In April 1938
the Nationalist
Army broke through
the Republican defences and reached the sea. General Francisco
Franco now moved
his troops towards Valencia with the
objective of encircling Madrid and the
central front.
Juan
Negrin, in an attempt to relieve the pressure on the Spanish capital,
ordered an attack across the fast-flowing Ebro. General Juan
Modesto, a member of the Communist
Party (PCE), was placed in charge of the offensive. Over 80,000
Republican troops, including the 15th
International Brigade and the British
Battalion, began crossing the river in boats on 25th July. The
men then moved forward towards Corbera and Gandesa.
On 26th July the Republican
Army attempted
to capture Hill 481, a key position at Gandesa. Hill 481 was well
protected with barbed wire, trenches and bunkers. The Republicans
suffered heavy casualties and after six days was forced to retreat
to Hill 666 on the Sierra Pandols. It successfully defended the hill
from a Nationalist offensive in September but once again large numbers
were killed.
On 23rd September, Juan
Negrin, head of the Republican government, announced at the League
of Nations in Geneva that the International
Brigades would be unilaterally withdrawn from Spain.
That night the 15th Brigade and the British
Battalion moved back across the River Ebro and began their journey
out of the country.
The rest of the Republican
Army remained
and had to endure continuous attacks from the Condor
Legion.
General Gonzalo
Queipo de Llano also
brought forward 500 cannon which fired an average of 13,500 rounds
a day at the Republicans. By the middle of November, the Republicans
were forced to retreat.
During the battle of Ebro
the Nationalist
Army had 6,500
killed and nearly 30,000 wounded. These were the worst casualties
of the war but it finally destroyed the Republican
Army as a fighting
force.
(1)
Jack
Jones, was with the International
Brigades at Ebro. He wrote about
his experiences in his autobiography, Union Man (1986)
People have asked me: "Did you kill anyone in Spain"? Frankly,
I do not know, but it is possible. In that engagement I didn't think
of death, yet people
were being killed and wounded by my side. In battle, one experiences
a numbness that is difficult to describe; one's first impulse is to
protect oneself as much as possible and then to fire in the direction
of the enemy. One tries to pinpoint a target, but almost in a frenzy.
To keep cool and calm in such circumstances is an ideal
not easily achieved. Nor did I have great confidence in the accuracy
of my rifle. It was a Remington-type rifle, Russian made, and after
firing a few rounds the bolt got very hot. All I do know is that some
of my comrades were killed and wounded and men on the other side suffered
the same fate. That is war.
There were many casualties
and I became one of them. Once more I
had clambered up the hill with my comrades, taking cover where we
could and firing
at the enemy wherever he appeared. The bullets of the
snipers whizzed over, grenades and shells were striking the ground,
throwing up earth
and dust and showering us with shrapnel. Suddenly my
shoulder and right arm went numb. Blood gushed from my shoulder and
I couldn't lift my rifle. I could do nothing but lie where I was.
Near me a comrade had been killed and I could hear the cries of others,
complaining of their wounds. While I was lying there, to make things
worse, a spray of shrapnel hit my right arm. The stretcher bearers
were doing their best but could hardly keep up with the number of
casualties. As night fell I made my own way, crawling to the bottom
of the hill. I was taken with other wounded men down the line to an
emergency field hospital at Mora del Ebro where I was given an anti-tetanus
injection. The place was like an abattoir; there was blood and the
smell of blood everywhere.
(2)
Hugh Thomas, The Spanish Civil War (1961)
A secret F.A.I. - Federacion
Anarquista Iberica - circular of September 1938 pointed out that of
7,000 promotions in the Army since May 5,500 had been Communists.
In the Army of the Ebro out of 27 brigades, 25 were commanded by
Communists, while all 9 divisional commanders, 3 army corps commanders,
and the supreme commander (Modesto) were Communists. This was the
most extreme case of Communist control, but the proportions for the
Anarchists were nearly as depressing elsewhere. In all six armies
of Republican Spain the Anarchists believed the proportions to be
163 Communist brigade commanders to 33 Anarchists, 61 divisional commanders
to 9 Anarchists, 15 army corps commanders to 2 Anarchists (with 4
Anarchist sympathizers), and 3 Communist army commanders, 2 sympathizers
and one neutral.
(3)
Tom
Murray
took part in the Ebro
offensive. He wrote about his experience in Voices
From the Spanish Civil War (1986)
The crossing of the Ebro
at night was a remarkable performance. The pontoons consisted of narrow
buoyant sections tied together and men would sit straddled across
the junctions of these sections to hold them firm, because the Ebro
was a very fast-flowing river. And then others went across in boats.
The mules were swum across. We went across the pontoons carrying our
weapons, our machine guns. We had light machine guns as well as the
heavy ones. We had five machine gun groups in our Company. No two
people had to be on one section at the same time. We got across all
right, lined up and marched up to the top of the hill.
