NARRATIVE 
The evacuation en masse of the civilizan population of Malaga 
started on Sunday Feb. 7. Twentyfive thousand German, Italian and 
Moorish troops entered the town on Monday morning the eighth. 
Tanks, submarines, warships, airplanes combined to smash the de- 
fenses of the city held by a small heroic band of Spanish troops without 
tanks, airplanes or support. The so-called Nationalists entered, as 
they have entered every captured village and city in Spain, what was 
practically a deserted town. 
Now imagine one hundred and fifty thousand men women and 
children setting out for safety to the town situated over a hundred 
miles away. There is only one road they can take. There is no other 
way of escape. This road, bordered on one side by the high Sierra Ne- 
vada mountains and on the other by the sea, is cut into the side of the 
cliffs and climbs up and down from sea-level to over 500 feet. The 
city they must reach is Almeria, and it is over two hundred kilometers 
away. A strong, healthy young man can walk on foot forty or fifty 
kilometers a day. The journey these women children and old people 
must face will take five days and five nights at least. There will be no 
food to be found in the villages, no trains, no buses to transport them. 
They must walk and as they walked they staggered and stumbled 
with cut, bruised feet along that flint, white road the fascists bombed 
them from the air and fired at them from their ships at sea. 
Now, what I want to tell you is what I saw myself of this forced 
march—the largest, most terrible evacuation of a city in modern 
times. We had arrived in Almeria at five oclock on Wednesday the 
tenth with a refrigeration truckload of preserved blood from Barce- 
lona. Our intention was to proceed to Malaga to give blood trans-