions with those in charge because he believed that it was his duty as a Communist to do so. Moreover, given his enthusiastic and energetic personality, frustrated by the inadequacies of the Spanish defence of the Republic, Koltsov simply took it upon himself to give advice wherever anyone would listen to him. Already as a child, recalled Borís Efimov, his brother Mikhail had demonstrated a multi-faceted creativity: ‘he was a restless child, he invented games, wrote plays’.50

  A similar view can be derived from the memoirs of the cameraman Roman Karmen. 15 August 1936, the thirty-year-old Karmen had been instructed to go to Spain. He left Moscow on 19 August and, on the following day, was met in Paris by Ilya Ehrenburg and crossed the frontier at Hendaye.51 After spending time in Irún and then Barcelona, he reached Madrid on 13 September: ‘My meeting with Mikhail was a joy; he was waiting for us at the door of the Hotel Florida where we were also staying. From that moment on, we were virtually inseparable.’ They went together to the siege of the Alcázar de Toledo. Later, from 7 to 17 October 1936, Karmen joined Koltsov on a tour of the northern fronts of the Basque Country and Asturias with Paulina Abramson as their interpreter. In the course of their visit, Koltsov spent time with local political and military leaders, including Juan Ambou, the young Communist who acted as defence chief in the Asturian Popular Front Committee, and José Antonio de Aguirre, the Basque president.52 Overriding the instructions of Marcel Rosenberg, both Koltsov and Karmen declined to join the evacuation to Valencia and stayed throughout the siege.53 On 6 November, Karmen went to the Ministerio de Guerra, finding it deserted until he stumbled into a room containing the Communist leader, Antonio Mije, General Gorev and the chief of the Republican general staff, Vicente Rojo. From there he went to PCE headquarters, where he found Koltsov locked in conversation with Pedro Checa, who as Organization Secretary of the Central Committee was the acting head of the party.54

  The memoirs of Karmen confirm Boris Efimov’s view that Koltsov’s official status was largely journalistic. He says that they were inseparable and that ‘our friendship constituted a priceless education in militant journalism’. He often accompanied Koltsov as he moved around Madrid, visiting the defences, and claimed that he would read Koltsov’s chronicles in Pravda a couple of days later, and was able to relive what they had seen, illuminated by what he called ‘a divine spark, the wise, sharp and joyous spark of Koltsov’s immense talent’. Karmen was entranced by the sheer energy and many facets of Koltsov: ‘an acute chronicler of extraordinary events, a political being, an intrepid soldier’, who also liked to live well and was always cheerful and jovial.55 By the time that Hemingway arrived in the spring of 1937, Koltsov and Karmen had moved from the Hotel Florida, briefly to the Hotel Capitol on the other side of the Gran Vía, then to the Hotel Palace in the Carrera de San Jerónimo and then on to Gaylord’s Hotel in Alfonso XII.56

  Many of those who met Koltsov left descriptions. He was small, very Spanish-looking, had thick black hair and wore thick-lensed round spectacles. In a clearly autobiographical section of For Whom the Bell Tolls, Hemingway proclaimed him

  the most intelligent man he had ever met. Wearing black riding boots, grey breeches, and a grey tunic, with tiny hands and feet, puffily fragile of face and body, with a spitting way of talking through his bad teeth, he looked comic…but he had more brains and more inner dignity and outer insolence and humour than anybody he had ever known.57

  Koltsov provided Hemingway with considerable amounts of material that was later incorporated into For Whom the Bell Tolls.58 Orlov claimed that everything in Hemingway’s portrayal of Koltsov in the form of the character of Karkov was exact.59 Martha Gellhorn met Koltsov for the first time at a party in his warm and cosy room at the Hotel Gaylord. Writing at the end of her life, she remembered seeing ‘a small thin man, with thick, well-cut, grey hair. He wore a dark, excellent suit. He had the kind of
face that makes an immediate impression of brilliance, of wit, and the quiet manners of complete confidence. I thought he was forty or so, and more French than Russian.’60

  As the comments of Ernest Hemingway, Martha Gellhorn, Emma Wolf, Roman Karmen, Paulina Abramson and others attest, Koltsov had a capacity to amuse, to impress and to generate affection and enthusiasm. The English Communist journalist, Claud Cockburn, became a close friend, as attracted as Karmen had been by Koltsov’s wit and energy:

  I spent a great deal of my time in the company of Mikhail Koltsov, who then was Foreign Editor of Pravda and, more importantly still, was at that period – he disappeared later in Russia, presumed shot – the confidant and mouthpiece and direct agent of Stalin himself. He was a stocky little Jew from Odessa, I think – with a huge head and one of the most expressive faces of any man I ever met. What his face principally expressed was a kind of enthusiastically gleeful amusement – and a lively hope that you and everyone else would, however depressing the circumstances, do your best to make things more amusing still.

  Cockburn described how easily Koltsov could provoke resentment and jealousy:

  He had a savagely satirical tongue – and an attitude of entire ruthlessness towards people he thought either incompetent or even just pompous. People who did not know him well – particularly non-Russians – thought his conversation, his sharply pointed Jewish jokes, his derisive comments on all kinds of Sacred Cows, unbearably cynical. And others, who had known them both, said that he reminded them of Karl Radek (an ominous comparison). To myself it never seemed that anyone who had such a powerful enthusiasm for life – for the humour of life, for all manifestations of vigorous life from a tank battle to Elizabethan literature to a good circus – could possibly be described properly as ‘cynical’. Realistic is perhaps the word – but that is not quite correct either, because it implies, or might imply, a dry practicality which was quite lacking from his nature. At any rate so far as his personal life and fate were concerned he unquestionably and positively enjoyed the sense of danger, and sometimes – by his political indiscretions, for instance, or his still more wildly indiscreet love affairs – deliberately created dangers which need not have existed.61