The Battle for Spain

by Antony Beevor

  As in Barcelona in July, the decision to defend Madrid inspired mass bravery. The terror and loathing which the colonial troops aroused in the madrileños helped turn panic into a spirit of fierce resistance. In the Plaza de Atocha a large placard warned: ‘In Badajoz the fascists shot 2,000. If Madrid falls they will shoot half the city.’ Chains of women and children passed rocks and stones for the construction of barricades. Trenches were dug on the threatened western flank of the city. Houses in the south-west suburb of Carabanchel were prepared for a street-by-street defence.

  At this moment of crisis, when the fighting reached the southern suburbs, there was a mass mobilization. Metal workers created the slogan ‘Every union syndicate a militia, every union member a militiaman’. The UGT and CNT syndicates formed themselves into battalions of railwaymen, barbers and tailors. There was a battalion of schoolmasters and a graphic arts battalion. Transport and buildings were requisitioned and, as in Barcelona, the Ritz Hotel was turned into a canteen for the homeless and refugees. The junta itself took over the palace of Juan March, where typists worked in the ballroom under huge chandeliers, which jangled ominously once the air raids and shelling started.

  Miaja’s junta was a strange mixture. Nearly all the members were young and energetic, several being still in their twenties; as a result they were known as ‘Miaja’s infant guard’. On the other hand the old general, myopic, loquacious and incapable of staying with a subject, was no revolutionary. In fact, he had been a member of the Unión Militar Española, which played an important part in the early planning for the rising. However, he craved popularity and was easily flattered. The communists promoted him as the hero of Madrid, giving him an idealized treatment in their press throughout the world. Miaja was thrilled and even became a Party member to repay the compliment, though joining as many political organizations as possible seemed to be his major indulgence. Azaña laughed at Miaja’s ‘communism’, remembering that the general had told him only four years previously that socialists should be shot.11

  A chill warning of future developments came with Rosenberg’s veto of any POUM representation on the junta. This overtly ignored the principle of political parity, which had so benefited the communists up to then. Rosenberg made it clear that there would be no Soviet weapons if the ‘Trotskyists’ were included. (Andrés Nin had, in fact, broken with Trotsky, who was critical of the POUM, but Nin remained an anti-Stalinist.) ‘Public order’ in Madrid was to take on a frightening aspect; NKVD officers remained in the capital after all the other non-military Russian personnel had left. The situation was worsened by Mola’s use of the phrase ‘fifth column’. Not surprisingly this ill-judged remark greatly increased the fear of treachery from within and unleashed another round of repression.

  The Civil Guard, now the Republican Guard, was ruthlessly purged. This drastic act was encouraged by memories of their revolt at Badajoz on Yagüe’s approach. The Assault Guard were treated in a similar manner and sent down to Valencia. The communist 5th Regiment took control of the vast majority of security operations, and the security delegate, Santiago Carrillo, presided over a spate of arrests and summary executions which may have exceeded those of July and August. There is no doubt that there were many nationalist supporters in Madrid, but the overwhelming majority of attacks attributed to the fifth column came from a frightened population mistaking the direction of machine-gun fire or confusing artillery shells with ‘grenades dropped from windows’.

  It is difficult to know whether the junta authorities acted out of genuine fear of a ‘stab in the back’, or whether they purposely exaggerated incidents in order to justify the security forces’ ruthless methods. Spy mania was at its height, and the telephones were cut off to prevent nationalist sympathizers from telephoning intelligence to the Army of Africa in the suburbs. The activities, real and imagined, of the fifth column could not, however, justify the decision to evacuate inmates of the Model Prison to Paracuellos del Jarama and then shoot them. Many were leading nationalist supporters.12

  It is not known for sure whether this order was given by Carrillo’s assistant, José Cazorla, or by Koltsov, the Pravda correspondent and special envoy, who declared that ‘such important elements must not fall into fascist hands’. Immediate and outspoken condemnation of the killings came from Melchor Rodríguez, the anarchist director of prisons newly appointed by Juan García Oliver, but few others dared to criticize the communists at such a critical moment.

