10.

April 28

Dearest Kitty, 

This is written in the train about eight hours south of 
Barcelona, and two to four hours from Valencia (the vari-
ance being caused by doubts as to the condition of the 
track). We are running parallel to the Mediterranean and 
sometimes only a few yards from it. One sector of the front 
is only 90 miles west, testimony to which is borne by hordes 
of soldiers at every station and the presence of many 
wounded, some of whom are getting on at every station. 
We haven't yet heard any fighting.

Last night was one of the most thrilling of my life. We 
marched from the station at Barcelona to the "castle." Entry 
there found hammers and sickles on all walls, red flags, etc. 
It is the "Carlos Marx" barracks, headquarters of the United 
Socialist Party of Catalonia (affiliated to the Third Inter-
national) and of the U.G.T. and U.S.P. and International 
Brigade troops.

Just as we entered the dining room a military band in 
full uniform burst into the Internationale. All Spanish of-
ficers and men, waiters and cooks included, stood at atten-
tion and saluted as we came in and sat down. Throughout 
our supper (which was as near to a feast as war conditions 
permit) the band played all the revolutionary songs. You 
have no idea of the effect produced by a first-rate military 
band (full band at that) playing our songs. Then the Com-
mandant made us a welcoming speech, a few more short 
stirring speeches by other officers, including some wounded 
men recently returned from the front, and then the youth 
section of the barracks took over the evening, sang for us, 
we sang for them, etc., etc. I can't try to describe it, and 
I won't, other than the brief indications above. But the whole

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