BUTTER AND FALCON (Part2)


By KATZMAREK


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Author's note.


This is a work of fiction based on fact. Opinions and
interpretations of events expressed are my own and as such are
entirely contestable.


This remains my property and may not be used for gain without
my express permission in writing.


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It was virtually impossible to keep anything secret in Republican Spain. Spies, double agents and gossipers of every political persuasion had been flagging for weeks the probability of a move by the Popular Front against the CNT. By the time the first lorries rolled into central Barcelona packed with the Government's elite Assault Guards, over 1000 Anarchist Militiamen had reinforced the Telephone Exchange building.


Across town, the emergency committees were convening and planning their response. Their major problem was arms and ammunition, most of the Anarchists were poorly armed.


They were at the mercy of the Government, but what would the attitude of the Lenin Division be? Would the POUM support them? There had been arguments between the two about the Anarchists commitment to the war against Franco. Rather a lot of the Anarchists in Barcelona were of military age yet seemed disinclined to join the fighting Brigades. Why weren't they with the 'Iron Column,' the 'Land and Liberty Division' or the 'Duretti Column?' The Lenin Division, veterins of the Ebro and Jarama, might be expected to view with scorn those that appeared to shirk their class duty.


To the West of Saragossa was the small town of Fuentes de Ebro. In July 1937 it was the headquarters of the '5th Regiment.' The Regiment, now of divisional strength but still called a 'Regiment,' was the pride of the Communist Party, the PCE. The 'Regiment' was now made up of 50% foreigners, Communist volunteers from nearly all the countries of Europe. The 'Regiment' had a fiercesome reputation in the fighting across the Ebro front. They, too, heard of the Government's attempt to put the CNT in its place in Barcelona. They'd read in the Party's newspaper that the CNT militiamen were being used by the evil POUM to pave the way for a German/Italian invasion and they were on a slow burn at the news of this treachery.


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Soldiers were on the roof of a building across the street overlooking. They were peacefully hanging out laundry on an improvised line strung between a flagpole and a water pipe. On the flagpole, the Republic's tricolour hung limply above the red, hammer and sickle flag of the Communist Party. Benin watched one of the soldiers stare in their direction before resuming his task.


She stared back down at John's face. "Hey," she said, "shall we go inside?" He looked at the soldiers on the roof across the street and nodded. They waited until the soldiers disappeared before hastily gathering their clothes.


Inside the converted school women were moving around already. The black-clad Mujeres Libres filtered down to the dining room below for breakfast. John and Benin followed the procession down the stairs.


The talk in the cavernous hall was the latest news from Barcelona. It was all gossip and rumour, about an uprising, a German and Italian landing and of the British Royal Navy bombarding the port. Little real news was forthcoming.


John was studiously ignored by the other Women, he was the only male in the room besides a young boy. He found it faintly intimidating, even though Benin tried to put him at ease by self-conciously chatting to him.


"He your lover?" a large women asked, opposite them. Benin scanned the line with her eyes before answering.


"Yes," she replied, defiantly.


The woman shrugged. "Let me know when you've finished with him, huh?" she said, followed by chuckles from some of the others. Benin blushed, smiling weakly. "Hey Gringo," the woman continued, "you think you can buff my bannister as well as hers?" Gales of laughter erupted around the table. John looked confused until Benin placed her hand on his.


Breakfast over, John was anxious to escape, so the couple left, arm in arm.


The streets seemed hostile. Militiamen and soldiers looked sidelong at the couple as they passed with expressions of contempt. Even the women looked away at the sight of Benin's black/red scarf and black beret.


"Lets get out of Madrid for a while," she suggested.


"Where?"


"Anywhere... out in the country."


They took a horse tram to the outer Northern suburbs then thumbed a ride on a military lorry. It deposited them near a village crossroads before rumbling away towards the front in a cloud of white dust.


Fields of corn waved peacefully in the fields as they wandered out of the little village. Peasant farmers herded their stock with Birch sticks in the same way they'd done for centuries. Old women hobbled past wearing mourning black, their loose shawls covering their faces. 


The bulk of Spain's agricultural workers were still illiterate. They'd had the vote since Primo de Rivera was deposed in 1930. Unable to read the ballot paper, they were permitted under the law to take into the polling booth a 'person of high regard.' This was often the landlord or Priest, hence they were unlikely to vote for a Party advocating rights for women or the redistribution of wealth. 7 years of democratic freedom had made little difference to the their lives.