  The decision to deal with the prisoners was taken on 8 November at 10.30 during a meeting between representatives of the United Socialist Youth and the local federation of the CNT. The prisoners were classified according to three groups:

  First group: Fascists and dangerous elements. Immediate execution, concealing [our] responsibility.

  Second group: Non-dangerous prisoners. Immediate evacuation to the prison of Chinchilla, with full security.

  Third group: Prisoners not responsible [for any crimes]. To be set at liberty immediately to demonstrate to foreign embassies our humanitarianism.13

  There is no evidence to suggest that either Miaja’s Junta of Defence or the government in Valencia were informed of this decision taken by Santiago Carrillo and Amor Nuño, both just twenty years old, which cost at least 2,000 lives. (Santiago Carrillo was later the leader of the Spanish Communist Party and the great proponent of Euro-Communism in the latter part of the Cold War, an attempt to distance Western Communist Parties from the rusty iron hand of the Soviet Union.) It has been claimed that their ruthless policy prevented a revolt by the ‘fifth column’, but although there is no doubt that there were many nationalist supporters still hidden in the city, they had neither the arms nor the organization to undertake such an action.

  Meanwhile, militia units were falling back into the capital, exhausted and demoralized. Some had fled openly, even seizing ambulances to get away from the Moors, but others were fighting back with a dogged courage which slowed the nationalist advance. In fact, it would appear that the militia collapse was exaggerated by newsmen who saw only those who were fleeing. On 4 November Getafe and its aerodrome were captured, prompting Varela to tell journalists that they could ‘announce to the world that Madrid will be captured this week’. To the west Brunete had been taken two days before. The newspaper ABC in Seville declared: ‘We are only a 4.60 peseta taxi ride from the city.’

  The nationalists were already organizing food convoys so as to be able to feed the population once they entered the city. Even the cautious Franco felt the outcome was virtually certain, so certain, indeed, that he decided to allow republican troops a line of escape so that they were not forced to fight by being cornered. As a result, no push was made towards Vallecas to cut the Valencia road. It was a decision the nationalists greatly regretted later.

  In spite of the republicans’ retreat, there had been a major development to improve the morale of the militias. Russian aid purchased with the gold reserves was starting to arrive. Maisky, the Russian ambassador in London, and thus representative on the Non-Intervention Committee, had declared on 28 October that his country felt itself no more bound by the agreement than Germany, Italy or Portugal. This was the day before the T-26 tanks attacked Seseña.

  The first batch of Russian aid, which arrived in October, included 42 Illyushin 15 (Chato) biplane fighters, and 31 Illyushin 16 (Mosca) monoplane fighters. On 29 October a squadron of Katiuska fast bombers, which had just arrived, raided Seville, and on 3 November Chato fighters were seen over Madrid. A day later they dispersed a formation of Fiat fighters and held their own against the Heinkel 51s. The streets of Madrid were thronged with crowds staring up into the skies and cheering whenever an aircraft was hit; it was always assumed to be an enemy. They did not know, however, that Soviet ‘fighters over the Madrid sector were ordered to conduct air battles over their own territory, and to enter enemy territory only so far that they would be able, should the engine stop, to glide back to our own lines’.14 The arrival of this modern Soviet weaponry,
especially the tanks and the stubby I-16 Mosca monoplane, made the Nazis decide to increase their aid. With Franco’s agreement it was to be organized within an independent German command and named the Condor Legion.

  Having advanced the last few kilometres to the south-western outskirts of the city, Varela began to make probing attacks on 5 November as he tried to decide the best approach. The western side of Madrid had no suburb buffer because the old royal hunting ground of the Casa de Campo stretched down to the River Manzanares. Madrid’s centre and key buildings all lay within a kilometre of this exposed triangle, bound by the Corunna road running north-west, and the Estremadura road stretching to the south-west. On the north of the wedge lay the new university city with its widely spaced modern blocks. Varela, who had some 15,000 men altogether, wanted to make a left-flanking attack round the northern tip of the Casa de Campo, in the area of the San Fernando bridge, but Franco insisted on attacking straight on. He wanted to reduce street fighting, especially in working-class districts, to a minimum. Nationalist troops were clearly superior in open country while the majority of their casualties, especially among the regulares, had been sustained in house clearing.