The Fascists got scared
stiff. They had been about to celebrate Mass, some of them, down in
the valley, and there were tons, great streams of white muslin, which
had been part of the preparation for this mass. We used them as mosquito
nets, as a matter of fact, later on.
But we crossed the Ebro
and made a rapid advance towards Gandesa. The real fighting then began,
because the Nazi German planes were sent back and they bombed us like
the devil. However we got our machine guns set up and we defended
ourselves. I think we maybe made a tactical mistake in not rushing
down right past and round Gandcsa to prevent the Fascists fortifying
it, which they did next day.
(4)
Luis
Bolin, Spain, the Vital Years (1967)
The Red onslaught on the Ebro was
launched on 25 July. For some time we had known that our opponents
were planning to cross the river, but so stealthily was the operation
carried out and so well had it been rehearsed beforehand that part
of our troops were taken by surprise. Hundreds of boats, built in
Barcelona, had been stored near the river in preparation for the attack.
The sluggish waters of the Ebro, wide in all places, deep in some,
fordable at others, were crossed by the enemy at night. Bridges were
rapidly set up. Some of our positions were overwhelmed; others were
isolated and surrounded by the triumphant Republicans.
Our opponents fought well,
at times outstandingly well, yet there were signs of demoralization
in their ranks. Threats of drastic punishments were being circulated
to deter their troops from giving way to negligence or cowardice.
Any man who lost his rifle would be shot without trial and his name
would be published; soldiers who abandoned their posts or inflicted
wounds upon themselves would also be executed. Those who failed to
hold their ground would be forced to recapture it with their officers
marching in front. Though these threats were carried out, the Reds
surrendered daily in greater numbers, trusting more in the treatment
they hoped to receive from us than in the fate that awaited them should
they return defeated and unscathed. Combatants were urged to write
to the Government, declaring their will to win or die, but instead
of doing this units on their way to the Front complained they were
being led to a slaughter-house. Many preferred to desert and fight
on our side, a tendency shared alike by raw recruits and hardened
veterans, some of whom, at the outbreak of hostilities, had vociferously
proclaimed their unshakable abhorrence of all that we stood for.
Including prisoners, the
battle of the Ebro cost us 41,414 casualties, the enemy 70,000. The
so-called 'Army of Catalonia' was destroyed, International Brigades
faded from the picture, and on the enemy side the resultant shortage
of manpower was such that convicts were freely pardoned provided they
immediately enlisted. Out of a total of 19,653 men captured during
this battle, 45 per cent were approximately the same age as our soldiers,
10 per cent were older, the remaining 45 per cent younger. The Reds
were also promoting untrained men and threatening relatives of deserters
with reprisals of the utmost severity.
(5)
Lillian
Urmston,
was interviewed about her experiences at Ebro
during the Spanish
Civil War in
October 1938.
We moved forward to just a few kilometres from
the river Ebro.
We took a huge cave - our first bomb-proof hospital, and
installed 120 beds. For a few days the wounded poured in. Ambulances
were continually arriving, day and night. Then rumours began to circulate
that hundreds of wounded were lying on the other side of the river,
and could not be brought across. The fascist aviators were bombing
the pontoon bridges all day long, and all night long our fortification
battalions were repairing them. Also, almost all the territory which
we had taken was within range of the fascist artillery. We were all
sick with horror at the thought of this unnecessary suffering, and
begged our chiefs to send us across the river ...
The following morning,
at 1 a.m., the Spanish Medical Director told me to pack equipment
and be ready in 20 minutes to move across the river. I hurriedly issued
orders, and in a very short time we were ready. I was to go, along
with Dr Jolly, the Spanish doctors and sanitarios (medical auxiliaries),
and set up as large a hospital as possible.
Just as dawn was breaking,
we were crossing the newly-repaired pontoon bridges. We had just reached
the other side, and our ambulances were toiling along the hastily
prepared road, when we heard the familiar cry of 'Aviacion!' Ambulances
were pulled up at the side of the road, under the shelter of the cliffs
- and we lay in ditches, tense with expectation and apprehension.
But it was only our usual early morning caller, the observation plane.
We continued our journey for exactly 25 minutes, and then twelve huge
bombers came into sight. We all pulled into an olive grove, just off
the road, and hastily camouflaged our ambulances and autochir. Then,
a brief whistle - no movement - and we all lay down under trees and
bushes. The planes bombed all along the river banks, and roads and
crossroads. Our anti-aircraft guns were going magnificently, and managed
to bring down one bomber.
Suddenly came the familiar
rat-tat-tat of machine guns - they were strafing the helpless people
who happened to be anywhere in view. At last came a number, six I
think, of our pursuit planes, and engaged in a glorious dog fight.
