Carlism, a right-wing political
movement, was created in 1833. The group took its name from Don Carlos,
the youngest brother of King Ferdinand VII (1784-1833) and would-be
King Carlos V.
Carlists were opposed to
liberal secularism and economic and political modernism. As a result
it received considerable support from the Spanish Catholic Church.
It was particularly strong in Navarre, Valencia, Aragon and Old Castile.
After the abdication of
Alfonso
XIII,
the Carlists led the opposition to the Second Republic. By 1936 the
Carlist Youth had 30,000 members. Of these, an estimated 10,000 were
armed, making it the strongest right-wing paramilitary force in Spain.
On 15th January 1936, Manuel
Azaña helped
to establish a coalition
of parties on the political left to fight the national elections
due to take place the following month. This included the Socialist
Party (PSOE), Communist Party (PCE)
and the Republican Union Party.
The Popular
Front, as the coalition became known, advocated the restoration
of Catalan autonomy, amnesty for political prisoners, agrarian reform,
an end to political blacklists and the payment of damages for property
owners who suffered during the revolt of 1934. The Anarchists
refused to support the coalition and instead urged people not to vote.
Right-wing groups in Spain
formed the National Front. This included the Carlists and the CEDA.
The Falange Española did not officially
join but most of its members supported the aims of the National Front.
The Spanish people voted
in the General Election on Sunday, 16th
February, 1936. Out of a possible 13.5 million voters, over 9,870,000
participated in the election. 4,654,116 people (34.3) voted for the
Popular Front, whereas the National Front obtained 4,503,505 (33.2)
and the centre parties got 526,615 (5.4). The Popular Front, with
263 seats out of the 473 in the Cortes
formed the new government.
During the
Spanish Civil War the
Carlists provided the Nationalists with some of their staunchest troops.
It is estimated that between 70,000 and 100,000 Carlists joined the
Nationalist
Army.
In April 1937, General
Francisco
Franco united
the Carlist, the Falange Española,
and other right-wing parties to form a single party under his control.
(1)
Peter Kemp, a graduate of Cambridge University,
joined the Carlists during the Spanish
Civil War. He wrote about his experiences
in his book, Mine Were of Trouble (1957)
I was ordered to report to Cancela. I found him talking with some
legionaries who had brought in a deserter from the International Brigades
- an Irishman from Belfast; he had given himself up to one of our
patrols down by the river. Cancela wanted me to interrogate him. The
man explained that he had been a seaman on a British ship trading
to Valencia, where he had got very drunk one night, missed his ship
and been picked up by the police. The next thing he knew, he was in
Albacete, impressed into the International Brigades. He knew that
if he tried to escape in Republican Spain he would certainly be retaken
and shot; and so he had bided his time until he reached the front,
when he had taken the first opportunity to desert. He had been wandering
around for two days before he found our patrol.
I was not absolutely sure
that he was telling the truth; but I knew that if I seemed to doubt
his story he would be shot, and I was resolved to do everything in
my power to save his life. Translating his account to Cancela, I urged
that this was indeed a special case; the
man was a deserter, not a prisoner, and we should be unwise as
well as unjust to shoot him. Moved either by my arguments, or by
consideration for my feelings. Cancela agreed to spare him, subject
to de Mora's consent; I had better go and see de Mora at once while
Cancela would see that the deserter had something to eat.
De Mora was sympathetic.
"You seem to have a good case," he said. "Unfortunately
my orders from Colonel Penaredonda are to shoot all foreigners. If
you can get his consent I'll be delighted to let the man
off. You'll find the Colonel over there, on the highest of those
hills. Take the prisoner
with you, in case there are any questions, and
your two runners as escort.'
It was an exhausting walk
of nearly a mile with the midday sun blazing on our backs. "Does
it get any hotter in this country?" the deserter asked as we
panted up the steep
sides of a ravine, the sweat pouring down our faces
and backs.
"You haven't seen
the half of it yet. Wait another three months," I
answered, wondering grimly whether I should be able to win him even
another three hours of life.
I found Colonel Penaredonda
sitting cross-legged with a plate of fried eggs on his knee. He greeted
me amiably enough as I stepped forward and saluted; I had taken care
to leave the prisoner well out of earshot. I repeated his story, adding
my own plea at the end, as I had with Cancela and de Mora. "I
have the fellow here, sir," I concluded, "in case you wish
to ask him any questions." The Colonel did not look up from his
plate: "No, Peter," he said casually, his mouth
full of egg, "I don't want to ask him anything. Just take him
away and shoot him.'
I was so astonished that
my mouth dropped open; my heart seemed
to stop beating. Penaredonda looked up, his eyes full of hatred:
"Get out!" he
snarled. "You heard what I said." As I withdrew he shouted
after me: "I warn you, I intend to see that this order is carried
out."
Motioning the prisoner
and escort to follow, I started down the hill;
I would not walk with them, for I knew that he would question me
and I could not bring myself to speak. I decided not to tell him until
the last possible moment, so that at least he might be spared the
agony of waiting. I even thought of telling him to try to make a
break for it while I distracted the escorts' attention; then I remembered
Penaredonda's parting words and, looking back, saw a pair of
legionaries following us at a distance. I was so numb with misery
and anger that I
didn't notice where I was going until I found myself in
front of de Mora once more. When I told him the news he bit his lip:
"Then I'm afraid
there's nothing we can do," he said gently. "You had better
carry out the execution yourself. Someone has got to do it, and it
will be easier for him to have a fellow-countryman around. After all,
he knows that you have tried to save him. Try to get it over quickly."
It was almost more than
I could bear to face the prisoner, where he stood between my two runners.
As I approached they dropped back a few paces, leaving us alone; they
were good men and understood what I was feeling. I forced myself to
look at him. I am sure he knew what I was going to say.
"I've got to shoot
you." A barely audible "Oh my God!" escaped him.
Briefly I told him how
I had tried to save him. I asked him if he wanted a priest, or a few
minutes by himself, and if there were any messages he wanted me to
deliver.
"Nothing," he
whispered, "please make it quick."
"That I can promise
you. Turn round and start walking straight ahead."
He held out his hand and
looked me in the eyes, saying only "Thank you."
"God bless you!"
I murmured.
As he turned his back
and walked away I said to my two runners:
"I beg you to aim
true. He must not feel anything." They nodded, and raised their
rifles. I looked away. The two shots exploded simultaneously.
"On
our honour, sir," the senior of the two said to me, "he
could not have felt a thing."
Available from Amazon Books
(order below)
