This is a factual account of the author's participation in the Spanish Civil War on the Aragon front in the foothills of the Pyrenees.

 

I have some difficulty understanding why a 33 year old married man would want to put his life at risk by participating in someone else's civil war.  He said that it was only by first hand experience that, as a journalist, he could write about the war convincingly.

Life on the front is tough.  Being winter, it is extremely cold and difficult to get any sleep in the trenches.  Although the camaraderie is great the militia is extremely poorly equipped.  There are hardly enough rifles to go around and those that they have are in such poor condition that they are dangerous.  There are no changes of clothing so there is a lice infestation.  Much of the militia is made up of children and teenagers.  Military training is almost non-existent.  Machine guns are very scarce and they have no mortars.  They have a few grenades but generally the ammunition is insufficient for a lengthy engagement with the enemy.  In spite of all this, morale is quite good.  However, in the proletarian society, the officers could not actually give orders.  The author spent several months at the front.  There was only sporadic engagement with the Fascist enemy.  Although bullets flew, they were mostly wide of the target. 

 

As the weather became warmer, the author returned to Barcelona on leave.  It was here that he became involved in street battles between the different political factions.  Something like a thousand people were killed and this more than anything else must have lead to the demise of the Spanish republic at the hands of General Franco's Fascist forces.  The political factions on the republican side were the Communists, the Marxists, and the Anarchists.  The Marxists were declared to be Fascist spies and its members were thrown into gaol whenever they were found.  The camaraderie existing at the front contrasted with the suspicion found in Barcelona.

 

The author returns to the front.  Just after sunrise he is shot through the neck.  He gives a detailed description of what it is like to be shot.  He said that he felt no immediate pain on impact but that it was rather like the jolt of an electric shock.  Then he felt his knees crumbling and he hit his head as he fell.  His mouth filled with blood but there was still no pain until his arm became excruciatingly painful.  It is unclear whether he injured his arm on falling or whether the pain was caused by nerves being severed by the passage of the bullet through his neck.  The author is evacuated to hospital and rather surprisingly survives the ordeal.

 

Although the detail description of the political situation in Barcelona is heavy going, it is probably a more accurate account than foreign newspapers were able to gave their readers.

 

After returning to Barcelona the second time, the author was in danger of being arrested as having fought for an outlawed organisation as were some of his comrades.  He showed great generosity of spirit, something he commends the Spanish for, in running the risk of capture by approaching the army to obtain the release of his Belgian commanding officer in the militia by delivering a letter.  After this, the author and his wife again risked capture at the border on crossing into France.

 

An English comrade who served on the Aragon front with the author has written an introduction.  He maintains that although the author died of tuberculosis ten years later, the bullet wound was a contributing factor to his death.