Farewell to the Jarama 

The long-awaited relief had come. The historic vigil was ended. 
The Brigade was to go to villages behind the lines there to rest and make 
ready for the call that was soon to come. 
But, there were some who were to remain by the Jarama, yet — and 
forever. And so the joy that was in men’s hearts on their going was 
tempered by the memory of those who had fallen in battle. Around the 
graves behind the lines, the Battalions gathered to pay their last farewell 
to the fallen. 
The XV Brigade moved out from Jarama, back to villages where the 
kindly Spanish people made them welcome. In the intervals in train- 
ing there were joyous fiestas. Volunteers lavished their accumulated 
pay on providing the children with toys and the much-demanded “caram- 
els”. The peasant in the fields did not lack for help by day, nor — need 
it be said? — the village girls for dancing-partners in the evenings. 
Jarama seemed far away — but the XV Brigade had not yet broken 
contact with its old battle-field. Among the new troops now reinforcing 
the lines was the Washington Battalion – the second American Battal- 
ion formed in Spain. In the latter weeks of June the Washingtons, un- 
der the command of Mirko Markovitz, occupied a reserve position near 
Morata. Its initiation into warfare was uneventful but instructive. 
Up in the line the Brigade maintained another link: for the first time 
in Jarama an Anti-Tank Battery made its appearance. Its personnel 
was mainly British, with a sprinkling of Americans and Spaniards. It 
was commanded by Malcolm Dunbar, who had been wounded when 
fighting in the ranks in the British Battalion in the early days of Febru- 
ary. The Battery did good work at Jarama. Fascist tanks kept out of 
its way; Fascist machine-gun nests could not! In a series of lightning 
attacks it destroyed strong-points in the enemy trenches. 

Back in one of the rest-villages, one afternoon at the end of June, the 
Battalions were about to conclude a joint sports programme with an 
international concert. The town was on fête. Volunteers and villagers 
mingled in merry groups. A despatch rider appeared. The bugler 
sounded the “Assembly”. The orders were to move out — “destination 
unknown”. That night, the same orders reached the Washington Bat- 
talion and the Anti-Tank Battery. 
It was the eve of Brunete. 

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