As the noonday sun became oppressive, they decided to have a siesta under some Olive trees by a secluded stream.


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Accounts vary wildly as to what happened when the Assault Guards' lorries pulled up outside the Exchange. It seems, though, that those inside began to hurl abuse down at the Government Paramilitaries from the second floor windows. All accounts agree, however, that the big double glass doors of the front entrance were firmly barricaded with office furniture. Several troops smashed in the doors with the butts of their rifles but that was as far as they got.


It appears a team ran down a side alley towards the rear of the building. According to the Anarchist version, a bucket of manure was thrown down over them from a top window. The Assault Guards then opened fire.


The Government troops were heavily outnumbered and soon had to retreat to summon reinforcements. While they waited, though, the Anarchist Committees began to spill out onto the streets across the city.


Handcarts, motor vehicles, hay bales and house furniture began to be piled up on the streets to make barricades. The committees  marched through the working class districts summoning the militiamen. By mid-morning nearly 20,000 were gathering at a number of assembly points. At this time the CNT numbered over 2 million supporters, 40,000, of whom, were fighting with the 4 main Anarchist Brigades in the Republican Army. The 20,000 were mostly industrial workers, soon to be reinforced from the agricultural collectives.


To the West of the City, the medieval town of Terrassa sat astride the main route into Barcelona. Solidly Anarchist, by mid afternoon the CNT had driven the PSUC militia, the Catalan National Army, out of the town and seized their weapons. The South, though, was a problem. Sitting astride the main route South to Valencia was the POUM's Lenin Division. The CNT committees knew that if the POUM didn't join the revolt then they'd be at the mercy of Republican Forces moving up from Andalusia.


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John and Benin slept for around two hours. They were damp with sweat so they decided to cool off in the stream. Benin watched in fascination as John promptly peeled off his shirt and trousers with no hint of modesty. Looking around nervously, she took some time to dispense with her own clothing until she was clad only in a shirt and a pair of boxer-style shorts.


John was already stretched out in the shallow stream, a look of blissful pleasure suffusing his face, when Benin slid in beside him.


"Is good, is cool," he said to her.


"I don't think we should have left our revolvers with our clothes," she replied, "what if someone comes?"


"You want to shoot them? A few old peasants?"


"No," she grinned, "but we shouldn't leave our guard down. They could rob us, or..."


"Of what? Our lunch?"


"Si, our lunch, guns, clothes... anything."


"Tell me," he asked, thoughtfully, "you Anarchists champion the peasants, right? You have, how you say, 'solidarity' with their class struggle, yes?"


"Si," she replied, uncertainly.


"Then why do you fear them?" Benin took a long time to answer.


"Not fear... common sense. Some are not educated, politicised... do not see we're in solidarity with them."


"Yeah," John grinned, "it's a bugger not knowing what's good for you."


"You mock us?" Benin snapped.


"I just think..." he said, slowly, "that, here, there's too many people telling other people what's best for them. I read, somewhere, that it was about giving people a voice, letting them decide things for themselves. But, it seems to me, that's it's only true if the bigshots agree with what they say or decide. I mean, what if the peasants in a village decide that the landlord really is a good guy and they want to work for him? And they want the Priest to baptise their children into the Catholic Church? Are you going to tell them they shouldn't? Is that Libertarian Communism or another bunch of know-it-alls telling them what to think?"


"That's bourgeois thinking," Benin replied, angrily, "you don't understand. Why are you here in Spain? Why do you risk your life for a cause you don't understand?"


"Hey, settle down! I was just wondering, that's all." After a pause, he said, "I'm here because... I just happen to think that soldiers make poor politicians. That the Government should be run by elected civilians, not military officers. That an army is supposed to protect and defend a country, not take it over. And I don't want to see Herr Hitler and the bloody Duce of Italy strutting around the whole of Europe."


"Ok," she nodded, "and I want to see a free society where everyone is allowed to enjoy the product of their own labour, and to control their own destiny."


"Ok," he agreed, "fair enough!"


"Ok! Are you cool enough, now?" she asked, looking anxious. John nodded, and they rose out of the stream and retrieved their clothing,


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The telephone system was down, the Assault Guards opposite the Exchange had no radio. There was nothing for it but to send a messenger in one of the lorries to bring news of the failure to capture the Telephone Exchange. The Assault Guards, a mere 200 and well pinned down, accordingly sent a Renault truck with half a dozen men with Labora Sub-Machine Guns to run the gauntlet. The rest of the force took over a restaurant and part of a hotel, and waited.