It is a most stimulating sight,this, to see our small planes tackling
these gigantic bombers. After an hour of this the bombers soared higher,
and disappeared. We were all relieved. And weren't we hungry! Rations
of bully beef and bread were issued, then we again moved off. At 2
p.m. we reached Santa Magdalena, a huge white hermitage set high on
the hills. Rather a landmark - but the only available habitation.
We cheerfully acted as charwomen, then quickly set up a hospital.
We were again interrupted by a heavy bombardment - luckily the bombs
did not fall too near. By 11 p.m. our hospital was complete, and a
steady stream of ambulances started to arrive. We only received the
more severely wounded cases and our beds were quickly filled.
(6)
Gösta Karlsson was born in Hällefors,
Västmanland in 1915. In March 1937 Gösta Karlsson went to
Spain. He fought at Ebro
and was wounded in his face.
I had never been in any battle before the offensive at Ebro. I shot
a few shots at Ebro in May, but that hardly counts. Then, on the night
of the 25th of July, we rowed over the river in boats. When we reached
the other side, we were fired at. I jumped out of the boat. I could
stand on the bottom. I was going to shoot, but I had got water in
the rifle, and had to quickly remove the bolt to dry it out. Then
I shot some rounds and threw a grenade up the slope. But by then the
Swedish company had already broken through. We rushed forwards. There
were no Fascists left in the positions on the riverside, but they
had left a lot of stuff, like ammunition girdles and leather bags.
We didn't have anything like that. I carried my ammunition in a trouser
leg that had been sewn together. We had used Russian guns first, but
they were later exchanged for Czech carbines. The Poles were given
the Russian guns, so that each company would have uniform equipment.
The offensive continued. You can't remember everything. But I do remember
the Scandinavian Death-hill at Corbera.
One morning we were going
to storm. We advanced towards the Fascist positions, but met heavy
defence from the side. We received contra-orders. We had to retreat
to our original positions. I was in charge of a light machine-gun
together with a Danish guy. When we reached our positions he got a
ricochet in his back. It ripped off a little piece of meat. He gave
me the machine-gun and said: "Goodbye, comrade! I'm done for."
I pulled up his shirt to
take a look. It wasn't that bad. The wound was bleeding a lot, but
we managed to bandage it. Maybe he had gone into shock. It was a Czech
machine-gun. We took care of it for a long time, the Dane and me -
until he was wounded. After that I was alone among the Spaniards.
They had never received any military training. At times, when there
wasn't much fighting, I would sit and train them, taking my weapon
apart and putting it back together. During my time as a conscript
back in Sweden you'd got used to that kind of stuff. But I wasn't
licensed to use any machine-gun when I left home. You had to learn
it all down there."
Yes, if you compare it
to the conscript days. To go from shooting with a wooden plug to the
real thing… it can turn out that way. But I saw it more as a
job, actually. You went to Spain to help, and part of that help, when
you were on the font, was to try and eliminate the enemy. Before we
came to Ebro I was already used to it, having to take aim at people
and shoot. What you remember… is mostly how people around you
would get killed or wounded. I saw eight or nine Scandinavians killed
in one single artillery-explosion. We were going to relieve the others
out on the front. We marched in column, advancing through a grove,
but were discovered by enemy planes, and got all hellfire over us
from the artillery. That's when they died. We were headed over a hill.
In front of it was another hill, lower than the first. That's where
we were going. But we found a cave we could take cover in. There they
couldn't reach us with the artillery fire, and we waited in there
until it calmed down, before we headed for the positions. If you can
really call them positions. There were no trenches. We had to dig
little by little. It wasn't easy. You'd start out with a little pit,
and make it bigger with time… until we had trenches with connections
backwards as well. I was wounded three or four days before we were
going to be pulled off the front. It took place at Sierra Caballs.
I was temporarily outside of the trenches that evening, behind them.
They were shooting with grenade launchers in the dark. I heard the
hum - sort of like birds, when the grenades go by high above you.
But if they hit anywhere close by you don't have any time to hear
anything.
You just hear a sizzle
and then it's over. The grenade hit close to me. I had a burning sensation
in my cheek. I had blood in my eyes and couldn't see anything. I called
for the medics. They came, but couldn't see the wound in the dark.
I took his hand - and took it to my cheek so he could feel the wound.
He bandaged my entire head. The medic… a Catalan… led me
some kilometres backwards to the stretcher carriers. They carried
me into a first-aid tent. I was given a shot. Then they lifted me
into an ambulance. I fell asleep there and woke up in a hospital.
I can't remember where it was situated. I said to a friend: "I
think I've gone blind." But then I pulled down the bandage and
noticed that I could see perfectly clearly. I had been bleeding a
lot, but I hadn't been in much pain. It got worse later on. The piece
of shrapnel was stuck in my right cheek. The wound got infected. My
whole face swelled up, and then I was in a lot of pain. I was in a
convalescent home when they removed it fifteen days later. They were
missing material there. So they took the piece out without any anaesthetic.
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