  The next day Varela issued his orders for the attack scheduled for 7 November. There would be feint attacks against the Segovia and Princesa bridges to distract the defenders, while the main thrust would take place towards the sector which ran from the University City to the Plaza de España. Castejón’s column would protect the left flank and occupy Garabitas hill and part of the Casa de Campo. Asensio, with his column, was to advance from the centre of the wedge towards the sector of Rosales and Princesa. Delgado Serrano was ordered to head for the Plaza de España. He would be supported by the Italian Ansaldos and the Panzer Mark Is of Colonel von Thoma.

  Miaja had established his military headquarters in the finance ministry on 6 November, the day the government left for Valencia. His chief of staff was Colonel Vicente Rojo, described by his opponents as ‘one of the most competent members of the Spanish army’.15 But not all agreed. General Alonso Baquer wrote later that Rojo was a ‘mixture of Russian populism and French scholasticism’, which meant in the latter case, that as a graduate of the Ecole Supérieure de Guerre, he was anchored in the French doctrines of the First World War. Curiously, the republican army’s slavish respect for French military doctrine later convinced Franco and his Axis allies that officers from the French army were secretly directing operations.16

  Neither Miaja nor Rojo, however, knew what forces they had under their command, nor who was on their staff. Many officers had taken advantage of the confusion to flee the city and some of them, including the former chief of operations, had joined the nationalists. Even Miaja’s orders from the central government were contradictory, for he was told to hold Madrid at any cost yet also given detailed instructions for retreat towards Cuenca.

  General Goriev, the man said by many to be the real commander in Madrid, was established in the ministry as well. One of his officers, Colonel Nikolai Voronov, controlled the artillery, although few batteries had any shells because of incompetence at the ministry of war. (Six years later Voronov commanded the artillery at Stalingrad and took Paulus’s surrender.) He and his Spanish counterpart established their observation post at the top of the Telefónica, a building which later attracted more nationalist artillery fire than any other. Ironically, this skyscraper belonging to the American corporation International Telephone and Telegraph, ITT, became the symbol of left-wing resistance during the course of the battle. Downstairs its chairman, Sosthenes Behn, entertained journalists with brandy while awaiting the arrival of General Franco. According to Hitler’s interpreter, Paul Schmidt, he had prepared a banquet to greet the conquerors.17

  The international press was already describing ‘the last hours of Madrid’. Several French journalists even sent details of the capital’s capture so as to beat their rivals to the story. The correspondent of L’Illustration declared, ‘Decisive victory is imminent’ and Léon Bailby wrote, ‘Nothing can be done to prevent the evident truth. Madrid will be taken rapidly, and that will be the final victory for the nationalists.’18 Portuguese radio gave vivid details of General Franco’s triumphal entry, mounted on a white charger. It also claimed that José Antonio Primo de Rivera had escaped and was advancing on Madrid at the head of a column of civilians.19 Telegrams from the Austrian and Guatemalan governments congratulating Franco on his victory were delivered to General Miaja instead. The nationalists and their allies simply did not consider that their success was in doubt. According to the Daily Telegraph correspondent, Carlist requetés were hurried forward so that Spanish Catholic troops were present at the entry. Reprisal tribunals and Civil Guard detachments allocated to each district waited behind the front line. Even the usually cautious General Franco had declared that he would attend mass in Madrid on 7 November and ordered his staff to make travel arrangements for Church leaders.

  The world awaited the outcome of ‘a decisive battle’ between progress and reaction, or between civilization and red barbarism, depending on one’s point of view. Liberals and the left everywhere believed that international fascism had to be defeated at Madrid before Europe fell beneath a totalitarian ice age, while conservatives felt it to be the chance to halt the tide of communism. At this crucial moment the defenders were greatly aided by a fortunate discovery, following Varela’s decision to delay his attack by a day. On 7 November, the day before the postponed attack, a militia detachment searched the body of Captain Vidal-Quadras, a nationalist officer in an Italian tank which had been knocked out. In his jacket they found the operational orders.