That afternoon, the Catalan Government drove in a motorcade South through the, as yet, uncommitted POUM and retreated to Valencia. CNT militiamen raided the empty Government buildings for arms and loot. Later, the PSUC, PSOE and PCE offices were looted and set on fire. The Civil Guard headquarters was besieged, the Police barricading themselves in the building and began fighting from the rooftops.


By evening, all Central and Catalan Government forces were bottled up in isolated pockets throughout the city.


However, at approximately 6 that evening, came a sight that lived in the  memories of those who witnessed it for years after. 12 Hispano-Suiza armoured cars and one Somua Tank rattled into the centre of Barcelona. Behind them came ragged lines of men bearing Red Banners with POUM printed on them in Gold letters. Behind them was a convoy of trucks containing arms; in fact, 14,000 Government rifles and ammunition looted from the Llobregat Arsenal. The POUM had made up their minds.


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John and Benin found their way to Alcala by bus. John reported to the Police station with his furlough papers. He was then allowed to book a room for himself and Benin at the hotel.


The room was clean and tidy. Some Russians in civilian clothes seemed to be the only other guests. They kept to themselves, ignored John, and shot curious glances at Benin.


"Perhaps you should change your clothes?" he suggested.


"Why?"


"You stand out a bit, here."


"These are the only clothes I have. Do you want me to go naked?"


"Umm," he grinned, looking her up and down. She smiled back.


"Do you want to go upstairs and fuck?" she asked, eyes locked to his.


"Umm, sure!"


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The night of the 3rd of May passed in a tense stand off. The committees agreed they must conserve ammunition because the real fight was only beginning. 


A 'Supreme Joint Response Committee' was formed with delegates from both the CNT and the POUM. It was decided that the 'Lenins' would hold the Southern Suburbs and the Valencia road. The important Western route, through Terrassa, would be bolstered by the Somua and whatever artillery they could scavenge from the military. The debate concerning whether to advance towards Saragossa ended in a stalemate. The CNT believed the countryside would rise in rebellion along the way, but Andres Nin of the POUM wasn't so sure. He thought it a mistake to extend their lines too far on the strength of a wild hope.


On the other side, a scratch force of PSUC and PSE militiamen began to dig in before Terrassa during the night. Word was sent out for the 5th Regiment at Fuentes to come to their assistance. The Government feared a breakout towards the rear of the Republican lines on the Ebro. Already they'd convinced themselves the rebels were under the orders of Franco.


The POUM and CNT always believed that the best way to defeat Franco's rebellion was to arm the people to defend their revolution. They'd urged this way back during the July Days of 1936. It was time, the CNT said, for this to take effect. But 14,000 rifles wouldn't go very far.


Andres Nin seemed to have a better grasp of the political realities. He doubted the Republican army would support them and also doubted that the Anarchist Brigades, the Durettis, Ferrers, the Land and Libertys and the Iron Columns would come to their assistance. They were under the influence of the CNT's Madrid leaders, Federica Montseny and Jose Ferrer, and they were facilating.


Ferrer, together with Beneventura Duretti, had been a member of the 'Solidarios' between 1921 and '23, which carried out a series of assassinations against Public Officials and Catholic Leaders. But Duretti had been killed by a Nationalist sniper in Madrid and Ferrer was out of touch with events in Catalonia. The CNT leadership were unaware of the extent of the 'troubles' in Barcelona.


By morning, the POUM's tank had arrived in Terrassa and stationed itself in the town square. To announce its arrival, it lobbed a few 75mm rounds at the PSUC/PCE lines to a general round of applause from the CNT fighters.


However, at Fuentes, the 5th Regiment received orders from the PCE to march towards Barcelona. On the way, they were to be joined by the Communist Jose Marty Brigade and their first objective was to seize Terrassa.


Madrid ordered the Air Force to see what was happening and accordingly, at first light, a Polikarpov R5 reconnaissance plane took off from Tarragona. It flew around Barcelona for half and hour before reporting that all was quiet.


