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Fllhe Fascist Sortie By Jack Roberts

It was dusk of the first day when our Battalion had advanced to within about three hundred metres of Villanuevta ~de“la 'Cafia»da. Some 'were ‘lying down in the ditch beside the road; five of‘ us were taking_ cover behind the ~dung—hea»p on the right. Suddenly someone shouted: “Don’t fire; there are children coming from the village.” VVe looked down the road and saw about twenty-«five people, men, Women and children. In front was a little girl of about ten years of age. Behind her came an elderly woman, a boy of fourteen or so, a few old men. The remain-der were young men. As they approached they shouted: “Camaradas! Camaradas !”

Believing them to be refugees, we answered them and called them forward. Some of us were now standing, some walking to meet and welcome them.

Pat Murphy, of Cardiff, was the nearest to them. He approached them, telling them to lay down their arms if they had any. For ans- wer, a revolver blazed. Then the Fascists, who had been driving this group of old men, women and children as cover for them, started throw- ing han~d-grenades in our midst. For a few minutes pandemonium

reigned. It was hard to distinguish friend from foe. The Fascists had diffi- culty also. I saw a figure bend down, jerk up a wounded man, saw

the flash of a revolver, as the Fascist despatched some one of our men. “Commandante!” yelled someone, and Fred Copeman called out in ans- wer. A Fascist grenade lobbed towards him. It missedtFred and killed Tommy Gibbons, Battalion Secretary. We had fallen for an‘ old trick. The crash of grenades, the barking of guns, and the shrieks of the ‘women and children are still in my ears. But, in ten minutes it was.

“all over; the last of the Fascists lay dead. Then, forward ‘we charged

and stormed the village. From the other end the Dimitrovs came in.

‘We lighted the streets with the red light of bursting grenades as We

drove the Fascists before us to the centre of the town. The Dimitrovs and ourselves were within an ace of charging each other. Luckily we were shouting anti—Fascist slogans, and recognised one another in time.

The Spanish Carabineros, great fighters, were also in action, helping

us. As we mopped-up, street by street, men fell. ‘Ne succoured the Woun- ded, no matter Whether they were ours or the enemy. A wounded man cried out. Bill Meredith, brave young Company Commander who had

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