  The plan was to ‘occupy the zone between, and including, the University City and the Plaza de España, which will constitute the base of departure for further advances into the interior of Madrid’.20 Now knowing that the assault on Carabanchel was only a feint, the republican general staff switched the bulk of its forces to the Casa de Campo sector and prepared defensive positions for the next morning. Non-militia members of the UGT organized themselves at their casas del pueblo and CNT members at their ateneos libertarios before going to the front as reserves. They and everyone else, including the refugees from the south-west, were to wait in batches immediately behind the front line, ready to dash forward and take over the weapon of anyone killed. The reassuring presence of such a mass of comrades may have been like an injection of courage, but that night inexperienced sentries on their own took fright at shadows and opened fire. This inevitably led to fusilades into the dark across the whole sector, resulting in a wastage of ammunition. Any indiscriminate firing was serious as there were apparently fewer than ten rounds per rifle; the departing officials of the war ministry had not left word of where the ammunition reserves were kept.

  On the morning of 8 November Varela’s three main assault forces under Yagüe attacked out of the cover provided by the low trees on the Casa de Campo. Castejón’s column came under heavy fire and he was severely wounded. At the same time Barrón’s and Tella’s smaller columns moved on Carabanchel in their diversionary attack. Being forewarned, Miaja had maintained only about 12,000 of his 40,000-strong force in Carabanchel; the rest were positioned opposite the Casa de Campo. This heterogeneous mass of militia, including a women’s battalion at the Puente de Segovia, mixed with carabineros and regular soldiers, and backed by totally untrained volunteers, was twice the size of their opponents. But that does not belittle their achievement that day, considering the difference in armament and experience. Probably less than half of the republicans had been involved in earlier fighting and had only learned how to operate the bolt and aim a rifle the evening before. Many still had no idea of how to clear a stoppage, an operation difficult enough for steady fingers. Nevertheless, the nationalist assault columns were held at the western edge of the city that day, a victory of great psychological importance. The Army of Africa no longer appeared invincible. Republican spirits were further raised by the deployment that evening in the Casa de Campo
sector of the first of the International Brigades.

  The arrival of XI International Brigade, commanded by General Kléber, had a powerful effect on the population of Madrid. It was generally regarded as the best of the Brigades. Its steadiness, ammunition discipline and trench digging was to have a good influence on the militias. As the 1,900 foreigners marched up the Gran Vía in well-drilled step, the madrileños cheered them with cries of ‘¡Vivan los rusos!’, on the mistaken assumption that they were the infantry counterpart of the fighter aircraft. ‘There were many old women among the locals who welcomed us,’ wrote a Serbian serving under the nom de guerre of Karl Anger. ‘They were wiping tears from their eyes with one hand, while the other hand was raised, with the fist clenched, in a Rot Front greeting…These clenched fists of old Spanish women made us more courageous and determined.’21

  The almost suicidal bravery of XI International Brigade, especially the Germans, cannot be doubted, but the exploitation of their devotion was particularly unpleasant. General Kléber (alias Manfred Stern) was turned into a hero, but this was dangerous for him later when he was accused by fellow Soviet officers of ‘Kléberism’, which meant claiming all the glory for yourself at the expense of the Spanish.22 Madrid was to be the Communist Party’s victory alone. Communist troops under the Italian commissar, Luigi Longo, had tried to stop Major Palacios with two battalions of volunteers and a battery of Vickers 105mm field guns from reaching the capital the day before XI International Brigade arrived. They forced their way through, nevertheless, and were welcomed by General Miaja and Colonel Rojo just before the Brigaders turned up. Soon after dawn on the next morning, these two battalions counterattacked over the San Fernando bridge on the nationalist left flank in the Casa de Campo, losing nearly half their men and retaking the northeastern part lost on the previous day. But nothing was heard of this in the outside world, nor were other militia actions reported. It was forgotten that the Brigaders had not appeared in time to affect the fighting on 8 November and that they represented only 5 per cent of the republican forces. So successful was Comintern propaganda that Sir Henry Chilton, the British ambassador, was convinced that only foreigners defended Madrid. Meanwhile, the nationalists also exaggerated the Brigaders’ importance, so as to justify their own failure and emphasize the ‘threat of international communism’.