But if all was quiet out on the streets, inside the Council Chambers debate had been raging all night. The 'Supreme Joint Response Committee' was trying to decide on strategy, both military and political. Andres Nin, arguing for the POUM, urged negotiations with Luis Companys' Catalan Government. He told them that their military situation was untenable in the long term and they must talk now before their advantage was lost. He'd had a good relationship with Companys and was sure he could come to a deal.


Eventually, the eloquent, forceful and intelligent POUM leader had his way and from now on he took control of the revolt as 'Director.' He immediately telephoned Companys in Valencia and asked him to be an intermediary with both the Generalidad and the Popular Front.


Meanwhile he set to work organising the defense of the city. The key to Barcelona was clearly Terrassa. If that town was lost the way was open right towards the town centre. It would be some time before Republican Forces could be built up in the South, but Terrassa was within easy reach of forces moving down from the Ebro.


Terrassa was held by a ragtag bunch of agricultural and factory workers. Few had any military training and they were poorly armed, so Andres Nin's first 'advice' as 'Director' was to order some of his battle-hardened veterins from the Lenin Division to bolster Terrassa's defenses. These were, primarily, Irish and British volunteers from the IRA and the ILP respectively.


Coincidently among their first adversaries were volunteers from the German Communist Party, the KPD, fighting with the 5th Regiment. The irony was not lost on Andres. He was heard to have said, 'I have just sent my British and Irishmen to fight the Germans for Spanish Liberty. Such is Spain.' Not a bad observation from a Cuban.


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Benin returned from the washroom of their Hotel room having freshened up. The shutters were drawn, filtering the harsh sun. Outside a dog barked and far off she could dimly hear the clattering of an aero-engine. Otherwise everything was quiet with most people having a siesta.


John had stripped already and was lying on his back on the bed. He startled her for a split second, then a wide grin slowly spread over her face. He looked like an artist's model, his casual smile, blonde hair and beautiful, muscular body tanned in the Mediterranean sunshine. 


His semi-flaccid cock rolled on his hard stomach. His thighs twitched when he saw her as he began to make room beside him. Benin, however, remained rooted to the spot, drinking in the sight of him.


He looked enquiringly at her. "Yerright?" he asked, in his lazy English drawl.


"Si, fine," she told him.


She tingled with sexual tension, her tongue felt thick and she became aware of her nipples pressing into the cotton of her shirt.


Benin walked slowly to the bed. John's eyes were fixed on her, following her with curiosity and anticipation. She slowly ran her fingertips down his body. He flexed his muscles at the sensation.


John reached out and put his arm around her slim waist. She bent and kissed him and his hand fell to her bottom, exploring her curves and cleft.


He reached for her belt and pulled at her buckle. She moved away and his hand fell limly to the bed. Benin didn't want to rush, she wanted to savour the moment and make time stretch.


He looked curious and raised his eyebrows.


"What's the matter?" he asked. She shook her head. "You coming to bed?"


"No hurry," she shrugged and smiled. "You need to be somewhere?"


"Nope."


"Bueno!" she whispered, "excellente!" She bent and gently touched each of his nipples in turn with the tip of her tongue.


She looked down and saw his big prick waving as if in a breeze. His chest heaved as his breathing quickened. 


Benin was so ready, so ready to jump on top of him and take that cock between her legs. Her whole body seemed super-sensitive, it tingled with lust. But slowly she began to lick him, his throat, chest, and down over his torso.


John reached out with his hand and pulled at the tie of her hair so it fell loose, cascading over his lower body. Benin rested her head on his chest, her hand curled around his stiff cock.


She explored him, felt the silky skin around his balls, ran her hand through the thick bristle of his pubic hair.


John became impatient. He took Benin gently by her shoulders and drew her alongside him. He then turned to kiss her on the mouth, his hand caressing her chest over the thick cotton of her shirt.


"Hey," she said, sitting up, "y'know, all good Catholic girls must be virgins on their wedding night." Benin had a playful, teasing expression.


"That right?" John grinned.


"Si! But we had to keep the boys interested till then, didn't we?"


"Of course," he laughed.


"So," she kissed his chest, "we learned early on," pushing her tongue into his belly button, "us girls used to tell each other..." she kissed the tip of John's cock, "... that the best way to 'save' ourselves," she pushed her mouth down on him. "The best way," she continued, "was by doing this." With that she began to suck him, her mouth moving up and down with her long, loose hair draped over his thighs.


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KATZMAREK(c)