Part 20 (1/2)

NEWS FROM THE FRONT.

THE INTELLIGENCE AND PROPAGANDA COMMISSAR OF THE Twenty-ninth Division, as the POUM militia was called, issued his communique about the glorious victory at Huesca a day and a half later at his headquarters at the big, battered house at La Granja. The recipients of the news were a crew of mangy reporters who had spent the intervening hours in transit to the front by any means possible, in the hope of actually seeing something. Twenty-ninth Division, as the POUM militia was called, issued his communique about the glorious victory at Huesca a day and a half later at his headquarters at the big, battered house at La Granja. The recipients of the news were a crew of mangy reporters who had spent the intervening hours in transit to the front by any means possible, in the hope of actually seeing something.

The statement was typed and posted on a bulletin board outside militia headquarters. It read, Our troops advanced in perfect order in a series of well-coordinated movements until in several places around the city, the Fascist lines were broken. In this new situation, they inflicted grievous casualties upon the enemy, taking from his stores much valuable war materiel. It was another example of working people, in service to the revolution, triumphing against all odds and defeating the German-Italian-Rebel Combine. Many prisoners were taken and much of intelligence value was also removed.Later in the morning, our troops, sensing they had achieved their tactical goals, repositioned themselves so as to consolidate their gains.

”In other words,” said the Reuters man, ”it was another b.l.o.o.d.y muck-up.”

”What I'm wondering,” said the man from the Standard Standard, ”is b.l.o.o.d.y why the whole thing was tossed together at the doubletime. They usually don't like to move so fast, they like to take their b.l.o.o.d.y time. Manana Manana, eh? Always b.l.o.o.d.y manana.” manana.”

”G.o.d, the Spanish. Anytime you've got the Spanish and the Italians in the same war, you've got the potential for a comic opera on a grand scale.”

There were several reporters, however, who did not take part in the cynical give and take, perhaps because they were new to the front or new to war reporting or new to Spain. One of these was a tall, elderly Dutchman of intellectual carriage named Ver Steeg-Ver Staig Staig, the p.r.o.nunciation went, he informed them, his only utterance thus far-who worked for a Dutch press syndicate. He appeared to listen intently to all that was said and when at last the bulletin's author, Commissar Steinbach, appeared to answer, however obliquely, questions, this spry old fellow moved to the front of the crowd.

”Comrade Steinbach, we hear rumors that the Thaelmann Column of the PSUC Militia did not enthusiastically support the POUM and the Anarcho-Syndicalists in this attack, even though the worker's militias have been theoretically combined under one leaders.h.i.+p,” the Daily Mail Daily Mail man began. man began.

”Is this an essay or do you have a question, Mr. Janeway?” Comrade Steinbach replied with an icy gleam in his famously bright good eye.

”The question, Comrade Steinbach, is, first, did the Communist militia aid in the attack, and second-”

Steinbach, a witty man whose incisiveness of mind was as famous as his bright eye, enjoyed these sessions, and interrupted swiftly. ”Each militia performed its duties outstandingly,” he said. ”The Anarchists were brilliant, the Communists heroic, and our own Workers Party troops solid as a rock. There is sufficient glory for each.” He smiled.

”Is it not a fact, comrade,” asked Sampson, the Times Times man, ”that your forces are in exactly the same situation-that is, the same trenches-as before the attack?” man, ”that your forces are in exactly the same situation-that is, the same trenches-as before the attack?”

”Certain modifications of our positions were necessary late in the attack as a means of consolidating our advances.”

”In order, if I may follow up, to consolidate your advances, you had to abandon them?”

”It is well known that the Times Times will write whatever it chooses, regardless of the truth, Comrade Sampson, so why bother to press on this issue?” He smiled blandly. will write whatever it chooses, regardless of the truth, Comrade Sampson, so why bother to press on this issue?” He smiled blandly.

”We've heard that the German troops of the Thaelmann Brigade, under the command of Communist Party commissars, never left their trenches, thus isolating your people in the Fascist parapets, and that the slaughter was awful.”

”Good heavens, how do these terrible rumors get started? Fifth columnists, gentlemen, fifth columnists spreading lies. In fact, political solidarity was observed throughout the operation. Losses were acceptable.”

”Why was the attack put together so hastily?”

”The attack was organized at a normal pace.”

”Comrade Steinbach, you know as well as we do these things are prepared weeks in advance. It seems clear this one was thrown together in less than forty-eight hours. What's the reason?”

”The attack proceeded normally.”

”Is it true that the Twenty-ninth Division-that is, the POUM militia and the POUM itself-has staked its survival on breaking the siege at Huesca, and as external political pressure against POUM mounts, so will the pressure to take Huesca?” Sampson asked.

”This is a purely military situation; it has no political ramifications. I suggest you check with the Central Committee at Party headquarters in Barcelona for any political questions.”

”Will we be able to tour the battlefield?”

”In due time.”

”Will you release casualty figures?”

”It would serve no purpose.”

”Were British troops involved in the action?”

”The British Centura of the POUM militia-excuse me, the Twenty-ninth Division-had a brave and leading role in the drama. The Centura is a unit of roughly one hundred men, who have been a proud part of the militia since August of 1936. These were among the most ardent troops in the attack.”

At last the Dutch reporter spoke.

”Were there any British casualties?”

Steinbach paused a second.

”It is with deep regret,” he said, ”that I announce the death of a revolutionary fighter of great heroism, idealism, and discipline. He was also a great poet and scholar. Julian Raines, author of the famous poem 'Achilles, Fool,' was killed in action in the attack against Fascist troops on the outskirts of Huesca.”

There was a gasp.

”Also,” Steinbach continued, ”a British writer named Robert Furry perished.”

The press party moved to the trench and Steinbach showed the correspondents the line of attack through a bra.s.s telescope.

”As you can see, gentlemen,” he said, ”it's terrible terrain to cross at night, but our brave fighters were able to get within bomb range before being spotted. You can see the redoubt.”

”Keep your 'eads low, boys,” called a redheaded c.o.c.kney captain with a b.l.o.o.d.y leg. ”Bob the Nailer don't give a b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.n who you are.”

”Is that where the Englishmen died?” asked Sampson.

”b.l.o.o.d.y right,” said the runty little man. ”Up there. Comrade Julian went out alone to bomb an enemy machine gun. His chum went out after him. They sent the gun to h.e.l.l, but neither man made it back.”

”I say, captain,” said Sampson, ”what's your name? And what part of England are you from.”

”Legion, chum. And I'm from all over.”

”Hmmm. So there are no bodies?”

”No. But no man could survive up there,” said Steinbach.

”Perhaps they were taken prisoner,” said a young American correspondent-to some laughter.

”I'm afraid prisoners are seldom taken on this front,” said Steinbach, a special, almost magical vividness coming into his good eye. ”We all feel his loss keenly. He was one of those special men. You are all familiar with his poem 'Achilles, Fool,' which has been taken to express the confusion of a generation. Well, perhaps by the end, Comrade Raines had solved his confusion.”

”What about this other chap?”

”Only Julian Raines is important, as the symbol of a revolutionary generation who, rather than living his life in the comfortable circ.u.mstances of his birth, instead chose to come to Spain and risk everything for his beliefs.”

”Sounds like you're trying to get one more drop of blood out of the poor wasted sot,” said the Reuters man.

”Gentlemen,” said Steinbach, coyly pretending to shock, ”you are too cynical. Let me read you from Comrade Raines's last, unfinished poem. It's called 'Pons' and was discovered among his effects.”