As the Fascist planes came in view, another squadron, ours, dived to 
meet them. There were eighteen planes in the fight. Men lay flat on 
their backs to watch the fight overhead. We could hear the wind whin- 
ing in the struts as the planes banked and dived. At intervals there 
was the crackling of machine-guns. Before long, a Fascist plane dived 
a low to earth, its tail wreathed in smoke and flame. Almost immediately, 
another followed in the same fashion. The remainder extricated them- 
selves, and the chase went on over Fascist territory. 
Our men were singing as they advanced now. They reached the 
last crest and were at the bottle-neck of a wide valley. To the right, 
parallel to the line of our advance, was the road to San Martín de la 
Vega. To the right of that road was the Franco-Belge Battalion, beyond 
them the Dimitrov. The Franco-Belge were in view in the woods; but, 
between them and us was a gap of about 800 yards. A battery of our 
guns was in position on the right. Then, and throughout the days that 
followed, that battery rendered a good account of itself. 
We crossed a sunken road that ran parallel to and a few hundred 
yards from a ridge which overlooked the entrance to the valley. On 
that ridge we set up Battalion Headquarters. The Companies advanced 
through the bottle-neck leading into the valley. They passed between 
two hills, that to the right conical, devoid of cover, that to the left wood- 
ed, capped by a red-roofed, white house. They were now beginning to 
deploy into the valley proper, across which ran the Jarama river, the 
objective set for them, that day. 
Suddenly, we saw the Fascists. One Battalion was advancing against 
White House Hill. Behind it, another was deploying for attack. The 
Franco-Belge on our right were simultaneously engaged. Our Compan- 
ies promptly straddled the two hills and the saddle between. They 
were in the nick of time. Had we been ten minutes later, the Fascists 
would have been on those hills, the last range between them and the 
Madrid-Valencia road. 
We had approximately four hundred men on those hills, comprising 
Nos. 1, 3, and 4 Companies. No. 2 was a Machine-Gun Company, 
in reserve on the ridge with Battalion Headquarters. Our men had no 
entrenching tools, and in order to fire from the steep hill slopes, many 
knelt, or even stood. There was not a single light machine-gun 
among them, and of our heavy machine-guns only one was in action 
that day. Eight others were being dragged up over ploughed fields 
and rocky hillsides in our rear. The going and the ground had been 
too much for them that morning. And when they did come up there 
was insufficient ammunition; the ammunition lorry had been lost. A 
still worse disaster was to befall us: when ammunition belts, sent for

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